Stay a While - Seattle Edition

There’s something very appealing about this place.

Maybe it’s the proximity to several bodies of water, scattered within and around the city, which prevent one from feeling trapped in a cement kingdom. Maybe it’s the vast presence of highly original businesses and small boutiques, which beg onlookers and clientele to define their own dreams.

Or maybe I am enjoying my visit to this damp coastal land, some 2,500 miles away from home, because it allows me to reflect on the changing currents and returning tides of my own life.

There was no doubt in my mind that I had arrived in Seattle when I exited the airport into a chilly gust of wind and spitting rain. Completely overcast skies revealed no evidence of the two majestic mountain ranges that surround the city.

I followed a group of newly-arrived students through the damp parking garage to the “Light Rail,” a cheap alternative to a private taxi and a reminder of Seattle’s eco-conscious sensibility.

What made the entrance into downtown Seattle so comforting, was the fact that I could phone home to my family without a cryptic calling card and could ask for directions in English, a far cry from the blatant disorientation I’ve felt arriving in European cities with a tattered guide book and some emergency phrases penned on my forearm.

But everything else about the adventure and wonder of exploring Paris, Vienna or Krakow, has been evident in my wanderings through the Emerald City.

Last minute hotel reservations (i.e. from the airport baggage claim), landed me in a charming sunny room at the Moore Hotel, a 103 year-old vintage style pension overlooking the Puget Sound. After unloading my luggage and peering out my window at the breathtaking view, I made my way to the quintessential slice of Seattle’s sea-faring lifestyle – Pike Place Market.

The covered market overlooking Elliot Bay invigorates all of the senses. Florist designers waived long stalks of dahlias and sunflowers, while fruit vendors offered freshly cut samples of pluots and pears. Crafters sat patiently behind their wares knitting or carving a new creation, while I enjoyed the indie-folk harmonies of busking musicians like “The Faded Optimists.”

If one stays long enough, proper rain gear becomes an absolute necessity. Locals were donned in winter parkas and knee-high galoshes, while children passed with yellow rubber rain suits and snow hats. Yet rainy as it was, no gathering spot could have been more warm, cheery and full of life.

The large presence of Native American and Asian culture was evident in the market stalls as well as surrounding restaurants, art galleries and community events – a reminder of the diversity of Seattle’s population. However, one sector of the population which is just as prevalent, yet more controversial to acknowledge, is Seattle’s significant number of homeless men and women.

I’m particularly attuned to the exhausted expression and crouched posture of someone who has spent the night on the street. I encounter their heavily burdened gaze every day at the City Mission of Schenectady. And as I soon learned, the need is just as immediate on the opposite coastline.

On my first morning in Seattle, I observed a tired unshaven gentleman sitting alone at the table across from me at a diner in the University District- a cane propped up against his table and a crumpled fatigue jacket slung behind his chair.

At one point, his head hung uncomfortably low and still, his hand waving a piece of toast just below his mouth. He had fallen asleep over his unfinished omelets and cold coffee.

Despite the glaring presence of homelessness, there is a diligent network of shelters, community centers and recovery programs scattered throughout the city. There is even a local newspaper titled “REAL CHANGE,” whose sole contributors are homeless and low-income men and women who aim to raise awareness about their circumstances. Yet, many continue to find their home on park benches and in empty parking lots.

One such parking lot is owned by the Congregational United Church of Christ, located in the heart of the University of Washington. I passed by the church the same morning and saw a patchwork of multi-colored plastic tarps strung together over what appeared to be a slew of camping tents. I later picked up a copy of the UW Daily and saw the same image on the front page.

With the church’s approval, sixty members of a mobile community have settled in the parking lot for three months. The community calls itself Nicklesville, a group of socially conscious individuals who are homeless, yet who have cultivated sustainable inter-dependence as a means of survival.

Residents hold various leadership positions, including head of security and liaison for Veterans for Peace, as well as tent master and head kitchen coordinator. Nicklesville hopes to one day find a permanent place of residence but for now, members are working with Seattle’s mayor to secure a location that will at least carry them through the winter.

While standing at a bus stop in Fremont, a trendy neighborhood north of the Space Needle, I was asked by a local news reporter if I had any questions for the mayor. "I'm from out of town," I said, "but I do have a question." And with that I asked the camera (and the mayor) what his thoughts were on the tented community of Nickleville and how he plans to address the need for increased housing in downtown Seattle.

It is eye-opening, to stay the least, to find myself on the opposite side of the country from my life, my work and my family, and to see the same challenges and opportunities for community development. While the streets of Seattle appear pleasantly clean and inviting, I was given a glimpse of the enduring grief and grime that exists in even the most promising of city landscapes.

After viewing a hazy sunset over the Puget Sound from the recently opened Olympic Sculpture Park, I imagined the rough expanse of the Pacific Ocean on the other side. And as the day ended, I wondered what new observations the tides would bring tomorrow.