Sleepless In Seattle

I KNOW—this post is ridiculously overdue. We kept meaning to post during our week in Seattle, but we were so darn tired every night thanks to the Galvanins keeping us busy. Seriously, we could barely keep our eyes open at the end of every day to set our alarm for the next one, let alone try to compose something that is witty and comprehensible.They say a body in motion stays in motion, but I’ve learned that a body in motion gets exhausted and falls behind on its blogging. Oops...

I apologize and assure you that our lack of updates were not at all due to boredom, but quite the contrary. Let’s just say better late than never, shall we?

((AND, this post has a lot of VIDEOS! YAY!))

Patricia and Don. Aren't they adorable? 

Seattle has always been my favorite city, mainly because it is home of some of my favorite people. The Galvanins are an incredibly accomplished, well-traveled, hilarious, and fun bunch. There is never a dull moment with them. From the moment we arrived, Pete and I were spoiled beyond anything we deserved. But, that’s my Aunt Patricia for ya. She went above and beyond, as is her usual, making sure Pete and I had everything we needed and everything we never even knew we wanted. We were finally relaxed and possibly in shock. No more driving, no more car camping, no more showering in Planet Fitness or jumping from house to house. Our road trip was over and we were torn between relief and disappointment. After all, nobody really wants a vacation to end.

Before we could enjoy the gorgeous Galvanin villa, we had to get up their driveway. The concrete sits at what is essentially a 70 degree angle, on a curve, along a cliff. For Carla, it was like we were asking her to do backflips on a trapeze. It's as if she knew this was the last push we needed from her, because she somehow made it.. Here, see for yourselves. 

Excited to be back at the Galvanins'! (Grommet arms)

But, we did still have 4 days in Seattle! Burien, to be specific. My godparents have a rather fabulous home in Three Tree Point, overlooking Puget Sound. Pete and I were lucky enough to stay with them in their beautiful home. We weren’t sure if Carla was going to make it, but she wanted to reach her final destination just as much as we did.  I got a running start with her and we made it up that hill, right into the open and loving arms of Aunt Patricia. It was the perfect ending to our road travels, but it didn’t feel real. We feel like we’ve been gone forever, and yet it feels like we left only yesterday.  Weary and hungry as we were, we were grateful that Patricia is a fantastic cook. We ate better than we should have, that’s for sure.  Dungeness crab, ribs, schnitzel, lasagna, casserole, you name it—she cooked it. We were fat and happy by our first night in Washington.

On Tuesday, we decided to lay low and get our bearings a little. Of course, laying low by Galvanin standards is still getting plenty done. Patricia and I went for a fast walk around their neighborhood and then did a little yard work while Pete went out in search of Carla’s final resting place. He found it, and all three of us went to bid her farewell. That place was such a dump, I couldn’t even bare to wait with Pete in the lot while we worked out the deal. I felt filthier by the minute just standing there. The guy who owned the junkyard belonged on one of those shows about obsessive hoarders. His office was my worst nightmare and his crew was the cast of a horror movie I saw last summer. It was the only place that was willing to take our little pariah, though, and I do give Pete and lot of credit for making the tedious arrangements. Saying goodbye to her was harder than it should have been. We have so many great memories from that little car. She took us across the country, kept us safe, and proved a bunch of people wrong. To this, we say thanks and HA! She is off to serve the local fire fighters, a noble end to a noble car. We miss her already…

Wednesday was the coolest day EVER. It was so cool, we had to sign a liability release. Awesome!

Signing my life away... 

 First, my godparents took Pete and I to the little town of Leavenworth. The entire town was decorate in German style, and it looked like we took a wrong turn and ended up in Schnitzel Land. It was all very touristy and overdone, but in such an enchanting way. The town lay in a valley near the river and was very inviting. Little shops with German souvenirs, fancy china, and obnoxious decorations kept us busy for a few hours as we picked out the restaurant where we later went to dinner. We went to Motzart's, the home of my first ever pork schnitzel. Yumm...  But, the real treat of the day was smack in the middle. And it was FANTASTIC. 
We went white water rafting on the Wanatchee River. Along with my godparents, Aunt Patricia’s sister, and a few of her lovely friends from work, we zipped ourselves into unflattering wetsuits, clambered into a raft and started off down the river. Brad, our guide, was an extremely amusing fellow who spoke as though he stumbled right out of the 60’s. He was all about the “cool, dudes!” and the “right on’s!” And he told a particularly graphic story about encountering a series of peep shows along the river’s edge. He was totally rad and very chill, but absolutely perfect for the career he’d chosen. We felt safe under his guidance, he clearly knew what he was doing on that river. He knew every little curve and dip of the rapids and he definitely painted with all the colors of the wind.  Of course, Pete and I would have felt a lot safer had we not been put in the front of the raft. The Galvanins insisted that the front was the best spot, especially on our first trip. Little did we know that they were setting us up to be the first targets for the river. Apparently, “best spot” was a code for “soaked seating.” To be honest, the water wasn’t nearly as cold as that in Oneanta Gorge, but it was certainly no hot tub dip.  It gets better. Brad told Pete and I to kneel down in the boat and push our thighs against the sides when we paddled.  We were essentially leaning over the sides of the raft and facing the waves head-on. This was just a wee bit intimidating. Brad called it “Animalizing.” This was his command for us to kneel down, countered by his permission to “Humanize.” Never a dull moment with Brad, apparently.

Now, keep in mind that I had never been white water rafting before and Pete had only been once as a kid. We were a bit nervous to see rapids up ahead as we floated along. We were assured that we were wearing adequate safety gear and surrounded by people trained to save us, but somehow that stopped being comforting as we felt how cold the water was and how quickly the river flowed. But, this trip was all in the name of doing new things, so we dug in with our paddles and braced for impact. And that impact came. The water went soaring over my head, drenching me and blasting Pete and I back against our seats. Talk about a wake up call! I turned around to see my godparents laughing at my dripping hair and shocked expression. It’s certainly true that when you hang with the Galvanins, you have adventures. That’s exactly what white water rafting was. We conquered that river, managing to make it into a small cave at a 90 degree angle, rescue an overboard kid from another raft, and paddle through tricky rapids with questionable names. “Satan’s Eye,” “Satan’s Asshole,” and “Granny Panties” were our favorites. We think hippie guide Brad took some creative liberties with those names, but we give him an A for effort. He certainly knew what he was doing! We went from a goofy group to an organized, orchestrated crew. I felt really powerful with that paddle in my hand, and even fearless as we dove into those waves. I was riding high and loving every minute. I was hooked on the white water.

As we came up on some particularly ugly looking rapids, Brad informed us that we were welcome to try to swim if we liked. Most of our group shook their heads, but then turned towards me and Pete. Uh oh. Rookie pressure took over and we decided to take the chance. My godfather was coming with us, and everybody approved of our daring. We handed over our paddles and prepared ourselves to go overboard. Adrenaline took over and replaced nerves with excitement. Ordinarily, jumping into rapids would not be smart or desirable, but it was part of the experience and we didn’t want to leave any stone unturned on this adventure. We were living life as fully as we could.  Besides, we drove over 6,000 miles in a car that is older than me. Clearly, we could do anything. Brad counted to three and we tipped ourselves backwards off the raft.

JEEZ that water was cold and FAST. Brad instructed us to stay in something called “River position.” This means that you’re on your back and pointing your toes up towards the sky. He was very clear that we should not allow our feet to drag beneath the surface as we could get caught on something and be pulled under. Nobody wants that, but who knew it would be so hard to maintain this position? As soon as I went over, I got a face full of wave. I was smacked hard but immediately took a deep breath and held it. We were washed down the rapids, bumped and shoved by the rushing white water. I was completely disoriented, but riding the thrill. In short, I was terrified. After what seemed like an eternity and mere seconds all at once, Brad was pulling me back into the raft and our group was applauding. Apparently, my face after that first wave was rather entertaining. We are so proud of ourselves for jumping in like that, and it stands up to our motto for this whole trip. Every new experience embraced, every challenge accepted. We totally conquered that river, and not too bad for our first try! It was a Class 3 or 4 our of 5, and we encountered 4-foot waves. This isn’t something I ever thought I would try, let alone love. I’m addicted now and I’ve got to find a way to do this more often. It made me fall in love with Washington even more.

Yup. This happened. 

We're stylish. 

Thursday was tough, but worth it. Pete and I reluctantly dragged ourselves out of bed to go site-seeing around Seattle. Not that we didn’t want to go, but we were extremely sore and exhausted from rafting the day before. To get us out the door in the right way, my godmother treated us to eggs Benedict from scratch.  Fab.U.Lous.

Bellies full and backs aching, we stumbled out the door to spend the rest of the day in downtown Seattle. It was everything I remembered and more. Seattle’s hip vibes and friendly folk pleasantly surprised Pete, and never having been there allowed him to really take it all in. I, however, was eager to hop from spot to spot, most importantly to the Space Needle and Pike Place Market. The view from the top of the Space Needle is a must-see. 580 degrees of gorgeous views. 

On the top of the Space Needle!

The city, the mountains, the ocean, you name it, it’s all there. This is what I love about Seattle, there’s a little bit of everything mixed together in the perfect combination. Pike Place Market is definitely the place I remembered most. The harmless hustle and bustle always brings a smile to my face. The smell of fish, the sound of sellers and buyers, the flow of shoppers down the low-lit halls; I find it kind of magical. Nothing there is cheap or unoriginal. Even if the goods are not to your taste, you have to admit that somebody put their hard work into making whatever it was. Sculptures, baskets, jewelry, clothing, ornaments, anything. All of it was hand-crafted and entirely unique. I think that’s one of the things I love most about Pike Place, it’s full of one-of-a-kind things and people. The Chinese man behind the jewelry stand, for example, was not only hell bent on selling me a necklace, but on getting Pete to buy me a ring. It was sweet at first, but after ten minutes of pressure and playful jabs, we began to feel like Oriental Yenta was overstepping. I did buy the necklace though, a silver whale’s tale. The guy may not be able to sell me on impulsive life choices, but on that necklace he had me sold.

We watched the fish being tossed from man to man at The Pike Place Fish Market, we took pictures atop the pig, and we did a little gift shopping for others and ourselves. Looking around at the blocks of fresh fruit, seafood, vegetables, and meats, I could imagine how lovely it must be to live locally. Doing grocery shopping there would be far more enjoyable than a trip to Shop & Shop.  

After the market, we walked past the wall of gum. Thousands of little wads of multi-colored gum were stuck to this wall, seemingly for years. I was compelled to add my own piece, which Pete found rather disgusting.

Gum, anyone? 

Before heading home, we hit up the pier where we found the Great Wheel and the arcade. I destroyed Pete in a few games of air hockey and he won far too many tickets in a coin game. It was silly fun, and we rewarded ourselves with candy and goodies from the gift shop in exchange. If Pete had won 5,000 tickets, he could have gotten me a teddy bear the size of a small shed. Maybe it’s a good thing we left when we did, I don’t think we would have had room for that in our luggage.

The Great Wheel is quite well named. It was certainly a wheel, a Ferris wheel, and it was great. It gave us another fantastic view of Seattle, this time on a rotating basis. I was rather camera happy and Pete marveled at the mechanics of the smooth-riding machine. It was silent, clean, and definitely worth the try. I guess this wheel was built to rival the London Eye in England, but I must say I am partial to the view of Pudget Sound. The only downside to this ferris experience was the randomly wet seat I was unfortunate enough to sit on. Yuck.

Seattle is stunning and we hated to leave it.  We wrapped up the day with a delightful dinner at my “godbrother’s” new condo. We all sat around, gorging ourselves on Aunt Patricia’s spectacular cooking, and Pete and I felt so comfortable that we almost forgot we were leaving the next day. Perhaps this is why we neglected to pack anything prior to our day of departure…

            When Friday finally rolled around, I was bumming hard. I didn’t want to leave Seattle, I didn’t want to go home, I didn’t want my crazy once-in-a-lifetime vacation to end. As a way to keep my mind off leaving, my godmother decided to take us on a morning hike. It was another gorgeous experience, hiking up miles of mountain forests, full of trees that were draped with moss and dripping with raindrops. The land was so moist and so green, it was frequently overwhelming, but the waterfalls and staggering overlooks are what really made the trip memorable. We only climbed about 3 miles up, but it was as if we entered another world, and it was a world I could really get used to.

            We spend the rest of that day packing our stuff. This was easier said than done and I was nervous the entire time. We had accumulated so much STUFF. T-shirts, mugs, magnets, signature cups, our luggage seemed as though it had doubled since we left the east coast. I had been very careful in planning this though, and as long as we were meticulous, I believed that we would be all set. I arragned our luggage so that each of us had a bag to check, a carry-on, and a “personal item,” In Pete’s case, this meant a cooler stuffed with souvenir mugs. However, we also would be bringing back Pete’s tool kit, which weighs as much as a baby elephant, and two bottles of wine. At the last minute, I had him redistribute these items among the two duffle bags in a desperate attempt to keep each checked bag under 50lbs. We had already gotten two speeding tickets, we didn’t want to have to pay an extra $50 for luggage. Oh, did I forget to mention that? TWO tickets. It’s a cruel world out there, kids. But, I’ll explain that and more in the wrap-up. Let's just say that our big bag of doom weighed in at 1.3 pounds under the dreaded 50. VICTORY! We are awesome. 

She's the absolute coolest. 

Saying goodbye to the Galvanins has always been my least favorite part of any trip.  They are the most fun-loving, down to earth, exciting people I know. They grab life by the horns and they refuse to let go. I have always admired their gusto as a collective and their deep affection as a family. I feel so lucky to have been inducted into it in some little way and to be able to spend time with them. They won Pete over in a single evening, just as I knew they would. If I can learn to live my life as fully as they have lived theirs, I will have done something very right. Washington has my heart just as much as they do and Pete and I agree that this part of the country is incredibly beautiful. 

That being said, I cried my eyes out at the airport.

Time for goodbye. Time to go home. Where did the weeks go? Oh, that’s right. We had a kick-ass adventure.

Wrap up post to follow, so stay tuned. Too much to say and not enough adjectives. 
For now, we just miss Carla. 

~Liz and Pete... 

Washington <3