Confusing

As if life isn't confusing enough.




Isn't it devastating how sadness manages to overwhelm your whole being and reduce you to tears again in two flat seconds, just when you thought you were feeling good enough to enjoy the sunshine outside once more?

The sunny afternoon has inevitably given way to a dark gloomy evening, a turn in weather just within an hour. It looks like it will rain again tonight. Mister God, are you sharing my joys and sorrows again?


Another question came in the mailbox. Do I think I am also 'The One' to my man?

Honestly, I don't even know anymore.

I used to think we were made for each other. The way we felt each other's thoughts, the way we understood each other without having much to guess, the way we loved the same things in life, the way we made laughter and fun in our lives together, the way people commented we were so like each other. We were different... but also the same. I can't explain that any other way. I thought we complemented each other in every aspect. Giving and taking, loving and sharing. Despite the usual occasional spats, I thought we knew only happiness and love and only wanted to make things better and make each other happy. For a while, I even thought we grew stronger than we ever were.

Maybe all I thought all this while was a mistake. A vision on my end. All my own thinking.

I don't know. There are a lot of maybes in my book of answers.

That question is not for me to answer.

Yahoo!s

It's bright and sunny again out there!



Standing at the balcony, I could actually feel the sunrays burning my bare shoulders. And what does that tell me? I gotta go out there and grab some Vitamin D!




Work is 'done' for the day. It's so duh. I'm technically free for the rest of the day. But of course, the mistress of procrastination here is not quite done yet... with her presentation slides. Always blaming it on 'lack of creative juices'.

I don't know, but I can't possibly hole up in this room for the rest of the day. Not at least on a bright sunny Portland afternoon. It's still a tad chilly though.


Yahoo! number 1: I don't have to move to the rightful hotel. I get to keep my huge single room after all. Which is very welcoming because I never know when I might need solitude.

Yahoo! number 2: I get free internet access from my huge single room today. I paid US$9.95 for a 24-hour access last night at 10, thinking I would still be able to log on till 10 tonight. What I didn't know was that the 24-hour counts from 'noon to noon', which meant my access ended at lunchtime today. Which is such a cheating system. I enquired, complained, and then simply suggested perhaps they should re-look into the system because I'm pretty sure most blokes would end up like me, paying the same 24-hour access charge for less than 24-hour usage. The next thing I knew, the apologetic front desk officer offered me free usage for the rest of today... till noon tomorrow! Have I got a deal or what? It pays to be nice enough to give constructive suggestions, doesn't it?


Ok, the mood is looking up a little. I'd better run out now, and make sure I work on my slides tonight.

Boo-boo

Being a rather frequent traveller, I have grown to quite like living out of my suitcase and staying in hotel rooms. Maybe it's because I experience the quiet, solitary living that I cannot get staying with my parents. The independence and freedom too, because I get to come back to the room anytime I want to. I'm getting pretty good at packing and travelling light. I get to earn free mileage on business travel. I get to visit places I might never have the chance to go. I have no grudges at all.

But the one and only pet peeve I have is leaky toiletry bottles. Maybe the small bottles in which the hotels supply complimentary bath and shampoo are not re-usable after all. There is not one trip where I didn't have to take all my bottles out, wash them and clean out the entire toiletry bag. It's almost a like a ritual everytime I check into the room. I can never figure out which bottle leaked, nor can I predict which would. A tip for travellers out there: always use a waterproof toiletry bag, like I do. You'll never know what's gonna leak, and a water-proof toiletry bag makes it so much easier to clean out and it doesn't get stained (stains that soak through non-waterproof bags may also stain your clothes - beware).

Doesn't that sound a little too Martha Stewart?


I made a boo-boo. I have checked into the wrong hotel. Can you even believe that?

We were supposed to stay in this hotel, but because of some rearrangement, we were shifted to another. But I wouldn't have known, because I wasn't exactly able to check all my office mails for the past few days, and I wasn't picked up at the airport by designated transportation. So I just assumed.

No wonder the front desk manager said my name wasn't registered on their list.
No wonder they gave me a huge single room because of it.
No wonder I had no roommate when I'm supposed to have one.

The room is indeed huge, and it even has a tiny little balcony.


That's Lloyd Center - a humongous shopping mall - right next to the hotel.


And that's a park on the other side. I have a pretty good view from my balcony.

I'm hoping I don't have to move to the rightful hotel, because I have this uncanny feeling my boss is going to make me to. I'll tell him it's gonna be quite dumb because our meeting will be held in this hotel, right here where I'm staying!


I have no creativity juices nor inspiration to start on my presentation.

Things I've Learned

Sometimes I really wish I were a dog. All a dog knows to do is to love unconditionally. If only I could learn a thing or two about love from Piper.

I tried to, though. And I thought I was doing pretty ok in that aspect of my life; sometimes life just doesn't treat you fair, does it?


If there's one thing I've learned from the man, it is that coldness is just a matter of relativity. Everytime I whined about being cold - in the cinema, supermarket or just about anywhere, he would offer good advice: "Cold? Just take off all your clothes. When you're at the same temperature as your surrounding, you won't feel cold-er." Hmm, just like how you take off your shirt when it's hot so that you don't feel warm-er. Technically it makes sense; culturally it doesn't.

I dumped my luggage in the hotel room, sorted my stuff out, found out I didn't have to start on my samples today after all, and so decided to take another walk outside. I had to find somewhere that offers free wi-fi again - something cafes in Singapore gotta learn to do, if they want my business. Somehow, though knowing it'd be chilly out there, I decided to try walking out sans jacket, just a light tee shirt and jeans and my open birkies. And guess what? It really didn't feel that cold after all. I suppose when you're warm, you just crave for more warmth when you feel the cool wind gushing at your face. We're never satisfied with what we have, aren't we?


I'm discovering some new things - like this new cafe I've just stumbled upon. It offers free wi-fi, reasonably ok latte and late opening hours. Just perfect for me.

I've also learned that things always seem much easier when you turn back.

The train ride to Seattle was unexpectedly slow and torturous. I couldn't decide if I should sleep or read or just look out the window. When I finally decided to take a nap, I didn't get any rest at all though I had a two-seater where I could lie across. It took me four hours, instead of the planned three-half hours. But, surprisingly, the ride back was much easier. I managed to read a little, but mostly I was just sleeping soundly, though I only had a seat to myself. It took me four hours and a little, but it definitely felt like a two-hour trip.

When I took a bus to the Museum of Flight from downtown Seattle, I was quite unsure if I was on the right bus or even in the right direction. It seemed like a long way out from downtown, and I kept looking out anxiously from the window to make sure I hadn't missed my stop. I thought the ride took me 45 minutes, and had planned my time to make sure I wouldn't leave the museum too late and get into trouble with Aunt Lynette. But on the way back to downtown, I realized the trip took only 15 minutes or so.

When I first reached Portland and had to trudge from the city center to the train station with my heavy luggage, I felt like I had to walk a long way, as the map made it out to be. When I reached the train station, my arms and back were almost breaking from the load and I thought I must've walked 20 minutes or something. But today, from the train station, I walked again and was pleasantly surprised to find that I'd reached the city center pretty quickly. I looked at my watch, and realized I only had to walk 10 minutes or so.

Was my mind playing tricks on me? Maybe, but maybe not.

Perhaps the journey always looks harder and longer when you first start out on it. After all, you're stepping on unknown territories and you're walking on unfamiliar grounds. You don't know what to expect, you cannot really trust on your own plans because there's a high likelihood they will get screwed up, you're thrown into further disarray and confusion. You worry and you fear - fear of missing your destinations, fear of being alone and unfamiliar with everything around you, fear of losing sight of what you've always known. And it always seems easier if you could turn back and return to familiar grounds. Things you've always known, feelings you've always had, people you've always been with.

If only things were that simple. If only turning back would be so easy. Wouldn't it be great then, that you can have everything back in your arms and feel safe again? But life doesn't deal you easy cards just like that. Sometimes going back is the most natural thing to do. But sometimes you just can't. And sometimes maybe you shouldn't. Sometimes you just have to learn your way and move in a new direction.

Fear will always be there, everywhere you go. But do you want it as a friend, or a foe?


I seem to be good at talking, huh? But that's all I'm good at. Sometimes I seem strong to friends. But that's all I seem to be. I don't get myself most times too.

Sometimes, I wish I were someone else. I wish I weren't born me. Being a dog would have been good. But then again, I'll never know what I might get. I could be better off, or I could be worse. I could have been someone's beloved pet, or I could have been a stray longing for someone to love.

Just like how I'm feeling now: am I someone's pet, or am I just going to be a stray?

Questions will continue to come my way. Though I think I'm getting better, I know I am not. The day I can talk to you and say I am ok, all without wanting to cry, will be the day I know I am alright.

In the meantime, all I've written here will be all the answers you'll ever get from me.

Bye Bye, Seattle

I'm back at Portland.

And it's dark, cloudy and chilly here. I have only light jackets, darn.

After nights of sleeplessness, I finally slept a good deal last night. Maybe because I had too much of red wine and champagne last night at the wedding. Well, you can't really fault me: I haven't had much to drink since I arrived Seattle, it was free flow of wine at the party, I'm not feeling too great these days, and I still had to deal with relatives (most of whom I've never met my entire life: Uncle Colin's sisters who knew my mom and my dad before they all emigrated to Canada; I felt like a 'lost' niece or something) who kept bombarding questions like "So when's it your turn?". Many a time, I had to run out of the party to catch some breath before I started tearing again. Good thing was, the view outside was great; I captured many pictures of it.

It is actually harder to talk to folks who actually knew of the man. More intimate questions like, "So is he back in Singapore?", "Is he flying now?", "When he flies to Vancouver, you can come along with him, right?", "Have you guys ever discussed marriage?" completely caught me off-guard, and I couldn't possibly talk about anything too upsetting, so I played along. "Oh, he's back.", "He's flying a lot now, flying to many places too.", "Yeah, I could join him but he'd stay in Vancouver only for a day, so it isn't much of a point for me.", and "No, we have not discussed anything."

Standard answer to the most popular question: "No, not getting married." Full stop.

On a pleasant recall of memory, both of us had once thought of a way of dealing with relatives who kept asking us The Question whenever we met them during any kind of family function. We decided we would say, "No, not getting married, we're just gonna have kids" and shock the sock outta them. But we never really managed to say that, someone might just start taking us seriously and start talking to our parents, which might mean more hell. Glad we never did.

Only once, for that one and only moment, I blurted out some slight truth, because I wanted to, to someone during the party amidst our third glass of red wine. Cousin Mark's girl, Jelita, is a sweet girl. I met her once or twice before during my first few trips to Seattle. And we kinda hit it off right then. She's of direct Fijian descent and she has some sound Hindu beliefs (well, mostly enforced by her father, anyway). She's a funny chatterbox, and she just makes me feel so at ease with her. When we got to talking about our men and marriage last night, I just couldn't refrain from telling her, "Actually, we're having some problems." but I just stopped at that as well. She has never met the man, but she knows of him and my devotion to the man (why is it that everyone who knows me thinks I'm one who's devoted to the man?). She could see emotions welling up in me, so she smiled quietly, and just said, "I just hope everything turns out for the better." No probe, no big fuss. I like her.

Then, I had to run out again.


I was so sleepy after the wine, I slept on the car ride back, and also slept through my shower and the rest of the night. I woke up a little late, had a quickie breakfast with uncle and auntie ("When are you getting married? We'll try to be there." Again?! I just smiled), and took a car ride from private Mark (he's a private person, he doesn't work in the military) to the train station, and I slept almost the entire train ride back to Portland.


I was very fortunate to have enjoyed nothing but sunshine during the past four days in Seattle. But the sky this morning as I left was dark, gloomy and threatening to rain. The temperature had dipped to a low, and I felt I could do with a thicker jacket. Is Seattle gonna cry for me as well?


I am supposed to be having my lunch now, and having to rush back to the hotel where the mad rush will start. I have not even started on my presentation slides.

I have many pictures to show of Seattle in the last couple of days, but I've also been very frustrated trying to load up pictures on my web site. Maybe, I'll have to go back in time a little in my next few journals - when I manage to get my pictures done right.


All I can say now is the sadness is still there, the tears still welled up in my heart, the words still stuck in my throat, but my head is getting a little clearer... or at least, I hope. Maybe it's because while I'm here faraway and alone, I feel like I have to make it on my own. I'm not sure of myself.

The Museum of Flight

Just to prove I have been to the Museum of Flight.


Museum of Flight, South Seattle.

The Red Barn, birthplace of the Boeing Company in 1916, now restored at the Museum. Unfortunately, it was closed today. Shucks.

Entrance to the Museum. I think it's a school vacation because there were loads of kids running around.

Nice head. Can't remember who this dude is.

There are planes dangling all over from the rooftop of the museum. I just think they ran out of display space.

The dudes in here are pretty cool too. This is one of the displays hanging at the entrance/lobby area.

The world's first powered airplane in 1903 - a Wright invention. I now understand the movie The Flight of The Phoenix. Haha

A plane in every garage - the Taylor Aerocar made in 1968. So hippy.

The X-Jet made in 1974. It can move in any direction, accelerate rapidly, hover and rotate on its axis. Oh, how wonderful.

I have no idea what this is, but it looks like a airborne gym bike to me.

The Lockheed Blackbird made in 1963, still the fastest and highest flying air-breathing production aircraft every built.

This is the nose section (cockpit) of an SR-71 Blackbird (world's fastest jet) that suffered a spectacular crash in 1968, now restored and exhibited.

Simulators! One ride costs US$5, so I skipped it.

The Curtiss Robin flew for 653 continuous hours - almost a month in the air. Fuel was delivered from another Robin via a hose while mail, food and spare parts came in a supply bag on the end of a rope!

Piper J-3 Cub, 1937. I don't really care what it is, as long as my baby owns this plane.

The Hornet. The two ramjets (engines) are mounted on the tips of its rotor blades.

I practised my basic flying.

Yawing left...

... and right.

LRV - Lunar Roving Vehicle, a land rover on the Moon. And it has a US$8 million price tag. COE excluded.

There was also a air control tower, where flights were simulated and you can actually hear all the conversations that take place between pilots and the controllers.

The Warhawk, "Flying Tiger", used by the Chinese in WWII.

The Curtiss Jenny, most famous plane used by the Americans during the First World War.

There are plenty more other planes, but which might just bore you out of your mind. Now, you have to pay me half my entrance fee.

May

I had pale green stool (something I've never seen coming out of me before) this morning, and I just had soft wet stool. I think I'm gonna fall sick.

The medication is finally taking effect - hopefully - and my skin seems much better. But my psoriasis is back, which means I must be stressed again. Aren't I?


It's six Friday evening, and I'm back at Charles' place, waiting alone for his brother Mark to pick me up. We're going to a barbeque tonight - the mention of the word 'barbeque' just made my stomach churn - hosted by Charles' future in-laws. Wow, I hope I'll have a good time; it just feels kinda strange for me. I think I'll be introduced to the other family as 'May' - again.

Maybe I should just christen myself 'May', just for convenience's sake. Nobody's going to understand the name 'Mei'; they won't know why 'Mei' and what it means, and they're just gonna think it's 'May' anyway.

It's funny and sweet how my whole big family calls me 'Mei' - as in 'little sister' - since the very day I was born. From the oldest (my grandparents) to the youngest (little cousins who call me 'Ah Mei Jie Jie' which is quite contradictory by the way), nobody has ever referred to me by my real name. I kinda suspect they've even forgotten what my real name is.

So it's only natural that when my two Canadian cousins were 'first' introduced to me four years ago (they visited their Singaporean relatives for the very first time in their lives after being born and growing up in Vancouver), they know me as only 'Mei'. Or 'May'.

May. So sweet, but it's so not me. I'm born in October anyway.

But then again, May has been a month I'll never forget. The name does have a special meaning to me, after all.


Why don't you take another little piece of my heart?
Why don't you take it, and break it, and tear it all apart?
All I do is give, and all you do is take.
Baby, why don't you give me a brand new start?
So let me live, let me live.
Let Me Live, Queen

The One

Thank you to the one who commented on my pictures... appreciate it. That's all I can try to offer to the world right now - something good and nice.


Another late morning, when I had wanted to get out earlier today. Someone pulled the blinds up last night, and by 7 in the morning, the sun was shining on my butt - literally. I actually woke up because I felt too hot on my bum. Duh.

Lazed around a little on bed, checking my mail. I heard sounds downstairs; they must all be awake already. Didn't feel like appearing to the world too soon. By 10, I realized I was kinda late on my own schedule, got up, washed up and changed into some light comfy clothes - it looks like it's going to be another nice sunny day, a skirt and flip flops would be perfect. I had wanted to hang out at some cafe for latte and toasted bagel-with-cream cheese for breakfast but was held back by Aunt Lynette who had kindly made toast and eggs for me. So I hung around the breakfast table for a while, had a nice chat with my folks. I like Uncle Morris, I think he likes me too. Until Charles said I have to be back at home by 5 this evening. I bolted out of the house immediately.

Enjoying my dose of skinny latte before I head for the bus that will bring me to the Museum of Flight, my itinerary of the day.


Got a sweet heartwarming message on MSN when I woke this morning. Somehow, words that I used to hear regularly and almost daily now have a strangely bittersweet but absolutely heartfelt effect on me. And tasks that I used to do like a normal routine now seem like a special event I can't wait to happen - like a simple wake-up call.


Ask me anytime, and I'll tell you, without a flinch or a flicker of an eyelid, I will choose 'l-o-v-e' over 'bread'. Maybe because I'm a woman. But maybe it's simply because I'm me.

All my life, I have always truly and honestly believed that for any one person in this world, there is that one special other half, what they call 'The One', somewhere out there in this whole wide world. And I always believe that it's the ultimate blessing to be able to find and marry The One, but I also believe most people don't. Most people in this world probably settle for the next best one whom they can find. They may not be happiest with whom they find, and then they start dreaming of having a more perfect partner, but life is still generally good, and so they stick around the one they find. And it's sad, but who am I to say that to people? Because I am me, and I believe in myself, I never want to end up like them, and I have always known I have to find The One.

I left the previous man because of this conviction of mine. He's a good man, most people think he is, anyway. And I even thought I would eventually marry this man who would probably be a good honest man who would give me a good comfy life. And he loved me a lot, more than I probably did. But one day, I woke up and realized I didn't love this man the way I've always wanted to love a man. I loved him more like a big brother who took real good care of me. I could've stayed on and be a pampered wife, but that wasn't how I wanted to live my life. More importantly, I asked myself, "Is he the man I want to wake up to every morning of my life? Is he going to be the father of my children?" The answer was clear. He wasn't the one.

That was almost eight years ago, and I have never ever regretted making that very hurtful decision. I left him when everything seemed to be going ok, nothing seemed to be going wrong. He was heartbroken, hurt and totally baffled by me. But I just had to do it. I couldn't let myself down. The previous man has since married another, and I sincerely wish him all the happiness he can find, though I never had the chance to tell him this myself.

Eight years on, I think I have found The One. But is The One meant to be?

It is aching to think that the man whom I want to wake up to every morning and whom I want to father my children may no longer be there for me.



The sight of this sweet old couple meant a thousand words to me. I looked at them and I wanted to cry. I wanted to grow old with The One like them (though I may not be the one on a walking stick). I wanted to grow old like those old couples dancing on the dance floor in the Cavern. I wanted to grow old like Noah and Allie in the movie The Notebook.

Will I?

Sleepless in Seattle

It's hard getting to sleep at all here, and I'm not usually one who has sleeping problems while on the travel. The room I'm bunking in (the computer room) is not air-conditioned, so it gets a little stuffy initially, but it turns cooler nearing pre-dawn hours. I sleep on a mattress on the floor; well, I'm ok with anything as long as I have a resting place. I ended up sleeping here, instead of the guest room on the ground level, because I couldn't detect the wireless connection at the ground level and I had to make room for Charles' parents anyway after one night. Well, I suppose the Internet is more important to me than the bed. And I have to get some work done anyway.

Last night was filled with tossing and turning in bed, no peace of mind as unsettling thoughts ran over and over in my mind, bad dreams that made me open my eyes with a startle, and most of all, a very strong urge to cry.

I get especially lonely in the night. I feel the loneliness too, when I am walking down the streets of downtown amidst hustle and bustle, and if I really wanted to, I could just stop in my tracks, throw down my bag and bawl right in front of everything. But it's easier out there, in the sunshine, to grit your teeth, furrow your brows and then just let it pass. Sometimes I think the eyes might turn out a little red-veined but I don't think anyone could've seen that through my Oakleys.

But in the night, when you have no one, no dog around you, the pain just seeps through your veins and cuts you up like a knife. You never realize your heart contains any mass until you feel its load burdening down inside of you. You can actually feel like your heart wants to cry; you'd never know how this feels till you get it. And you learn an important equation: that sadness lumped in your heart weighs much much more than happiness.

More questions came last night over the chicken rice dinner: "Mei, when is your turn?", "What is your boyfriend's name?", "Is he still in Australia or back in Singapore with you?", "You two should come to Vancouver for holiday."

I almost choked on the chicken.

I think I'll find my way to the Museum of Flight today. He said it would be nice and I should go visit.

Cheap Boddington's and Free Wi-Fi

It was such an uncharacteristically hot day in Seattle today, it felt almost like I was back home. I could feel the scorch on my skin, but the breeze was much cooler. I didn't perspire as much, and I didn't feel grouchy as well. But I could've sworn the temperature was almost 29 or 30 degree Celsius.

I walked past a man who happened to be making this remark to his companion, "It is strangely hot today, it usually doesn't get this hot in Seattle till about July."

I kinda decided today would be a day spent downtown. Anyway, I figured I wouldn't have much time to explore Seattle today since I came out of the house late and I would need to be back at Charles' place for another homecooked dinner in the evening. His mom, Aunt Lynette, is coming into town today from Vancouver and has promised him a Hainanese chicken rice meal - well, it's just too bad I'm not a chicken rice fan, but I have to be home anyhow.

Didn't really want to shop, so I thought my first stop would be the Pike Fish Market. I've been there like maybe two or three years ago when I first visited Charles and I was really behaving like a tourist then. But, then I didn't have the sense to take any pictures, so I thought I should spice up my journals with some fishy stuff.


There is a public market, and then a 'sanitary market'. I don't know what's up with these markets.


I almost thought there was piped-in music like in a shopping mall. Then I realized it was a busking piano player. It was that cool.


Restaurant with an alfresco dining deck. I thought it looked so cosy but I didn't want to spend that kind of money on lunch.


I am always delighted, and amused at the same time, to see Chinese shops run by Chinese folks selling Chinese pastries in foreign lands. For a moment, I thought they were selling 'mee sua' and 'dim sum'.


The fish market lies right smack in the midst of the city center. Skyscrapers (and construction sites) line the view beyond.


But this is real key highlight of why people bother to visit the Pike Fish Market - the Pike Place Fish Co. guys.


These guys make fishmongering a very happy job. They shout, they sing, they make their customers laugh. In fact, I'm not quite sure if their fish and seafood are indeed of the highest quality, nor if they do get a huge load of business everyday, because most folks crowd around their stall, just to watch them at work (or play, some will say) and take pictures (like me). They don't seem to mind all the attention. They are so well-known, they are the ones who inspired the book "Fish! Tales: Real Life Stories to Help You Transform Your Workplace and Your Life". In fact, I had read the book myself just before I first visited Seattle 3 or 4 years ago. I remember feeling quite excited then about seeing the fish guys in the flesh. Silly me.


I just had to sneak in this picture of a little fella chilling out under a car.


Pretty-looking caramel apples sitting in the window. I sneaked a picture while the sales lady was busy handing out samplers to passer-bys. Not my cup of tea, though, caramel.


Three Dog Bakery! My favorite. One day, I shall own this store (through franchising of course).


Caught a glimpse of one of the grand mountains of Washington. Unfortunately, I'm not sure which of the three mountains I was looking at here.


This is one part of Seattle that absolutely reminds me of Frisco - slippery slopes.


Captured another view of yet another one of the mountains. But still, I'm clueless about its identity.


There are new modern buildings all around the fish market, like these residential buildings. I think it's a pretty weird sight.


And this is where you buy your dirty videos.


I'm so freakin' glad I did not hop onto one of these boat-ride-on-wheels thingy. It would've been quite embarassing to be seen on one, wouldn't it?

There wasn't really anything much in the Pike Fish Market, save for the singing fishmongers. I was quite disappointed, especially since I've been to Frisco and tend to compare this market to the Fisherman's Wharf in Frisco. I must say, Fisherman's in Frisco is more authentic, it's bigger, and there are more stalls selling fresh seafood cooked rightaway in front of you. I devoured on crab cakes in Fisherman's. I could find none in Pike.

Still, the slow walk in Pike Fish Market took me an hour or so. I wanted to take a seat at some quaint little restaurant and have some clam chowder, but decided against it since I wasn't hungry at all. I took a look at my watch, decided I hadn't much time left for the rest of the day, and thought I should move on.

Problem was, I didn't exactly know what my next stop would be. I thought perhaps I should just walk through downtown and see if I could find any information center who could give me better directions elsewhere. Big mistake. What a big mistake.

I ended popping into stores and buying stuff 'along the way'. Against my intentions.


I don't usually do Banana Republic because they are a tad too expensive for my taste. But I thought, maybe some retail therapy might just help me feel a little better.

So I picked up item after item of clothing soon as I walked in (ok, in my desperation to get healed by retail therapy, I still had the mind to check out only items on sale racks) and headed straight for the fitting rooms.


I took a long while in the fitting room. The one thing I appreciate about shopping in the U.S. is that there are plenty of fitting rooms usually and the sales assistants (mostly gays by the way) usually do not care the number of items you want to try out. You just take your own sweet time, changing in and out of clothes, pondering over what to buy and what not. Once in a while, if you do take an unusually long time locked up inside the room, the sales assistant would call out and check if you need help. So nice. It also does help that the rooms are usually big and relatively comfortable (chairs or sofas provided, thank you).


Nice top... that I did NOT buy, just so you can see.


State of undress! *gasp*... NOT. Haha.

I had fun in that dressing room. And the guy did come around knocking on my door, asking if I was ok with the sizes and all. I decided I should stop fooling around in the room.


The next place of 'evilness'. Control was in play, though.

I was kinda done with shopping. Good thing nothing in Gap enticed me, and I refrained from walking into many other stores. Actually, I thought if I really wanted to, I should do my shopping in Portland, where they do not charge freakin' 8 percent sales tax. Good gosh.

Decided then that I should just start looking for a cafe where I can sit and load up the pictures into my pbook. My legs could use the rest too.


I once read in the internet that there was such an informal tour as a "clock tour" in downtown Seattle. Obviously they have many such quaint old clock towers... that I didn't really see.


Resisted, refrained, and finally succumbed to the temptation. In the hot sun, I was dying to have some ice-cream, but to pay freakin' 4 bucks for ice-cream was a little too 'luxurious' for me. Still, I did not regret my caramel latte/pistachio treat. Cold Stone Creamery was awesome.

While having my ice-cream, sitting down, I took out my city map and realized I was quite done with downtown. Nothing much left for me. I decided, maybe I should just walk down to the Space Needle. It was almost five, and folks were already rushing out of offices heading for the buses. I just hoped I wouldn't reach the Needle to find it closed for the day.


Walking down 5th Street, I couldn't help but stop and smile at this sign.


After a busy city, some quiet residential apartments, I finally chanced upon something I've been wanting to find - nice little pubs and restaurants like these. The first thing that caught my eye was a Boddington's signboard, I made up my mind.


Ducks in the city.


A good view of the Space Needle, still a distance away. I had to snap the picture because the clouds were just so beautiful.


Space Needle right in front of me!


Grand entrance.

And guess what? I didn't go up. It would've cost me 13 bucks and I wasn't sure if the money would be spent worthily. I found out, though, that the Needle doesn't close till 11 in the night. Maybe, I might just come back tomorrow for a night view from the top.


Next to the Space Needle was the building of Komo TV. Some news channel, I figured. I like this picture of Ichiro on a building.


A nicely 'vandalized' bus-stop that might not even be approved in Singapore.


I walked back to the pubs and decided to make it my last stop for the day - but not before having some good beer. Headed straight for the cafe (hmm, realized it's a cafe by day, pub by night, very versatile) where the Boddington's signboard hung. That last stop made me feel lucky - it was still happy hour and so the beer on tap cost me only $3.25; I got free wireless internet connection as well. I think I know where I'm heading tomorrow again.