I had to go for that title. I was genuinely sleepless in Seattle, as I have been throughout the whole trip so far. Hostels, although bargain-priced, do not facilitate my nighttime overheating.
My confession: I didn’t feel the love for Seattle until the day I left. There was something missing. It wasn’t a lack of food or drink, because that was second to none.
The turning point came on Friday when I realised that my train to Portland was on Saturday evening, not Sunday. Once I had mopped the panic sweat from my brow, I knew it was time. Time to go on the water.
Why did it take so long? I love boats. Back when I watched Grey’s Anatomy, I was quite taken with the idea of going to work on a ferry, a la Dr McDreamy. So after this breakfast at the Storyville Cafe, I hopped on a water taxi to West Seattle.
Delightful isn’t the word. The wind whipped my hair into a frenzy. The sun shone. The waves rippled. I waved to people on other boats. There was much joy.
The Seattle skyline hadn’t inspired me before, not like that of Vancouver, but from the water, I could see its potential.
Plus, I was on the sunny shore. When I’m in a new place, I try to find what part I would live in. I would live in West Seattle, in a clapboard house that has sea views on three sides. I would kayak and SUP, then eat fish from Sunfish when I came off the water.
I imagined a life there while I walked around the headland until it was time to get the boat back. Then I remembered the warnings foretold by Grey’s Anatomy. If I lived in Seattle, I would probably be involved in a tragic ferry accident. So I packed my bags and headed to Portland.