POSTS TAGGED : capitol hill

The Stairs Less Traveled

One of the fanciest walls in Capitol Hill. Look at those angles.I didn’t understand how hilly Seattle was until I got here.* I went to college in Boston, where I lived within a few blocks of Beacon Hill for three-and-a-half years. Have you been to that Beacon Hill? If you’re kind of out of shape, you might consider it a hill. But really, it’s a sort of gentle rise, especially compared to our little corner of the Pacific Rim.

So when I moved here, I was unprepared. I threw myself into it – I was 21, so I could fake the endurance I hadn’t rightly earned, even though I was accustomed to flatter pastures and a car-based life at the time. But Seattle is hilly enough that I snort when we’re described as a bike-friendly city (although not only for reasons of topography). My laundry cycle accounts for the fact that my walking commute home usually leaves me as sweaty as if I’d just jogged a few miles. So it goes.

Seattle is hilly enough that there are certain slopes with stairs, because the hills are too steep to sustain a plain old sidewalk. Yes, in certain places downtown and in Phinney Ridge and probably other places I’ll get to in the next few months, the sidewalks have those raised ridges so you can dig your toes in as you climb to your office on Third on an icy day. But western Capitol Hill, Queen Anne… these places require actual, honest-to-god stairs. Continue reading →

Northish Capitol Hill

Glad we cleared that up.I went on a good, long walk today with adventurous friends and saw parts of my neighborhood I’ve never seen in the 8.5 years I’ve lived here. I’ll tell you about it soon. In the meantime, there’s… this. I’m glad people with strange thoughts also sometimes have the foresight to bring a Sharpie or paint pen or whatever with them wherever they go.

In Paris, I went to Le Refuge Des Fondue (why aren’t you there now? why am I not there now? what are we doing with our lives?). About five or six items down the list of things I’d tell you about this place is that it’s covered – COVERED – in graffiti. We finished dinner and were winding our way out of the place, and we decided we wanted to add to it. I dug in my bag, which is generally better stocked with art supplies than most people’s would be, and produced: the Sharpie. And we wrote and left our marks and went happily into the night, not knowing we would soon be trapped in a humid room for upwards of two hours by French singers.

“Why did you have that?” one of our number asked me, confused but a bit impressed. I thought about it and said, “Well, why wouldn’t I?” Sharpies are a sign of good, thorough preparation. Always have a Sharpie. Ideally a good thick one in fighting shape. You never know.

All that is to say: I went on a walk today and had a fiercely good time. More to come.