On a recent trip to Seattle and Vancouver … It is said a 9-year-old girl, astonished by the amount of greenery in Seattle, Wash., once remarked it looked just like the Emerald City in Oz and that is supposedly how it came to be known as the Emerald City.
Seattle gets a bad rap for its weather: mention the city back East and you think of rain. But the weather rarely gets as extreme as ours. The rainfall is no greater than here and considerably less violent. It’s gentle and misty, like the Stan Getz saxophone solo that played softly in our hotel lobby. Temperatures seldom get below 40 in the winter and, contrary to popular belief, there is little snow. No oppressive humidity dominates the summer, so, even though temperatures reached record levels during our stay, it didn’t feel like Philly heat. You can even find an occasional palm tree among the huge red cedars in the many city parks.
Besides the Space Needle (the most well-known tourist attraction in Seattle), there is Pike Place Market. Imagine Reading Terminal 25 times over and you have the enormity of the Pike Place Market, where you can shop for a huge variety of fish and produce from the region. Near the original Starbucks, three men, at least as old as me, are singing Sam Cooke songs in remarkable harmony.
Starbucks is the only chain legally allowed in the vicinity of the market — and only because it has become a landmark. The coffee shop has plenty of competition in Seattle, where a multitude of small companies have sprung up that roast their own beans. This city loves its coffee like no other place and every street in the shopping areas are dotted with small cafés serving up lattes and espressos. If you’re a tea person, don’t fret. You can try a popular Asian concoction known as bubble tea. The drink comes in a variety of flavors from Watermelon to Mango, dairy or non-dairy, and is made with either black or green tea. It is served in a large cup with a plastic bubble top and a straw wide enough to allow the tapioca beads to pass through, giving the drink a unique quality.
You can stroll down the streets of Gas Town and listen to live jazz or take a ferry to Bainbridge Island and enjoy a quiet lunch. Or, choose from an incredible variety of hip cafés and ethnic rest-aurants. But, by all means, don’t leave Seattle without dining on King Salmon — at least once. This fish is truly king in this city. Whether it is simply grilled and gently brushed with a cherry demi glace at Ray’s Boathouse, smoked in-house at one of the small spots on the waterfront or eaten with sips of McCarthy’s whisky at the Cascadia, the salmon is as memorable as the sunsets on Lake Washington or Puget Sound.
It is a four-and-a-half hour train ride to Vancouver, British Columbia, but worth it for the stunning view. On the way, you pass vast forests of fir trees, which suddenly turn into pristine beaches surrounding the rippling waters of Lake Washing-ton. The sunset is dazzling enough to make you forget about the dining car running out of food an hour and a half into the trip.
Vancouver is a melting pot of diversity. The business district displays signs in English, French, Japanese and Chinese. The population is almost half Asian, most of whom seem to be female, hot and about 22. Joe Vento would probably be uncomfortable here trying to get the residents to speak English; no one seems to be as uptight about this issue as back home. We were told many Asians fled to Vancouver after China assumed control of Hong Kong. A lot stayed and opened up businesses and seem to have added to the delightful diversity of the area.
At our hotel, the lobby was buzzing. Hockey and the World Cup dominated conversation. With the National Hockey League draft being held nearby, the front offices of Florida, Calgary and Toronto were staying at our hotel. The night after the draft, team parties were held in private banquet rooms. A starry-eyed Flames draft pick walked around the lobby wearing a business suit and a Calgary cap. Young women stared longingly at him. The kid looked like he hadn’t started shaving yet. You wished you were him.
The hotel tavern played the World Cup on TV and featured cuisine of the competing countries. Some kids raced around in cars draped with their country’s flags, beeping their horns in a vain attempt to grab attention. Did anybody in Vancouver care, while we were away, our Phillies were imploding while Brett Myers exploded?
Doris Roberts of "Everybody Loves Raymond" was on our tour bus with her family. She seemed uncomfortable, so none of us asked her, "What’s Ray Romano really like?"
While touring the city, we noticed a huge peace demonstration against the war in Iraq. It was a week when George W. Bush practically accused The New York Times of treason — a Nixonian moment if there ever was one.
It all seemed blissfully far away in Canada, which seems a lot like America without the right-wing hang-ups.
