I've decided that I'm strangely enamored of the Pacific Northwest. For the purposes of this post, I'll lump Alaska with the Pacific Northwest. Hopefully that's not offensive.
I can't explain why. It could have something to do with the fact that I've spend approximately 95% of my life on the east coast and thus heading West still holds some exoticism for me. You know, exoticism in the form of tall pine trees and rainy weather and an over-dependence on coffee shops.
When I went to go visit my dad last summer, I had a 6.5 hour long layover in Seattle. It was long enough that my Seattle friend kindly offered to pick me up from the airport and entertain me for a few hours.
These hours entailed going to see some earthworks...
Befriending some ducks...
Running up this hill...
And staring at this huge-ass navy ship. Or at least I assume it was a navy ship. There were men in uniform on a huge-ass ship at any rate.
After bopping around for a few hours and staring at the Puget Sound, I had to hop on another plane to Anchorage...
To Alaska...a land where even your local Wal-Mart looks like it could a part of some epic scenery for a Lord of the Rings movie...
... and where your typical trip to the market holds mystery and wonderment...
... and where former brothels become cherished family restaurants.
Maybe I do need to one day pack up and move out west. At least for the option of having daily moose sightings.
