April, 26, 2007 [Seattle, WA]

Seattle, Washington

Alex, it’s raining

“What a surprise,” said my friend Alex “in Seattle rains most of the time, they have, like, a month of sunshine… That’s why they are all so white and weird.”

Portland was great, the sun was warm and the green was greener than anywhere I been before. But I enjoyed that just for a few minutes because I left early to Seattle to meet my old friend Alex. Alex was moving to Alaska with all his family. He had to wait in Seattle until the next day to use the ferry, so I had one day to hang out with him.

Patrick stayed in Portland having a couple of days of “alone time’ with his family.

Alex came to pick me up to the Seattle bus station (Greyhound). I was tired and hungry so we went to eat and then visited‘The Space Needle’ (Signature of the city), and the Disney Music Hall, which I really liked. This music hall building was built by the famous architect Frank Gehry using the de-constructivism style.

Alex is from the Coast Guard, so he took me to the port where all the military ships are ‘resting?’ and also we drove around downtown.

Seattle reminded me to Buenos Aires, but much, much smaller and clean; lots of hippies, bohemians, and hobos. Alex told me that Seattle is the City with more hobo or Homeless in the United States.

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James, the Hobo

We were in Dick’s a famous hamburger place of Seattle. In front of us were like seven or eight hobos asking money or food to the clients, one in particular kept calling me “Sr., Sr., Sr.…”

I tried to ignore him but he kept calling me “Sr., Sr., Sr.” extending his hat in front of me so I could put money on it. (If he knew me!)

“What is your name?” I asked him.

“James,” answered him shyly, but also in a particular brave way, like having a name was all the pride he had left and he wasn’t willing to hide it.

“Hi James, I don’t have anything at all to give you, sorry”

“What about that hamburger” (If he knew me!)

“That’s my brake fast and lunch… and now it’s five O’clock, so …”

“What about those fries”

“Where are you from James?”

“I am from Seattle”

“How old are you?” I said passing him my fries.

“31”

James seemed annoyed for my questions; I wanted to find out about his life. Some times hobos have a crazy life. What happened in his life to end up homeless in the street? He didn’t show any apparent disability. But I didn’t dare to keep questioning him, not in this occasion, but I bet I will run into another Seattle hobo, and soon.