Are we home yet?

(From my journal) August 31, 2009 - "I think I underestimated how lonely a new city can be...starting from scratch. Meeting new people who are all nice and friendly, but really just missing the close friends of my past, doubting if I'll ever be able to forge those kinds of connections anew again...
"Home" is so lost and distorted for me by now, with pieces of myself scattered across two continents and more cities than I can count, in the hearts of so many people I've met along the way. I just have to have faith that this place will work out, too; it just may take awhile."


I find myself coming back to the theme of home again and again in my writing. (It's been nearly two years since the last time I wrote about home, so I figure it's time again.) I've been reflecting on it a lot lately, because I've now been in Seattle a full year and a half, I am training new hires at REI (many of whom, like myself, are Midwest transplants), and I have begun to have friends who've come to Seattle even more recently than myself.

What a pleasure, finally, to feel like I have a good grasp on this place, that I no longer have to print out Mapquest directions to get to somewhere else in the city, that I can share my favorite cafes and restaurants and parks with newcomers, and above all, that I have cultivated the kinds of friendships here I feel are going to be friendships for life.

It took some time, though. Even with Alan here with me, and Seyeon in Seattle when I first arrived, the first few months (and then some) were often hard. Despite the excitement of being somewhere new that I felt confident would someday feel like home, the truth was that it didn't right away - far from it.

October 2, 2009 - "I took a shower in hopes that it would feel cleansing and rejuvenating, and it did, sort of...but mostly I just rubbed my eyes in frustration, feeling the hot water beading up on my back, and imagining myself years down the road when I'll look back on this time in my life and remember how lonely the city used to make me feel once upon a time. Cities ARE lonely. I'm so in love with this place, but what of it without Seyeon? I miss Ohio."

Am I homesick for Kansas? I get asked this. I have the same reaction that I see from many other new arrivals in Seattle when asked if they miss where they came from - a sort of scrunched up face, then: "I miss my family. And friends. But otherwise, no, not at all."

Don't get me wrong. I feel grateful for where I grew up - in a nice house in a beautiful neighborhood, across the street from woods and a creek and a hundred continuous miles of forested bike path, within walking distance of my elementary school and Chipotle and a Starbucks-knockoff coffeeshop, with a pond and waterfall and huge old trees in my backyard.


Me + Kansas = Home, Version 1.0. (Photo by Kelly Anderson.)
I regret that I ever found amusement in the bumper sticker "Kansas: As Bigoted As You Think It Is" (a play on Kansas' admittedly silly state motto, "Kansas: As Big As You Think It Is" (what? Coast People can't even point to Kansas on a map; they have no preconceived notion of its bigness...and even if they did, since when is "Big" a sought-after quality?))*, because in spite of a few intolerant people I grew up going to school with, there's no use in perpetuating unproductive stereotypes.

Truth be told, Midwesterners are great, and I maintain a fondness, and even protectiveness, in my heart for my home state despite my lack of desire to ever move back. I'll defend Kansas if you're Coast People and make flyover jokes. I am offended when you think Kansas and Ohio are next to each other. I get excited when I see KU bumper stickers on cars out here. Many of my favorite people in Seattle are from the Midwest (mostly Iowa!); I fell in love harder with Ohio while at Oberlin than I did California while I was at Stanford; I brought my born-and-raised-Midwesterner boyfriend out here with me. Yes, I feel an ache in my heart for wraparound porches and big skies and affordable houses and all-you-can-eat buffets and feeling safe running alone at night.


Me + Ohio = Home-like love, but not lifelong home-like love
But with all that said, I feel deep, deep in my soul that the Pacific Northwest is home for me. It's been a gradual settling in to this place, an exercise in patience, in finding my groove, in training my body to love running hills, in learning to take Vitamin D supplements to help make it through the gray blanket of winter. I thoroughly enjoyed the honeymoon phase while it lasted, and now am warm with the enduring comfort and affection I feel on the other side of that. I get to relive that discovery and share it with new Seattle arrivals, while ultimately appreciating the way Seattle has, for me, developed the ragged Realness I learned about once upon a time from the Velveteen Rabbit - the kind that's brought about only by real love, and never goes away.


Me + Washington state = Definite home-like love
Those of us that chose to move here, we were all drawn to the Northwest for different reasons. Nevertheless, there is a single and persistent thread that's brought so many of us out here, and it's one that can weave a home for anyone who simply has the patience.

May 3, 2009 - "I feel connected again, and a part of this world! So many times since I've moved here, Seattle has felt big and lonely and maybe not the right place for me after all - and nothing is scarier than wanting to crawl back into your own cocoon, into something familiar and safe again, only to realize that that home base has disappeared and you've no choice but to squint into the sunlight, spread your wings and fly. But today, right now, Seattle feels like home."


The lonely entries tapered off and ceased altogether a long time ago; it's hard to even identify with them anymore. Nearly a year since that last one, I feel content and comfortable here as though I have, in fact, spent my whole life delicately tucked between the Pacific Ocean and the Cascade Mountains, nestled next to Puget Sound, living where the highway signs point to either Vancouver or Portland, and I feel darn lucky to be sandwiched in what seems to me to be pretty much the greatest place on Earth. I am grateful for all that this city has given me in the past year and a half. Thank you, Seattle! I'm still in love with you.

*With apologies for the double parentheses. Annoying, I know. Couldn't help it.

Round on the ends and high in the middle

Watching the silent flashing yellow lights at 3 a.m. on the streets of Oberlin.
I haven't written yet about my Ohio trip, I know. As with all vacations, it came and went in a whirlwind of experiences, thoughts, conversations, moments...I feel that the trip initiated some movement and change within me, which is always productive - but writing about it in retrospect, it's difficult to capture it all. When I went to Seattle for the first time five years ago, my journal entry about it was just a mess of details. I wrote, Chai lattes, acoustic guitar on sidewalks, sketchbooks, flying fish, postmenopausal hippies, Thai food and mango bubble tea, walking everywhere, anarchy bookstores, no internet, browsing zines, pink hair, Ramen by coffeemaker, art and more art, running up 25 flights of stairs, falling asleep on windowsills, rain, thrift-store explorations, pigeons, local poets and magic tricks, the boy at Seattle's Best Coffee who thinks my name is Francesca, the drunken Scot with a lip ring who followed us around for a bit...

This trip to Ohio? Even though I saw a plethora of friends and had a zillion thoughts about myself, my past, my life path, necessary changes for the sake of my sanity...my journal's seen little of it, my blog, obviously, has seen none at all so far, and my camera only has a few sparse pictures, mostly of silly things that have nothing to do with what this trip was really about for me.

What I did get to do: Truly sleep in, on more than one occasion! See a ton of friends and acquaintances alike - Oberlin kids, Elyria kids, old professors and bosses... Have a silly night out at the Joyful Mug, and in celebration of the good ol' Midwestern cost of living, buy a round of drinks for my old co-workers. Run 13 miles at French Creek. Eat at all my old favorite Oberlin restaurants (including the Feve twice in one day...yesss.) Hang out on a lot of Oberlin porches. See the new Creative Writing House, the stunning new jazz studies building, the new bagel place in town, the new green East College developments and Oberlin's first true coffeeshop, Slow Train. Listen to Julie Taymor's commencement speech (On a scale of 10, I'd give it a 6.5, but it sure beat the heck out of Richard Haass' speech at my graduation.) Stand on a folding chair and scream my head off as graduating friends' names were called. Enjoy Giovanni's pizza and watch a stunning sunset over the lake with Alan at my side. Sit out a lovely afternoon thunderstorm underneath the Mudd library ramp. Nap in the sunshine in Tappan. Drop by the Dick's store in Elyria and have lunch with Quinn. Spend a lazy afternoon in the backyard shade with (some of) Alan's family. Walk down the middle of the road at night by myself under a full (ish) moon and listen to the crickets.

What I didn't get to do: Go to Cedar Point. Have a beer at Stubby's. Belt out a duet at Loco karaoke with Aseem. Splash around in the Arb lakes. Spend any time in Cleveland whatsoever. See Quinn perform. Ride bikes on the old rail trail. Read in any of the three books I hauled with me.

But that's all right. There will always be next time. Until then... photo album!


Iconic Oberlin photo.


Ruth*, with our delightful $4.50 plate of nachos on Agave's new sidewalk terrace.
*who will be moving to Seattle in September!


Feve burger and tots. Mmm...indeed, most of the pictures I took on this trip involved food one way or another.


The ridiculously slick new jazz studies building.


Hint hint, Seattle. See? The Midwest knows how to a Happy Hour right.


CLE Airport. Oh Cleveland...

Mini Cup o' Joe report!


Cappucino, Slow Train Coffee. This place, though not perfect, beats the pants off of JavaZone.


Slow Train Coffee interior.


The strange thing about returning to any place that was once home is that it's generally about as you left it...yet you no longer occupy the same role there. You don't have a place to call your own, nor a routine to claim - but rather, you piece together an itinerary for yourself out of familiar elements in hopes of reliving a glimpse of your past, but inevitably probably falling a bit short. The one day I made it to Black River for brunch, the coffee they gave me was bitter and lukewarm, and the sausage overcooked and hard as a rock. Go figure. The new coffeeshop, Slow Train, is awesome, but aptly named; it took nearly 15 minutes for them to handle a line of four people wanting espresso drinks. The day I ran at French Creek, it was hot as hell, with 90% humidity and mosquitoes everywhere, so it hardly felt like this blissful running spot I remembered it as...and I realize that Seattle's taught me to love running hills, of which, of course, Ohio has none.

But I suppose that the big guy in the sky is just looking out for me: if, this time around, Ohio felt like the cozy blanket it once did, it would have been hard to leave. And it wasn't. I felt I got what I needed out of it - seeing the important people, being nudged to reconnect with my biggest, original passion in this life (i.e. writing), having the time to breathe for what felt like the first time in months - and it's clear to me that since returning to Seattle, I've been in a much better, calmer, Zen-like state of mind than I have been in awhile. I was definitely in need of a vacation - but, I'm also happy to be back in my new home, where things are familiar and cozy and full of friends, decent coffee, spectacular baristas, hills aplenty, and fresh, cool mountain air.


I love checking out the patchwork farms from the plane window as much as the next person, but mountain peaks are cool, too.


Sigh. Isn't she lovely? I'm still in the honeymoon phase.

Greeted by the albino squirrel

Well, I've made it to Ohio. I can't get over how strange and absolutely surreal it is that a few hours ago, I was walking briskly through the streets of Seattle under a dusky darkening sky in order to catch my light rail to the airport...I promptly fell asleep at takeoff, and woke up at 10,000 feet to a stunning sunrise eclipsing the full moon.


And now it's morning in Oberlin, and I'm back in this place for the first time in nearly a year, and it feels very odd indeed.

A couple times throughout the flight, my eyes drifted open. I'd forgotten that the moon is (nearly?) full right now - so the view was unbelievably spectacular...the moonlight was so bright it reflected off the clouds we were flying above, lending them to a sort of golden-silhouetted look, and the whole dark blanket was punctuated with occasional holes into the glittering night-lit towns on the ground below. I love red eye flights.

In the interest of not disturbing my kind host too early in the morning, I have staked out a swinging bench in Tappan Square to listen to the birds and bask in the sunshine that's pouring through the trees and evaporating the morning dew on the grass. It's so much warmer here than it is in Seattle right now. The albino squirrels are here, as they've always been, and came out to greet me.


I'm warmed by the thought of the lazy days ahead I have here to lounge in this good Midwestern sunshine, indulge in the simultaneous relief to have moved on from this place and yet still mourn the loss of my past life in this state, and catch up on some general, much-needed self-reflection.

G.O. Saves the Day Again

Three work shifts today...I haven't had time for a darn thing lately, including buying myself food to eat. I somehow managed to get semi-lost between tutoring in Madrona/Capitol Hill this evening and getting up to Greenlake, and just as I was lamenting my rumbling stomach for lack of a proper dinner between everything, I turned a corner, and BOOM, there was Grocery Outlet. Like a sign from God.

Highlight of my haul this week:


'Nuff said.
Leaving on a jet plane in 72 hours...as pumped as I am to see good friends and for Black River pancakes and running at French Creek and Cedar Point and Feve tots and visiting Dick's and Great Lakes microbrews and West Side Market and Commencement and lazy afternoons at Oberlin Market...the biggest excitement on my list right now of Things to Look Forward To is just catching up on sleep. Slumber is so sweet. Speaking of which...

From Farm to Yitka's Kitchen

Homemade zucchini bread.
This week, something big is happening: I will have my first day off from work (all jobs considered) in TWENTY-SEVEN DAYS. I didn't actually realize how ridiculous my schedule had gotten until I sat down today to look at my iCal, and realized, holy cow...I've been swamped. I'm working full time at REI, tutoring four students, proctoring the occasional SAT at local high schools, cleaning Vera once a week (in exchange for free training sessions), and doing some writing here and there. Though not much blogging, apparently...

I'm pooped. It's exacerbated by the fact that I'm battling some severe bruising (Metatarsals? Bone bruise? Not quite sure...) on my right foot...I didn't even hurt it while running, but it's kept me sidelined from my passion for three weeks and counting now. Bummer. After writing an article on the Eugene Marathon, I registered for it this spring...but it's less than a month away now, and I'm pretty sure my injury's left me in no place to run it. Needless to say, the lack of running during this rather hectic stretch in my life has left me a little stir-crazy.

Nevertheless, I'm determined as ever to always carve out the requisite relaxation time. There definitely hasn't been enough of it lately, but I *have* done some nice bonus activities here and there. I finished reading Barbara Kingsolver's "Animal Vegetable Miracle", about her family's decision to live on a farm and eat only locally grown food for a whole year. It's a wonderful book - funny, enthralling, poetic, inspiring, poignant all - and one that's been on my reading list since Seyeon and I went down to Austin, Texas about a year and a half ago and I saw it on the bookshelf of the delightful folks from Couchsurfing.com with whom we stayed. That week in Austin was one of blissful vacation in the midst of the only time in my life that I've been even busier and more stressed out than I am now, in the middle of my final semester at Oberlin and 5K-race organization effort. The book went on my "Things I Want to Do/Read When I Have a Life Again" List.

So, having finally read it, I felt (as I'm sure most of its readers have/do/will) inspired to get more in touch with the world of local agriculture. It's kind of scary how out of touch the modern, industrial grocery store has made us with the very thing that sustains us in this world, let alone how much less flavorful and nutrient-rich our typical grocery store fare is today than it was years ago. And all the waste that's involved with shipping food halfway around the world just so we can eat strawberries in January...anyway. A great read that definitely reinforced my desire not only to build my food knowledge but also to work on honing my cooking skills. My first step was to sign up for a CSA (Community-Supported Agriculture) share: a box every other week of fresh, organic produce from a local farm.


My first box!
I did this for awhile with my housemates the summer I lived in Oberlin, but that was back when I was still intimidated by unfamiliar vegetables - so I feel like the CSA was of little use to me back then. But now I'm all about experimenting and learning in the kitchen, so the prospect of a box of new ingredients to explore - or just familiar ones that I don't go out of my way to buy at the grocery store. Like, in the case of this week...zucchini! Hence the tasty loaf at the top of this entry.


Bonus: Chloe gets a boat to play in after I've unloaded all the produce into my fridge.
Other triumphs in the past week:
- Alan bought his own truck, and thus will be able to be home much more often soon!
- I hosted a girls' night/dinner party a couple evenings ago...delightful.
- I bought plane tickets to Cleveland this spring. So excited to see old friends!
- Also finished reading Truman Capote's "In Cold Blood." Excellent read.
- I played Wii for the first time at Easter at Gale's house (where I also spent Thanksgiving...hooray for Gale's family's sponsorship of orphan holidays) and failed at pretty much everything except WiiFit Hula Hooping...in which I was a "Calorie Incinerator." Awesome.
- I got my first pieces of non-footwear REI gear: my very own packable, 2-person tent and a cozy sleeping bag.


And Chloe approves.

Cleveland nostalgia

I miss this day last year.


It feels wrong, being in a city that doesn't even have a parade on St. Patrick's Day itself...I much prefer Cleveland's attitude: Holiday on a Wednesday? No problem; life can wait...put everything else on hold and be festive from dawn to dusk anyway.

The official parade here, apparently, was already held last weekend. I missed it completely. And there's been nothing anywhere in town today to indicate that today is, in fact, St. Patrick's Day. Lame. I miss my green eggs and Guinness for breakfast with Aseem last year, going downtown to catch the parade, stopping for Irish car bombs along the way, spending all afternoon lazing around on a sun-splashed balcony with good friends, and finishing up the evening at the good ol' Loco Leprechaun (everybody's favorite Irish Cantina!) in Westlake. Boo.

Today, Midwest, I miss thee.

Endorphin-fueled musings on my crazy coworkers...among other things

I am transforming, and it's an awesome feeling. I have felt more consistently happy and calm and unstressed and myself than ever before, and I owe it to several factors, the following of which I'll explore here: life stage, environment, endorphins, and friendships.

I feel liberated, not being in school anymore. The academic environment, undoubtedly, is exciting, and powerful and motivating and wonderful, all at once...and I'd be lying to say I don't miss being in it. But I am so grateful, too, to be beyond that period in my life, to have more freedom, fewer constraints, more responsibility and independence.

Not that this life is without stress...but it feels more manageable than school stress did. There's so much pressure in college - academically, to push yourself, to please professors, to accomplish, to exceed all expectations...and socially, even at a purportedly nonconformists' haven, to "fit in" with the status quo, to want to always be in big group situations, to go out every weekend, to not "be lame" and stay in or go to bed early or ever spend time alone. Until I got to enjoy small-town Ohio post-graduation, and spend time off campus too, and with people not just my own age/race/socioeconomic status/etc, I think I really, really struggled with Oberlin.

Which leads me to: Seattle! Another big factor in my transformation. And along with that, REI. It's still too early to tell whether my REI friends are a good selection sample for all of Seattle, but if so, this is truly, truly my kind of city. It's been criticized for being a socially cold city - albeit a polite one, but one that's difficult to break into beyond surface pleasantries. But I feel like you could make that case for just about any city, especially as a young adult who's been accustomed his/her whole life to situations (grade school, summer camps and programs, team sports, college, study abroad programs, etc.) that make not making friends just about impossible. No matter where you are, it's hard to be thrown into a totally new place and try to develop meaningful friendships from the ground up. It involves a certain level of effort - to get out of your own apartment, to be bold, to be open-minded, to occasionally take the reins and organize gatherings, to be willing to try new things...

But in other ways, the friendships I've made here just...make sense. Instead of being friends with somebody because you're thrown into the same situation (class, dorm, house, etc.), friendships are built on mutual passions. Here, I have hiked, run, walked, biked, and played in the woods with acquaintances who, in turn, have become close friends. There are plans in the works also: snowshoeing, camping, serious trail running, snowboarding, and maybe someday, mountaineering. Anybody who's been in touch with me in the last two years knows how much I adored my coworkers at Dick's in Ohio - but honestly, I was a little bummed after I got hired there to realize that most everybody there was more fan than athlete. Not that sports retail is my lifelong career track, but I'd definitely sought out that job in hopes that I'd meet fellow runners and hikers and lovers of the outdoors, and it just didn't quite happen that way in Ohio. (Though I got other wonderful, unexpected gifts from them instead!)

At REI, I can hardly keep up with my coworkers. There's Jeff, who's climbed Rainier and doesn't run much but woke up last Sunday and decided spur of the moment to go run 26.2 miles...and Tom, who's celebrating his forties with a skateboard and barefoot trail running and 200km bike rides and absolutely kicking my butt in the woods...and Ryan, who did a full Ironman (2.4 mile swim, 112-mile bike ride, 26.2-mile run) just out of college...and Michael, who's at Cyclo-cross Nationals in Oregon this weekend...and Suzi, who went to Boston to row at the Head of the Charles a few weeks ago...and Chris, who hunts with a bow and arrow and built his own kayak and sewed himself a pair of moccasins out of a deer he killed. There is serious peer pressure to ride a bike (or walk) to work, and everybody seems to pack themselves a healthy lunch each day. No fatty fast food for any of us; we all just sit down with our tupperware of quinoa or fresh salads - and it's awesome. It's just great, positive energy to be around.

Today, I went for a 9-mile run in West Seattle with Kate and Jenica. It's cold here, cold enough to make this fountain freeze over:


...but we bundled up, and had a blast traversing trails in Lincoln Park (which I wrote some about in July) and then running through quaint little beach-town neighborhoods to get to Alki Beach. Imagine the Florida Keys, except in 32-degree weather, and surrounded by mountains, and you get the idea. Cute beachside cottages, little palm trees, stretches of public beach, crab shacks and beach bars everywhere...plus the joys of mountainous, densely-forested trails!



Apparently, working out in threes is awesome. This was the second time this week, the first being an incredible three-hour forest workout with the afore-mentioned Chris and Tom, modeling our afternoon after the MovNat philosophy - training your body through natural movements like running, jumping, climbing, carrying, balancing, swimming, etc. We ran trails (the two of them "barefoot" in Vibram Fivefingers), vaulted over logs, crawled across fallen trees on all fours, leapt over creek beds, scrambled up off-trail hillsides, picked up logs and carried them around on our shoulders, climbed into trees, jumped off of them, jumped up and down staircases, balanced on rails, slacklined, and basically, just played in the woods. It was the most invigorating and fun workout my body's ever had, and four days later, my muscles are still feeling the burn...in a good way :) Here's what it looked like:

    

In conclusion? These people make me feel alive. It's not all working out; we have egg nog parties and hideous holiday outfit parties and Rockabilly-themed bowling parties. We have hot cocoa dates. We hit the local German pub with two dozen of us and pass around a giant glass boot of beer. We go out for open mic nights and concerts.


But getting outside is the biggest part of it. The quote "You are the sum of the five people you spend the most time with" has been of serious inspiration to me these past few years, and with that in mind, I feel lucky to be where I am.