A Seattle Weekend.

Although I technically live in Seattle, I haven’t been around for a full weekend in quite sometime. Last weekend was spent in PDX for one of the best weekends of summer thus far, celebrating my friend Jenn and her beau Ryan’s nuptials at a glorious outdoor affair. The previous two weekends, I was in Barbados visiting my mom.

In an early Friday morning surprise call, my friend Nicole gave me an extra Mariner’s ticket for the game that night. By no means am I an avid fan of our nation’s favorite pastime (I’d like to know who declared this by the way), but I am a fan of any and all live sporting events. I like to be apart of the essence of the live action competition. I’d also never been to Safeco field; in fact, this was only my second trip to a MLB game in my entire life. I was excited to say the least.

My first MLB game I attended was in ’08 at the old Yankee Stadium where I thought it might be the last day of my life, period. We were stuck in the nastiest thunderstorm and had a delay of game about 5 times. I heard Madonna was also in the stadium as this was when she was dating A-Rod. More importantly in attendance? Ken Griffey Jr. on the field.

Sidenote: In the excitement of such events (as I felt like a child of 13 but with full ability to partake in the libations that also added to the excitement), it’s important to sequester yourself from your cell phone. You may decide that everyone needs to know how much fun you are having in that exact moment and that it’s important they receive a play-by-play. But lo, you are not a commentator and they can all be filled in later. By posting the photos on FB, duh.

So now that I reside in a city with a baseball team, I guess I am obligated to cheer for them and have made that official by buying a shirt. And I also suppose I can cheer for the Sounders when they aren’t playing my home team of the Portland Timbers. However I kind of feel inclined to cheer for Man U on Wednesday night while I’m out on Qwest field. I guess my Seattle soccer strings aren’t tied all that tight.

Sunday my best friend, her best boy, a friend of theirs and I were planning to check out The Bite of Seattle because simply put, we love food and local events. However, being mid July and all in the Pacific Northwest, it was raining. When I arrived to meet them and go down to the fest, we all looked at each other with slightly defeated faces and decreasing enthusiasm about spending an extended period of time in the rain. The last time the best friend and I did this, we ended up soaked through our clothes at the Sounders-Timbers match. It's a good thing neither of us was wearing white.

Would the rain make us retreat back into our homes to partake in fall and winter like activities like drinking hot cocoa and watching movies all day? No my friends, it did not.

To Ballard we went.

I really like this neighborhood and have only spent two nights so far here. We decided that we should be fans of our country and cheer on the USA vs. Japan in the Women’s World Cup finals over some food and beers. The beers may have outweighed the food as we sadly lost in a crummy crummy shoot out. We were four glum faces who needed a pick me up which translated into some intense matches of Ping Pong down the street at the upmost of dive bar establishments. Free Ping Pong, a juke box and only one over-served man bothering us? Well color it Christmas in July for this group:

[This is how we deal with World Cup losses]

Seattle, I apologize for my absence. I promise to make it up to you if you stop freaking raining.

The One in Barbados

Ever since I saw the episode of ‘Friends’ appropriately titled, “The One in Barbados,” I’ve always wanted to go. Even though they never really were on location in Barbados and spent their entire trip indoors due to the rainy season, it just sounded like such an obscure and unlikely land that many people didn’t get to travel to, but lusted after. Lucky for me, my mom was one of the people that decided to go (relocate there) and in turn, gave me a reason to travel to this place.

As fate would have it, the first day we were here, it stormed. So far, my trip was identical as my beloved ‘Friends’ episode. My friend & travel pal Hether had been keeping a keen eye on 24-hour weather and was convinced that our entire trip would be wet. After all, it is the beginning of hurricane season. Being from the Pacific Northwest, I’ve come to ignore any weather predictions as the weather is like a woman. Unpredictable. She may feel a certain way one moment, then change her mind the next. It is called Mother Nature, yes?

It did sporadically rain on our trip, but the rain is so refreshing here because it is warm water and the air is incredibly humid. It’s comparable to being in a sauna (which may not sound appealing, but trust) and your skin feels fantastic. And, if you can't take it, the pool is 20 feet outside your door.

In my two week journey of Barbados I was lucky enough to dip my toes in the Caribbean and Atlantic waters, dance & eat with the locals at their annual weekend celebration at Oistin’s Fish Fry, experiment with driving and getting lost all while operating on the wrong side of the road, walk the streets in St. Lawrence Gap and pop into a reggae bar/80’s bar/Calypso bar, eat fresh seafood which included “dolphin” (actual fish=Mahi-Mahi), see the amazing blowholes on the North coast, and take in one of the best views of Barbados from Cherry Hill.

[Speightstown. West Coast]

The Bajan people are one of the friendliest collective groups of people I’ve ever come into contact with. Whether while driving or dining, the locals appreciate their tourists and recognize that if it wasn’t for us coming in to peer into their lifestyle, their country would not prosper. This seems logical right? You give me income, therefore, I respect you. However, I have been to many a cities where even if you are bringing in the bread, the locals loathe you and have no interest in your presence (I’m looking at you NYC & Paris). Our tour guide reiterated this and expressed his deep appreciation for our travels to his home and told us to come back and bring our friends. So I’m telling you friends, you should go.

My last full day of vacation happened to be Independence Day. And for reasons unbeknownst to me, I woke up with the battle cry “The British are Coming! The British are Coming!” in my head. [Quick Sarah Palin, who said these words??]

It was a bit odd to spend the 4^th of July in a British territory. No fireworks, no Old Glory waving in the wind (except at the local casino), no passing by underdressed women in makeshift flag shirts celebrating their "American spirit" and apparently their freedom to be half-naked. I didn't eat a hot dog or apple pie or have a block party with the neighbors. In fact, I had only met about five other Americans in the two weeks I spent here.

We spent our Fourth of July inches from the Caribbean eating Tapas at a bar called, wait for it, ‘Tapas,’ showing our love for our homeland in the form of red and blue cocktails and in festive attire and appreciating the spectacular view. Compromises.

I'm about to board a plane and head back to the great United States. I still awe at the fact that I can wake up somewhere between the Caribbean Sea and Atlantic Ocean and find my feet firmly on the Pacific coast come dusk in the place where I can appreciate my bed, unquestionable ground beef, and the fresh air of the Pacific Northwest. Sometimes spending a little time in a different place can give you a newfound appreciation for the one you go home to.

Cheers Barbados. You've been nothing but lovely.