pacific northwest summary

timestamp is still hong kong time. looks like nite, but this was snapped at 8:35 am... 16-hours of darkness each winter is why this lovely city boasts one of the nation's highest suicide rates.

a little more than 10 hours after leaving honkers, i passed thru u.s. immigration and customs at canada's vancouver airport. strangely enough, america jr. allows its southern neighbors this convenience, tho i doubt we reciprocate (maybe one reason why canadian english teachers back in soko are so anti-american?).

foreigners seem impressed by the fact seattle is home to the world's first starbucks. here she is. yup, the logo used to have tits!

vancouver is one of the world's loveliest cities, but unfortunately, i was only there in transit. once back in my hometown of seattle, i was reminded how 16-hours of darkness per day and un-ceasing winter drizzle can be depressing even to the locals. for just 2.5 days of it among mama, eric, jayne+hyeong, and my ky, however, made for a nice reminder of where i come from.

it appears that i am enjoying myself more than they are.

after some last-minute holiday shopping, i wolfed down barbecued pork and vermicelli noodles at my favorite vietnamese restaurant before meeting my gender-bent/burlesqued mamasan at seattle's favorite lesbian haunt, the rose. wilma and shameless dancing at homo icon rplace followed. hungover the next morn, i was sad to miss the newly reopened seattle art museum's exhibit japan envisions the west: 16th-19th century japanese art from kobe city museum."

dumb joke, but a bit of oregon anyhow. pictured are my dad's one-eyed goat bill and bizarrely huge (beef) steaks.

jetlag and a busy list of to-do's kept sleep at a minimum before i traveled 200 miles south to the rural hinterlands of america's latest too-hip city, portland, oregon. down in wine country i spent a weekend among farm creatures at pop's vineyard, amazed by how the fertile red dirt makes everything grow like weeds and somehow found its way onto all of my possessions. contrary to plans, we left my remington wingmaster 850 shotgun in the closet and let the caged pheasants live.