1. Smelling the sea in Seattle
May 28th, 2000
Hi, Son!
How are you doing?
Yes, I am Okay.Your letter dated May 2nd has been received in Portland with thanks. Now I am here in Seattle 4 hours north from Portland by Greyhound, lodging at a Hostel named Backpacker.
Getting accustomed to sleeping together with a dozen of young men in a room having several two-story bedsteads. Unexpectedly I can sleep well. What's better, the hostel charge is just usd12.00 each per night. Try to Compare it with a hotel at the lowest grade which charges at least usd35.00 per night, and you can see how cheap it is! Last year when I took a visit to San Jose,I paid 1oo dollars or more for a room per night at a common hotel.
I am free and light-hearted, mixing with others while staying indoors.
A Spanish youth sits rustling, over my head, on the upper bed wants a job in Seattle and Tom in his 40s from LA on the lower bed by me has been lodging here for more than a month. Another new comer, Mexican youth, who is on the upper bed over Tom, said in poor English that the day after tomorrow he is going up by Greyhound to Alaska to become a sailor for a deep sea fishing vessel. He is very kind and his eyes look good. Now I like this hostel as my resting place. In the morning warm I have bred and butter with scrambled eggs as free breakfast and at weekend participate in the beer party with several travelers at the lounge in the basement.
In the day time I walk alone toward Fish Market smelling of the sea familiar to me.Now over eight in the evening are there in the lounge a dozen of young men and women including Tom ,the Spanish youth, a Japanese women student and myself. We are sharing pleasant chats together over beer and coffee.
At first I was at a loss what to do in front of the door..At the moment when I opened the door, I was afraid of going into the room where are several strangers in the beds, upper and lower, looking at me, a newcomer.Then I would not go out of the hostel as I already prepaid the charges for 5 nights. As a backpacker I couldn't but step inside and take off my bag in the fixed bed for me. Of course a feeling of uneasiness made me fail to get to sleep in it with a hand put inside the pocket where my purse was.
Such was the beginning of my hostel life.
Moon
in Seattle
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