rv hosteller 7- seattle

                4. Hosteller

   -The little sea does not appear to my mind's eye any more -

 When it comes to hostel, it may be common to young travelers,

However it was at first unfamiliar to this traveler in his 50s . Now

he loves the refreshing and cheap hostel life as much as the aroma of coffee, 

What kind of accommodations is it on earth? what is the rate of it per night?

 

  

 

         1.Sea-smelly Seattle

 

 

May 24th, 2000

Hi, daughter!

...........

............

This is father in Seattle, writing this letter to you thinking of you

and your mother. I put a part, below, of my today's diary in it,

to show you a sketch of two men I made at the quay of this city.

 

'below'

There are on the pier two men  who are strangers to each other.

One sits on the wooden bench, the other stands leaning his back

on the wooden fence. On the right side of them  is the sea opening

far and wide.They stay there for over one hour: one is playing

on the clarinet and  the other sending his gaze toward the sea ,

with his ears turned on the rhythm on the clarinet. After a while 

on the forehead of the player are there seen beads of sweat and

the standing man gets nearer to him with a bottle of water taken out

of his pocket. The player stops playing and welcomes him.

: To practice for a performance?

: No. just to enjoy by myself.

: You often come here?

: whenever I want to blow it.

: The music suits this quayside well.

: Really? Thanks.

 

Frankly speaking,I put in this letter the sound of jazz he played,

and his smile In order not to fly them away. He shared with me

such a few words of greeting, with his face turned bright.

 

Daughter!

I remember  the short essay,  titled' my space, my aperture',

you wrote long ago.The essay said that in your childhood you

loved the window side seat on the Seoul-bound  running train, 

On the train you slept at a aperture at the end of the aisle and

your mother was surprised  and at her wit's end

at your disappearance,

the essay said. 

 

 

May 28th,

 

Hi, friend !

How are you doing?

Yes, I am Okay. Your letter dated May 1st has been received in Portland

with thanks. Now I am in Seattle 4 hours north from Portland by Greyhound, 

lodging at a Hostel named Turtles. Getting accustomed to sleeping together

with 10 young men or so in a room having several two-story bedsteads.

It is surprising that 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 one hundred dollars or more 

for a room per night at a small 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, a Mexican youth is

on the upper bed over Tom, He said in poor English that tomorrow

he will go up to Alaska by Greyhound to become a sailor working for

the 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 I have free

breakfast and at weekend enjoy participating in the beer party

together with several hostellers at the lounge in the basement.

​

At day time I walk alone toward Fish Market smelling of the sea, 

which is very 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.Then I would not go out of the hostel

because I already prepaid  the charges for 5 nights. As a backpacker traveler

I couldn't but step inside and take off my bag in the fixed bed for me. 

Of course on that night 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