Oh my stars. I don't think I've ever seen as much green worn collectively as I did today. The St. Patrick's parade is a huge deal in Mystic apparently. There were bagpipe players, high school marching bands, and fire-trucks from Rhode Island and from all over eastern, CT. I thought it was going to be just a local thing, but hoo, do I stand corrected! It twas fun indeed, with more people-watching to boot!
Anyhoo, I am going to finish sharing about my PNW adventures once and for all because I am waking up at 2:30am to head off to the airport in Providence for our final trip to N'awlins!
March 1, 2010 (continued)
*Port of Tacoma Observation Deck: As we climbed up the stairs leading to a view of the industrial shipping port of Tacoma, we could still see the glory of Mt. Ranier. Oddly, it was still picturesque despite it being a bit obstructed by views of trains, electric poles, wires, ugly, gray slabbed buildings. We saw containers stacked everywhere. Glenn told us a bit about the history of Tacoma--it used to be a rowdy, dangerous town. Frequently, sailors would be shanghaied--kidnapped and put at sea, all of their money and personal items gone. The "honest" way of taking young men's money was through a process called "crimping." Sailors would get a room in Tacoma. Whoever rented it out to them would set them up with a ship job and would have the captain pay them that sailor's first few months of wages in exchange for room and board they had on land. The goal of Tacoma was basically to get as much money out of sailors' pockets as they could.
View of Mount Ranier from obs deck
*Tour of Port of Tacoma Terminals: Again, I can't get over how much STUFF gets imported/exported across the world. I saw some John Deeres waiting to be shipped, as well as wood and other materials. I never realized that most of the "boxes" on trains we see passing by are actually containers from ships. By train, goods can be in NYC right off the port in 100 hours, (I think). Here, in Washington, more goods are exported than imported. Washingtonians (is that what you would call them?) are proud of how self-sustainable they are. Oh, and some of the trucks we see on the freeway carry containers as well. It never occurred to me that the goods inside (and the box itself) once traveled over water in order to arrive at their asphalt routes. From their they go into the arms of businesses and corporations, who in turn, divide those up and send goods to different locations. It makes my head spin. It's strange to see firsthand all the mechanics that go into shipping. It's rather like looking at the underbelly of a whale.
*Port Defiance: This place was quite lovely. We partook in a hearty lunch and played some frisbee. We also had a writing lab about Puget Sound, which we sat right next to. This is what I wrote:
"As I sit upon this mottled log, worn by age with blue, white, beige, dark grey stones inset in its cracks, I look across Puget Sound and I can see a cargo ship with smoke steadily rising out of her. To her right, is majestic Mount Ranier, quiet, seemingly benign, covered in snow, almost blending in with the cloud-covered sky. If it were not for rivulets of blue, I might be unable to identify the monarch of sky, land, and sea. The water gently laps the shore, and parts of the current moves faster in some places than others, creating a visible division within the water. As I look upon it, I am instantly carted away to my youth--my 15-year old self smiling broadly as I fight against the waves in Puget Sound, not hearing the crash and spray, but tasting the slightly salty residue on my lips, soaking in the heavy sun. I look up and return to the present, feeling the cool wind brush against my cheek as I hug my jacket closer to my body. Now that I am onshore, I can hear seagulls crying out to one another in search of their next meal. I hear the water coming and retreating, with each small wave's crash onto the lower tidal zone. A seagull flies--glides across the water. My seat is solid, sturdy, bleached with age, yellowing. Was it once a mighty Douglas Fir? The sun peeks out from behind the clouds, lending the day a yellowish hue. I look up again and I admire the mountains on the rim, encircling us, jutting out of land."
It was an inspiring place indeed! Also, I meant to share before how I felt atop the Space Needle in Seattle. I felt content, satisfied. Seattle is one of the prettier cities in this country. Despite some uglification that always comes along with urban life, nature peeks through the cracks, determined to live, despite the hardship of human destruction. I don't support further construction/expansion of Seattle, and I do believe they have a long way to go with the water pollution battle, but I have more hope for Seattle than any other city, (besides San Francisco, perhaps). I loved jogging through a park in the city at 6 in the morning, inhaling sweet flowers' breath while pumping my legs along a paved path overlooking the water, filled with all sorts of crafts, squinting slightly as the sun rose, dark orange laced with pink, growing lighter and lighter. I think just as much as I need sun, I also need my greenery...plant life. It fills my soul and makes me feel at peace. Seattle is so alive, full of life, and not very far away, are fertile, rich places simply teeming with life.
We continued on south and arrived in Troutsdale, OR. After dinner, we went to what may possibly be the largest new/used bookstore in the country...Powell's Bookstore. It was...AWESOME! I was so overwhelmed. We were handed maps so we could find out way through it. Ridiculous. I ended up buying four books. Yeep. I just couldn't resist, naturally.
Jessica, with a map of Powell's Bookstore. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous!
Afterward, we returned to the hotel, and a few of us got into a hot tub, along with our professors, Glenn and Diane. At first, all I could keep thinking was, "Wait...I'm in a hot tub...with my professors??" But then again, this program is unique indeed. The professors are amazing. They're simultaneously educators and friends. They've seen us at our worst, puking off the sides of a ship or unkempt after three days of not showering. I love getting to know the professors and having one-on-one chats with them. And my gosh, they all have an amazing sense of humor and keep things quite casual. (One has to anyway for this sort of program). For instance, as a joke, twice, we did van circles over and over in parking lots, all the professors, (who doubled as chauffeurs), refusing to hit the open road. It kind of resembled the dance of the hippos from Disney's "Fantasia." It was pretty silly. Oh and at one point, Rich fingerspelled to us from his van window, "B-A-C-K-O-F-F" because Glenn was sort of tailing him. I taught Glenn how to fingerspell "No way!" and he stuck his hand out his side, fingerspelling at Rich. It was hysterical and we all burst out laughing. Later on, as Rich walked alongside our van, I stuck my hand out the window and fingerspelled "Back off!" to him. He and I laughed very hard, and after telling the others in the van what had just happened, I got a lot of high-fives.
Anyway, to finish my hot tubbing story: Glenn and I ended up talking about how important it is to learn about the trends and order of events in history, and how sad it is that students are turned off by history due to being required to memorize dates. He and I agree that is is more important to know what happened rather than exactly when it happened. He doesn't usually use specific dates when giving us lectures and says he doesn't know many dates himself. I find this so interesting...I'm bad with dates, and for this reason, didn't think history would have been a good field of study for me. Now I'm having second thoughts, ha. He said that post grad studies of history assume you already know your dates, (he didn't), and they actually focus on reading different historians' accounts of history and they learn how to evaluate those sources. You also learn different methods of historical research. Fascinating! I had no idea. It's basically a study of how people study history.
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I'm getting so tired...and now I'm mistyping a lot of things. I DO have to get up in a few hours, ick. So I am going to write a poem in here which I wrote during the trip, based on my people-watching experiences, (I'm such a creeper, aren't I?), and then I will copy and paste the schedule of our Lousiana trip on here. When I return, I will finish the PNW account in one go and then go through the process of reviewing the Louisiana trip, which won't take as long, hopefully, since we'll only be away for 4 days!
Poem (I still can't think of a title):
You remind me of a walrus
twirling your handle-bar mustache
belonging to an era in which you were not born.
Thick-accented, confused over how
someone can eat no meat, no,
not even chicken. She stares at me.
He skates by, thoughts of mortality far away,
he is immortal, he is a teenager
flying by a car within an inch of his life.
"Dflkiesh at?" she asks kindly,
over-enunciating all sounds. Again?
"Would you like fries with that?"
Sunglasses cover windows to his soul,
he who has faced the devil; the mighty Pacific
and Columbia colliding, always a step ahead of death.
Pink hair in a mohawk, is punk still alive?
Cloaked like the night, his whalish bulk
held high, bebopping through the streets.
Grinning broadly, she searches for customers,
serving up platefuls of burgers,
is she deaf like me? Is she ashamed?
A blonde woman ambles by with golden
retrievers to match. Delightedly, they
watch the fish fly. What a happy trio.
"Strawberries!" he crows, "Two for five!"
About to walk away, he casts his lure again,
louder, suddenly she has them. What is your magic?
You of the Northwest, you were born here.
You pick through colorful bouquets with
care--is it for your girlfriend? Your mother?
We of the East have come to the West.
We are connected by water,
land divides us, but the sea unites us.
Do you all see what I see? Do you all fear
what I fear? I long to slip into your
skin, but all I can do is feel the tide.
Fin! And now, here's the schedule for Louisiana, courtesy of Jim! (please excuse the formatting of the font, I just copied and pasted from the syllabus, too tired to put it in a normal style)
Mon, March 22nd (after a long day of traveling):
3:00 PM : Arrive ZAM'S SWAMP TOURS, in Kraemer, on Bayou Boeuf
> An exploration via pontoon boat of the bayous and swamps of southern Louisiana.
After dinner: Cajun Dancing lessons!
Tues, March 23rd:
9:00: To the Marsh! Canoe Trip to the Spartina-Distichlis marshe
1:00 PM :Trawling trip aboard the R/V Acadiana, one of LUMCON's research vessels.
7:00: Arrive the "Jolly Inn" for an evening of live Cajun music by the band COUCHE COUCHE (Werlein Prosperie and colleagues)
Wed, March 24th:
9:30 AM: Arrive Port Fourchon for a brief drive-through: Infrastructure of the GOMEX petroleum industry
10:45: Meet Chris Hernandez, a city official, A tour of Grand Isle
1:30 PM: Arrive Grand Isle State Park Beach
7:15: CRAWFISH DINNER at LUMCON
8:30: The Secret Society of Mark Twain Players
Thurs, March 25th:
9:00 – 10:15: New Orleans: The Vieux CarrĂ©
10:15 - 11:15 Free time to explore the historic French Quarter
11:30 - 1:30: Voyage on the Mississippi River aboard the Steam Sternwheeler Natchez IX
There are many other components to the trip I didn't include, such as lectures and travel time. We WILL be quite, quite busy. I am SO excited and I cannot wait to go on this trip! I'm sad it's our last trip though.
It'll be great to learn more about another place I've been to before, but didn't know much about. Anyway, I ought to go to bed. The deal is the same for this trip...no internet, but I will have intermittent cell phone access. I love you all! Have a lovely 4 days!
xoxo