So today I took a short bus ride across the Interstate to the University of Washington campus, the major intellectual center of the Pacific Northwest.
The bookstore was where I started, because that's where the bus dropped me off.
I was tempted by the free wrapping but I just availed myself of a campus map and continued on my way.
After being reassured that this campus visit would not increase my risk of emphysema, I went to take a look at some of the buildings. This I think is the third William Gates building I've seen on a college campus and only the second-most oddly designed.
While in the middle of the city, the U of W has a more or less traditional campus design with buildings set within large landscaped open spaces.
One of the more unusual features is a large central courtyard known as "Red Square". When I say large I mean large. It almost feels like an attempt to create a plaza like one would find in an Italian city, the university's own version of the Piazza San Marco. Another analogous space might be Boston's City Hall Plaza.
For those of us who know City Hall Plaza, the comparison is enhanced by this building.
Along with the Italianate plaza are the traces of ecclesiastical styling in its buildings, which is interesting given that it's a public research university founded in the land-grant era. But traces can be seen in the cathedral-like structure behind the Broken Obelisk sculpture by Barnett Newman.
Also in the treatment of the entrances to its liberal arts buildings.
In the biology labs.
In the entrance to the student union.
And even in the styling of this structure that I can only assume is dedicated to the worship of electrical engineering.
A little bit away from the main buildings is Gould Hall, where the "College of Built Environments" (i.e. urban planning, landscape architecture, &c.) is located. Often these buildings reflect the worst of 1960s/70s concrete, brutalist-style architecture. I think that the architecture and planning departments are put into these buildings to remind them who was responsible for these kinds of buildings to begin with. (Side note: Laurie Olin and Steven Holl are both graduates of UW's program, and are both somewhat notable for their more contemporary campus designs.)
If I were here, this is where I would be.
George Washington seems to be a prominent figure on the UW campus, which is a little odd since he had nothing to do with the founding of the university, and never even came close to where it is located, but simply gave his name to the territory that became a state within which the university happens to be located. Not only that, but GW already has a university named specifically for him that is located in a place more or less near where he lived. On the other hand, the people who actually founded the territory, state, city and university are mainly frontier woosdman types that no one has heard of, so if you can make the connection to someone a little more famous, you might as well use it.
The few blocks around the university, as is often the case with large universities, are home to many shops and moderately-priced restaurants and bars.
Thai food is especially popular, as are puns. I ate at Thai 65, whose tagline is "A Touch of Thai." It wasn't exactly what I expected but the food was good, anyway.
Having exhausted about all I wanted to see around the university, I hopped another bus over a canal and another highway to visit the Capitol Hill district of the city to the south of where I was.
Technically I was between Montlake and Capitol Hill, but certainly I was on a hill, both in the topographical sense and the sociostratigraphical sense.
It was quite a climb to get to my destination of Volunteer Park, and along the way I passed a cafe that serves expensive sandwiches, breads and pastries, a long way from its cow-milking roots.
The park itself is one of the older public parks in the city, established in the late 19th century and dedicated to Spanish-American War veterans in 1901 (Remember the Maine!). It was later included in the Olmsteds' citywide park plan, on display in the old water tower that I would visit later.
Every city has its own unique language of street signage, as evidenced by this baffling sign.
One of the attractions of Volunteer Park is the Volunteer Park Conservatory, a greenhouse modeled after London's Crystal Palace (though not quite as big). It's rather remarkable both for its nice collection of flora and for the fact that it is entirely volunteer-run and free, although donations are encouraged.
There is a room for seasonal flowers and it happens to be orchid season.
There is also a room for cacti.
There is a room for ferns.
There is a room for decorative bells.
And there are some rather gullible carnivorous plants.
Outside the conservatory is a statue of William Seward, the former Secretary of State responsible for the acquisition of the Alaska territory. I can't even make up an explanation.
Within the park is the Seattle Asian Art Museum, a nice little gallery (don't let the high ceilings fool you, it's not that large) with a collection of curiosities and antiquities, some of them very old, from the Orient. There was a special exhibit of paintings from the Marwar kingdom of India, which flourished around the 17th century. I wish I could show you some but sadly, photography was not allowed.
Across from the Museum, but in front of the old reservoir (parks at high elevations have often performed double-duty as elements of water supply systems) is a sculpture called "Black Sun" by Isamu Noguchi. Supposedly it was the inspiration for the song "Black Hole Sun" performed by Seattle grunge stars Soundgarden, and while I'm not sure if that's true, it did cause that song to get stuck in my head for pretty much the entire time I was there. I don't care for the song much. Also, supposedly, you are supposed to photograph it so that the Space Needle appears in the hole, but I like this view better.
The next and last attraction of Volunteer Park was the water tower.
Again this reflects the past importance of this park as a water distribution source, and the monumental character of the site reflects the fact that the distribution of clean water to the public was once something that we were serious about and didn't take for granted.
Now it's more useful as a source of dramatic views across the Seattle skyline.
Having spent a lot of time there and seeing just about all there is to see, I climbed down from the hill and back into the neighborhood. The Hawai'ian greeting that welcomed me belied how cold and damp I felt at the time.
Down the hill was a collection of shops and restaurants typical of an upscale neighborhood.
(Yes, that is a "WINE" sign made with wine bottles.)
(And yes, that is a fire house converted to a video store.)
My daytime journey ended with a bit of religion ... or something.
But in the evening I was able to tag along with my gracious host to a dinner in the Georgetown neighborhood, a former industrial area on the southern side of the city, hard up against the highway and the railroad tracks, which is emerging as a vibrant community of artists and musicians (i.e., it will be unaffordable within about 10 years).
At the moment, the neighborhood still bears some of the scars of its industrial past.
While there are also signs of a youthful re-emergence.
The dinner we went to was part of an invitation-only, word-of-mouth series of home-cooked dinners featuring enlightened conversation, typically including a talk by an author. This one featured Steven Rinella, author of the book American Buffalo about the history of the animal, its importance to our nation, and his own (successful) attempt to kill one (legally) in 2005. Unfortunately we didn't get to eat any buffalo (one of my favorites) except for a bite of some mostly tasteless pemmican from the animal Rinella had killed four years ago. (Don't worry, that stuff keeps about forever.) A salad and beef stew would have to suffice.
It was a great meal and an interesting talk about a book I greatly look forward to reading, since the price of dinner included a copy. It also exemplifies one of my traveling rules – it's always good to know someone who knows someone.
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