Onward! To MOHAI!

The Museum of History and Industry (MOHAI) is located in the former Naval Reserve Training Center, a massive white structure on the shores of South Lake Union, designed in the 1930s by architect B. Marcus Priteca, who also designed the Paramount, and a bunch of other noteworthy buildings in Seattle.

The MOHAI experience is an interactive museum, where you end up hammering on something in a coal mine exhibit, then sawing through something else in a sawmill exhibit.  You begin with a lecture about how the original settlers were NOT-- read NOT! -- Europeans on their fancy boats, but rather Chief Seattle and the Pacific Northwest Native Americans.  Then you're on the Oregon Trail, and when you push a button, an old pioneer sounding voice explains how the way was hard, but the Lord saw them through.  This kind of thing.  Later you're in a brothel -- wait that wasn't in the museum -- and after a spell you're watching old cars honk at each other in the 1930s, as the Aurora Bridge was going up.  It's quite a ride.

This is all upstairs.  Downstairs?  I dunno.  Me and the B showed up later and made it to about the 1950s.  (We plan to return, so stay tuned.)

Here's me and the B striking an expeditionary pose in front of Mount Rainier.  B looks like I've kidnapped her and am using her as a prop for some cheesy documentary.  Behind me is a large print of Mt. Rainier. (This is in MOHAI, so it's not the actual volcano, in case there's any confusion.)

Oregon trail, at a distance that prevents actually reading it.  Score.

Full frontal of MOHAI:

Here's a shot of the MOHAI on South Lake Union:

So there you have it.  Enjoy!

Pike Place Market

Pike Place Market is a fantastic idea for me and the B, on an overcast Saturday afternoon in the Emerald.  It's a cornucopia of sites, sounds, and smells.  Cuisine from around the world.  Street vendors.  Seafood everywhere.  French bakeries and old-school butchers and homemade sauerkraut.  Seafood, everywhere.

Here's looking at you, Pike Place:

And here's the view as you walk in.  The folks under the sign are the blokes that catch the fish, in all those iconic movie shots:

Here's our man at Pike Place, on ice:

Our man at Pike.

Something weird happened with B here, and she took a shine to the Elephant Garlic.  They're big, B, yes. This is a classic photo of B, in her native environment, among the culinary exotica in the Market.  B later went on a full-scale hunt for some tangerines, then zeroed in on a smoothie at Pike Place Market Creamery. This Elephant Garlic photo here came on the tail end of our expedition, but you can see the passion with the B; the flame burning strong.

The fresh fish at the Market are large, and inviting.  Soooo Pacific Northwest.

Okay, enough joking around here.  Pike Place Market:  thumbs up or down?  Up, my dear reader, up, up, and up.  It's a Persian Bizarre type of feel with wonderful assortments of international cuisine, tourists, fresh Pacific Northwest seafood, fruits, and produce.  Throw in unexpected discoveries like Old Seattle Paperworks, with 1940s copies of Life magazine, news clippings, pinups, and other print collectibles, and you've got yourself an afternoon in the Emerald.

Beth's Cafe

Beth's Cafe is a fantastic idea for Me and the B, on a rainy Saturday afternoon in the Emerald.  Key thing about Beth's, located next to a dive bar on an eminently un-aesthetic stretch of Aurora (so, in other words, on Aurora), is its local fame for making 12 egg omelettes, served on a pizza dish, over a bed of all-you-can-eat hashbrowns.  Here's me and B on the twelver, roughly around the time we realized it was a bad idea:

(That's bacon in the omelette, incidentally.)

Truth is, Beth's makes a mean omelette, but it's a brutish dish best served to cure a specific ailment, like a hangover, or the onset of anorexia, say.  The wait staff is wonderful -- tattoos abound -- and the wait is moderate (we waited about ten or fifteen minutes).  During the day it's subdued with the usual assortment of college-looking kids and couples.  It might be a little edgy for families with small kids, but hey, they have crayons and paper to write on while you're waiting, and if you manage to make some decent art (or not), you can pin it on the wall.  At night the place is full of drunkards and party goers looking for some carbs to cure the blood sugar blues.  Survey says:  check it out.  Sure, me and B were moaning and belly aching around for the rest of the day, but that's a different story.

Our Lady V

The steamship Virginia V (the "V" is a Roman Numeral, so "5").  It's one of the last of the Mosquito Fleet, the once ubiquitous steamships used for shipping and passenger travel between Tacoma and Seattle.  A big storm in something like 1934 wiped many of them out.  Then the company that ran them went bankrupt, and soon after we had the Seattle Supersonics.  This is a short history of Seattle and maybe leaves out some details.  Anyway, the big V is docked right next to MOHI, the Museum of History and Innovation, on South Lake Union.  On a beautiful sunny Seattle day, the brilliant MOHI and our Lady V shines white and brilliant in the Pacific Northwest sky.  Check her out!

Virginia V

Recreational Equipment, Inc.

You'll feel all warm and cozy in Seattle's flagship REI.  Here's the scene, as you walk in:

REI was founded in Seattle in 1938, beginning a regrettable, decades-long trend toward overpriced outdoors equipment for city slickers (who shops at an REI that lives in the actual countryside?).  The first product was an ice axe imported from Austria by the founders, a husband and wife duo (really).  This location's on Yale Street; I don't know if it's the spot of the original.  It's a beautiful store, actually, with two stories (not that uncommon for REI these days), and an entire park area out front for test-riding mountain bikes and so on.  The fire you see is made from 100% recycled fire-fibers.  Enjoy!

Husky Stadium

Husky Stadium, aka the University of Washington football stadium.  Back in the salad days, the Huskies won back to back National Championships (1990,1991), led by the legendary coach, Don James.  They're still (generally speaking) the best college football team in Washington State.  (But then, Washington State ain't Texas.)  This stadium however is beautiful.  It's on the west edge of Union Bay.  To the right (roughly) is Lake Washington.

Queen Anne Hill (plus Magnolia)

A big tanker anchored off the coast of... well it's in Elliot Bay.  Seattle's off to the left (out of view), and we're in Magnolia shooting from the hill.  The ships will sit out there ominously for weeks at a time.  B tells me one ship's been out there since she moved here, two years ago.  This is classic B and I just nod my head.

The quintessential Seattle shot, from Highland Drive on Queen Anne Hill.  When I first moved to Seattle in the mid-1990s where did I take in the Emerald City?  Highland Drive.  Fast forward and where's me and B?  That's right.  All I can report second time around with B is standing poking absentmindedly at my Galaxy S5 while an outdoorsy fellow, say in his mid 40s with a wife-type on a park bench, and me and B directly blocking his view, starts "uh hum"-ing and "harumph"-ing and so on until we move on.  The silly fellow.  We laughed at him within earshot but with his view of the Space Needle restored, an Emerald bubble of bliss surrounded him and his sweetheart, no doubt.  B and I breathed in the deep salty blue and disappeared without further ado, into the dampness of the city we love to hate.

  

Here's the B.

Here's me and B all selfie'd out in the Emerald.

Here's Sexy B.  This has nothing to do with Queen Anne Hill or Magnolia, but it's vintage B in a full selfie mode and so it finds its way here (in background:  "oh, put up that one selfie of me, you know, when...".  Dammit B it's the Queen Anne shots.  And yet.  Here.