I just got home. Good ol' Seattle. Gray and damp one second, sunny sailing the next. Not much had changed, but after two and a half years in LA (my lung capacity diminished from the smog) and six months in London town, the air felt fresher. It was good to be home. I made a vow, determined not to re-become the slothful entity that annually takes over my body in the summer months – this year I would spend two months doing exactly what I wanted.
The phone rang.
Steven: Thea how are you? You're back! How was the flight? Listen, I'm about to go to Ballard to do some shopping...
Me: Ballard? Where is there to shop in Ballard??
Steven: What?! Are you kidding me?!!! Ballard is the trendiest place in Seattle! It's my favorite spot!!!
Me: Ballard? Ballard?! Ballard where I went to high school for four years? Ballard that I've lived by my whole life? Ballard Ballard?! Since when is that Ballard hip?
I was immediately picked up and trekked to the old cobblestone streets off Market Street, where I saw trendy boutiques where anxiety enducingly attractive (although arguably sexually ambiguous – was he gay or straight? I'm still unsure) men silk screen interesting images onto eco-friendly cotton t-shirts. I saw wine bars and Italian bistros, vegan delis and tea obsessed cafes. The old skate shops and dusty second-hand bookstores I remembered were now contemporary art galleries and alternative design spaces displaying technicolor Nike shoes against white walls, handing out Vibe magazine and Radiohead bumber stickers without ever disclosing the name, or the purpose of the store? office? art exhibit?
Steven was right... Ballard has crossed over. Goodbye land of skateboarders and indie bands, hello carbon-copied Santa Monica. (Oh OK, it's not quite that bad yet... but it could go ) Please, let's salvage as much of the Ballard culture as we can. There's room enough for tea houses and good old Archie McFee's :D
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