Our initial contact sparked in a usenet newsgroup. Because of my fear for dangers I had to face back then (as I understood myself later on) and for science purposes, I was lurking in: alt.support.anxiety-panic. Since I was struggling with tobacco addiction myself and had been posting to nl.support.stop-met-roken, I reacted to a post with a header: “smokeless in Washington”. We supported oneanother, had conversations with plenty philosophy and I fell for her digital persona and the digital interaction. So she invited me over to the Pacific NorthWest where she lives.
I packed my suitcase way too late, so I skipped a night sleep and arrived at Amsterdam Schiphol airport with a fresh jetlag. The United Airlines plane that crossed the Atlantic to Philadelphia was full, as we arrived at the States a movie was playing about fighting leftwinged rebels in Latin-America. Charla had adviced me to get a cheap ticket online for transporting “documents” (which I didn't do) and hell! on Philadelphia airport I was searched thoroughly. I smoked a taxfree cigar outside the airport where I could see trainrails with Philly on the horizon.
Upon re-entering the airport I wasn’t checked at all, this was Mai 2001 prior to 9-11. In the airport it became clear that the USA was bilingual. With many hispanics everything is announced in Spanish too. The flight to Seattle had plenty free seats, a cute student offered me her windows seat so I did admire the USA from above when the plane flew across it. The negro stewardess with painted hair and white skin was insulted when I read the ingredients on a can. “Ain’t that good enough for ya?” High glucose-fructose sirop is in most processed foods and it really adds weight. A blond with clear cutwounds on her wrists, repeated the prejudices about Onlinedating. Youngsters teased me: What are you going to Wenatchee for, you like to eat apples?
Our appointment was that I would wait for her at the Starbucks coffeeshop on the airport and she kept me waiting for hours and so I drank a gallon of coffee. Starbucks is originally from Seattle. It was quite a drive from Tacoma-airport to Wenatchee, where she lives with her son. A home in a valley, with a broken down Ford pickup in the yard, a swing and a tree, etc a wooden house on a seperate acre of land, with a grumpy landlord who wanted to socialise with me. Next to it a cherryorchard where Mexicans work hard. I had to sleep in the guestroom four poster (a superromantic decorated wooden bed with on it’s corners high sticks). On the third night we spread a blanket on the ground in her garden and when we were watching shooting stars she became very forward.
So we lived as a couple for some time. Now I could give her a tiny present everyday, yeah I know it just adds to the clutter but she liked the romantic gestures. I shouldn’t have called cereals “catfood,” her kid was too young to argue with me. Ain’t that sweet, even before I had breakfast she ‘d been away with her car and brought me a supersize coffee. I liked my new role as man around the house: to mow the lawn, install a swimming pool, repair the washing machine together, what a turn on for her! Put some strawberries, some lavendula and roses in the ground. Spent hours working my tan on the swing.
Been to a swimming pool alone, on my way back I walked past a baseballyard where kids were practicing and at a driveby I bought many flavoured Triple caffeïne shots. Must have also had a sunstroke when I got the illuminous idea to import suncollectorcells to this part of the USA with all the flat roofs and plenty of sunshine. Downtown Wenatchee We went to a karaoke bar at night where I sang some serious Elvis.
We went on the road for fishing and well because she looks good in a creek. Suddenly we drove on with way to few clothes on board. We made it to the top of Mount Rainer and down past a creek that sprang from the Vulcano. After the forests endless suburbs and finally we arrived in Seattle. For an European it was quite an experience to go out under the skyscrapers built on hills and to need passports just to get into pubs. At night rednecks were fistfighting on the streets (than again that shit happens in all the wrong downtown places even on Amsterdam's Leidseplein). We stayed the night at her sister's and had breakfast with her sister’s husband. What a personality this man!: bold, facial hair, muscular. Early mornings he talked about someone in prison and “Charla is a real sweetheart”. For breakfast he offered us drip coffee, bacon, saucages, hamburgers, donuts, and on demand i could eat a banana.
We took the ferry from Seattle to the peninsula. The weather was dimm but nature was beautiful. We had a great meal, past by and through some indian village (the sea side Indians are the ones with the totem poles). Some giant shouted “Slow down”, Now that is one different way for speed control! Took a dump at the straight of Jaunda Fuca, Neahbay and finally touched the Pacific, there was oil pollution on the water but the colorfull panorama was excellent. We slept in a typical American hotel, 2 levels with a flat roof and build in a wide circle.
Next day we drove on to Cape Flattery. We didn’t bring much clothes and the Pacific is a cold since the water flows up from depths unlike the Atlantic that is warm at the European coast. At an indian village where a creek flowed into the sea, we went walking into the ocean. I ate clambs we picked from the sea floor. The mussel tasted like shit, must have been the sewer of the indian settlement. After we past some hatcheries we drove into a rainforest, where we saw 30 deer just grazing.
When we drove on we stopped next to a huge strip that was recently logged, cleared and burned. I stood on a giant foot of a tree and overlooked the land where trees were recently planted in orderly rows. Of course i couldn’t restrain myself and I whined like an European wiseguy environmentalist. All over the USA I had seen places that were stripped barren of the forests and now that I recently had been in a moderate-climate rainforest, I had to deal with this sight. Oh well big mouth, Europe had been going through this development centuries ago.
We ate bizonmeat in the middle of the night. The place and it’s employees looked like a David Lynch movie. Did they all do drugs? Were they all gay? Were they about to go out, anyhow! The lady who served me was really professional when she said: “ah European, no that french cheese on the menu isn’t from France.”
On our way back to Wenatchee we drove over dirt roads through nature, where only loggers came. As European I was thinking that every road would eventually end up amongst the living but not in the wilderness of the PacificNorthWest, they got bears and wolfs and a mythical figure BigFoot alive there. At last a paved road. Still no sign of life except at all 35 bridges the plate “Green River”, anxiety can be funny as she was singing the theme from Twilight Zone. Serial killer Ted Bundy’s nick was The Green River Killer, and well he dumped the bodies of at least 48 women in that area. So she made soothing remarks like, “if there is a tree over the road, we will turn around and drive back” and I comforted her back “we don’t have enough gas to drive all the way back.”
Back in Wenatchee she wanted me and her son to get a haircut, so I had a good time at the old style barber. The barber considered Washington State overpopulated and wanted to move. Hey it ain’t crowded there, we had not been in a traffic jam ever since I came over. I ‘d miss the old buildings of Europe when I was to migrate to the USA, but maybe... Downtown Wenatchee some man wanted to hang out with me because my Bavarian accent made him reminisce on his military days when he served in Germany. There were christian get-togethers where I accidentaly walked in but didn’t stay long. The town’s fool stood with a huge cross at the bridge over the Colombia river, we went swimming in the river’s icecold water. The Colombia river runs all the way down to Portland, up the river is Chelan, in lake Chelan I caught a giant trout by using salmon eggs. I threw it back and talked with some criminals on the parking lot, they had an underage girl on the backseat of their pimpdrive.
Casinos are illegal in Washington state except on Firstnation territory. NativeAmericans can make their own laws there. I don’t get the proverbial $$signs in my eyes in casinos. I immunized against that when I lost 25 guilders at 15 years of age. I ‘d rather talk with her, and even better talk with old NativeAmericans or flirt with squaws. Outside a huge Powwow was in full swing. In full ornament many posed happily for my camera. In 1 giant tent many contests were held. Around the dancefloor different chanting and drumming groups took turns. Next to dance contests and best traditional dress contests, this happening served as a meet and greet where the tribe gathered and factions showed itself to other NativeAmericans.
Afterwards tribes were singing in familygroups against each other. I sat with ‘em and joined the singing: “Hejjaa, hejjaajja, hojaa, hojajja”, all stopped and I sang alone in a surrounding silence. I was stimulated to continue so I did. It was embarrassing since they were using all their ancient words to tell their tribal stories and I just tried to mimic them and join. I was one of only 5 Caucasians there, and certainly the only European. Browneyedgirl was jalous of my passion for Natives: “It’s just people, I have some indian blood too.”
She let me drive in her car. I drove uphile on dirt roads in rugged terrain. There were bulletshells everywhere. Since anyone without a criminal record can legally buy a gun many go practice in nature, also many like to go hunting. Anyhow I saw a rattlesnake close to some stream. The next day we went for a long drive to Portland.
> > I liked the time we went over the tall grass in my car along the river near
> > the Spanish Castle, you had a picture taken there, it was our first stop.
> > I wont forget the lightening in the distance, or
> > the big meal we were served just after we seen the rainbow.
> > Bu those are moments pleasing to the senses
We stopped in the middle of the night at Multnomah Falls. Creepy dudes were doing drugs on the parking lot. Superromantic we kissed in between the 2 falls. The car gorgled and it’s engine died, 5 minutes after this stop. We parked on the side of the highway. I recalled some television scenes that we oughtta go behind the crashbarrier and keep clear from the car in case that some other car would bump into the broken down car. Charla thought that it was that we simply ran out of gas and so we decided to walk back to the parking. Real quick a young man pulled over, he talked like he was a mechanic, he had a bright fresh (fake?) tattoo on his arm. Just to be sure he wasn’t stealing from us, i made a picture. A highwaypatrol policecar came to inspect us, and these are the few times where one is really happy to see police, he safeguarded us and stood around 'till a tow truck arrived.
The tow truck driver identified himself as Dick, he could have been the father of the young man with the tattoo. We figured they both were on drugs. Dick took me by the arm and we waltzed in the middle of the highway, I was so scared and he gave me his standard line: “You got a lousy lead, you know that?” In the towtruck high above the other traffic Dick claimed to have seen a naked Asian bitch giving head to a driver. He tried to talk charla in giving him her email and stuff, I bet he gets his share the way he helps women in despair.
She decided it would be best to stay at her aunt’s place. Her aunt, a lawyer, resides with her family in a typical suburb. There we handed Dick a $100 tip, that’s her polite American way. In aunt’s house television was on, since right that day the unabomber, got the electric chair in Portland. We slept in a camper, where the bed couldn’t stand our passion. The next day we walked through the suburbs to some cinema, where we ate popcorn.
Portland got nightlife. At a punkconcert by NoFX, groupies hung at the somewhat too luxurious tourbus. “Right on!”. We ate at a restaurant filled with Asians in Chinatown. There was a fair with battleschips, She: “Sailors are heros” I: “Shooting with cruisemissiles on poor bastards with kalashnikofs.” There were bands and shows. In a gayclub I flooded the only toilet. There are different doorpolicies: the technoclub liked my home city in my passport “Amsterdam, Tight!!”, but accepted only visitors under 21. Most places have a doorpolicy to admit only those over 18 with ID. I am so happy that I often go places in .nl where youngsters and grannies hangout just the same.
We arrived at a pub with concert “The Ohm”. A Rockband played there, they drew a crowd of fans. I tried all the whiskeys and worked the crowds. In the USA that includes touching hineys. I was offered cigarets and nah I don’t do the trick quitters like: “Accept the cig and than crumbling it with a big smile” so I took the insults: “Good boy, I bet you eat muesli and yoghurt for breakfast.” One lesbian was build really fine and as soon as I looked at her, her fat & large double (a butch) came to bark at me: “What? What? What?” I danced my Dutch steps. Sexy chicks went outside with Mexican roadies.
At closing time we hooked up with an Iraqi transsexual, who told us (s)he works as an exotic dancer. We drove in her white Jaguar. And the transsexual dropped us off at a techno afterparty, but Charla didn’t want to enter. I made her feel how much I would have liked to party there. Judging by the crowds in the subway that morning there is a huge variety of underground parties in Portland.At a 24/7 supermarket as large as a whole district in a European city we bought a plant to put in aunties garden.
Aunt disliked it that we went to bed at 10 in the morning and her son came to her aid. The Grungeband of her son started practicing in the garage next to the van and they kept the noise up right untill we woke up. I tried to talk to him about that 1 song shouldn’t last 9 hours. We kept hearing that darn same song, but the kids claimed that they had been playing all their songs, I lost that hardrock feeling. We went shopping for the BBQ. After that American barbeque grilled in an electric machine we got time for ourselves as we were allowed to relax in the hottub-jacuzzi. Aunt’s last words worked like magic: “No Hanky Panky”. Ah that’s why that bumpersticker spoke to me “Tell me no and I ‘ll do it.”
The husband of aunt was chartered to tow us with his SUV with on board a lot of homemade Beefjerky and coffee. With the blinkers on the car in tow, we drove for 10 hours, with a CD of The Eagles on, we saw a Baldheaded eagle in flight and drove past grazing bizons. Somewhere halfway we were pulled over by police for speeding, the right tone is the same all over the world, “Yes officer, thank you for the ticket.” Back home the car’s battery was empty but hell the motor was screwed up anyway. Some email wuss paid her motor later on.
When I had to leave her home. She cried and said. “I should have told you that i was gonna cry." (It shows true love, when the other hurts you and you still worry about how the other feels.) I took a black cab to the busstation.
At the Wenatchee busstop I was impressed by the surveillance cameras. Years later these things would be all over Europe too. Many weirdos were on the bus, like one man who denied evolutiontheory and an Australian backpacker, this long ride went over a few passes and hence impressive scenery. On the streets of Seattle passersby seemed genuinely happy to meet someone from Amsterdam. So they were happy to tell me how to get at the hostel where I could sleep in a tipi (wigwam). I had to take the ferry to the peninsula once more and again I watched the waters for any sign of whales. I had a conversation with a biologist who was active in Salmon hatcheries on the ferry. At the hostel I relaxed in a bandwagon, walked through the logcabin, had a talk with the native woman who runs the hostel business and got a telephone call from Wenatchee: “Don’t ever wanna see you again, Bart, don’t you ever call or email me again.” I understood her message of love. Spent the night in this tipi and had this picture taken by the Indian owner early in the morning. Made it in time to Tacoma, bought me alu coffeecup and some bourbon on the airport.
It was sultry in Philadelphia and the plane to Amsterdam was 5 hours delayed. Some teachers and their students were out to make a quick round of Europe, they identified a man from Amsterdam as the epitath of evil. Got me a windowseat and enjoyed the lights of the mayor Eastcoast cities. On the Northpole it was light all night long. Enjoyed talking with a Pakistani travelling salesman: "Security instructions are just a show, nobody survives a planecrash." Early mornings we flew into Schiphol, I could see the traffic jams on the highways. In Amsterdam Arabs and criminals didn't take me for an American. I got out at the tramstop, it was pouring of course, had just enough time to greet a Canadian neighbor who got on the same trolley.
