I avoid Spokane, but it is the nearest major city, and life sometimes draws me there against my will. Earlier this week, family obligations ensnared me and pulled me in like a kraken pulling a ship into the depths of the sea. Melodramatic enough? I can exaggerate more, I suppose. In reality it wasn't nearly that bad. I didn't have to drive, and it was a happy occasion for a family member.
The weather was gray. The city is asphalt, brick, and stone, also trending to gray, but relieved by splashes of vibrant color here and there. Naturally, that won't figure into these photos. It undermines the point of the community! Here's a look at a couple buildings on the corner of Washington and Riverside.
To the right is a vacant lot now used as parking. The walls are red. Not brick-red like some buildings, but a deep crimson. These lots are now entirely driven by apps. Gone are the days of feeding cash into a big box. No, photograph your license plate and pay by credit card or Apple Pay. All illusion of privacy is gone. In its place is alleged convenience and definite surveillance. It makes my skin crawl.
I was hungry, and there is a coffee shop on the second floor of the Paulsen Center next to the skyway crossing Riverside and connecting to the US Bank offices out of frame to the right, but marked by the sign visible here.
Between hunger, a need for coffee, and other schedule constraints, I didn't have time for more artistic framing of the scene. There are clearly two facades on the north side facing Riverside, but inside it is interconnected as if one building extends the length of the block. I did notice there was a distinct change in the feel of the floor where the buildings joined. An incline. A different material under my feet. But the same carpet and paint. Unnerving.
I ate a BLT and drank a coffee. Overpriced in my opinion, but satisfying. If you have the misfortune to journey into this unnatural place, this oasis of comfort exists at least.
The street name and monochromatic theme reminded me of this instrumental piece from my music library.
I saw no gangs on this Riverside. Streets alternated between newly paved and absolutely decrepit patchworks of potholes. The people on the street were... unique... specimens of humanity. I trust neither cars nor pedestrians to pay attention to traffic signals, so anxiety was always lingering at the fringes of my mind.
Spokane is strange. Several cities grew together, and the result is a patchwork of districts and roads with strange gaps and name changes. Industry is next to commerce and residential zones. Century-old opulence from the Roaring Twenties is next to mid-century brutalist architecture and modern concrete boxes. Old mills tower over the railways which still split the city. Warehouses and supply yards serve these industrial centers.
There is a lot to see, culture to experience, and opportunity to pursue. But it is not a place for me. I do not fit. I will not torture myself by trying to change that. I am content to occasionally visit, and then leave. I'm glad to be back at home just outside my small town. There's more than enough weirdness here, and I can see mountains and trees instead of traffic lights and apartment blocks. It is still gray here, but it is the gray of melting snow relieved by the green of pine trees and the promise of Spring. I look forward to seeing nature emerge from hibernation. Things here feel alive, whereas the city is just in motion.
