#35. and just like that.. i'm in Seattle!
or better: the grunge edition.
“All my life my heart has sought something I cannot name.” — written on the men’s room wall of the Crocodile Cafe, attributed to Chief Seattle, probably incorrectly
This quote introduces a book I first read when I was 13. On my recent trip to Brazil, I checked all my old memorabilia and found this book standing there, among others from Nirvana and Kurt Cobain, my favourite first band and childhood crush. I’ve added it to my luggage, and I’m rereading Never Mind Nirvana: A Novel, with 20 years added to the bill, and much more familiar with the Seattle of its pages, the main character of this lighthearted romance.
I then understood this sentence became personal: all my life, my heart has sought something I could never name. There are certain alleys, buildings, and corners that I have always felt familiar with, which made my heart sense an uncomfortable Déjà vu, a feeling that I’ve been there or wish I could. Maybe I fantasised about Seattle so much that I was trying to keep that sparkle alive my whole life post-adolescence, even if Heart-Shaped Box wasn’t rolling in my playlist that much. I didn’t understand quite well where this came from. After my last trip, I now did. My entire life, my heart has longed for Seattle.
I booked the flight ticket—a long-yearned destination—and if you remember, it all began in this post. It all started in the summer of last year (yes, Venus retrograde, I blame you). One year cycle later, I upgraded this grunge nostalgia. To explain this astrologically, which the cosmos do, I need to write another post, another time.
Suppose it wasn’t for my meeting with Dave Grohl at Waterstone’s last year, starring at his new biography on the bestseller counter, and opening the book on a page where there is precisely a picture of Kurt. I don’t know if I’d be here writing these words.
But, apparently, it was fate. The in-yun thing I wrote about, basically on how you can’t control who walks into your life..and who stays. Even if I had ignored Dave’s visit, a “meeting with Layne” in Berlin last August couldn’t go unnoticed. The grunge actors were visiting me. Seattle’s ghosts were very much alive.
It was pretty last minute, and it was not. Loving Nirvana in my early years also made me love Seattle because the music connected me to the city. Without ever setting foot there, I knew everything about it: why Capitol Hill is so hyped, where Kurt Cobain was last seen, his favourite restaurants, the birthplace of grunge, the importance of Pike Place Market, how the city is divided between the Puget Sound and Lake Washington, how locals call UDub its leading university, and even its darker side: the fentanyl crisis taking place there, a reminder that an invisible enemy that took away so many we love in the past is still haunting. The list goes far. I’m also a Seattle Times subscriber. People laugh. You might be laughing. But yes, sometimes I feel like I live there.
I knew it would be this year but didn’t know when. And just like that, I decided it would be in the next 15 days.
How is it that I didn't even give myself a few months to enjoy the anticipation of visiting a city I've always yearned to see? You know, to enjoy those butterflies. I then realised I’d been preparing for this trip my whole life. So I just needed to decide the date, really.
Sleepless in Seattle
I arrived in Seattle at the end of May, Memorial Day weekend. It was not my first time in the United States, and I was so excited to be back, now in the Pacific Northwest. When people asked me what I was doing in Seattle, I wanted to answer: grunge!
I didn’t know if there was an etiquette there for that or if people hate to give the Seattle Sound a name, as I heard Seattleites refer to grunge as the “G-word”, but I felt embarrassed saying the real reasons, even if inside, I was overjoyed. No, I didn’t relocate for Amazon, nor was I there to visit Mount Rainer, even if I should.
I was literally there for my 10-year-old-me. I was telling her: “You made it.”
I decided to go on a solo trip. Even though I would have loved for some of my closest friends, who share my passion for Seattle's music scene, to join me, I knew I needed time to be alone and reconnect with an older, maybe more lighthearted, part of me.
My itinerary included a real personal journey to places connected to the history of grunge music and the people who have shaped my life. This was a real pilgrimage. Some go to Jerusalem, others to Santiago de Compostela, and others to Seattle.
Seattle rock legends walked these streets, and I hoped to find them, even if I’d arrived too late to cross those paths.
The Grunge Circuit
If you’re curious about where I visited, I posted a bible..ops, an article, on Medium: The Grunge Circuit: A Complete Guide to Visiting The Places That Defined 1990s Seattle. I also added all the fantastic places I went to; as you know, there is a foodie soul here.
In summary, the grunge extravaganza took me to places like an exhibition of Nirvana at the Museum of Pop Culture, which featured many personal collections from the band; the former OK Hotel, where I could take a peek at where Nirvana first played Smells Like Teen Spirit; Central Tavern, the birthplace of grunge, where all my idols played, with an altar in the middle, paying homage to them. During this pilgrimage, I found my temple.
Cameron Crowe's Singles (1992) is a movie that follows the love lives of a group of twentysomethings at the peak of the grunge era who all live in the same apartment block in Seattle. Feeling like an adolescent, I took a picture in front of the building that’s been in my imagination since I was…13? Then there is my meeting with Capitol Hill—awe, Capitol Hill!—probably an eternal love affair. It is also where my postcode would most likely be if I lived in Seattle.
Full of hipsters alike, exploring Cap Hill is like stepping into the lives of the grunge people who inhabited and socialised there in the 1990s, mainly around the Pike-Pine Street corridor. You have places like Lost Lake Diner, a diner with milkshakes and cream on top as only Americans do; Oddfellows Café + Bar, a classic for brunch, where I spent the late morning reading my Never Mind Nirvana book, bragging about how I was close to all those addresses mentioned in the book now; and Elliott Bay Book Company—one of those bookshops of the 70s where you lose yourself.
The thing is that Seattle is much more than grunge, and it matches my energy; I started to envision my life there because of places like Melrose Market and Glasswing, one of the most incredible stores offering a well-curated lifestyle clothing selection and accessories for all tastes. Analog Coffee has amazing cappuccinos, flat whites, and the best avocado toast for those craving this millennial favourite, which I visited almost daily. Single Shot is a hidden gem, where I spent one hour or two writing my morning pages, eating Eggs Benedict, and still pinching myself when I couldn’t believe where I was.
I also completely changed my mind about Starbucks. It was never my favourite place, nor my favourite coffee. Still, after visiting Starbucks Reserve Roastery, an enormous space with barista-style drinks and a food menu supplied by Princi, a bakery based in Milan, aka their flagship store, I now think fondly about them. If you’re asking yourself if I’ve been to the first Starbucks shop, the answer is yes.
Of course I would eat steak, fries, and Italian pasta. Bateau didn’t disappoint, and Spinasse won my heart (and my stomach!). The latter has a tajarin with butter and sage that is difficult to beat and is an acclaimed dish among food reviewers. I’d been to Italy two weeks before heading to Seattle, in the Piemonte region, where the dish originally is from, and the Seattle version was… much better, which, of course, annoyed some of my Italian friends.
Seattle’s famous coffee scene is visible in the cappuccinos served at Espresso Vivace on Broadway, where the surroundings exude precisely how I envisioned ‘90s Seattle; I was obsessed with its buildings and the nostalgic energy still in the air.
Then you have Ballard. With its Scandinavian past, it is one of Seattle's most incredible areas to explore. Lucca has a sophisticated selection of postcards, books, accessories, and home decor, whilst The Walrus and the Carpenter offered me the best raw seafood experience. After all, it’s a city proud of its crabs, octopus, scallops and alikes.
It was also interesting to observe how America, in general, is obsessed with tipping, as hospitality people rely heavily on it. Restaurants usually open only at 4 pm; many are closed during lunchtime.
Seattle is not the place for outlets in America; you will find many more independent labels and vintage boutiques, like Pretty Parlor, which I’m becoming very enthusiastic about. And if you live in Europe, like me, it will be odd to find out that restaurants take your credit card to charge you for the bill, meaning they don’t bring the machine to your table (!).
Is The Old Seattle All Gone?
I also had to face many contradictory feelings there, and every night in my hotel room, I confronted myself with joy and sadness.
Joy because I couldn’t believe I was sighting the Paramount Theatre from the windows of my Capitol Hill room while seeing Nirvana playing there on the TV at the same time, an epic concert I had watched in ecstasy my whole life, or when coming back from Layne’s house in the U-District, adding his address to my Lyft app ride. It felt so unreal!
I could also walk to Linda’s Tavern, where Kurt was last seen alive, because it more or less shares the same address as where I was staying. I could sit on the same bench he sat on.
I was also sad because I had to come to terms with the fact that grunge Seattle was gone. Those places were there, but they didn’t have the soul of the memories they carry anymore. Once I had the experience, it thrilled and disappointed me because it couldn’t give me more.
Seattle was a dream for all those years. In those 10 days, that long-yearned dream became real—too real. And I have to admit I was afraid to face the possibility of being utterly delusional about what Seattle is because what it was was what that little me really wanted—and arrived too late.
The girl who grew up with the self-image of this dream was frightened because the dream became possible—and impossible. Then, I concluded that no person can live a dream forever, or no dream can be fulfilled in one person forever. The dream-come-true-aha is a moment, not a state. Becoming sober of the dream is also part of the drill.
These mixed feelings confused me. I realised I was grieving, too.
What more could I do? No pilgrimage could let me access old Seattle.
But there was something Seattle let me access.
If I didn’t find the old Seattle, the Seattle of the 90s found me — on unexpected occasions.
The most meaningful moments were also the quietest.
For example? Visiting Nordstrom and finding a Nirvana t-shirt hanging there among other high-profile designers; that old QFC (Quality Food Centers) where Nick Pollock saw Layne for the last time still there on Broadway; those old-fashioned buildings in Capitol Hill looking like a movie set of Singles; the Comet Tavern and its illuminated sign like a glimpse of hope, business as usual; Layne’s and Kurt’s pictures hanging on the walls of The Central; the voice of Andrew Wood singing Chloe Dancer still a soundtrack on some taverns in a midweek sunny afternoon.
The old energy wasn’t all faded.
Expect The Unexpected
The cherry on the cake was Pearl Jam performing in Seattle the week I was there. I got last-minute tickets, which felt like a special gift from the city. It was a great way to experience 90s nostalgia and feel like I was becoming a part of Seattle’s community.
And then there was the excitement of a city overjoyed by the fact they were in town; the Uber driver taking me to the show, sharing his own personal memory about being Mike McCready’s mate in the 7th Grade, and witnessing one of the last public appearances of Layne, at the Showbox, watching Jerry Cantrell performing solo (where else on Earth the driver who accepted my ride would be the one with all these connections?); and all of this while passing by the Pike Place Market sign, then by the old Vogue, and arriving at the Seattle Arena Centre, with the unique Space Needle in the background (where Alice in Chains played precisely 33 years ago that day)!
As if this wasn’t enough, Eddie Vedder that night shared something with the audience, aka the Seattle people, that profoundly touched me.
“You can guess that, in any other city, there’s no guest list as big as the one when we’re in Seattle. San Diego, Chicago, nope. Seattle. And to be honest, I wish it were longer. There are certain names that I so deeply wish were on the guest list tonight, but we lost ‘em too early and in ways that we could have never imagined - and damn it if I can’t stop thinking about ‘em. But that’s a good thing, too.”
Eddie mentioning this and acknowledging the pain of their absence meant a lot to me. He brought to that concert Layne Staley, Kurt Cobain, Mark Lanegan, Chris Cornell, Andrew Wood, and probably many others whose losses are personal. They became protagonists and also part of the audience. For a moment, it didn’t matter that I had Pearl Jam in Seattle for that three-hour show or that they started the concert with Black and I could hear the “Ten” album classics being played in front of me 30 years later, but it mattered the most that I felt he was grieving like me in a public demonstration.
In my inner pain, the wound was shared and exposed—in the right place, at the right time. It felt like we liberated the ghosts or acknowledged them. It felt good to see they’re still missed and voiced during the most unexpected moments, many years later, even if we must move forward. I found that I wasn’t alone in my pain. I found the stage for my pilgrimage and devotion. Maybe that is what my heart was also sought after.
It was that, my friends, who turned a simple trip into a special and unforgettable one. It was the small details that made this trip big. My precious advice if you’re making your own pilgrimage, in whatever form or for whatever reason you choose: pay attention to details. What you’re looking for is on the small events. Sometimes, they come silently.
It was all that Seattle let me access of its old flannel years. But it was enough.
Back Home
I returned home emotional, and what I thought would be a one-off trip became the start of a personal journey with Seattle. I had drawn a bridge between my adolescent past and my Northwest future. It’s going to be somewhere I always go.
I started incorporating Seattle into my daily routine, giving my flannel persona more space. Fortunately, this is borderless.
The universe also corresponded to this energy, kindly reminding me that if I’m not physically in Seattle, Seattle can come to me in unexpected ways.
I formed new friendships there, and they asked me when I would be back, giving me that cosy feeling that I had formed bonds. I unexpectedly started exchanging messages with Andrew Wood’s girlfriend, who created a little community to share things about her grunge memories and past.
I also knew super last minute that Foo Fighters were playing in town, and the next day, and the day after the next (!), I was there, seeing Dave Grohl, who will always be mainly a Nirvana member! And Pat Smear was there, too!
Kathleen Hanna from Bikini Kill was also in East London discussing her new memoir out of nowhere, and I have tickets to see Pearl Jam again, as they’re also playing here! How weird and cool is that? Who thought leaving Seattle would unfold those surprising events?
The Verdict: Was It Worth It?
Something in me had permanently changed. Today, I can finally say about Seattle, that she knew what she wanted. I can say this because I relate to its streets, residents, history, landmarks, light, and darkness—because I’ve been there. There is so much power in knowing.
It’s not that place anymore that I can only imagine or dream about visiting. And this is the most significant gift my adult self could give to the 10-year-old-me: to be able to push the boundaries of that wall, a wall that regularly kept me listening to Nirvana when it was enough to stay local, just dreaming of what Seattle could be.
Making could a real possibility, turning it into a let’s do it!. Transcending, in a beautiful way, from an innocent eleven-year-old to a brave adult. From a page in a bookstore to a complete trip to Seattle, covering all spectrum of this dream. I turned an old hobby into a lively reality.
Maybe adulting is not bad: we can honour our ideals and make the pavement for them.
I learned from this trip that we shouldn’t choose our following destinations based on the destination itself, to remove a place from a bucket list, but rather to pick cities for what we want those places to give us. Maybe you want to reconnect with an old hobby? Spend time with your soul? Or unblock your creative urge? Make new friends, find a lover? Then, go from there.
I chose Seattle for spiritual and emotional fulfilment, and even if it’s a moment and not a state, and I experienced both opposites of this dream, the verdict is that I’m entirely nourished by its flavour. I made this trip to play with my inner child, and there is absolutely no other place in the world where I could nurture her with similar energy.
Seattle, I’m forever grateful for your existence, the bands you brought to the mainstream, the community you built with your humbleness, and the people who landed in your territory for this existence.
Yes, we risk being disappointed, but risking is taking, and it’s better to be let down and experience something from the heart than to remain illusional and experience something only in the realm of the mind.
In the end, grief is indeed the price we pay for love. And I love you, Seattle.
x, NB (posting from time to time)
Natalia- I definitely appreciate the revisit of Seattle’s Capitol Hill. So epic and quintessential in so many ways. Hope you’re staying warm though this winter? Cheers, -Thalia