this city

I board the bus at the airport. a lean white guy enters, a bit indie, with a small leather bag. a friend, asian (vietnamese? chinese? japanese? features are lean but hard to read, or I am inexperienced), follows. They carry large umbrellas, perfectly folded, suggesting recent purchase (perhaps at the airport? after landing in city famed for rain?).

I cough, watch, assess. two euro kids on an backpacking trip in the states? something doesn't support that: they look remarkably fresh and do not have backpacks. But perhaps they are tired and their amazing skin does not show it. I imagine the blond one ducking into the bathroom just beyond their arrival gate, washing and quickly changing shirts.

I catch his eye but immediately look away. one more split-second of contact and we would have to speak. He pulls out a book with a title in dutch? german? I am remarkably uneducated, unsophisticated, untraveled: remarkably American despite my brownness.

More coughing, more watching. The Asian one takes a paper bag out of his luggage - inside is a over-ripe banana and a hotdog bun. He peels the banana and wedges it into the bun to eat like a frankfurter. banana dog: japanese delicacy?

We near downtown. The blond leans over, with a lilting accent: 'Excuse me, are you from here?'

'I moved recently.'

'Do you know this street? Pike? We are to get off there.' His friend chimes in with the address '150 1/2 Pike Street.' 'You know Green Youth hostel. It is there; we are to stay there.'

'Hmm. I don't. But I know Pike. I'm getting off there, actually. You can just follow me.'

The conversation continues into one I've had many times, but meanders into new territory (yet this too always seems to happen here; a seemingly predictable conversation surprises with new connections, thoughts): Where are you coming from? Japan. Where are you from? I was born and brought up in the US, but my parents are from India. Where? Where in India? No, where in the US? Pennsylvania.

We are just coming from Pennsylvania! No! Yes! Where? Harrisburg! Wow! Where did you grow up? East of Pittsburgh. Cool. What do you do in Harrisburg? We are soccer players.

Oh we have a friend from Pittsburgh who is Indian. I might know him. What is the name? Vinny Something-something; are there a lot of Indian people in Pittsburgh? More now but not that many when I was growing up; I probably know someone who knows him.

We disembark.

You (blond one) were born in Japan? No, I was born in Germany, but I grew up in Japan.

Interesting. I thought the Asian one was a European transplant, but it is the white one who is the immigrant!

Hmm, so there is a soccer team in Harrisburg? Yes. What brings you to Seattle? We are staying the night before going to Vancouver. You have a game in Vancouver? No, we are going there to get visas.

We arrive at Pike Street before I can ask why two Japanese soccer players in the US are going to Canada for visas.

I squint at the closest door number: 1400. I don't know if there are enough blocks before the water to get down to 150, or what the half means. Is this a Harry Potter hostel?

I point out the water and orient them to east, west. They nod, smile. Thank you, good luck. I cross the street briskly and see my bus at the corner. I look over my shoulder, and they are walking towards the water, duffel bags slung over shoulders. If they were staying in Seattle longer, perhaps we could have hung out.