Friday, August 13, 2004
Two Cultures: Helena Part 3
I really am a product of two quite different cultures--my somewhat rural Montana childhood and my urban Seattle adulthood. I love both although I prefer Seattle. Both places have a significant outdoor component to the lifestyle which is why I easily melted into city life. I wouldn't like living in a city if I was not able to get to a trailhead within 45 minutes of my front door. Actually, it is kind of like I have everything I loved about Montana but more--more water; bigger trees; more diversity; more restaurants but minus the horrible winters.
One evening in Helena, we did a Montana thing. Kaley doesn't really like Montana so while she was at a musical with Grandma, Lucas, Dave and I headed for a Montana bar. We drove several miles out of Helena on pavement and then we turned on a dirt road and drove for 6 miles until we came to a ghost town in the mountains of nowhere. Marysville was a hopping place about a hundred years ago when its gold mine was producing a lot of ore. When production stopped, everybody left and today the old cabins, storefronts and abandoned lilac bushes remain. A bar, probably the original, is there called Marysville House and you will find some of the best food you've ever eaten in your life. The eatery pretty much looks the same as it did 30 years ago because it is an old abandoned building with a lot of initials carved into the walls. They added some old picnic tables in one room and the bar is in the second room.
People in Montana tend to be friendlier than here. There were two larger groups of people besides us and we chatted with each. One group was a wedding party from Portland returning to their beloved Montana to marry and they couldn't come back without eating at their favorite bar. Everybody had had more than enough to drink and my husband embarrassed me a little by teasingly asking the wedding group if they had a designated driver. They DID! Not long ago someone had been killed along this dirt road because of drinking and driving and my husband couldn't bear to think of such a tragedy happening to this group of beautiful young kids. Interestingly, minors are and always have been allowed in bars in Montana which is so convenient; we can order a drink while we wait for a table and our kids can be with us. Washington is very picky about this, unfortunately.
While we were at the Marysville House, a major thunderstorm hit with lightening causing the lights to flicker and a downpour that flooded in the front door. It added to the festive atmosphere. Lucas was standing at the door of the bar watching the storm (we get a LOT of drizzle in Seattle but thunderstorms of this magnitude are rare so my Seattle boy was thrilled). A friendly drunk queried Lucas about where he was from--Lukie's long hair and beard sans cowboy hat prompted the question. He grinned and responded Seattle but quickly added he was going to college in Missoula. The drunk apologized he'd always had trouble in school so that was why he lived in a ghost town and was in a bar in Marysville, Montana. We all tried to imagine life in Marysville--shudder.
Dave and Lucas had the best steaks perfectly cooked and I had sauteed shrimp in beer, gigantic and juicy. Sides were corn and beans and fabulous home baked bread and not a salad or even garnish of lettuce anywhere to be seen. The evening was.....well, FUN. Our van was covered with Montana mud which is still falling out of the wheel wells in my driveway.
And that's another thing: Montanans don't ever wash their bug, dust, and mud covered cars. Seattleites are fanatics about keeping their cars spotless. If you look in my garage, you can tell-----I'm from Montana.
I really am a product of two quite different cultures--my somewhat rural Montana childhood and my urban Seattle adulthood. I love both although I prefer Seattle. Both places have a significant outdoor component to the lifestyle which is why I easily melted into city life. I wouldn't like living in a city if I was not able to get to a trailhead within 45 minutes of my front door. Actually, it is kind of like I have everything I loved about Montana but more--more water; bigger trees; more diversity; more restaurants but minus the horrible winters.
One evening in Helena, we did a Montana thing. Kaley doesn't really like Montana so while she was at a musical with Grandma, Lucas, Dave and I headed for a Montana bar. We drove several miles out of Helena on pavement and then we turned on a dirt road and drove for 6 miles until we came to a ghost town in the mountains of nowhere. Marysville was a hopping place about a hundred years ago when its gold mine was producing a lot of ore. When production stopped, everybody left and today the old cabins, storefronts and abandoned lilac bushes remain. A bar, probably the original, is there called Marysville House and you will find some of the best food you've ever eaten in your life. The eatery pretty much looks the same as it did 30 years ago because it is an old abandoned building with a lot of initials carved into the walls. They added some old picnic tables in one room and the bar is in the second room.
People in Montana tend to be friendlier than here. There were two larger groups of people besides us and we chatted with each. One group was a wedding party from Portland returning to their beloved Montana to marry and they couldn't come back without eating at their favorite bar. Everybody had had more than enough to drink and my husband embarrassed me a little by teasingly asking the wedding group if they had a designated driver. They DID! Not long ago someone had been killed along this dirt road because of drinking and driving and my husband couldn't bear to think of such a tragedy happening to this group of beautiful young kids. Interestingly, minors are and always have been allowed in bars in Montana which is so convenient; we can order a drink while we wait for a table and our kids can be with us. Washington is very picky about this, unfortunately.
While we were at the Marysville House, a major thunderstorm hit with lightening causing the lights to flicker and a downpour that flooded in the front door. It added to the festive atmosphere. Lucas was standing at the door of the bar watching the storm (we get a LOT of drizzle in Seattle but thunderstorms of this magnitude are rare so my Seattle boy was thrilled). A friendly drunk queried Lucas about where he was from--Lukie's long hair and beard sans cowboy hat prompted the question. He grinned and responded Seattle but quickly added he was going to college in Missoula. The drunk apologized he'd always had trouble in school so that was why he lived in a ghost town and was in a bar in Marysville, Montana. We all tried to imagine life in Marysville--shudder.
Dave and Lucas had the best steaks perfectly cooked and I had sauteed shrimp in beer, gigantic and juicy. Sides were corn and beans and fabulous home baked bread and not a salad or even garnish of lettuce anywhere to be seen. The evening was.....well, FUN. Our van was covered with Montana mud which is still falling out of the wheel wells in my driveway.
And that's another thing: Montanans don't ever wash their bug, dust, and mud covered cars. Seattleites are fanatics about keeping their cars spotless. If you look in my garage, you can tell-----I'm from Montana.
// posted by Janet @ 9:15 PM
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