Diana McCaulay, Contributor
I SIT in an alpine meadow, bright with autumnal wildflowers, soothed by the sounds of streams, and ruefully contemplate a blister on my heel.
We've been hiking for two hours and my regular boots are simply not up to it. (Not to mention my heart, lungs, muscles and virtually all other body components! My soul, however, is in good shape, because it is a place of Sound-of-Music beauty...)
"How come a nature freak doesn't have good hiking boots?" says one of my colleagues, observing my discomfort with a trace of smug satisfaction, probably because I've beaten him up the mountain. "Don't you hike in Jamaica?"
"No," I say, "not a lot. It's too dangerous."
As I said those words, I was finally able to identify a mysterious feeling I'd been noticing since my arrival here. Homesick as I was (am), there was something about Seattle that made me feel...good. Let out of prison. Free. I'd been wrestling with it, wondering what it was. Could it be my anonymity? The ease with which things get done here? Sitting in the meadow with snow-covered Mt. Rainier in the background, the sun on my face, my heel burning, I suddenly knew what it was: I felt safe.
Alertness
A friend who teaches self-defence told me once that Jamaica induces a state of amber alertness in people. It's not quite a red alert; this being the state when a clear and present danger is evident. A state of amber alertness is when your senses are heightened because you are aware of potential threats. Noises startle you. People coming too close alarm you. You try and get home before it's late. Going out to open your gate after dark is downright terrifying. It's a stressful state which, when constant, takes an incredibly heavy toll.
Here in Seattle, my guard has simply fallen; I haven't taken a decision about it. It has something to do with the windows without bars, indeed, with the weather as warm as it's been, my windows have never been shut, not even when I'm away at classes. When I hear a noise in the middle of the night, I assume it's the toilet acting up again, and I turn over and fall effortlessly back to sleep. In Jamaica, I'd be thinking about what I could use as a weapon.
I feel safe here partly because of statistics; there have been no homicides or cases of manslaughter on the University of Washington campus in the past three years. But feeling safe is also absorbed from the people around you, who are not always talking about the latest murder, carjacking or abduction. You know your bike or laptop computer could get stolen, but not your lunch and rarely your books. Backpacks are left around in the building where I study, people look somewhat askance at my habit of taking mine with me to the bathroom.
It's not that Seattle has no crime, but in a city of 1.2 million people there are generally fewer that 50 murders per year, and like many other places in the United States, crime rates are falling. There are homeless people on the streets and "bad" areas of the city, which just last week, have been torn by gun violence. But Seattleites do not behave as if they are afraid. In the community where I live, many houses have no fences, people sit on their front steps and smoke, they jog and walk their dogs, they carry their groceries home late at night.
Liberating
Perhaps most liberating of all, there is absolutely no street harassment. No-one calls out to you, hisses at you or makes suggestive comments. A man came up to me one morning at the bus stop and asked me for change to buy coffee. When I said no, he left immediately, displaying no persistence, no aggression.
Driving on the freeway one afternoon, a motorcyclist lost control of his bike and crashed onto the road. Within seconds, three cars had stopped and people were variously rendering assistance and calling on cell phones. In less than 10 minutes, the state police were on the scene. In this city, you feel sure help is just around the corner.
Perhaps I'm tempting fate by writing like this; maybe my apartment will have been broken into when I go home tonight. But it won't change anything, because these things can and do happen anywhere. What matters is whether or not you FEEL safe. And here in Seattle, I do.
