Bellingham's character

I'll never be in any town long enough to get a true reading on its character, but one thing I noticed when I entered downtown Bellingham was how quiet it was. Granted, it was a Sunday, but the place was dead at 6:30. Happily, I saw some eateries were open, as well as some establishments that cater to the more bacchanalian instincts of the twenty-something crowd.

People in Bellingham, unlike those in Blaine, don't greet you as readily on the street, which reminds me: once I was past the halfway point between Blaine and Lynden, all offers to give me a ride had ceased. As the towns get bigger, the native caution intensifies. Being from the DC area, I can relate.

Bellingham is crawling with bikers. By "bikers," I mean people on human-powered (eco-friendly!) bikes, not fat guys in leather wearing spiked helmets and riding choppers (though I've seen some of those on the road, too). The Bellingham bikers often travel in pairs, but not always. The town's also got skateboard rats and a couple friendly homeless dudes. Everyone else is on his or her way somewhere.

The general atmosphere of Bellingham, a small, clean little town, strikes me as agreeable and relaxed-- a coastal suburban enclave-cum-port that has some elements in common with Old Town Alexandria, including a sense of history and shamelessly expensive waterfront property. It has its tourist-trap side, Bellingham does, but the kitsch, where it exists, is not overdone.


_