2025 Dec 27, Spokane, Washington State

Today in Spokane, Washington State’s second-largest city, I didn’t make a “must-see list.” I simply followed my instincts—whatever I saw, I took. By the end of the day, I realized something:
this city feels like an old man, leaning on a newly made cane—best approached slowly.

They say a massive fire over a century ago marked the true beginning of Spokane. A city born through fire, with a quiet sense of rebirth.

At the heart of downtown stands the Davenport Hotel. Old hotels don’t speak—but they remain. The century-old lobby, the circular second-floor gallery with display cases, old photos, antique furniture, pianos, and wooden sign stands pull you straight back into the early 1900s. In China, that was also a time of dramatic transition.

Its ballrooms have witnessed farewell banquets during World Wars, victory celebrations, and national-level receptions. Sometimes, a single hotel becomes the face of a city—gracefully welcoming yesterday, today, and tomorrow, whether the guest is a dignitary, a hero, or an ordinary traveler. Now preserved as a heritage building, it’s a place worth pausing—to feel time and space converge.

Spokane Falls｜The city’s white noise.
Just one block away, the sound of water arrives first. A rare stepped urban waterfall roars through the city center. Around it sit an old hydroelectric plant, a 1970s cable car, a stubbornly old indoor carousel, the Great Fire memorial, a stone clock tower, and several iron bridges. It’s as if the waterfall itself holds the city upright.

The power station gives Spokane its energy; the carousel preserves childhood for adults. For over a century, riding it has meant interacting with the city itself.

Across the water, the stone clock tower echoes an oversized red “little wagon.” Old and new face each other. A simple childhood toy enlarged into public art—nothing profound, just honest. Like us, even little wagons grow up.

🚡 Numerica SkyRide｜I skipped it—too pricey.
Built for the 1974 World Expo, the cable car crosses the falls. I didn’t ride it, but the aerial view is undeniably special.

To the north sits Gonzaga University, founded in 1887. Red brick, balanced proportions, and a campus built for living with, not gazing at. The church catches the sunset from the side; the cross stands clean against the sky, with a faint moon nearby. It doesn’t preach—it accompanies.

Manyu’s take on Spokane
If I had to describe Spokane:
It doesn’t express itself like Seattle.
It doesn’t seek attention like Vancouver.
It’s more like someone who doesn’t bother introducing themselves.

The hotel remains in use. The falls keep flowing. The power station stays modest. The carousel keeps turning. The university stands quietly in the sunset. Walk a little slower, and the city may walk with you.

By the end of the day, I understood this:
Some cities aren’t meant to be “seen.” They’re meant to be stayed in.

Spokane is one of them.