We left Portland yesterday afternoon and even today I was fleetingly tempted to take one of the highway exits back towards that city. Even though I only spent about 36 hours in the city center, I walked away totally impressed with how very eclectic and modern a city it is. Somewhat of a hidden gem, a home for alternatives, outcasts, and variety.
Friday night while I was just taking it easy in the university-run hotel, Portland greeted my friends with a parade of clowns in the downtown area. It was part of the Portland Rose festival, whose numerous food stands, carnival rides, and corporate booths were spread out along the entire waterfront area. The mix of people there reminded me a little of the summertime bustle in the old port in Montreal with two currents of people mingling. Wandering families and tourists meander while tons of fit-looking people on bikes or in jogging shoes weave in and out among them.
The next morning I wandered out and basically was struck by the following things: 1. there was no garbage ANYWHERE 2. garbage and recycling bins were emptied and were super well designed. 3. The architecture was a mix of modern and colonial, all clean and new 4. the urban planning!!!! Not only do they bike lanes plus trams plus buses alongside cars, they even have skate routes (boards and roller)!!! 5. Even the water fountains were alternative, consisting of four individual fountains on a pedestal so that four people could drink at once. 6. outdoor international food stalls that take up entire city blocks where you can find a Thai, Indian, Scottish, vegan, fish and chips, smoothies, Portuguese and sushi in a row. 7. coffee shops are more frequently available than water fountains. There is much to like in downtown Portland.
My favorite thing about Portland has to be the variety of people who are not mainstream. The lady who made and sold me my tie-die dress who also works as a diving instructor in Hawaii. The woman with a princess tiara glued to her bike helmet. The tattooed man with the black knitted tuque with a side view of a skull knitted on both sides separated by a fluffy black wool fringe like a Mohawk down the middle of his head. The busker band that used construction pylons as mikes. The perfect Polish matron with long platinum blond curls framing a face protected by a thick shield of make-up serving misty a healthy dose of sausage, pierogis, potatoes, onions and baconbits. The collections of And it goes on. Even the faux-riche and rich folks were out and about enjoying the sunshine in downtown Portland.
I have no clue why but we all got stuck with a single song for this portion of our journey (and probably for the rest of the trip). Misty can't stop humming Don't Stop Believin' by none other than Journey. We found the greatest hits CD in a used CD shop, christened our rental car player with it on the way back to Astoria, and now we're cursing the fact that we left the lyrics in the car. None of us can get past the first four lines of the first verse, so we just keep singing the chorus...
Janius Tsang
