Portland Oregon

Portland is a great city. Great in the way that almost everyone you meet has been drawn here from all other big cities in the states for the ‘lifestyle’. It is uncertain what that lifestyle is but there is evidence about what it is not. Portland seems to be lacking an air of conspicuous industriousness. In the thick of downtown there is absolutely no one rushing about with a corporate agenda. In fact the thing you notice is people perched outside on ledges, in parks on sidewalks reading paperbacks. It is uncertain whether these too are homeless (a huge very prevalent homeless population with their strollers of plastic bags and bottles) or whether they are just your average residents with nothing better to do on these beautiful (although we are told very rare) sunny days.
Although the economic downturn has supposedly really affected this city, especially its population of young people, there are not the visible empty retail spots that you see in other cities. I was shocked to see the young age of the people lined up outside a church food bank. This is paradoxically more evidence of the great lifestyle draw – it lures in inordinate number of young unemployed people who are only too willing to talk
about how they came here bravely without a job to ‘escape’ the pressures of New York, LA, Texas – you name it. The whole thing intrigues me and I have explored the topic with anyone who wants to talk, and there are many of them, which I also find fascinating. People simply want to talk. Unusually friendly.
It is also hard to find a poor spot to eat. The food so far (although one tiny questionable Indian restaurant that may be responsible for my 3 day stomach flu) has been so tasty: innovative, loyal to the attempts to be local, and wonderful white wines and locally brewed beers. In fact the one restaurant that we were compelled to leave was only because their wine list had no Oregon wines on the menu and being our last night I wanted one final glass of the wonderful white wines. Elk cove makes a beautiful Pinot Gris. I had to try and justify my palate to this particular restaurant and exclaim how I don’t like European wines I only like Oregon. (I failed to mention Okanagon as I knew this would go way over their heads.)
Shopping is very exciting here especially for someone like me. They have the most amazing book store, supposedly the largest in the States, where they mix up all of the new and used. It enabled me to whirl in – just visit the A and B sections - and wind up with almost 20 novels from Alice Adams and Anita Brookner – all unread by me before. How wonderful is that? The whole spotting and shopping experience took 5 minutes. I can’t even begin to gush about the plethora of vintage clothing stores – all museum quality with wonderful nic nacs strewn about. I purchased a beautiful black velvet chapeau with a huge ostrich feather from the early 1900’s, sooo beautiful. At the same time a very unusual green glass egg from 1920’s Prague whose inside is outfitted to serve some weird liquers (perhaps Absinthe?) The colour of the glass is unimaginably beautiful. Joop is prancing around in a 70’s Spanish leather coat for the unbeatable price of $30. I am still torn about this antique german doll with a kid body in perfect condition.
Then there are the leather purchases – the size and weight of which necessitated another suitcase purchase.
The leather shop was found in the old area of downtown – supposedly China town although we only found signs of a large gate – nothing else. There was the most peculiar odour in that region of town – quite horrific – and one we have occasioned upon in different areas since. It seems like a foul, concentrated urine smell. Maybe because of the huge homeless population? It is a weird problem. I haven’t noticed it in other large cities before.
Although it is entertaining enough to just remain downtown we have forced ourselves on other excursions – namely to the infamous coast. Enroute we drove through the most beautiful pastoral loveliness. Who knew Oregon was so agrarian? Just to the north west of Portland on the way to Cannon Beach is just lovely undulating pastured and treed hills. As you get more in towards the coast it becomes more heavily treed and all of the farms seem to be financially struggling, not quite as lovely.
I liked the coast but failed to see its huge draw. True it is nothing but expanses of sand and waves and wind, but you would have to be beyond brave or insane to venture in, particularly this time of year (there were a few), and there is nothing to find. Absolutely no beach combing, nothing visible from the outside of the ocean ( ie no spots for little sea creatures to collect and be seen), no boating. Just waves and wind buffeting you around as you walk endlessly. Perhaps good for the psyche as there were many doing this very activity. Despite the walkers there is a huge sense of loneliness where all you hear is waves, the lonely stacatto sound of sand being pelleted against empty crab shells and very rarely a seagull.
The coastal town of Newport does have a bay and a harbour populated with very loud sea lions and a lot of hopeful fishing boats. Once again you are forced to question – does anyone still catch anything? The whole ocean fishing thing is very regional and questionable. It is hard to get a sense if a particular area is suffering.
Driving back from the coast and in areas along the coast you pass through many farming areas interspersed with forested and clear cut areas. Clear cuts are random and aggressive looking and it makes you wonder if Oregon is the clearcut capital of the States. In amongst that ecological horror there is also pernicious sight of that invasive yellow broom type plant. Its flowers are the most beautiful yellow but once you know its stealthy quest to subsume all other flora you are unable to look at it. It is like a bright yellow blight. So there are periods of driving when you can’t almost look outside the car for fear of being confronted with ecological nightmares and even smell nightmares. For some reason certain areas are ripe with the smell of manure and this can go on for miles. All in all the countryside must be navigated carefully to try and avoid despair. That makes it sound awful because the truth is that pastoral loveliness abounds as well. It is just that juxtaposition that keeps you on your toes and nips in some fantasies of moving to Oregon and living on a farm.
This is our last morning here, Joop has gone off in pursuit of his lost camera. Let us pray that he finds it. It is unlikely after the Amsterdam loss that he should be lucky enough the have it returned to him by a miraculous path again.
In the couple of hours remaining I have to decide which illustrious purchases I will allow myself. I am committed to the crystal ball purchase but the rest I am still undecided. Our dollar has climbed enough to justify more than less.