Portland was the first time we were really late on the Amtrak. We were just almost to the Portland Amtrak Station, and the train stopped. Somehow they couldn’t get clearance to cross the last bridge that we needed to cross, so there we sat. This is of course after I had called Flora, our Portland hero, and told her we were on time, and we couldn’t wait to see her! So there we sat, for about and hour and a half. Flora had just gone to the grocery store and bought salmon and strawberries, and there it sat in the car. Oy!
Train Station in Portland, Oregon
Whatever the blockage was cleared itself, and the train lurched forward into the Portland station. In big letters on the clock tower protruding from station it said, “GO BY TRAIN”. Good idea! Flora was there to greet us, and we managed to get all our stuff in yet another midsize vehicle.
We went back to her house in southeast Portland, and got the full tour. The vegetable garden in the front yard (just a year ago it was grass with chain link fence) the unfinished sauna house in the backyard, the chicken coop, the new bathroom, the old bathroom, the guest quarters, the roommates, the wall painted black chalkboard, the magnetic poetry on the fridge, and finally, the coffee pot. Which picked us all up a little bit, then Flora confesses she had bought a grill that day. Cool! Grilled salmon? awesome. Then she confesses that she bought it used. Cool! Way to be economical! Then she confesses it was $20 on Craigs List, and that it might need a little cleaning. Then she confesses it is totally nasty.
Zac, hungry for more
Well, my main man Zac doesn’t skip a beat, takes his coffee on outside and starts scrubbing. He had that grill shiny new in about an hour. People were coming in and out, and I could no longer keep track of who I met, and who I hadn’t, so I stopped introducing myself for fear of being redundant. We ate a northwest meal of salmon and salad and corn and hoppy beer. YUM. The fire pit cranked up, and the hula hooping started, the kids were euphoric and hanging out like experienced college students, having meaningful conversations with total strangers. Go kids! Way to mix it up.
I put the kids to bed around 10, and when I went back up at midnight or so, they were still up playing UNO. They giggled extra hard when I busted them, especially because they know that there isn’t too much I can do about it. Their first total rebellion against bedtime. They are really growing up! (this has also become Zephyr’s favorite story of the train tour adventures)
Eureka, in the artist way
The next morning I woke up, and could only think about one thing. Today is my day in Portland, and this is a great place to get yourself back in line. Flora and I headed out for a 2 hour yoga class which felt great, and then I went over to her chiropractor. I needed my neck adjusted, and this guy cracked me right back in line. He was great. I showed up and he was in his front yard smoking a cigarette, with his laptop on his lap (duh). He doesn’t formally have a practice, just kind of takes what comes to his front door. Word of mouth only. At one point when he asked my how old I was, I heard, “do you have a lawyer?”. That was kind of an awkward moment. Saying lawyer to an uninsured chiropractor….he didn’t kick me out right then, probably against his better judgement. Zac had taken the kids on a long walk which included a trip to a bakery, and a park with water features. That is all anyone would tell me.
gifts from Flora from Bali
That night was last Thursday, which is the south east Portlands answer to first Thursday, which is for the proper people. Apparently, this started out as an organic gathering of the people, not organized by any man, but rather a beautiful expression of humanities goodness and need to be together and speak out against the upper classes. But by the time we arrived (years late as usual) there were security guards, and traffic/parking issues, and people so dense you weren’t always in control of what direction you went.
Loud Busking
Naturally, Flora knew 79% of all the people there, so it was slow moving. But the coolness, the streetcar turned restaurant, the DJ blasting out of the VW bus, the cool wares for sale, the 14 piece band that set up, the March Fourth marching band cruising through with stilts and amps on wheels, the costuming, the bicycles, the good feelings….ah, they did abound. We went to eat at a Thai restaurant, and then I got the kids egregious red white and blue popsicles (in keeping with the train tour code), and Eureka talked me into a $20 tiny hat with a pretty rhinestone flower on the front, and then we escaped the crowds and left the kids with Flora and Lance so we could go attend our cool, no kids, gig in the hip bar downtown.
How could I say no?
Ella Street Social Club. That is the gig, looked like a good gig, I booked it cold, online. As in, I didn’t know anyone, or have any advice about this, it just looked like a venue full of bands that might be good for us. We find it pretty easy, it is right by Beaver Stadium, downtown. Such a pretty drive, racing over the 405 bridge, with the moon coming up over the mountains….We arrive to an empty bar, which was such a stark contrast to the packed streets of last Thursday, and load in our gear. We meet the other
Ella Street cool. Ella Street empty.
bands, and are instructed to wait to play in order to give a chance for the crowds to arrive. They didn’t arrive, and we had drink tickets, we each got two drink tickets for our troubles. But as usual, the bartender was an asshole, and I wasn’t thirsty anyway. What is it with cool people? Who decided it was cool to be rude and arrogant? How is that ever better?!? Especially when your job depends on tips. Hmmmmm, disconnect. Long and short, we played to the other two bands (which was about 10 people) and then we listened to them play, because our only hopes of making money was to endure the event so we could split the door. There was some old geezer there who liked our show, and tipped us $5, which was nice. That coupled with the $15 we got from the door made that a head splitting kind of night. Bars. Why bother? By the time we got home it was 1 in the AM, we crashed out.
Royal Zephyr
The next morning, with my new back alignment and my yogi enlightenment, I felt ready to leave Portland. I always can feel the effect that the general business of kids has on an environment full of relaxed self produced single people. It just plum wears you out, kids are busy and they eat all the time, and they slowly move your house items around. I think everyone enjoyed the kids being there, and if they didn’t, well, they were sure nice about it. We headed out of the house to the art store, where Eureka and I lost all self control and bough numerous markers and stamps and a journal, ah gee. I am no match for an art supply store, especially because in Hot Springs, it is pretty much what you can find on the school supply section of Walmart. Ugh. So $35 later I officially declared Portland a financial loss. There was no way it would even out at this point. We should have skipped the bar and busked the street fair! Next time….Sometimes my attempts at organization work against me. Flora took me to Safeway, and I got a bunch of food for the train ride. She took us back to the station, where we were right on time to leave for Seattle.
We sat outside of the Portland train station and ate an entire watermelon.
Off to Seattle!!!
You woulda thought we were in Georgia.