Portland...redeemed by food

Portland, Oregon

September 26th, 2009

Day 10 of Pacific Northwest Journey

Now in the light of day, I shall face my greatest fear: a city of hipsters, homeless, and outrageously scary performers. 

Ok, yes, I’m being overdramatic. I mean seriously, I am being outrageously stereotypical, and no true traveler is allowed to be stereotypical. A traveler must be open-minded, must be willing to go and try things. Qualms and prejudices only hold the traveler back. They don’t hurt the person or place that is feared or sneered.  So! Here, I am bold, brave, and ready...(I think) to take on Portland. 

First things first, Portland is home to the largest independent bookstore in the world. Powell’s Bookstore, in one word, is a behemoth!!! Seriously. You can imagine it all you want, but unless you actually walk into it, you really have no concept of how massive it really is. Walking in, you are instantly hit with the smell of literature. That old musty smell of pages and pages pressed together fills the nostril inside the warehouse. For that’s what Powell’s is: a warehouse. The shelves start at the door, and don’t stop. The areas are color-coded according to their genre. Blue, red, purple, green, yellow, orange - history, fiction, poetry, science fiction, puzzle books, children books, biography, textbooks; anything, you can think of, is here spread out over the four floors. Powell’s is unique in that it buys your old books, cleans them up, and then stocks them on their shelves. So while browsing the lovely author of choice, the shopper has multiple price ranges to choose from. What’s really cool about this is, you have the possibility of finding a book in a certain edition that you might be collecting. I find complete collections of Edgar Allan Po well over one hundred years that someone has returned, complete history collections of various historians, various presidencies, books that are no longer in print. It’s awesome! This is a book lover’s heaven! I browse through the travel section where a manual  for every inch of the planet is available. There are also bins devoted to maps and pictures that date to the early 20th century. This place could easily take an entire day of our time.

However, there is more than books in this city, and this not the heart of the city. The speed and feel of a city cannot be found in a book store. It is only truly found in the streets and among the people. 

But right now, we must make another stop; it’s lunch time! By the recommendation of my handy dandy guide book, I have chosen a Jewish delicatessen called Kenny and Zukes which is conveniently only a few blocks over from Powell’s. 

As we are walking toward our lunch, a hippyish chick with a giant tattoo of a dragon on her arm calls out to Travis, “Hey, I like your boots.” He says thanks and we continue on thinking nothing about.  On the corner, sits Kenny and Zukes with a line of people trailing out of it. Always a good sign! We give them our name, and are over the moon when they call it after only fifteen minutes. The deli reminds me of something that might be found in New York City. Little tables smashed together, waiters buzzing around, guys behind the counter yelling out orders with pencils behind their ears and white hats on their heads. For a starter, we order the traditional potato latkes with applesauce and sour cream (Jewish potato pancakes) which are huge and absolutely outstanding.  They are fresh and crispy and fried...My arteries are going to quit on me after this adventure. We all decide on different  kinds of sandwiches, like pastrami on rye, a reuben dipped in Russian dressing, corned beef and fresh roasted turkey. My eyes double when the plates are set in front of us! The sandwiches are HUGE alongside the crispiest french fries ever and the necessary kosher dill pickle. This trip hasn’t disappointed yet in the food department! The meat is all fresh, cured and seasoned in house. The fries are cooked perfectly. We finish with a Jewish dessert of rugelach which is a tiny cookie full of cinnamon and nuts.

Mom decides to give our leftovers to the first homeless person she sees, so she asks the waiter to box up all of our uneaten sandwich halves. 

Outside, we run into dragon lady and some of her friends again. This time, she tells Travis, she likes his hair. Again he nods and says thanks. Mom takes this opportunity to give our sandwiches to the gentlemen who are sitting on the ground taking all of this in. They ask her for money, but she tells them she’ll only give them a sandwich.

While watching the transaction, I see Dragon lady telling Travis that her dragon is hungry. 

Again the nod. 

We are still waiting on mom and the sandwich.

Then here it comes, “Would you like to pet my dragon? He’s really hungry.” She asks under her black eyelids.

“I’m all right thanks.” Travis nods.

My mom walks up, “He’s married, honey! And I gave them a sandwich.” She looks the girl over, “Oh, I like your black boots.” Mom exclaims.

“Yeah, I told him, I like his boots and his hair.” She points at Travis again.

I lean over to Penny who is chuckling at the whole exchange, “I think the chick has a thing for Travis, or maybe her dragon does who knows.”

We are laughing and walking hoping it will pull mother out of the exchange. She loves to take every possibility to talk to as many people as she possibly can. Homeless hipsters in Portland are no exception.

“Mom, we have to go to the market!” I call after her and she comes on. But the dragon lady’s memory lives with us for the day. 

The next place on our list is the Saturday Market (named for it’s set up on Saturday; however, it can also be found on Sunday) which is an outdoor market of every kind of craft, clothing, or artistic endeavor imaginable. The market is next to the park and abutted to the river that divides the city of Portland in half. Again, we aren’t very far so we decide to walk. Mom sees a group of people gathering to our far left and takes off. “There’s the market!” She yells. 

She joins the line of shabbily dressed people who all oddly have shopping carts and are heading toward a chain link fence. On the other side, I can see trailers with goods and boxes spread out all over the place. I know that can’t be the market because we aren’t close enough to the river yet. 

Penny is following after her and soon joins her in line. I am desperately scanning trying to figure out what these two are about to enter when I suddenly put it all together and realize, “MOM! Stop! Come back. That’s not the market.”

“Yes, it is!” She calls back, “Look at all of the goods!” 

I scurry over before she can get behind the fence,“Mom, that’s the merchandise acquired from the AIDS walk. Those goods are for the homeless.” We had seen banners all over the city promoting the walk and the giveaway for the infected and homeless.

“Is it really?” She asks looking through the fence.

“Mom, look at the people in line. Penny!” Penny is about to enter. “This isn’t the market. The market is farther down.”

Finally, they realize and start laughing. “Hey, we were about to get free socks!”

Farther down, we reach the market.  Street performers line the street again. There is a little boy banging on buckets for a mock shift drum set for tips, there’s a man with a hook for an arm playing the guitar and singing, there are also many evangelists doing street ministries here which is very encouraging. Everyone needs the gospel! This city especially needs Jesus Christ. You can see the pain and hardship on everyone.

Indian saris, wind chimes constructed of forks, ships in bottles of every size, frogs shaped out of glass - it’s all here. I have been to several outdoor markets, all over the world, but this one here in Portland is especially artistic as a result of the nature of the city. In the center, is a roped off section dedicated to food and beer consumption. Savory smells are wafting in our direction; however, given our humongous lunch we are in no position to eat. 

But, we are in the position to drink coffee! If you haven’t caught on yet, I am usually always in the mindset to drink coffee.

Portland is Seattle’s younger brother in the coffee kingdom. He isn’t developed enough to be an empire in his own right quite yet, but he’s building his army of coffee stations slowly and carefully. The best equipped (and most famous) is Stumptown Coffee Roasters. With my opinion of Portland being low thus far, I am desperately hoping that their coffee will change that. Entering Stumptowns, it’s almost what you would expect from the Portland crowd. Like Powell’s, it has the warehouse feel. I’m in a brick-walled, vast room with the coffee bar on my right, a stage for musicians in the back corner, and chairs and tables lining the entire left wall. Local art decorates the wall. The overall air is far from pristine. It’s a place to pop in, grab your coffee, check your computer, head out. There is no lavishness; there is no indulgence except for what’s in your cup or what might be playing on that stage. For Portland, also has a music scene...go figure.

Travis and I order, sending mom and Penny to grab us seats on the vacant low sofa near the back. The barista is snappy and to the point. Hurriedly, we order; Travis and I sticking to our extra hot mochas, still in the mode of comparison. Our coffee mugs are overflowing with foamed leave designs and whip cream around the edges. Mmm mmm, my opinion is altering...just a little. 

Rich and decadent, the coffee absolutely makes up for the lack of lavishness. Perhaps all of the richness is subtracted from the interior to be condensed into one little mug?

Having walked most of the day, we decide to make this our little respite for the day, afterwards we are going to return to the car and drive over one of the eight bridges that link the city to the other side of Portland to check out Hawthorne Street - a street full of eclectic shops from designers clothes, to the $1 Shack to antique stores. Hey, there is always time for shopping, is there not?

The Dollar Scholar is our first store where you guessed it: everything is under one dollar. It’s basically a store full of junk...but there’s something fun about it. I want to exercise my $1  right and buy a bumper sticker for a friend back home that says, “Make Portland Weirder.” This will be by far the cheapest thing of the entire trip if you discount the free water that comes with almost all of your meals at restaurants.

There is a fine food market that we explore and end up sampling all kinds of fancy cheeses with green and black peppercorns. We try Tillamook cheese from right here in the state of Oregon. We try blue cheeses, cheddar cheeses, brie cheeses. One compliment I can give Oregon? Fantastic cheese products! Next up, we hit the antique store where mom finds a couch she really wants to take home, have recovered, and put in our living room. Only problem is, we are on the other side of the country, so getting it home may be a a tad difficult. We reason with her, and we continue on with promises of looking for a similar couch back home. 

The designer store has a jacket I really want, so I go through trying on every size only to find out that the small size’s arm lengths aren’t long enough, and the medium is too bulky. Don’t you hate it when that happens? 

Next to it, is a huge thrift store with every kind of piece of clothes imaginable. Penny and I decide to have fun and indulge ourselves this afternoon and try on every jacket on the rack. Fur coats, zebra jackets, floor length trenches - none escape our grasp. We model in front of the three sided mirrors adding hats and gloves to our outfits while Mom speaks to dad on the phone, and Travis explores on his own.

Finally exhausted and evening quickly approaching, we head back downtown to have dinner at the oldest brewery in town, Bridgeport Brewpub and Bakery. That’s another thing Portland is known for, Beer! There is actually a group of people that want to change Portland’s official name to Beervana! So beer, strip clubs, and hippies. No wonder me and this town aren’t quite lining up.

Bricked and modern, Bridgeport, however, has a little elegance to it which I am pleased about. The pub is two stories with a modern set of open stairs leading up to a bridge connecting two sections overhead. A giant clock hangs on the wall at the top of the stairs. While Penny and Mom get our table, I take off to explore the decor. The upstairs is sleek with another sports bar, more dining seating, and a balcony. 

Our table ends up being downstairs in a communal room next to the open kitchen. We have the pleasure of watching all kinds of delicious food coming out. We decide on a tapas style dinner and order spinach dips, hummus, quesadillas, chips, chicken, and an array of the in-house brews. Being we are back in the States, I have to stick to the food since I haven’t quite yet crossed that twenty-one divide. Once again, Portland redeems itself by food. Everything is without reproach. First Kenny and Zukes, then Stumptown’s coffee, and finally now Bridgeport.

So my comment on Portland? Come extremely hungry and spend every second eating. 

 We toast our day, (I’m holding a glass of water). As bizarre as it was, I successfully made it through the city of Portland and walked away with if nothing else a pound or two...