Portland, Oregon is a city of contrasts.
Just kidding, I would never actually write something that trite. I think it's pretty lazy when a travel writer uses that phrase to describe a city. To be honest with you, I don't even know what "city of contrasts" means - probably nothing. Anyway, this is how I'm actually starting this blog entry...
After wandering around Portland proper for a couple of hours, I began to notice something slightly unusual. Or rather, not notice something. I had not seen a single police car or cop anywhere. (I was informed later by my friend Matt that Portland cops seem to follow him everywhere - possibly due to his Bush '04 bumper sticker.) I also noticed that every street corner boasted its own "shanty-town" of part of the city's disproportionately large homeless population. I noted to myself that these two things are probably not mutually exclusive.
However, these aren't your DC-variety "stabbing hobos," but rather something more akin to the 60's Haight-Ashbury transient population. People who, I was told on occasion while in the city, "wanted to be homeless." While I can't attest to that, they did seem more pleasant than what I've encountered here, and Portland is definitely the kind of weird (and relatively inexpensive) city where a housing-challenged individual could live pretty decently. There were a lot of people my age among that group, interestingly enough. Perhaps fellow real estate investors?
Anyway, after joining me for a snack at Voodoo Doughnut near Chinatown, where I had the "Blood-Filled Voodoo Doll" (see menu here - they were out of the Bacon-Maple Donut, otherwise I would have gotten it), the Disgruntled Girlfriend left me to my own devices in the city while she and her fellow bridesmaids received a manicure and pedicure in preparation for the next day's wedding. Having already fulfilled part of Anthony Bourdain's travel guide for the city with the donut excursion (incidently, here's a picture of the DG and I's awesome donuts - she had one with rice krispies and peanuts on top, I think)...
...I quickly made my way up the street to Old Town Pizza, the haunted local pizzeria where unsuspecting patrons used to get "Shanghaied" through a trap door and enslaved aboard merchant ships back in the 1800's. Yarrrrrr!!!! Avast ye mateys!!! I had a prosciutto pizza which was great (and advertised as being for 1-2 people - usually I am at least 2 people but even I could not finish the oversized personal pizza!), and two pints of one of the local microbrews - Widmer Hefeweizen. Sufficiently buzzed on beer (at least temporarily), I made my way to the Portland Classical Chinese Garden, to get sufficiently buzzed on caffeinated oolong tea. I'm a pretty big tea snob, and this stuff was fantastic - it was called Royal Phoenix, I think. Truly a tea of contrasts.
But Portland's not all hobos, pirates, and Chinese people - there's a lot of alcohol to be drank (drunk? drunken? dranken?) as well, and, we were just the drinkers to drink (drank?) it. The wedding reception itself was held at McMenniman's. McMenniman's has about 50 hotel/pubs in the area, all consisting of old buildings (schools, hotels, theaters, funeral parlors, etc.) that they converted into brewpubs or hotel/pubs. This particular one used to be the Kennedy School, and the reception was held in the gymnasium (we were staying in Mrs. Drew's Room - she was evidently a math teacher in that room). The hallways are lined with pictures of kids that went to this school in the early 1900's, and has kind of an eerie, ghostly feel to it, leading to the following exchange:
Disgruntled Investor: I bet this place is crazy haunted.
Disgruntled Girlfriend: It was a school, it's not like people died here!
Disgruntled Investor: You don't know that!
Having won that argument, we settled down to our complimentary booze - McMenniman's Ruby Red Ale, Hammerhead I.P.A., and their Edgefield Wines. At some point in the night (according to photographic evidence), I apparently had some of their distilled bourbon as well. Now, if I hate anything, it's to dance, but evidently I decided to do the Hammer dance ("Can't Touch This"), and probably kicked ass at it. Here's me breaking it down - note the spilled alcohol on my pants...
The previous day, we had gone to the rehearsal dinner at a Portland sports pub called On Deck Sports Bar and Grill. They had great food and tasty beer and all, but what set this place apart was its unlimited free use of their Nintendo Wii. Once drunken DI found this, he and the matron-of-honor played Wii Bowling the rest of the night. It was sweet, even though I lost every game. The DI is left-handed, and that's the excuse he will use for that (and golf). Dammit.
After On Deck, the DG and I (and the matron-of-honor and her husband) decided to pull another Bourdain and go out for some late night sushi and sake, at the Saucebox - a trendy Pan-Asian restaurant/bar. The DG and I split a giant bottle of awesome unfiltered sake, and several plates of various sushi platters. Besides a buzzed, wildly gesticulating DG accidently knocking the top half of her glass off the stem (leaving the stem unmoved - pretty amazing magic trick), luck pretty much fell on our side, as two misdirected plates of sushi ended up at our table, which we ate without having to pay for. Also, no sales tax in Oregon meant our total bill was about a quarter of what it would have been back here in D.C.
Our final day there, the DG and her parents and I went out to Multnomah Falls, the second largest continually open falls in the United States, and followed that by watching the kite surfers out on the Columbia River. These guys were clearly having a good time out there, and the DG strongly intimated that this was an activity for her. Here's a picture of one of these guys in action...
We finished up our trip with a visit to Jake's Famous Crawfish , a 110 year old McCormick and Schmidt-owned restaurant specializing in local seafood. Though a bit pricey (think McCormick and Schmidt...), it's completely worth it, as this was the best seafood I've ever had in my entire life. The top of the menu lists the local fresh catches of the day, so you can literally order something (ed. note: apologies to the Blogadier General and the Disgruntled Vegetarian here) that was happily swimming along earlier that day. Believe me when I say that that makes a huge difference in taste, as you don't get that thawed-out taste you might elsewhere. I had the Ling Cod (cilantro-lime seared) and Netarts Bay (Oregon) oysters on the half-shell, with a local Pinot Noir - all Oregon-based. The Ling Cod was a recommendation from the DG's dad, and was incredibly succulent. The oysters were so good I almost ordered them again for dessert. God those were fucking awesome oysters.
You know what, I rescind the apologies to the Blog. Gen. and the DV. They're missing out by not eating things like this. Sorry guys. The fish and oysters' personalities surely made the difference in their orgasmic taste. You can't "Boca" that.
Anyway, to sum up, like Seattle before it, I didn't want to like Portland. I've lived on the East Coast my whole life, and am strongly partial to it. It's an incredibly liberal place with a lot of tree-huggers. But dammit, Portland is pretty awesome. I could definitely live out there (maybe will someday). Shit, could the DG be right about the West Coast being the "best coast"?
Nah, but I'd still move to Portland. I could be a hobo, or pirate. Or Chinese person.
-Disgruntled A
1 comment:
I hear you about Portland. As you know, Blogadier Gen., Mantooth, Pahoo, and I went cross country in Mantooth's car. We had a few friends in Portland and had only planned to stay 2-3 days but we ended up staying a whole week it was so awesome. We went to pubs, brewery/restaurants, a few decent restaurants, and Powell's City of Books. It's fantastic there. I recall crossing the river into the city and seeing a shitload of the homeless people you mentioned but i can't remember what was going on. It might have been just a soup kitchen or something. Boy there were a lot of them. I remember thinking that since i was right out of college, i had better get a job or i'd end up like that - filthy and pot-ridden (and possibly Chinese). Anyway, a few more things... 1. at BG's lake house, do you remember us talking about our buddy who Bourdain wrote about dancing on the bar? I think that happened in Portland. Also, did you notice all the cows as objets d'art around the city? Maybe it was just when we were there, but there was painted cow statues and cow art everywhere in that city. It was crazy. Love that Portland.
DH
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