My friend Tracy had a conference in Portland, Oregon, so I joined her there for a brief visit afterward. The city has a "Keep Portland Weird" movement, and I don't think it's at any risk, judging from the witch strolling near of the hotel. She then theatrically tried to cup a moth with her hands.
Or what I assume is a promotional photo shoot for a band.
Less amusingly, the city has a severe homelessness problem. It struck me as worse than San Francisco, although perhaps Adam and I simply missed much of it there. In Portland, there was someone homeless on just about every block. At one intersection, when I could tell Tracy wanted a break from holding her breath, I looked down every street, only to see at least one homeless person, and often more. I don't know what the answer is.
Anyway, the visit was ideal for me, in that we skipped all but one traditional attraction, instead walking around a lot, eating and drinking well, and shopping. The attraction was the Portland Saturday Market, where art/craft vendors sell their wares. Most of it was not to my taste, but the browsing was amusing. I kind of regret not buying the boy and his pet pickle.
We stayed at the Duniway, the Hilton where Tracy's conference was. It was fine. We briefly considered—and subsequently nixed—the Ace, because Tracy and I stayed at the first one in Seattle soon after it opened, and had one of the worst hotel experiences ever. The little gift shop was worthwhile, though; I picked up a T-shirt that says "JAZZ IS FREEDOM!" across the chest. There was also one that said "CITIZEN," but that cut too close to the bone. The shops we spent the most time at were Powell's Books, where I filled out my Elmore Leonard collection, and the most excellent Boys Fort. I guess it's supposed to be stuff guys would like, but I found it more general-interest cool. I almost bought one of the Archie's Press maps, deciding instead to follow him on Instagram and hold out for a book of his maps or, even better, wallpaper.
And the eating was very good. Donuts at Blue Star (the old fashioned buttermilk donut was my favorite, but this one photographed better)....
Drinks at Tope atop the Hoxton hotel and at the Teardrop Bar & Lounge.
Meals at two Joshua McFadden restaurants, Tusk and Ava Gene's, because you know I love his cookbook, Six Seasons, as well as at Agnes Bistro (short rib boeuf Bourgignon!). But the highlight was 1927 Smores Company, a small storefront dedicated to the campfire treat. The art direction was impeccable; the smores hit the spot.
And before we knew it, we were back at the airport. I froth up a little whenever a media outlet writes about how an airport's restaurants are suddenly going to be good because a famous chef has licensed his name to Host Marriott or whichever company is actually handling the operations. But PDX seems to really making a push for quality. To wit, there's a big, centrally located Stumptown coffee counter and an outpost of Kenny & Zuke's Jewish deli, and the prices are all the same as you'd pay in the city proper. I was most delighted by the screening room showing free short films curated by the Hollywood Theatre in Northeast Portland. What a great idea! If only the Port Authority would find room for a space for the Film Forum....
P.S. I don't know why I find this so funny.