A Portlandia Day

We’ve lived upwind of Portland, Oregon now for about four and a half years. We carefully chose it to be Our City when we were deciding where to move. If we hadn’t found Woodhaven, I would be writing from the outskirts of Charlottesville, Virginia. But that’s another story entirely.

Rob’s never been a fan of big cities. In fact, it was really quite a concession that he lived in San Francisco’s metro for the first 14 years of our marriage. Me, on the other hand, I love big cities. Or at least I used to. Now that my life it a lot slower and more vicariously populated with livestock, I really more enjoy visiting a big city for a few days instead of living or working in it.

But Portland can not be classified as a Big City. It is a nice city. It is a friendly city. It is a quirky city. It is a walkable city. It is a city that proudly touts its greenness while also continuously providing fresh water in public water fountains dotted around downtown. But big it isn’t. Portland is just big enough -- with transit and districts and the occasional protest -- for me, but small enough -- with easy, cheap parking, sane drivers, no unpleasant permeating smells, and less than 10 minutes worth of daily news – for Rob. And yesterday we had a fabulous day embracing what it is to be a Portlander.

We started off parking in our favorite $1.25/hour parking garage at about 7:30am. We walked several blocks and met up with our llama group over on the west side. Naturally.

Rob and I spent the first few hours of our Portland morning literally carrying the banner for a local association of llamas. Snuggled between the Oregon Ballet Theatre Carriage and an inflatable clown, our group of about 25 humans and 20 llamas paraded around the streets of Portland to help a big retailer celebrate Black Friday. Officially it was the Macy’s Holiday Parade. Unofficially, it was a way to convince a whole mess of people to come downtown and buy electronics and sleepwear and more. It was great fun, especially when I realized everyone was looking right past me and fawning over the fuzzy wuzzy llamas behind me. “Lllllaaaaaamaaaaas!” It was a happy little song we heard over and over for about an hour. Portlanders LOVE their llamas, it appears. And who can blame them. Especially after a band of bagpipes and a boring carriage full of Nutcracker characters.

Next up, after resting our wave-weary elbows, Rob and I decided it was time for lunch. We picked our favorite Portland pizza chain and pulled up two stools so we could gaze out the window. Enjoying our salads and slices, we watched a Fur Protest march by. They were actually in favor and carried signs with pictures of cute foxes declaring that a coat shouldn’t cost an arm and a leg. (One can only assume the protesters were hoping to catch the 4 hour sale at Macy’s, too.) Having once worked for a major oil company in San Francisco, my idea of a protest is one that involves bull horns and police gear and clogged streets and an announcement that we will have to leave the building from the back door. Yesterday on SW Alder Street, the pro-fur folks were only about half a block in number, had a police escort, stopped when the light was red, and couldn’t be heard over the Doors music that was serenading my Puttanesca pizza.

Protesters long gone, Rob and I headed back to our car, stopping first at a most spectacular chocolate shop for a piece of dessert. Billed as “luxurious” and “artisan hand-crafted,” this Portland-based chocolate maker is best described simply as “mmmmmmm.” They always eagerly offer free samples, much like a drug pusher, so I got lost in a Bailey’s Irish Cream truffle before deciding to enjoy a lemon-infused dark chocolate penguin on our walk to the parking garage.

As we left downtown Portland and headed to an encouragingly crowded suburban mall for a fix of consumerism, I remarked to Rob how much I really like our new city. It feels comfy and friendly and finally, ours.

But wait, there’s more!

While meandering around the Women’s Shoe department in the suburban Macy’s, I spotted a very familiar face. There, standing patiently, holding a singular leather boot, waiting for any one of the half-dozen frazzled Team Members to assist him, was Joe V. Yes, I know you don’t know who he is. But we do. He’s the “humorous remote guy” on the TV morning news program we faithfully watch. It was quite fun to see Joe standing there with his boot. Or, one presumes, his wife’s boot. Rob went up to him and said a quiet – and apparently funny – hello and then we left Joe to his boot fetish…or shopping. Whichever.

Parade, pizza, protest, chocolate, a brush with local celebrity greatness. Yup, it was indeed a great day to be a Portlander.