adios oregon

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Portland, Oregon

 

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Tomorrow we take our first internal flight, for some reason it feels like a big deal to fly perhaps the whole getting to the airport early and going through all the hoopla of taking your shoes and jacket off as you get a full body scan has something to do with it! The train has been way for chill and even though it is no cheaper, but takes far longer I prefer it, I enjoy watching the world zoom by away from roads and tarmac.So with the flight looming we had a quiet day. We are in a different airbnb which is decorated so awesomely quirky I had to include photos, the ad read “Must love cat”, which is a hoot. Our main aim for the day was just to return our bikes, but on the way we caught sight of a vintage shop in a bus! Only in Portland! The two fabulous dames who owned the vintage store and the food van next door were ready to break their day up with a chat to two Aussie travelers, and it was rather a shame we had to scoot because it was all rather fun.

Now I’m not going to lie to you, after we got the bikes back we definitely indulged in some chocolate pie. Then full to the brim we wandered around the arts district until a bus wound us homeward, to cat and chats with our hosts, Misha and Cade, and their neighbours around a backyard fire until the rain drove us to bed. Typical Portland.

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Lodekka
A vintage shop on a double decker bus? Too cool. Go chat to Erin and her food van neighbour over a refreshing class of that delicious homemade lemonade whose secret ingredient is kept under mental lock and key. Behind the van is a “meat locker” where you can buy a special treat for that deserving dog in your life.

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I only recently discovered with much embarrassment that there is no such thing s a savoury pie in America. But these beauties are so good, and fantastic to share. While we ate a girl wrote a thesis beside us and at another table a girl with patterns shaved into her hair was sketched by another.

“Do you have any vegetarian pies?
“umm…(glancing at the display case of cream covered pies) I’m not sure apart from no meat what makes a vegetarian pie…”

Alberta Eyecare
For some reason i had it in my head that i would like timber sunglasses, but couldn’t imagine i could find them anywhere except on etsy, ah i shouldn’t have under estimated Portland. the first optometrist i set foot into had the very pair i wanted and made by someone down the street!

 

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Through the mountains to Leadville

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Leadville, Colorado


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Light faded, we were in the snow with 14teener mountains all around. In the lowlit mountains I felt like I was in a snow globe, nothing beyond the mountains that went on forever into eternity. Dreams of camping were laughable, finally we began to descend, but still at 10,000 feet we didn’t want to risk it, we stopped at a hostel in Leadville just as night closed like a fist around us. Cars we passed were buried to their windscreens in snow. The hostel was a funny old place, eccentric and warm. The bedrooms underground and windowless, toilets closed off with pink ruffled curtains and everywhere decorated with shamrocks for St Patrick’s Day. There was a large group of retirees preparing for a hike with wine and beer, they were kind too, chatting while we cooked and donating hommous and corn chips, the very luxuries we had gone without at our last grocery shop. Warm and safe we slept like rocks.


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Boulder

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Boulder, Colorado



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Way up on the mountain it was time for me to confront the bubbles of homesickness that had been activated by leaving the earthship crew. The loss of constant companionship and camaraderie had left a whole that was being filled with thoughts of friends and family back home. Boulder was nice, Dylan loved it, but for some reason the juxtaposition of wilderness and utter surburbanality jarred with me, perhaps because Dylan felt so at home there and I did not.

After a trip into the town, so different in the sun, we hiked into the mountains, took a wrong turn, and then trekked 25km back home. It was tiring, but therapeutic, we talked things out and made some decisions. Tomorrow a new day, I felt bad that I hadn’t looked at Boulder with softer eyes, people had been lovely to me, especially the wait staff at the brewery, but sometimes you just get in a funk right? But now I feel refreshed and conscious of how lucky I am to be experiencing these amazing places and much more aware of how I need people. There goes my lone wolf romanticisms. Perhaps I’ve spent too much time at altitude and I’m just feeling exhausted.

While I’m in a social mood, I’ll throw a question out to the web, I feel like making connections, if you haven’t commented before why not say hi? Have you found that special place you belong or are you still searching? Is it the people or the space that make it home?


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Inside out cabin

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Boulder, Colorado


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The world whizzed by the bus window in a fog, snow climbing the glass until all was crystallised. Boulder was quiet, hands were gloved. We wandered down the shopping strip, finally tempted in by a family pizza place, pangs of home and Lygon Street: checked tablecloths and posters from the homeland. Sufficiently warmed and bellies full of pizza and cannelloni we braved the cold and caught a bus. A lady I could barely understand complimented my boots and then said she was 36 and had only just been able to get a pair of Australian Uggs. Now seated another lady asked me where I got my bag and then began to rant about how one day we would be able to teleport because we are all made out of atoms and alien visitors, the whole bus starred at their laps with smiles threatening to break into laughs. Public transport never fails to be diverting.

We landed at the bottom of a hill that went up and up, we took Reuben’s advice and thumbed a lift, he said if you can safely hitchhike anywhere it’s Boulder. A lady stopped straightaway, once again we were blown away with the generosity of strangers as she took us right to our door, she said she had been in our position before and had just been desperate for someone to help her out.

Who would have thought the first sign of spring we’d see would be inside a house. What seemed like an ordinary cabin was another world. A tree towering into a daylit courtyard, timber shingles and a stairway stepping around the stoned room and daffodils sprouting from crevices. I made friends with the cat, a purring affectionate feline who was served snow in a espresso cup and lapped it up. Our hosts were English climate scientists, researching climate change. Climate modelling from 9-5, the rest of the time scrambling, hiking, trail running, mountain biking, skiing; Dylan was right at home in Boulder.


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