Wildwood

April 11, 2014 1 Comment

That hill, oh dear lord it went on forever and so so steep. It was my initiation to the biking world and although all Inwanted to do was stop and walk it, I made it slowly and unsteadily to the top. I guess it made the view all the more spectacular, the city all the way below. The rose garden didn’t have a bud to its name, but spring bulbs and cherry blossoms were putting on a show. A couple were having their engagement photos taken as we wandered by, perhaps ruining one of the shots, it was funny to see such staged happiness and affection that was delivered on cue at the photographers demand.

We walked the Wildwood trail at the top of the hill, that was the inspiration for a book by my favourite musician Colin Meloy of the Decemberists, sunlight burning a crack through the clouds to illuminate a random tree or moss covered branch. No fairies or talking anmals out today though. I wooshed down the hill back to the Rose Garden and felt that rush of freedom you get when moving fast on a bike after a big climb. Cherry blossoms were floating on the breeze in drifts and I explored the gardens while Dylan rang. In a dark corner was the Jewish memorial, life sized bronze sculptures of everyday objects cattered the path, a teddybear and trodden on violin. These very human offerings so much more moving than a wall of granite covered in names, I chance to remember the lives of the lost rather than just their deaths.

Further along leaves were surfacing in unfurling spikes from their winter slumber and hellebores nodded heavy with flowers. A man caught the last beams of sun on a grassy slope and the path ended in noisy playground packed with children. While Dylan unlocked the bikes for the descent a raven sat, a shadow, in a branch of the cherry tree. He looked at me in that side on way and croaked its ugly beautiful song.

We were meeting a family friend for dinner and as we made our way across town, rain began to fall. We sheltered under the familiar awnings of Crema Bakery to put on our raincoats and then the clouds burst and rain flooded to the city streets, washing them and everything else clean. We hesitated as minutes ticked by and then asked Lonnie to meet us nearby as it wasn’t looking good on our end. We bundled into his favourite dive bar, waiting to meet another generous stranger, full of recommendations for our culinary adventure. As my friend Jessie puts it “eating our way through America”.

Portland Guide

International Rose Test Garden

A lovely spot to view the city, you’re probably better going in early summer though if you want to see some actual roses in bloom.

Palace

Only go here if you are in the mood to buy something because everything is so lovely you’ll definitely find something to love. Vintage clothes and local designer garments and bits and bobs. Monday is 10% off, and I found a Fyallraven cape for 60% off, it is as amazing as it is ridiculous, I look forward to dry knees on my bike rides in Melbourne winter. The shopgirl is super nice and attached to all garments there and although its weird to say the shop smells really good.

City State Diner

Can you go to America without eating at a diner? Well this one is slightly more diner in name than menu as it all seemed a little gourmet. It’s yum food near Palace and not too pricey. I had hazlenut challah french toast deluxe, and it was as good as the name sounds, including rum honey!

Travel

ecstatic dance

April 9, 2014 3 Comments

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Portland, Oregon

When you travel you can’t stay huddled in your comfort zone, you are continuously tested and stretched and by stepping out of your comfortable routine you get to know yourself better. If you don’t throw yourself into life you miss out on experiences and for better or worse interesting is always better than boring. That’s how I found myself in a sea of strangers freestyle dancing for two hours. I am always nagging at Dylan to go dancing, so when our Airbnb host SaraHope invited me to Ecstatic Dance I couldn’t really refused although my mind was repelled like a magnet from jumping into the unknown without the safety net of my boyfriend’s company.

The Tiffany Centre was a grand old building, all ceiling frescoes of kings and saints, sweeping marble staircases and timber paneling. Not the small community hall I hd expected for a new agey “dance journey”, the room was huge. I cut my strings to SaraHope and waded into open space. There were people swaying and stretching to the relaxing rhythmic beats, I took shelter to stretch on the floor, time to observe. One woman with a swooshing robe and shaved head was beautiful watch, weaving like tendrils of seaweed through the waves of people. Another man in a trance like shuffle snailed past, a gorgeously graceful girl who must be a ballet dancer, impossibly flexible legs pointing north and south. Then there was a woman with an off duty service dog on the floor and amongst the crowds of dreaded up, descended yoga panted enlightened ones were neon top big earring ravers. Then a whole heaps of mums and kids dressed for the gym and a fairy party respectively.

We joined hands in a circle to encourage inclusion and embrace the theme of water, all donations would be going towards the Sea Shepherd. Then all there was left to do was enjoy the moment, it was hard to get out of my head at first, to dance like no one is watching is harder than it sounds. But after a while the rhythm throws your mind into quieter depths and the comfort in numbers releases hidden tensions. SaraHope had forewarned me that some dancers practie contact dancing where you dance with a person always having some physical contact. I saw a number of pairs doing what almost seemed like slowed down martial arts moves, sometimes rolling over each other backs, sometimes flipping on the floor. As the music shifted from Underwater Love to Shake Your Ass to Rolling in the Deep, I realised a white clad boy and I were moving in time, perhaps consciously on his part and on making eye contact, I thought why not and made contact. There is something pathologically awkward about trying to move in sync with another human being with no set steps or instruction, to those who can do this gracefully I am in complete awe, I can’t imagine it being very restful, always preempting another’s slight movements. It was nice to have a brief connection in the room though, as with anything new even in a crowd you can feel alone. Sweaty backs aside it was fun, I would have felt a coward had I not let myself accept the experience, but once the song was done I yearned for freedom and exited contact as suddenly as it had begun, no hard feelings.

We danced on, at the half way point it was almost tribal, jumping and stamping, everyone throwing themselves into the rhythms, a bell would ring, people would yell out. Then exhaustion began to set in, some people folded onto the side lines, I didn’t want to demure. To last to the end of this full body and mind workout I had to stop trying to match the fasted rhythm in the music, slow it down, people around me were doing the same. i imagined mysef pushing my hands through thick air, like the resistance of swimming. It was almost like Tai-Chi, perhaps the mostbenjoyable part of the dance, in our slow movements we became like a community of fishes or washing in the wind, we rippled together. Then it was done, a line at a time poem was read and we were released into a sunny Portland noon.

Dylan had a surprised for me when I returned home, tickets for the Seattle Orchestra Downtown, but we had to go now! We bundled up and jumped on bikes into town. In the gorgeous concert hall the audience hummed around us, then that wave of tuning that gets the heart pumping in anticipation. And the theme for the concert? Soundscapes and the sea, how the world plays in unison! Luther Adams: Become Ocean, painted vivid images of the barren planes of Alaska that is his home, soft and so sweet that it almost lulled us to sleep, which is a compliment. The Varèse was polar opposite, full of unexpected cracks and claps, a composer who in the 50s dreamed of electronic music that technology was not yet capable of producing. A small number of the elderly portion of audience, left the room in disgust to our mischievous delight! And of course the Debussy: La mer was very fine, bows of strings moving like the legs of a Japanese wind sculpture, we settled in to watch the interactions between the orchestra members, deference here, a look there, one particularly impassioned jerky viola player, another with an epic beard down to his waist. The music done, lights up we emerged into late afternoon shadow. we wandered a while before finding dinner, around a square while a homeless man in a bright yellow workman’s vest sang in a deep baritone about a “good loookin’ girl”.

Portland Guide

Ecstatic dance

Some people say that the Sunday dance session is their way of going to church.

Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall

Ornate building in the centre of the city, right next to that ever present pink skyscraper.

Travel

beers on skateboards

April 8, 2014 1 Comment

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Portland, Oregon

Our day began watching a red haired man in a ultilikilt building raised garden beds next door. Dylan had a surprise bunch planned for us on route to picking up our hire bikes and we set off under our familiar cloak of drizzle. I was skeptical when we arrived at Tasty N sons with a meaty menu and a 40 minute wait, but sometimes the world has a plan, or maybe we were just lucky.The restaurant is located in a bunch of shops with an undercover corridor, smart thinking in rainy Portland. We looked at bike wheels being made, bunches of flowers and pretty homewares until it was time to eat. All the diners are packed in tight and our table was only just an inch independent from our neighbours’. I ordered French Toast and I have to say it was the best I’ve ever eaten, all smothered in berries and cream. When my root beer float arrived (that’s a spider to my Aussie readers) our dining neighbours, Sally & Cliff, were intrigued and we got to chatting. We kept having those “oh” moments that roll one on top of another where you suddenly realise you are kindred spirits. Out of the blue Cliff asked if Dylan liked fishing and then it was on, he took Wednesdays off work to fish near the coast, would we like to come? The generosity of strangers when you travel can be mind blowing. The fishing day would not come soon enough to these city weary travellers, who were already feeling the effects of too much delicious food and not enough hiking in the wilderness.

We hired bikes, and like a newborn calf I tottered around the city, more cakes, more vintage and local designers, then we turned our wheels back towards home and the otherside of the river. We stopped in at Velocult a bike shop come bar and were intrigued to discover they were preparing for some sort of Carnivale Brazilian dance. Whilst Dylan enjoyed a skateboard of boutique beers (I’m not being poetic) we watched them fling coloured streamers through the rafters and a huge Brazilian band set up. They played and punters slowly trickled in coughing up a $20 entry fee that Dylan and I had escaped. We ate pizza and tacos from street vendors (no one kicked us out so I guess it was okay) and played guess which bike slung in the rafters is worth a lot of money (oh don’t tell me you don’t know that game). Darkness fell and fairylights sparkled above dancing shadows.

Portland Guide

Tasty N Sons

Organic meat from local farmers, I’m told the secret to their tasty meals is bacon. I recommend the French Toast for a non bacon experience, or at least I hope it was!

everybody’s bike rentals

$186 for a week including helmets, locks and lights.

Petunia’s

Gluten free, but definitely not sugar free. The passionfruit coconut cake was delicious.

Radish Underground

Local designer clothes and jewellery, plus fairtrade items from around the world. Fell in love with a dress, but couldn’t afford it. Owner was a total doll and gave us a list of other boutiques with an ethical vibe.

Parallel

Sophisticated clothes made in the USA, the owner was super lovely and helpful, she even gave us directions to a place to get cakes!

Velocult

Quirky mix of beer and bike building, perhaps even Brazilian bands.

velocult-bar

Travel

nettles on pizza, beer in a barber

April 6, 2014 2 Comments

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Portland, Oregon

Portland had tricked us, like so many cities do, giving us sunshine when we arrived (although tinged with grey), adding a touch of drizzle and then by day three throwing a full on downpour our way. Of course we started the day on a sugar high with the obligatory delicious sweet treat, I watched a man encounter a waiting dog on his way out and do a dance with it cavorting in circles, even more enthused than the dog himself. Exploring Eastburn, I browsed vintage shops while Dylan made friends with an Irish barman. One vintage store merrily paired vintage buttons in the shape of sunglasses and old family photos with 10 racks of vintage Playboy, an elderly gentlemen clutching his selected volumes to his chest, a pirates treasure. Then the skies opened and it rained until we were soaked to the bone and it just wouldn’t let up. So we squelched our way and took shelter in an artisan pizza restaurant, not a bad coincidence as we could warm ourselves by the woodfire oven, watch pizza dough fly through the sky and devour nettle pesto pizza.The downpour was now just a drizzle and we wandered towards a bluegrass bar the Irish Bartender had recommended. On the way, feeling a bit overgrown Dylan decided to accept the invitation of the barbershop sign that read “Walk ins only”. He declined the beer he was offered thinking they were asking if he wanted a beard, and being unused to such a proposition from a hairdresser. While he was shorn he other hairdressers moped about the weather and swung in the barber’s chairs, then the dun came out from behind a cloud and everyone perked up. We wandered out into the glowing world, a rainbow in the sky. The bluegrass bar was a dark little pub with a little old lady at the mic with guitar in hand. As Dylan said you felt she lived every word she sang, when she spoke she was a bit of a hoot, with that self-deprecating humour that Australians love. Then we wandered to a bus stop where the bus just refused to come until well passed its due date, tomorrow we’re renting bikes!

Portland Guide

Smut Vintage, Rad Summer and Wunderlust

A nice little pocket of vintage stores. Rad Summer is all vintage clothes, Smut more oddities and furniture and Wunderlust girlish vintage and some locally made trinkets.