THE PORTLAND OF THE PLAINS

Years ago, Chris and I took a trip with our friends, Amy and Brian, to Portland Oregon. This was our second vacation in hunt for our future home. We had started vacationing to places we thought we might want to live one day. The first trip we made was to Seattle and we loved it, but Portland won our hearts. I still remember standing in the airport, waiting to board our plane back to OK and looking down at Amy with tears brimming in my eyes. A lot happened in that trip and I was feeling emotional. I didn’t want to say goodbye to Amy, even though she lived two hours from us, and I didn’t want to say goodbye to Portland. Chris and I left parts of our souls there and had every intention of finding our way back.

Then I got a job offer from a pretty amazing research institute in Kansas City.

We didn’t know much about this city. Chris and I had been to Kansas City for concerts, but those trips had been short weekend trips that didn’t involve much beyond the concert we were attending. We did notice that Kansas City had some things that checked some boxes on our requirements list and the job offer was too good to say ‘no’ to. So, we packed everything up and moved to Kansas City, the Missouri side, and for almost a year, Chris and I spent our spare time getting to know this city. We discovered very quickly that this place had Portland like qualities and that we would be very happy here.

We were very happy and I am still very happy here.

I think though, that I might have forgotten how Portland like this place can be. Maybe I’ve just forgotten to look for those quirky kinds of things. Saturday started out just like any other Saturday. I had my writing/breakfast time and finished up our weekly grocery shopping. We had plans to go to Costco and one other store to finish up Christmas stocking stuffers. So, when Michael got up, we went to lunch and then started making our way to Costco. Along the way, I mentioned something about World Market and Michael said we should stop on the way. Except there was total chaos in Westport and the World Market parking lot was full. Michael just circled through and we continued on to Costco, but then I saw three people dressed as Santas on bicycles. I pointed them out just as a whole new gaggle of Santa bicyclists turned the corner.

I didn’t even have to tell Michael to turn around. He was already on it and turning into the direction where we were seeing the bicyclists. They were all headed to Browns Irish Market and as we pulled up, Michael said “get out and start taking pictures while I find a parking space!” He understood the assignment without needing to be given the assignment. I jumped out and started taking pictures. Michael walked up and we followed the crowd into the backyard seating area of the market. We kind of just stood there in awe for a moment and then I walked up to someone dressed in a Santa business suit giving off ‘leader’ vibes. I looked this business suit Santa square in the eye and said “What is this and how do we get in on it?” The business suit Santa said we were welcome to join them right now, but then told us how to find the group for next year’s ride. I stood there in the cold, and it was really cold here on Saturday, and I committed to dressing in some kind of Santa outfit and riding around the city in December on my bicycle.

We ended up inside the market where Michael found a hat and we waited in a long line with all of the people from the ride. By the time I had an Irish coffee in my hand and Michael had paid for his new hat, I knew that this event would be going on our calendars for next year. Then we headed on over to Costco. At one point Michael was scrolling through the facebook page for the bicycling Santas and I looked over his shoulder and said “Today was one of the most Portland like moments I’ve had in a long time.” He nodded his head in agreement “Oh yeah, that was a complete Portland moment.” I’ve dragged Michael to Portland in hopes that he would see what Chris and I saw in the place. It is the only time Michael has not complained about the food or the service. I don’t know if he left part of his soul there, but he does still talk about some kind meatball he ate while he was there. Anyway, Michael gets it. He sees the value in these weird, fun moments.

He’s already figuring out our bicycle decorations for the ride next year.

BICYCLE! BICYCLE!

This is how I got to work this morning. Blame it on Portland.

"This is how I got to work this morning. Blame it on Portland."

I don't like riding my bicycle. The handlebars are weird to me and my seat is adjusted so that I sit higher than the handlebars. It had to be set high to accommodate my long legs, but leaning down on the handlebars makes me feel awkward and uncomfortable. Then there's like a million (24) gears which takes a relaxing bike ride and turns it into a Mensa test of lever pushing.  I feel wobbly on my bike and slow. This doesn't really make sense to me at all because when I was a kid, I went EVERYWHERE on my bicycle. My best friend lived probably two miles away. She was also the nearest kid. My bike gave me independence and the ability to go see Steph when ever I wanted. The only rules were to stay off the main busy road and not to go as far as the highway.

Once I got a drivers license, I spent less and less time on a bicycle and by the time I got to college, I didn't even have a bike anymore. There's been a really long stretch of time between riding my bicycle everywhere and not really ever riding a bicycle. I became comfortable with using my two feet to walk to places instead of using two feet to pedal to places. Then I met Michael who is all about bike riding. I bought a used bike (his ex-wife's actually) so I could go on bike rides with him and I can count on one hand the number of times in two years that I've gone bike riding with Michael. I made a scrunched up face when Sean suggested I rent a bicycle while we were in Portland. Sean walked with me the first day to the conference and said "nope! I'm riding my bicycle the rest of my time here." After the afternoon sessions on that first day, I walked back across the Steal Bridge and right over to the bicycle rental place. They set me up with a seven speed cruiser and a helmet and off I went. 

Sean and I rode our bikes to different food trucks for lunch every day. We rode out to cool restaurants in the evening. On my last morning, I rode my bicycle all along the Willamette River. I did complain a lot about the hills. That first morning, we rode our bikes up to the Waffle Window for breakfast. The ride was a gradual incline over twenty blocks and at one point I looked at Sean and said "I am not going to make it." I made it and once I realized I didn't have to keep up with Sean, who rides all the time, I was just fine. There was one day where I found myself riding back to our condo and I thought  "I could totally do this ALL OF THE TIME!" Sure, I was still complaining about hills and my butt hurt from the seat, but I was getting places.  I realized that I could do the same thing at home. I live 3.2 miles from work and most of the way to work is downhill (going home will be a pain). There's really not much of an excuse for me to not ride a bicycle to work.

Monday night (it was raining Monday), I got my bike down from it's hook in the garage and Michael made sure there was air in the tires. Tuesday morning, instead of rolling the scooter out of the garage, I rolled out my bicycle and pedaled my way to work. I struggled. I felt like I was going so slow. I am a sloth on a bike. Of course this is in comparison to what? There were no other bicyclists on the road. I was comparing myself to the passing cars, who were going way faster than me because, well, they are cars. Then I thought, at this pace, I was for sure going to be late for work and I started to get really frustrated that my body could not make this bike go any faster. Then it dawned on me. It's not that I am out of shape, it's that I'm out of bicycle shape. I just haven't ridden enough to know how long it should take me to get anywhere. I may be going slow, but I'm going and as long as I keep pedaling, I will eventually reach my destination.  

My new mantra just might be "I am a sloth on a bike".

VOODOO

Todd and I left Chris @VoodooDoughnuts with a bacon maple doughnut. #VoodooDoughnuts

"Todd and I left Chris @VoodooDoughnuts with a bacon maple doughnut. #VoodooDoughnuts"

I believe it happened when Chris and I were watching something on the Travel Channel about Portland. There was a story about Voodoo doughnuts. As soon as they mentioned bacon maple glazed doughnut, Chris was in. Portland was officially put on our list of places to visit because we might want to live there one day. All because of a doughnut that had a couple of strips of bacon pressed into the maple icing on top. We made our visit to Voodoo on our way out of town to take a day trip to the beach. Chris bought the last bacon maple doughnut the place had and before he took a huge bite out of it, I took a picture. I cannot express to you the level of disgust I have for that doughnut. I could not watch Chris eat it because every time I looked at that doughnut, I gagged. The picture I took also makes me gag. The bacon looks old and shiny with grease and the smell of maple glaze alone will induce diabetes. 

I knew that I would be taking some of Chris with me on this trip. I know that my plan is to leave Chris in places we've never been before. When I travel to knew destinations, he's traveling too. Sort of like that. Portland, though. I had to bring Chris to Portland. It was sort of like bringing him home. The problem was, I could not even think of where I was going to leave him. I sent a text to Amy just before leaving asking her if she had any ideas. She replied with two: Voodoo Doughnuts and Powell's Bookstore. Now Powell's was certainly a good idea. It is the biggest used and new bookstore I have ever been in. You could lost wandering through all of the different sections, up and down stairs. We spent hours in that place. But Voodoo Doughnuts? That just seemed like the most perfect place. 

The problem was how to go about it. I knew a bacon maple doughnut had to be involved in some way. Timing was also an issue. Voodoo Doughnuts has grown into quite the tourist destination. In fact, I've been told that the locals prefer a different doughnut shop. Voodoo is open twenty four hours a day and the downtown location sits right in tourist row. At any given time of day, there is a line out the door and around the corner. I was not going to be able to leave ashes inside any where. I knew that going in, but I didn't know where I'd be able to leave Chris outside in a way that wouldn't involve too many stares. I had plenty of time to think about it while I waited in line.

In the end, Todd and I decided to leave Chris in one of the flower pots just outside of the building. We placed a bacon maple doughnut in there with him. Todd actually ate a bacon maple doughnut to commemorate the event. He's taken my side, even though he ate the whole thing, and agrees that doughnut is pretty horrible. I know that some homeless person probably snagged that doughnut soon after we left. That almost seems fitting. Chris was the type to buy a dozen doughnuts just to give away. 

I did not have the meltdown I had expected in leaving Chris here. Good? Bad? I don't know. It felt right. It felt right leaving some of Chris here in his favorite city. I can't help but wonder if he'd see it as different as I see it today. After we left Chris, Todd and I walked down to a pub to get a beer. As we walked Todd said something about not knowing what to think about any of it. Death is the greatest mystery. When we leave Chris in these places, is he pleased? Or are we just making ourselves feel better? I like to believe it's a little of both, but I've stopped asking those kinds of questions that do not have answers. Instead I just hold onto the truths I already know.  

THEN AND NOW

I remember walking past this pretty yoga studio years ago. Now I'm going to a class there. #yogapearl

"I remember walking past this pretty yoga studio years ago. Now I'm going to a class there. #yogapearl"

All those years ago we travelled to Portland. How long ago was that? Six years? Probably longer. We used to tell people that we'd left our souls here. Chris, Amy, Brian and I wandered the streets of downtown for days. I remember passing this hip looking yoga studio and being sad that I didn't have time to take a class. Also feeling a little relieved. It was fancy and fancy intimidates me.  

I wandered by it again on this trip. Yoga Pearl. Same look. Cute little super clean food restaurant attached to the side. I thought "I'll go to a class this time." I signed up and paid online for the class so I wouldn't be able to back out and panic at the last minute. Determined. I left our condo and arrived way too early. That's the thing I do when I'm anxious.  I walked around the block just to kill some time and then roamed the tiny display of yoga props and clothes in the front of the studio. I felt out of place. I was a poser carrying a yoga mat. Some how I managed to gather some courage though. I plopped my yoga mat down near the front of the class, claiming my space with some yoga props. I would smile and find joy in this new place, this new class. And I did. My mat became my island and I sank into the poses with a smiling heart. 

I've worked to make this trip my own. It was hard not to travel the same paths we travelled together on that first trip. My first day there I ended up at all the favorite restaurants even though I told myself I would not do repeats. Peanut butter, banana and chocolate chip pancakes are hard to resist. Then I let myself be talked into renting a bicycle and I found myself in new neighborhoods with new restaurants. I rode the tram. We didn't do that the last time. Now I've ridden two trams in one summer. I'm hanging out in a karaoke bar tonight. I'm doing so many things outside my comfort level.

What I have learned from this trip is that my Portland of then is not the same as the Portland that is here today. There are more tourists and there are more homeless. The number of homeless here now is staggering and depressing. Housing is so much more expensive to accommodate the growing tech industry.  I realize that I am content and happy with the home I've made for myself in Kansas City. Though, Portland remains a beautiful place to visit. Traveling here is worth it just for the food. I've eaten so well here and this town does a lot to promote green spaces that I love so dear. I've nearly wrecked my bike three times while gawking at community gardens. I believe that Kansas City is within reach of all of those things as well. 

Spending time with Todd and his family has been oh so good. The boys have grown so much and so fast and it warms my heart to see Yuko so happy. Evenings chatting about all things with Todd has awakened a section of my brain that's been sleeping or zoned out. I will leave a piece of my heart here when I leave. I will be sad to say my goodbyes to Todd and his family. I will be sad to say goodbye to that dream Chris and I had of living here one day, but dreams fade and new ones take their place. Yes, I will leave a piece of my heart, but I'll take my soul back with me.