Portland
Oh, Portland. I don't know if I was overly-enamored with you after my visit two years ago, but you seem so much rougher to me now. I knew the north end of downtown was a little sketchy, but no more than five minutes after exiting the Amtrak station, I overheard the following conversation (paraphrased, of course) at very high volume:
Woman #1: Why the f$%k you say my husband's on drugs?
Woman #2: 'Cos he is!
Woman #1: F$%k you!
Woman #2: F$%k you!
Etc...
There were homeless people sleeping everywhere, even in the better parts of town in the middle of the day. On Sunday, a part of 5th Ave was taped off and there were still blood stains all over the sidewalk. On Monday, a crazy woman started following us along the riverfront yelling obsceneties because we walked by without stopping to listen to her sing. Stay classy, Portland.
Despite all of that, we had a good time down there. Saturday night, we enjoyed an absurdly cheap Happy Hour at Bartini followed by a few hours of relaxing and an outstanding late dinner at Veritable Quandary. Sunday consisted of Voodoo Doughnuts, a tour of Distillery Row, and dinner and drinks with a friend I haven't seen in 15 years. Monday, we hit up Powell's for a shopping spree, followed by a very tasty lunch at a pub with a misguided fan base, and then another Voodoo stop before getting on the train back home.
All in all, it was a well-needed break. I'll go back again, but Portland has definitely lost some lustre in my mind.
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