My Oregon Trail and Other Stories
Yes, I know it's been more than a month since my last update. Tempus fugit and all.
To go into a little more detail, my first summer class demanded a lot more of my time than I expected. I was teaching Intermediate Reading & Writing - my first Level 2 class since a computer-based course I taught during my first semester at HCC - and trying to make sure that, as per the course title, the students would have plenty of opportunities to practice their writing. I required them to write journal entries on weekdays and occasionally complete additional short essays, and all of the tests prepared by the department included an essay portion. While I could see noteworthy improvement in most students' writing over time, all these writing assignments meant that grading took much, much longer than usual. Even with the rubric that one of my fellow curriculum committee members so painstakingly developed, giving 20+ students' writing samples the attention they deserve along with relevant praise and suggestions for improvement can easily take upwards of two hours. I have renewed respect for professors and other educators who have to do this with longer essays multiple times in a semester.
My students, at least, are a fun and intellectually active bunch. Four are from Vietnam, three are from China, two are from Iraq, one is from Pakistan, and the rest hail from a variety of countries in Africa and Latin America. They have extremely diverse views on politics and social issues, some of which have caught me off-guard:
I had a short break between the Reading & Writing and Listening & Speaking classes, which I've spent writing and gaming in roughly equal proportions (and sometimes doing both concurrently in order to finish a 230+ page FAQ for Warriors Orochi 3 Ultimate). I also decided to travel to Portland, Oregon, where I visited Kate, a dear friend from South Korea who's currently working toward her second master's degree. I didn't die of dysentery along the way, so I count the trip as a greater success than many of my ventures into computer-based edutainment games.
My trip began early in the afternoon on Monday, when my brother drove me to the airport. I had checked in for my flight online, so I had more than enough time to find my gate and some lunch. I wasn't hungry for anything greasy and disgusting, and the sandwich shop I chose apparently didn't have any ingredients on hand, so my selection was limited to cold prepared foods. I went with a fruit cup, which I hastily wolfed down before finding a seat at the gate and waiting for the boarding call. Two young boys were sitting across from me; both were apparently named "Dude" and involved in a riveting conversation about mobile games that eventually strayed to Pokémon. I spent a few minutes feeding and breeding dragons in Dragon City while they reveled in their shared interests, and soon it was time to board. I prepared to crack open my copy of 1984 as I found my seat, though I was forced to stand when a tall, thin, curly-haired fellow and his son needed to reach their seats. He praised my choice of literature as soon as he saw it, then reached over to shake my hand and introduced himself as David, simultaneously revealing that he was working his way through a book by Nietzsche. He had taken extensive notes in an elegant script, and we had a spirited conversation about our favorite authors that drifted into our favorite styles of writing and our adventures overseas - I was happy to regale a fellow expat with stories of my travels around Asia, and David had visited 18 different countries, so he had quite a few interesting stories of his own to share. He also appreciated the George Carlin reference I made when mocking the safety lecture. Unfortunately, the airline I was flying charged for all snacks and beverages other than water, but good literature and a good conversational companion made the first leg of the trip infinitely more bearable.
After a short layover and late lunch in Boulder, I boarded the plane that would take me the rest of the way to Portland. The second leg of the trip was far less interesting than the first; I was sitting next to an overweight couple whose attention was fixed on their baby daughter, and we managed to make it through the flight without exchanging a single word. I wasn't going to complain about having more time to read 1984, so it worked to my benefit.
I arrived in Portland around 6:30 p.m. local time, and noticed upon checking my phone that Kate wasn't feeling well enough to pick me up from the airport. She did, however, want to meet me downtown, which I could reach easily enough by taking the MAX Light Rail from the airport. The rail station was easy to find by following the signs, and I could take one line directly to my destination, so I bought a ticket and asked one of the locals what I absolutely needed to see and do in Portland before leaving. She made a few suggestions - some of which were already on Kate's and my itinerary - and I waited patiently for the light rail to take me downtown. The ride lasted for about 40 minutes, and Kate, like a heat-seeking missile, made a beeline for me and embraced me as soon as I got off. Luggage in hand, I walked through the streets of downtown Portland with her to find her car, which she used to take us to a Thai restaurant where we could get dinner. I ordered a garlic and pepper pork dish that was extremely salty but also filling, and talked to Kate about our mutual friends and acquaintances from EV as we ate our meals. We then walked around in search of a coffee shop, but it was getting late and Starbucks was one of the few remaining options. We ordered some drinks and talked until both our cups were empty, at which point it was time for Kate to take me to my hotel. She got a couple of restaurant and coffee shop guides from the clerk while I checked in, then bade me goodnight and left me to my own devices until the next morning. The largest and most complex computer I could access was my cell phone, so I posted a status update to Facebook and then read a bit more of 1984 before passing out.
The next morning, I had a danish, some apple juice, and coffee for breakfast (and would have had some milk if it had been present in the hotel's kitchen), then met Kate to visit Heart Coffee Roasters before we set out to explore the surrounding area. Finding a place to park was a challenge, but the shop had a nice ambiance and made some fantastic coffee, to which I had the barista add some Ethiopian flavoring. We ordered a couple of pastries to munch on as we drank, then left for Multnomah Falls after finishing. The drive was a long one that took us out of the city and along a mountain road, which felt very similar to the road my family used to travel to reach my grandparents' cabin in Arkansas. Along the way, we stopped at Vista House, a local observatory and landmark at which I took several photos of the Columbia River, the surrounding countryside, my companion, and both of us together. Kate, in turn, took a couple of photos of yours truly. We also explored the house's underground art corridor, which sported such displays as a collection of Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy books and dolls and old-fashioned clothing and cameras. We then climbed back in Kate's car and continued to follow the winding mountain roads to the parking lot at the base of Multnomah Falls. We squeezed into a parking spot that another car conveniently vacated for us and climbed the stone stairs to the viewing terrace, where I got some pictures of the majestic waterfall from a distance and zoomed in. A bridge located a little farther up provided an even better vantage point for taking photos of the top and middle of the waterfall and the stream into which it emptied, and aside from a few sprays of of mist, we managed to stay dry. I credit my hair's ability to stay as dry as a duck's back. Kate, who was still recovering from her illness, was too tired to follow the trail any higher, so she waited for me on the viewing terrace while I ascended. The trail was narrow and sharply sloped with almost no rails or barricades to break a fall, and there were precious few vantage points for good photos save for a rest stop about halfway up, which I used to capture a panorama of the Columbia River and surrounding wilderness. I then descended to the viewing terrace, where Kate took two photos of me in front of the falls and we decided to grab some lunch at a nearby restaurant. Inspired by all the water around us, we ordered salmon and rainbow trout from a very perky waitress with a dazzling smile and ate a nice meal outside.
Our next stop was Mt. Hood, which we reached after driving to even greater heights. Kate mentioned that it was a great place to go skiing and was normally covered with snow, but with the heat wave that Oregon had been experiencing had left the surrounding area covered with dirt and leafless trees. We could still traverse the trail leading up the mountain, and we did after stopping by the lodge to use the restrooms - or rather, I traversed the trail while Kate took a seat near a plot of wildflowers and I took pictures of a mountain stream, the local flora, and views of the lodge and the surrounding wilderness. The trail was wider and not as steep as the one that led up the cliffs around Multnomah Falls, but it stretched on almost infinitely I wasn't quite able to make it to the ski lodge higher up the mountain before getting tired and deciding to turn around. Besides, it was late in the afternoon and we planned to visit a coffee shop that closed fairly early, so we returned to the car and began the drive back to Portland. Sadly, the coffee shop was closed by the time we got back, leaving us to wander around downtown Portland and act spontaneous while searching for a place to eat dinner. We eventually chose Pazzo Ristorante, a nice Italian place at which I ordered some gnocchi made with truffles, and Kate ordered some soup that wouldn't be too hard on her aching stomach. She had to see the doctor the following morning, so she gave me her light rail map and a time and place to meet her, then dropped me off at the hotel. After an unsuccessful search for a nearby rail station, I came home and downloaded the Google Maps app to locate it. Once I found one that was within easy walking distance, I did some reading and drifted off to sleep.
After breakfast the next morning (which once again did not include milk), I talked to the clerk at the front desk to get a copy of Kate's map, verify the location of the rail station, and make sure I would have transportation to the airport to catch my 6 a.m. flight home. He was very helpful and informative, and gave me a number for a shuttle company and a one-week light rail pass that another guest had left behind. I did some reading and browsed the Internet on my phone, then walked to the station and caught the green line, which I was convinced would take me where I needed to go. It ended before I reached my destination, but Google Maps was able to give me walking directions that led me close to the station at which I was supposed to meet Kate. I texted her to tell her where I was, and saw her typing her response as I rounded a corner. She saw me before she finished, and we walked to the same Starbucks we'd visited on my first night in town to grab brunch and caffeinated drinks. I went with a sandwich and Kate with a bagel, after which I pulled out my phone and found directions to the Portland Art Museum. We took in the sights as we walked together, then entered the museum and worked our way up from the lower level, which had a number of games on exhibit. One of the more interesting was inspired by DDR, but used only red, green, and blue buttons. There were five concentric circles on the screen along which dots of different colors moved, and the objective was to clear the songs by stepping on the right buttons or combinations of buttons at the right time. It was rather difficult to play alone, but Kate and I managed to clear one song by putting all our feet to work at once. This level also displayed some pieces from an original tabletop RPG and a selection of paintings and pamphlets from A Rake's Progress and the almost identically-named opera. The higher levels contained exhibits devoted to Japanese and Native American culture and sculptures that ranged from realistic to abstract and downright bizarre. Photography was prohibited throughout most of the museum, but I found one area with no visible signs and decided to snap a photo of one particularly interesting sculpture. I also snapped a photo of a decoration by the entrance, which is probably less likely to be taken down than the other two photos...but if my dear readers won't tell, neither will I.
Following a brief rest break in a park where we saw a statue of Theodore Roosevelt, we plotted a course to Lan Su Chinese Garden. The sun was becoming oppressive, so we stopped to get some water before heading inside, and Kate bought some hairbands that she hoped would hold her hair in place more effectively than a handkerchief. The garden was extremely serene and sported stone alcoves, bonsai trees, an expansive pond with some fish in it, and a handful of art galleries, one of which included a fortunetelling area. Kate had a promising fortune, but my fortune was emptiness. Once we were finished exploring the garden, we sat on the terrace for a while to enjoy the quiet and peaceful atmosphere and take some photos of
each other while Kate looked up a good bar for us to visit. We settled on Rock Bottom Brewery, which was much nicer it sounds and not too far from Lan Su Chinese Garden. We took the light rail there, stopping to look around a department store and finding absolutely nothing we couldn't resist the urge to buy before heading into the brewery. We ordered several high-calorie appetizers, side dishes, and beers, then began a game of "Never Have I Ever" that lasted until shortly before Kate had to leave. After we parted company, I walked to a nearby rail station from which I could hear people setting off fireworks and struck up a conversation with a sharp-featured gentleman from the Congo, which briefly turned to French. A shirtless, tattooed fellow with no front teeth approached us and asked when the next light rail would be coming, and I found an answer on Kate's map. He was friendlier and less threatening than my first appearance led me to believe he would be, and recommended some good bars to visit the next time I came to town. Soon, I was back in my hotel room and calling the shuttle company, who informed me that they didn't have any shuttles available to send out at 4 a.m. Although taking the light rail would have been less expensive and possibly even faster, I decided to call a cab and was taken to the airport by an ebullient Ethiopian fellow after getting a few hours of sleep. He told me a lot about the religion and culture of his home country and seemed excited to hear that I taught English courses in Houston, voicing his hope that he'd be in one of my classes if he ever moved there. After checking in for my flight, paying an exorbitant carry-on fee, and passing through the security checkpoint, I got a cheese danish and a coffee from a nearby Starbucks and began the long, boring trip home.
All told, my trip to Portland was pretty fantastic. The city is clean, green, and easy to navigate, the scenery is gorgeous, the culture is rich, the people are friendly and have a sense of style that can only be described as unique, and the beer and coffee are both delicious and plentiful. I'd go back in a heartbeat, and I'd encourage anyone who hasn't been to Portland to go at least once.
But seriously...fuck Frontier Airlines. Or avoid flying there with them, at least.
To go into a little more detail, my first summer class demanded a lot more of my time than I expected. I was teaching Intermediate Reading & Writing - my first Level 2 class since a computer-based course I taught during my first semester at HCC - and trying to make sure that, as per the course title, the students would have plenty of opportunities to practice their writing. I required them to write journal entries on weekdays and occasionally complete additional short essays, and all of the tests prepared by the department included an essay portion. While I could see noteworthy improvement in most students' writing over time, all these writing assignments meant that grading took much, much longer than usual. Even with the rubric that one of my fellow curriculum committee members so painstakingly developed, giving 20+ students' writing samples the attention they deserve along with relevant praise and suggestions for improvement can easily take upwards of two hours. I have renewed respect for professors and other educators who have to do this with longer essays multiple times in a semester.
My students, at least, are a fun and intellectually active bunch. Four are from Vietnam, three are from China, two are from Iraq, one is from Pakistan, and the rest hail from a variety of countries in Africa and Latin America. They have extremely diverse views on politics and social issues, some of which have caught me off-guard:
- When discussing the vocabulary word "genius," I asked them whether they considered George W. Bush or Barack Obama to be more of a political genius. Bush won out almost unanimously, which led me to wonder if they didn't know who he was or were just profoundly dissatisfied with Obama. (Unsurprisingly, Bush was extremely unpopular with the Iraqi students.)
- When discussing the vocabulary word "symbol," I gave them the example of the Confederate flag and explained why many Americans consider it a symbol of slavery and racial inequality. One girl, after listening to my explanation, compared the Confederacy to the Nazis - a little extreme, perhaps, but a good way to demonstrate understanding of the concept.
- When they heard about the Supreme Court's ruling on the legality of same-sex marriage, the students asked me what I thought of it. I said I supported it, but a majority disagreed with me, even after I explained to them that I saw no evidence that homosexuality is a conscious decision and that marriage predates religion. I did, however, get some of them thinking carefully when I described same-sex marriage as analogous to interracial marriage, which was illegal in the United States prior to 1967. Under the circumstances, it was probably the best I could hope to accomplish without burning through an entire class period or seriously offending someone.
I had a short break between the Reading & Writing and Listening & Speaking classes, which I've spent writing and gaming in roughly equal proportions (and sometimes doing both concurrently in order to finish a 230+ page FAQ for Warriors Orochi 3 Ultimate). I also decided to travel to Portland, Oregon, where I visited Kate, a dear friend from South Korea who's currently working toward her second master's degree. I didn't die of dysentery along the way, so I count the trip as a greater success than many of my ventures into computer-based edutainment games.
My trip began early in the afternoon on Monday, when my brother drove me to the airport. I had checked in for my flight online, so I had more than enough time to find my gate and some lunch. I wasn't hungry for anything greasy and disgusting, and the sandwich shop I chose apparently didn't have any ingredients on hand, so my selection was limited to cold prepared foods. I went with a fruit cup, which I hastily wolfed down before finding a seat at the gate and waiting for the boarding call. Two young boys were sitting across from me; both were apparently named "Dude" and involved in a riveting conversation about mobile games that eventually strayed to Pokémon. I spent a few minutes feeding and breeding dragons in Dragon City while they reveled in their shared interests, and soon it was time to board. I prepared to crack open my copy of 1984 as I found my seat, though I was forced to stand when a tall, thin, curly-haired fellow and his son needed to reach their seats. He praised my choice of literature as soon as he saw it, then reached over to shake my hand and introduced himself as David, simultaneously revealing that he was working his way through a book by Nietzsche. He had taken extensive notes in an elegant script, and we had a spirited conversation about our favorite authors that drifted into our favorite styles of writing and our adventures overseas - I was happy to regale a fellow expat with stories of my travels around Asia, and David had visited 18 different countries, so he had quite a few interesting stories of his own to share. He also appreciated the George Carlin reference I made when mocking the safety lecture. Unfortunately, the airline I was flying charged for all snacks and beverages other than water, but good literature and a good conversational companion made the first leg of the trip infinitely more bearable.
After a short layover and late lunch in Boulder, I boarded the plane that would take me the rest of the way to Portland. The second leg of the trip was far less interesting than the first; I was sitting next to an overweight couple whose attention was fixed on their baby daughter, and we managed to make it through the flight without exchanging a single word. I wasn't going to complain about having more time to read 1984, so it worked to my benefit.
I arrived in Portland around 6:30 p.m. local time, and noticed upon checking my phone that Kate wasn't feeling well enough to pick me up from the airport. She did, however, want to meet me downtown, which I could reach easily enough by taking the MAX Light Rail from the airport. The rail station was easy to find by following the signs, and I could take one line directly to my destination, so I bought a ticket and asked one of the locals what I absolutely needed to see and do in Portland before leaving. She made a few suggestions - some of which were already on Kate's and my itinerary - and I waited patiently for the light rail to take me downtown. The ride lasted for about 40 minutes, and Kate, like a heat-seeking missile, made a beeline for me and embraced me as soon as I got off. Luggage in hand, I walked through the streets of downtown Portland with her to find her car, which she used to take us to a Thai restaurant where we could get dinner. I ordered a garlic and pepper pork dish that was extremely salty but also filling, and talked to Kate about our mutual friends and acquaintances from EV as we ate our meals. We then walked around in search of a coffee shop, but it was getting late and Starbucks was one of the few remaining options. We ordered some drinks and talked until both our cups were empty, at which point it was time for Kate to take me to my hotel. She got a couple of restaurant and coffee shop guides from the clerk while I checked in, then bade me goodnight and left me to my own devices until the next morning. The largest and most complex computer I could access was my cell phone, so I posted a status update to Facebook and then read a bit more of 1984 before passing out.
The next morning, I had a danish, some apple juice, and coffee for breakfast (and would have had some milk if it had been present in the hotel's kitchen), then met Kate to visit Heart Coffee Roasters before we set out to explore the surrounding area. Finding a place to park was a challenge, but the shop had a nice ambiance and made some fantastic coffee, to which I had the barista add some Ethiopian flavoring. We ordered a couple of pastries to munch on as we drank, then left for Multnomah Falls after finishing. The drive was a long one that took us out of the city and along a mountain road, which felt very similar to the road my family used to travel to reach my grandparents' cabin in Arkansas. Along the way, we stopped at Vista House, a local observatory and landmark at which I took several photos of the Columbia River, the surrounding countryside, my companion, and both of us together. Kate, in turn, took a couple of photos of yours truly. We also explored the house's underground art corridor, which sported such displays as a collection of Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy books and dolls and old-fashioned clothing and cameras. We then climbed back in Kate's car and continued to follow the winding mountain roads to the parking lot at the base of Multnomah Falls. We squeezed into a parking spot that another car conveniently vacated for us and climbed the stone stairs to the viewing terrace, where I got some pictures of the majestic waterfall from a distance and zoomed in. A bridge located a little farther up provided an even better vantage point for taking photos of the top and middle of the waterfall and the stream into which it emptied, and aside from a few sprays of of mist, we managed to stay dry. I credit my hair's ability to stay as dry as a duck's back. Kate, who was still recovering from her illness, was too tired to follow the trail any higher, so she waited for me on the viewing terrace while I ascended. The trail was narrow and sharply sloped with almost no rails or barricades to break a fall, and there were precious few vantage points for good photos save for a rest stop about halfway up, which I used to capture a panorama of the Columbia River and surrounding wilderness. I then descended to the viewing terrace, where Kate took two photos of me in front of the falls and we decided to grab some lunch at a nearby restaurant. Inspired by all the water around us, we ordered salmon and rainbow trout from a very perky waitress with a dazzling smile and ate a nice meal outside.
Our next stop was Mt. Hood, which we reached after driving to even greater heights. Kate mentioned that it was a great place to go skiing and was normally covered with snow, but with the heat wave that Oregon had been experiencing had left the surrounding area covered with dirt and leafless trees. We could still traverse the trail leading up the mountain, and we did after stopping by the lodge to use the restrooms - or rather, I traversed the trail while Kate took a seat near a plot of wildflowers and I took pictures of a mountain stream, the local flora, and views of the lodge and the surrounding wilderness. The trail was wider and not as steep as the one that led up the cliffs around Multnomah Falls, but it stretched on almost infinitely I wasn't quite able to make it to the ski lodge higher up the mountain before getting tired and deciding to turn around. Besides, it was late in the afternoon and we planned to visit a coffee shop that closed fairly early, so we returned to the car and began the drive back to Portland. Sadly, the coffee shop was closed by the time we got back, leaving us to wander around downtown Portland and act spontaneous while searching for a place to eat dinner. We eventually chose Pazzo Ristorante, a nice Italian place at which I ordered some gnocchi made with truffles, and Kate ordered some soup that wouldn't be too hard on her aching stomach. She had to see the doctor the following morning, so she gave me her light rail map and a time and place to meet her, then dropped me off at the hotel. After an unsuccessful search for a nearby rail station, I came home and downloaded the Google Maps app to locate it. Once I found one that was within easy walking distance, I did some reading and drifted off to sleep.
After breakfast the next morning (which once again did not include milk), I talked to the clerk at the front desk to get a copy of Kate's map, verify the location of the rail station, and make sure I would have transportation to the airport to catch my 6 a.m. flight home. He was very helpful and informative, and gave me a number for a shuttle company and a one-week light rail pass that another guest had left behind. I did some reading and browsed the Internet on my phone, then walked to the station and caught the green line, which I was convinced would take me where I needed to go. It ended before I reached my destination, but Google Maps was able to give me walking directions that led me close to the station at which I was supposed to meet Kate. I texted her to tell her where I was, and saw her typing her response as I rounded a corner. She saw me before she finished, and we walked to the same Starbucks we'd visited on my first night in town to grab brunch and caffeinated drinks. I went with a sandwich and Kate with a bagel, after which I pulled out my phone and found directions to the Portland Art Museum. We took in the sights as we walked together, then entered the museum and worked our way up from the lower level, which had a number of games on exhibit. One of the more interesting was inspired by DDR, but used only red, green, and blue buttons. There were five concentric circles on the screen along which dots of different colors moved, and the objective was to clear the songs by stepping on the right buttons or combinations of buttons at the right time. It was rather difficult to play alone, but Kate and I managed to clear one song by putting all our feet to work at once. This level also displayed some pieces from an original tabletop RPG and a selection of paintings and pamphlets from A Rake's Progress and the almost identically-named opera. The higher levels contained exhibits devoted to Japanese and Native American culture and sculptures that ranged from realistic to abstract and downright bizarre. Photography was prohibited throughout most of the museum, but I found one area with no visible signs and decided to snap a photo of one particularly interesting sculpture. I also snapped a photo of a decoration by the entrance, which is probably less likely to be taken down than the other two photos...but if my dear readers won't tell, neither will I.
Following a brief rest break in a park where we saw a statue of Theodore Roosevelt, we plotted a course to Lan Su Chinese Garden. The sun was becoming oppressive, so we stopped to get some water before heading inside, and Kate bought some hairbands that she hoped would hold her hair in place more effectively than a handkerchief. The garden was extremely serene and sported stone alcoves, bonsai trees, an expansive pond with some fish in it, and a handful of art galleries, one of which included a fortunetelling area. Kate had a promising fortune, but my fortune was emptiness. Once we were finished exploring the garden, we sat on the terrace for a while to enjoy the quiet and peaceful atmosphere and take some photos of
each other while Kate looked up a good bar for us to visit. We settled on Rock Bottom Brewery, which was much nicer it sounds and not too far from Lan Su Chinese Garden. We took the light rail there, stopping to look around a department store and finding absolutely nothing we couldn't resist the urge to buy before heading into the brewery. We ordered several high-calorie appetizers, side dishes, and beers, then began a game of "Never Have I Ever" that lasted until shortly before Kate had to leave. After we parted company, I walked to a nearby rail station from which I could hear people setting off fireworks and struck up a conversation with a sharp-featured gentleman from the Congo, which briefly turned to French. A shirtless, tattooed fellow with no front teeth approached us and asked when the next light rail would be coming, and I found an answer on Kate's map. He was friendlier and less threatening than my first appearance led me to believe he would be, and recommended some good bars to visit the next time I came to town. Soon, I was back in my hotel room and calling the shuttle company, who informed me that they didn't have any shuttles available to send out at 4 a.m. Although taking the light rail would have been less expensive and possibly even faster, I decided to call a cab and was taken to the airport by an ebullient Ethiopian fellow after getting a few hours of sleep. He told me a lot about the religion and culture of his home country and seemed excited to hear that I taught English courses in Houston, voicing his hope that he'd be in one of my classes if he ever moved there. After checking in for my flight, paying an exorbitant carry-on fee, and passing through the security checkpoint, I got a cheese danish and a coffee from a nearby Starbucks and began the long, boring trip home.
All told, my trip to Portland was pretty fantastic. The city is clean, green, and easy to navigate, the scenery is gorgeous, the culture is rich, the people are friendly and have a sense of style that can only be described as unique, and the beer and coffee are both delicious and plentiful. I'd go back in a heartbeat, and I'd encourage anyone who hasn't been to Portland to go at least once.
But seriously...fuck Frontier Airlines. Or avoid flying there with them, at least.