The weekend so far
Left for Portland at about 10:30 Friday morning and had excellent weather for the drive. By noon I was in Centralia, where I stopped to pick up a couple of things at the outlet mall (which, I have decided, does not actually offer much in the way of bargains but is still, somehow, fun) and lunch. I picked up pajamas of the correct size (all of mine are three sizes too big), tights of the proper size (so I can wear skirts this winter), a sweater, and a couple of other incidentals. I then proceeded on to Portland, arriving at davidlevine and kateyule's place exactly when I'd planned to.
We had a wonderful dinner at The Picnic House where I enjoyed a delicious cup of roasted tomato soup, a pear, cheese and walnut salad, and a roasted portabello mushroom-and-vegetable thing. It made me remember how much I like portabellos and that while it's awesome to stir fry them with garlic and chicken with a dash of balsamic over rice, I need to branch out and experiment a bit more. But I digress. We ate at the bar because the place was a little busy, and were watched by a bear wearing a bowler hat and steampunk monocle. We were entertained.
The core of the evening's entertainment was a concert: the Indigo Girls accompanied by the Portland Symphony Orchestra. I haven't seen them live in years; I think the last time I saw them was with oldmangrumpus at the pier in Seattle, which tells you how long ago it was (there haven't been concerts at the pier in years). This show was great; the symphony added a richness to the music that was delicious to my ears, and I got to hear Amy and Emily perform several favorites that made me want to go back and listen to discs I haven't played in ages. It occurred to me, as I sat there, that I've been listening to the Indigo Girls much of my adult life, and that it's part of my personal soundtrack, like the Beatles, Melissa Etheridge, Yes, and some particular others. It was a weirdly melancholy thought and I'm still parsing my emotional experience of it. I may write more about it another time.
Saturday we were up a little earlier than I think any of us preferred for a Saturday, but it just kind of worked out that way. We had breakfast and then headed out for a lecture at the Architectural Heritage Society about the architecture of retail, specifically about the Meier & Frank building here in Portland. While the talk had its deficits (the speaker was of the "read you every PowerPoint slide" variety--bleh--and though specifically stating he wasn't going to talk about the company's history, did so in some detail that actually diverted the discussion a bit), it was still an interesting talk about the early history of department store retail in America, thought provoking from the point of view of a consumer, and added some interesting perspective to my department store experiences in Nagoya and Paris. I may write more about that, too, at some point.
After a tasty and filling Lebanese lunch, we spent some time strolling the Saturday Market. My goal was to try to find some holiday gifts, but I rather failed. It wasn't that there weren't interesting items available--the Saturday Market always offers cool, interesting, artsy stuff. I just wasn't finding anything that resonated in particular for the people for whom I was shopping. The search will continue.
The day ended with a dinner out and seeing "Cloud Atlas," which we all thought was flawed but worth seeing nevertheless for the performances. In case you haven't heard, the film takes place in a series of eras throughout history, each era connected by music, story, and legend, and each group of characters played by the same ensemble of actors. My thoughts about the film follow in no particular order: Tom Hanks performs best when not hampered by substantial facial prosthetics; I suspect the sensation of the material on his face interferes with his ability to disconnect from the physical present to be emotionally present with his characters. Susan Sarandon is beautiful no matter how little or how much make up you put on her. Hugo Weaving was at his best in this film in his role as Old Georgie, a kind of devil figure for the Hanks character in the far future, compelling and creepy and marvelous. I think I liked the far future stories in this film best of the bunch, even with their familiar tropes; somehow all the performances in those portions of the film worked better for me than the others though I thought each had its virtues. It's an interesting film, an interesting approach, and I'm genuinely curious about the book now, to see how the film stands up to the original material.
Today, we've got museum-going on the docket, and then I'll be heading north again. The weekend has flown and I've enjoyed myself enormously so far. Wish I had Monday here, too.
We had a wonderful dinner at The Picnic House where I enjoyed a delicious cup of roasted tomato soup, a pear, cheese and walnut salad, and a roasted portabello mushroom-and-vegetable thing. It made me remember how much I like portabellos and that while it's awesome to stir fry them with garlic and chicken with a dash of balsamic over rice, I need to branch out and experiment a bit more. But I digress. We ate at the bar because the place was a little busy, and were watched by a bear wearing a bowler hat and steampunk monocle. We were entertained.
The core of the evening's entertainment was a concert: the Indigo Girls accompanied by the Portland Symphony Orchestra. I haven't seen them live in years; I think the last time I saw them was with oldmangrumpus at the pier in Seattle, which tells you how long ago it was (there haven't been concerts at the pier in years). This show was great; the symphony added a richness to the music that was delicious to my ears, and I got to hear Amy and Emily perform several favorites that made me want to go back and listen to discs I haven't played in ages. It occurred to me, as I sat there, that I've been listening to the Indigo Girls much of my adult life, and that it's part of my personal soundtrack, like the Beatles, Melissa Etheridge, Yes, and some particular others. It was a weirdly melancholy thought and I'm still parsing my emotional experience of it. I may write more about it another time.
Saturday we were up a little earlier than I think any of us preferred for a Saturday, but it just kind of worked out that way. We had breakfast and then headed out for a lecture at the Architectural Heritage Society about the architecture of retail, specifically about the Meier & Frank building here in Portland. While the talk had its deficits (the speaker was of the "read you every PowerPoint slide" variety--bleh--and though specifically stating he wasn't going to talk about the company's history, did so in some detail that actually diverted the discussion a bit), it was still an interesting talk about the early history of department store retail in America, thought provoking from the point of view of a consumer, and added some interesting perspective to my department store experiences in Nagoya and Paris. I may write more about that, too, at some point.
After a tasty and filling Lebanese lunch, we spent some time strolling the Saturday Market. My goal was to try to find some holiday gifts, but I rather failed. It wasn't that there weren't interesting items available--the Saturday Market always offers cool, interesting, artsy stuff. I just wasn't finding anything that resonated in particular for the people for whom I was shopping. The search will continue.
The day ended with a dinner out and seeing "Cloud Atlas," which we all thought was flawed but worth seeing nevertheless for the performances. In case you haven't heard, the film takes place in a series of eras throughout history, each era connected by music, story, and legend, and each group of characters played by the same ensemble of actors. My thoughts about the film follow in no particular order: Tom Hanks performs best when not hampered by substantial facial prosthetics; I suspect the sensation of the material on his face interferes with his ability to disconnect from the physical present to be emotionally present with his characters. Susan Sarandon is beautiful no matter how little or how much make up you put on her. Hugo Weaving was at his best in this film in his role as Old Georgie, a kind of devil figure for the Hanks character in the far future, compelling and creepy and marvelous. I think I liked the far future stories in this film best of the bunch, even with their familiar tropes; somehow all the performances in those portions of the film worked better for me than the others though I thought each had its virtues. It's an interesting film, an interesting approach, and I'm genuinely curious about the book now, to see how the film stands up to the original material.
Today, we've got museum-going on the docket, and then I'll be heading north again. The weekend has flown and I've enjoyed myself enormously so far. Wish I had Monday here, too.