city of roses
I got back from Portland a little over a week ago and I still cannot stop thinking about it. It was a great adventure and so much better that I did it alone.
The best part was visiting the town where I grew up until I was eleven years old. I have only been back once since we moved to California, but it was only a year or so later. So it has been about ten years since I have seen the place that shaped most of my childhood. It was a fucking TRIP. I walked to the first house my parents ever owned that they bought in 1988. My first memories of life are in that house. Then I walked all the way up to the house where I lived all throughout elementary school. A flood of memories and emotion overwhelmed me in the greatest way possible. I feel like I have been searching for my childhood lately, trying to remember who I was and who my parents were, what I filled my days with. I think I may have found some of it.
I walked up to the front door of the house and knocked. The worst that could happen was that they would think I was weird and turn me away. The best is they would let me sit in the backyard for awhile. No one answered. I walked through the beautiful rose bushes and looked over the fence preventing me from going into the forest that was our backyard. Tall, humongous fur trees towered over the house and wooden deck. It smelled like being a kid and pretending to be Harriet the Spy and getting caught by my neighbor. It smelled like catching catepillars and rollie pollies and making them luxurious little homes in glass jars. I remembered finding robin's eggs and owl pellets. It looked like a god damn campground. How could I forget what a beautiful place I grew up in? I spent many years being so lucky without ever realizing it.
Right around the corner lived my best friend and another friend of the family. Carly's house was still the same and her parents still live there. When it was windy we would try to jump off her porch with umbrellas and fly. The McKennas still had their name on their mailbox and the big, beautiful garden outfront with a million types of flowers. I was reminded of when I dreamed of getting the chance to walk through it and pick flowers and put them in a basket while wearing a pony tail in my hair (Ruth ended up making that dream come true). Next to them was the huge hill that we would sled down every winter when it snowed.
Tualatin blew my mind. I am so so glad I took a visit there alone. It almost made me sad, but in a good way I guess. Nostalgia is always bittersweet. I also surprised my mom's good friend, Karen, who she still sees a couple times a year, though I had not seen her since I was eleven years old. We ended up talking for a good hour or so and it was actually very natural and comfortable - another thing I am glad I was able to do.
The rest of the trip was just as amazing but in different ways. I rarely rode public transportation. Instead I walked. Everywhere. Miles and miles each day. It was truly the best way to see a city that I did not know. I saw things that I wouldn't have seen if I rode the bus or even biked everywhere. (And lucky for me Portland was in the high-80s the entire weekend). I stayed in the Hawthorne hostel and LOVED it (they even had a kitty!). I explored Northeast Portland and all the cool little shops and cafes and took lots of pictures of the neat houses. I went to Washington Park and the International Rose Test Gardens where they have 4 1/2 acres of roses. I walked through downtown and along the Wilamette River. There is a wildlife refuge right in the middle of the city that I wandered through and felt like I could not be further from an urban area. I also got a tattoo from the sweetest woman ever who I immediately wanted to be best friends with. Saturday Market was another highlight and one of my most concrete memories from living up there. I got an elephant ear that was delicious and looked at all the local art. There was so much of it! It is an amazing thing to have every weekend. I could have bought everything if I could afford it.
I was really sad to leave. I liked the time alone and the ability to do whatever I wished to do each day. I didn't explore the "nightlife" because by the end of the day I was exhausted and just wanted to shower, sit out on the big porch of the hostel, and read or talk to the other visitors or plan my next day. God, it was a great little trip. Not only did I get to experience a city I didn't know, but I was reminded of the life I had before I was twelve years old. I still wonder what my parents must have been like and what they must have been feeling raising a young daughter. But it was great to talk about things I remembered with them. It seemed to make them happy to remember those things too and reflect upon what a crazy adventure the last 22 years have been.
I can't wait until I get to do something like this again.
The best part was visiting the town where I grew up until I was eleven years old. I have only been back once since we moved to California, but it was only a year or so later. So it has been about ten years since I have seen the place that shaped most of my childhood. It was a fucking TRIP. I walked to the first house my parents ever owned that they bought in 1988. My first memories of life are in that house. Then I walked all the way up to the house where I lived all throughout elementary school. A flood of memories and emotion overwhelmed me in the greatest way possible. I feel like I have been searching for my childhood lately, trying to remember who I was and who my parents were, what I filled my days with. I think I may have found some of it.
I walked up to the front door of the house and knocked. The worst that could happen was that they would think I was weird and turn me away. The best is they would let me sit in the backyard for awhile. No one answered. I walked through the beautiful rose bushes and looked over the fence preventing me from going into the forest that was our backyard. Tall, humongous fur trees towered over the house and wooden deck. It smelled like being a kid and pretending to be Harriet the Spy and getting caught by my neighbor. It smelled like catching catepillars and rollie pollies and making them luxurious little homes in glass jars. I remembered finding robin's eggs and owl pellets. It looked like a god damn campground. How could I forget what a beautiful place I grew up in? I spent many years being so lucky without ever realizing it.
Right around the corner lived my best friend and another friend of the family. Carly's house was still the same and her parents still live there. When it was windy we would try to jump off her porch with umbrellas and fly. The McKennas still had their name on their mailbox and the big, beautiful garden outfront with a million types of flowers. I was reminded of when I dreamed of getting the chance to walk through it and pick flowers and put them in a basket while wearing a pony tail in my hair (Ruth ended up making that dream come true). Next to them was the huge hill that we would sled down every winter when it snowed.
Tualatin blew my mind. I am so so glad I took a visit there alone. It almost made me sad, but in a good way I guess. Nostalgia is always bittersweet. I also surprised my mom's good friend, Karen, who she still sees a couple times a year, though I had not seen her since I was eleven years old. We ended up talking for a good hour or so and it was actually very natural and comfortable - another thing I am glad I was able to do.
The rest of the trip was just as amazing but in different ways. I rarely rode public transportation. Instead I walked. Everywhere. Miles and miles each day. It was truly the best way to see a city that I did not know. I saw things that I wouldn't have seen if I rode the bus or even biked everywhere. (And lucky for me Portland was in the high-80s the entire weekend). I stayed in the Hawthorne hostel and LOVED it (they even had a kitty!). I explored Northeast Portland and all the cool little shops and cafes and took lots of pictures of the neat houses. I went to Washington Park and the International Rose Test Gardens where they have 4 1/2 acres of roses. I walked through downtown and along the Wilamette River. There is a wildlife refuge right in the middle of the city that I wandered through and felt like I could not be further from an urban area. I also got a tattoo from the sweetest woman ever who I immediately wanted to be best friends with. Saturday Market was another highlight and one of my most concrete memories from living up there. I got an elephant ear that was delicious and looked at all the local art. There was so much of it! It is an amazing thing to have every weekend. I could have bought everything if I could afford it.
I was really sad to leave. I liked the time alone and the ability to do whatever I wished to do each day. I didn't explore the "nightlife" because by the end of the day I was exhausted and just wanted to shower, sit out on the big porch of the hostel, and read or talk to the other visitors or plan my next day. God, it was a great little trip. Not only did I get to experience a city I didn't know, but I was reminded of the life I had before I was twelve years old. I still wonder what my parents must have been like and what they must have been feeling raising a young daughter. But it was great to talk about things I remembered with them. It seemed to make them happy to remember those things too and reflect upon what a crazy adventure the last 22 years have been.
I can't wait until I get to do something like this again.