Eco-friendly, environmentally conscious, tax-free and forward-thinking: these are features that are not just rumoured but visibly and perceptibly apparent when spending time in Portland. The roads are twice as long to accommodate for bike lanes that are almost as large as the car lanes themselves, and the bike lanes weave around the entire city. You will pass weed stores enticing you to try out different flavours and with vibrant decorations on its store front to lead you in – and Portland locals walk in nonchalantly as though they were buying groceries. When you have been paying tax for the past 7 weeks, and the bill is always more than the initial price tag, you truly appreciate the tax-free system of Portland. Portland is also known for its artisanal stores, and if it isn’t, it should be! It proudly boasts some of the USA’s best doughnut stores (which I can also vouch for), provides tea stores that stock every herb and every flavour you did and didn’t think of. Not to mention, it’s landscapes and scenic parks with some of the USA’s most famous waterfalls make it the perfect balance between nature and city.
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On my first day, I settle into the hostel appropriately called “Travelers House”. It is exactly that: a house. It hosts just a few guests and the long-term staff, so has a very cosy and family feel. I took myself to Moltnomah Falls on the first day via the Columbia Express bus. The falls were majestic, water gushing down from a height where the top blends with the sky, like water oozing from the sky and with immense force and powerful speed. If I had time, I would have hiked to Crown Point where I could also have viewed the Columbia River Gorge. The backdrop, though, is refreshing and somehow so close to the city. There are lush green trees everywhere and large mountains to please the eyes. Sometimes, its natural beauty is tainted by the floods of tourists moving in and out of the area – but I can’t complain about the ice cream, which was in the hands of almost every visitor. The hostel held a sausage-making party and campfire in the evening in the back. Campfires paired with giant marshmallows are to be expected almost anywhere in America where this is a garden and branches. Local craft beers and IPAs are a popular choice of drink, given Portland’s history as the birth town of craft beer.
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On the second day, I explored the Rose Quarter neighbourhood around my area. There were wellness centres, naturopath counselling, breweries, artisanal shops, apothecaries, artisanal shops selling just cocktail bitters, artisanal chocolate shops, old book stores, and of course the famous Blue Star doughnuts. You could find anything here from weed, to vintage leather boots, to dandelion tea to expensive birthday cards and it was all along one (lengthy) street. I first stopped in the food market where there were plentiful vans decorated in accordance with the theme and origin of food they were selling. These vans were popular all throughout America, especially in Austin and here. The vendors had established their food cart as a permanent stand and treated it as much of a brand as a restaurant is, selling a service and a USP as well as food. Many chefs of these small food vendors have been so popular that they have expanded and set up a physical restaurant. Here, the food market was hidden through a gate of bushes to reveal a small square of these food trucks. I tucked into a ‘Nourish Bowl’ with peached ice tea. Not bad for a van! If that didn’t take your fancy, there was sushi, burgers, coffee and tacos too. A few shops along, there was a small and sweet gallery/store that sold things from bicycle guidebooks to fortune telling books. I bought myself a wee postcard that read, “An artist is someone who finishes things.”
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In the cocktail bitters shop, I was tasting some of the intense bitters and inside the store were a father and son pair. The father spoke with a British-esque accent and he likewise heard mine. I soon find out that he is in fact South African and grew up in Zimbabwe. After a good chat, they left the store but moments later walked through the doors again. They invited me to join them in the Blue Star doughnuts store just next door. A two-minute conversation with an open mind and amiable demeanour can go a long way! Not being one to say no to an opportunity to meet people (or free food), I joined them in the doughnut feast. Expecting to have a small taste, if anything, they not only bought three varieties between the two of them, but also asked me to pick out a doughnut for myself out of their own pockets. There were the most unusual flavours; I chose match latte, and they picked out a cheesecake, sparkly blueberry and a different crunchy flavour. We sliced them up with a knife – I had never eaten doughnuts on a plate before or with cutlery – and tried one another’s. The verdict? The best doughnuts I have had the privilege of tasting. They were like Goldilocks bed: soft, squidgy, and sweet but not too sweet.
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I continued down the street into a leather vintage shop, and bagged cowboy boots for just $44 with no sales tax. The cheapest cowboy boots I had seen on my tour across America before then had been $105. They were not cheap! Ruby Jewels is an ice cream parlour that has slowly began to establish itself in the city and stock flavours as wild as Strawberry Basil Sorbet. Around the corner, there was a luxury sex store selling fancy products, and just next door was an apothecary which had very zen vibes. There were black stencil murals on the cream-white stone walls, and an upstairs that was sheltered by a white draped curtain. From behind the curtain came a voice, “Hello, welcome,” though I couldn’t see a face. The apothecary was empty but calming and secluded.
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The hostel is a little busier that evening, so we sit playing a few games in the house to wind down. The game turned into an extravaganza of discovering a costume box. People grabbed for feather scarfs, pink wigs, yellow tassled crop tops for the men and a Jamaican hat with fake dreadlocks. It was an elaborate, mismatching, shabbled, amusing mess. I hadn’t eaten much, but a Japanese man appeared to be living a hostel life like a chef. In fact, it turned out that he was a chef. He had bought himself a pack of mussels, white wine, and all the finer ingredients that a typical traveller would sacrifice in the name of space, convenience and budget. He had set himself and his friend up in a romantic setting beside the wall on a small round table under dim lighting. It smelt amazing and it was not the only course he had cooked! A pot of soaked mussels sat in between them. I enquired curiously and got chatting with him. He was a full-time chef in Japan and was testing Portland’s seafood against the mussels he had learned to love in France. He explained that he wanted to try the local food of Portland and cook it for himself. Soon, he has a mussel on a spoon urging me to try them. Until then, I had never tried a mussel! After all, I am Jewish so mussels are not part of the usual protocol – in fact, they are forbidden – but I wanted to venture out of my comfort zone. Who would have thought that the first time I try mussels would have been in a hostel, by a Japanese chef, and in Oregan?! My first attempt to scoop it into my mouth from the spoon was a small debacle – there was a lot of slurping and teething. To my surprise, I loved them! They had been cooked so well: in garlic, white wine and black peppercorn. I scooped the soup and slurped the soup. I couldn’t get enough. Like Portland, even if it’s out of place, it’s done right.
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On my final day in Portland (day three), I walked through the impressive Washington Park. Portland brings more rain to its city and therefore the fleur and fauna blossoms and showcases bright greens. The park was inundated with smells of woodland and wetland. It was very wet since it had rained that morning but it was a very fresh, wholesome kind of rain. There were huge trees and plenty of moss. The trees were of many varieties – some draping, some standing tool and others curving or winding up in a tangled fashion. The paths were windy too. I ran into the Japanese garden, after some difficulty locating the entrance, but admission was expensive so I reserved this attraction for Seattle! However, just behind was the International Rose Garden. It is the largest and most prolific rose garden I have come across, even though there were a fair few around the US. Previously, I was unaware of how many varieties of roses there had been – sadly there was no avocado rose, however, which is a trend that has been booming on Instagram. Not only were there endless rows, endless varieties and endless vibrant colours, but most were in bloom! Each rose had its own personality and conjured different feelings. The colours ranged from a subtle wedding orange, to stark bright reds, to delicate whites. It was a spectrum of colours. However, did you know there is no such thing as a blue rose?
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I then headed to Nob Hill and Alphabet District. Here were there a mix of boutique shops and student crowds, (more) famous ice cream shops, and fairly affordable sushi. Many of the shops were trying to offer trendy, but very affordable items for the students though still trying to cater to modern trends and fashion. I then took a brewery self-guided tour, again with Detour(the same app I used for a self-guided tour in San Francisco. It was, again, a very immersive tour. In each bar, I was instructed by the tour to ask the bar man for a particular beer on behalf of the tour (which was given free of charge, though a tip was encouraged). I was given a short low-down at each place about the history of the craft beers. I was taken to each building where the craft beers were born and bred. It again took me around the city and gave me a great knowledge about craft beer which had been almost non-existent. Amongst those beers included one named “Dead Man’s Ale”.
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My night ended on the bus back to the hotel. I read my book that I had picked out in one of Portland’s book store, whose pages would be lit by the pink hue of the bus. As the bus drew to a halt at each stop, the bright lights came on and lit up the book. Then the bus would move off again and the words would be lit only by the soft pink hue, with the outside hidden in darkness. The pages flashed pink and white, like a disco.