Portland

Three days in Portland. Hyper-caffeinated, hyper-pollinated (the sidewalks are literally paved with flowers and allergies have got my head spinning) and, well, pretty satisfied. I think m’lady and I barely scratched the surface of this town, even as we hopped on dozens of transit lines and trekked untold avenues. Portland is a town with a story to tell, how the working class grit and vagrant grime insinuates itself into the elegant natural beauty and how the disconcerting boom in development affects that narrative. I hope to make it back soon to learn more.

We stayed at the Ace Hotel, which was unquestionably the most fun I’ve had staying in a hotel. Records spin on a turntable in the lobby; Stumptown coffee shoots rich espresso from futuristic looking Marzoccos and a thin but nonetheless enticing brew from the Clovers; the rooms are minimalist in decor, but with a nod to the Northwest setting with rough-hewn wood, army green wool blankets and grey accents. Also, Powells is a block away.

The public transit is pretty stellar. Snow-capped mountains are within sight. Greenery abounds and you can practically follow your nose to excellent coffee. I think I saw more people on bikes than I did on the bus. Fam-dam-tastic. One of the best things we did was attend a cupping at the Stumptown annex on SE Belmont. There were a few curious people who happened by but I think we were the only ones who showed up specifically to sniff, slurp and spit. Moving from a couple Brazilians to Guatemala to a sexy Kenyan to Sumatran, this was a chance to really indulge the senses in the flavor profiles of very diverse beans. It was, for me, a religious experience, the coffee-lover’s eucharist, and the Stumptown folk were knowledgeable guides and super friendly.

For all the arts, craft and music that seems to flood out of Portland I was surprised by the relative calm of the place. Granted, it was a holiday weekend. But on public transit, in restaurants and shops, and on the streets there was never anything approaching a bustle. The lone exception was the Saturday farmers market which was insane. There seemed to be a special event coinciding that was bluntly though aptly named Graze Fest or something. It gave me the idea that the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market could utilize corrals to separate the grazers and Flickr whores from the locals actually trying to buy produce. That same dilemma was very much at play here, although the locals were not shy about swinging their baskets around to make progress. Don’t make the same mistake we did and step off MAX at the obvious neon sign proclaiming Portland Saturday Market. Had we checked our notes we would have avoided this location, which is what we did after two minutes stepping astride street urchins and craft tents selling dreamcatchers.

What else? We caught Spoon at the Doug Fir Lounge, which is an eye candy extravaganza but none too shy in its more modest surroundings. We also saw Arcade Fire in a beautiful theater. I apologize to Portlanders for taking your tickets, but these two shows just kind of fit with our trip. Give me a shout when you come down here and I’ll point you to some of our better venues.

Some highlights:
Coffee
Fresh Pot (french press just for you)
Stumptown (the annex does cuppings at 11:00 and 3:00)

Food
Pearl Bakery
Simpatica (great breakfast served on communal tables just outside the clamor of the caterer’s kitchen)

Place
North Portland - Mississippi Ave (fun neighborhood with views of bridges, river and downtown)
Washington Park (MAX takes you right there and we walked back to town via the Wildwood trail)

Other
Zinester’s Guide to Portland ($5 perfect size to whip out at a cafe and not look like a travel dork)