Goliath Falls in Stumptown's Monster Ball

A Short Stop in the Bay Area

My return to California for the first time following my move back to Canada has proved an interestingly enlightening experience. I have to admit that I've had a difficult time in letting go of California, and the life I was living here during my time as a teacher. I arrived with excitement, full of exuberance and nostalgia, but that sense has faded quickly like the marine fog under the hot afternoon sun. I can't really explain why, but I feel the same way now as when I returned to Calgary in July. I was suddenly a stranger in a place I had once called home. It was the first of what proved to be a string of events that would require me to "let go," of sentiments and fantasies, plans and conceptions, and as they too brought a sense of lightness, my realization that California was not only no longer my home, but not even a place I want to call home, was wonderfully freeing. In a sense, I've been looking backwards for months, only vaguely aware that I have been dragging a toe behind me for fear of letting California go. I'm finally ready to do just that now.

This all said, I had a great time spending it with my friends, especially on my return to the Country from Asia. Having exercised the demons of letting go of California on the way down, I was ready simply for a visit, and a whirlwind one at that. My intended stay had been shortened considerably by my decision to take a layover in Hong Kong, and so I worked with all due diligence to visit whom I could in so short a stay. It was great to spend time with my Aunt, Uncle, and cousins, as I really didn't get to see them, except in a last minute passing on the way down. So I spent a good bit of it playing games with them.

The next day, I went for a visit to my old school and stopped in to see a few people. I caught Alan in an empty room and we had a great chat and arranged to get together for beer and dinner that night. I then wandered down to Zorina's classroom, and opened it with flare, only to find that she had a full class of kids. I was not expecting it; I thought her afternoons were preps. She looked shocked, I surely looked chagrined - As if in a cartoon I stepped back and closed the door. Zorina old me afterwards that her students immediately started speculating that we must have been an item, past or present. It's amazing the random conclusions they'll draw. Stupid Hollywood.

That night Alan and I made dinner for Lexy, and had some great Moroccan dishes that were so simple, but delicious, that it was hard to believe we had made them ourselves. Afterwards I paid a visit to the Gustavuljs. They tried to catch me up in Lost, but I had missed two seasons, and as a result stayed nearly as lost as I had been at the beginning. I'm not sure when it turned from plane crashes to weather monsters, but I clearly missed the segue there. Friday was spent hanging out with my good friend Derry and Saturday with Pilla. Who tempted me to come back to the exciting little town of Alameda with stories of Pirate Sundays and other really cool rockabilly, goth, social scenes. I'll definitely return.

So after pumping me full of lunch and alcohol she drove me to the Airport and this is where the Portland adventure begins:

Portland: Home of Raging Santas, Brewing Genius, and the Z-Family

Portland is known for a great many things, beer, roses, rivers, drunken rioters wreaking havok dressed in Santa costumes, the list goes on. This might be why Portland has so many nicknames it makes you wonder if the city might actually be much larger than it is: "Stumptown," "Brewtopia," "The Rose City," "Bridge City," and this is naming only a few.

Portland distiguishes itself, in my mind at least, as being the coolest unpretentious city in the U.S., or possibly the most unpretentious cool city in the U.S. either way, Portland is unpretentious and cool. It's one of the few cities that gives you a working class vibe, but is packed full of culture (alternative and otherwise), the arts, great food, neighborhood pubs, and great independent book sellers and cafes. It's the best of San Francisco and Seattle, without the big city feel.

Raging Santas of Portland:

Chuck Palahnuik's Fugitives & Refugees paints a hilarious picture of the city, its often dark past, and its hilariously raucous present. It's perhaps one of the best books ever written about an American City. In one of my favourite chapters he describes the Raging Santas. Every year, a bunch of men and women dressed up as Santa Claus ... all varieties of Santa Claus too: Pirate Santa, Slutty Santa, etc. Think Spice Girls of Santas, only cool. The original conception was a sort of anti-consumerist protest, but has grown into an anti-consumerist party and celebration of all things Santa shouldn't be. I've followed them enthusiastically ever since, and the only thing that keeps me from joining in is the fear of being ejected from the U.S. when I have a Ph.D to undertake. One day Gadget! One Day!

Good Times With Good Friends

For me though, the biggest draw to Portland, which is high praise given the quality of food, drink, and entertainment in P-town, is the Z-family. Ben and Heather are good friends of mine from my graduate school days in the rewarding, but death defying maelstrom that is the Stanford Teacher Education Program. We bonded over the difficulties, over beers and smoothies, over great Jamaican jerk chicken, and our end of year video that ended with Ben and me mooning our entire class. The video has since gone missing, and we're drawing straws to see who has to go into politics in order to retrieve it.

Since that time, I've been a mostly single nomad, and Ben and Heather have put together a beautiful family made up of themselves and three beautiful little girls, Zoe, Ruby, and Piper. When I showed up, I was fairly certain that the girls wouldn't remember me, as it had been a couple of years since I'd last seen them, and I'd never met Piper. Zoe did remember, and Ben told Ruby she'd get used to me soon enough. We drove for about three minutes in the car before she said. "Okay Daddy, I'm used to him now."

It was nice achieving a sort of celebrity status with them it made it easy for Ben and Heather to get things done while I watched them, and I soon learned that playing Monster was as much fun for me as it was for them.

Heather, Ben, and I got to hang out a fair bit, but alternately as one of them watched the kids. One night Heather took me to Yoga one night (I do actually go for the Yoga, and mostly do so with middle aged women, but the scenery there was stunning) Fortunately, or unfortunately, it's hard to look around when you're trying not to fall over in half moon pose. It was hot yoga, and I looked like I had just stepped out of a swimming pool when we finished, mind you the swimming pool did not smell very nice. On another night we went in search of quiz night at a local pub. We failed at that, owing mostly to very outdated information. Instead we rocked at pinball for a good hour or so before hitting a Southern Cooking restaurant for take-out. It was excellent pinball playing, and in joining forces with Heather it seemed that we couldn't not dominate it. But in the end, as all pinball games must, it finished stealing both our money and our balls, mocking us with a match that never materializes.

Ben, in his turn, took me out to a great French restaurant called Le Pigeon, which, if I understand correctly, is what the French call someone who is totally gullible. They might have had a bridge to sell me when I ordered cornbread smothered in caramel ice cream topped with bacon, but I loved it. It was so good. It's a popular place though and we had to wait for more than an hour to get in, so we walked down the street to get a beer. We got to the door and the guy asked us for ID. I didn't have any...I'm 10 years over even the American drinking age. He told us we were basically shit out of luck. I didn't know whether to be pissed off or flattered. I decided to go with the latter. We ended up going to this brewpub called Amnesia, which I stupidly, though fittingly, forgot and had to ask Ben to remind me of its name.

On one day, I struck out on my own for a bit, to wander downtown through Powell's books, the great and enormous independent bookseller, and to find a doughnut at Voodoo Doughnuts. It was, and this is saying a lot coming from a Canadian, the best doughnut I've ever had. They're known mostly for their outrageous doughnuts, like their signature, a jelly-filled, man-shaped one stabbed in the chest like a voodoo doll. They're creative to say the least. After a while I just wanted to sit and have a coffee and read my book for a while. I sat down and it didn't take long before my compulsion to talk with strangers, especially good looking female strangers, overwhelmed my desire for quiet time. Martha Wallulis, a vivacious artist living and working in Portland seemed as eager to talk to me as I was to her. She was fascinating to talk with and showed me her works, and talked me through them. What inspired her, why she named them what she did, and explained as best she could one of the ineffable mysteries of art: Where did it come from? The answer was as baffling as the question, and I think it's only because it's unanswerable, like trying to explain God, or the universe. They're just to grand to explain, and our words are incapable of capturing what can only be known through direct experience.

It seems that not only is Portland's art scene alive and well, it's a great incubator for burgeoning artists such as Martha. It's relatively inexpensive, the population is receptive, and the scene is lively. So the starving artists so well known to cliche, are only, as Heather said, somewhat peckish artists here in Portland. This lesson in high culture was followed by a great series of games back at Ben's and Heather's: Monster, Dodgeball, some weird game with no name, spider web, and then a wrestling-style throw-down, then crying - I was okay though ;), followed by more laughter.

I finished off my Stay in Portland with a nice hike in the woods with Ben, we forded an icy-cold stream, and had some great conversation, and then, just as we returned to collect our shoes and socks, the skies opened up on us and soaked us to the core. It was a great day. Really.

I'll be back, and had a great time as I always do with them. I am admittedly excited to be home though. I've got a little less than three months to enjoy Calgary before I head to Connecticut for graduate school, and my new, non-traveling, adventure begins.

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