There's something very quirky about the city. It's very urban Northwest and with that comes both good and bad. There are a sizable number of hippies still around. Of course, as the TV ad said, they enjoyed the sixties and now they're in theirs. We walked around the fenced-in park of the waterside park where the Portland Pride event was happening. We spent a great deal of time at the Saturday Market. Oh, Vancouver, you lack something like this. I don't need the permanent supermarket-like tourist trap named Granville Island, I want the crafty, ethnic food stalls, Tibetan beads, and bamboo-ware clothing here. Seattle has managed to eradicate its 'skid-row-ness', but it's alive an kicking here. Migrant youth parade around in smelly old clothes begging for change. Near third-worldliness rubs shoulders with new-age yoga instructors. It's not equality but a sense of whatever goes is all right and maybe even it's cosmically-correct.
Surely, San Francisco is a cousin if not authentically Northwest enough. This city is urban Cascadia with 50 varieties of coffee and hiking boots. Up near the other end of the geographic coast is Vancouver. It's on the way to Alaska but an anomaly. It really doesn't fit in, as by comparison my city seems to care far too much of what people say behind it's back. It's a little too new too. And save for Hasting Street a little too clean.
Portland is a city that is not representative of much other than itself. I guess we could stay that's a good thing. It has to be the reason I like it. I wish the weekend had been longer. I've set this to post at about the time I should be boarding the first plane back. This time, we have to skip though Seattle in order to travel the mere 300 miles. We probably won't be at home until 8:30 pm.