Around 11 o'clock, Blake picked me up for lunch at La Provence, a charming French bistro with lovely decor and tantalizing food. I had the best - and only - Monte Cristo I've ever eaten, and the coffee...well, I was impressed.
Now I'm walking along the waterfront, where street dancers are competing with jazz guitars for the crowd's attention. A bright red ferry is chugging down the river on the left, and on the right an awesome young couple will write you original poetry on request. I snapped a pic of them in all their Portland-y glory and we bonded over my Powell's Literature nalgene.
It might be a holiday, but the petition boys are hard at work, registering people to vote and trying to legalize marijuana. The colors are brilliant: the colors of people, clothes, tatts, trees, bikes.
I think one of the things that I love most about my town is that anything goes. No really - ANYTHING goes. A girl just walked by with an old street bike and a skirt that looked like a British tourist's favorite rayon-wonder. She had black retro glasses and a white/neon yellow helmet with a ginormous pink felt and feather flower on top. The 8-inch tatt on her arm was of an antique silver serving utensil. The nutty thing about it - she didn't stick out. And here I stand, the preppy-dressy girl and we are both totally at ease.
Basically, Portland teaches us that awkwardness is for LOSERS.
But really- our reaction to our surroundings is based on the perspective we chose. And today I choose to embrace it ALL.
