I'm surprised at myself. Upon preparing for my journey to Portland I half expected to instantly fall in love with the city and lustfully want to move here, ASAP. Only the former has happened, with any urgency anyway. Walking around Powell's yesterday I was restless. I didn't experience what I usually do in a bookstore: serenity. It felt what it is: large. And it was cool, to be sure.
Portland, what I've seen of it (and Kristin did a wonderful job of showing me around), is an absolutely gorgeous city. Truly beautiful. It has a character that is so unique to anything I have heretofore experienced. Kristin said, "this city reminds me of exactly ONE street in San Diego." And I think I know what she means. There is something in common with the two, although that thing that I like in San Diego, what is probably the thing about the street Kristin likes, is everywhere in P-town.
Pearl street is astounding. I can see myself living in that district.
Breakfast in Vernonia beckons.
