Portland, Oregon: Like Amsterdam, only with pine trees and Death Cab for Cutie on the soundtrack

Now that I've taken a week to recover, the tale can be told: rain_herself and I, in possession of some travel vouchers to burn and a surfeit of free time, hopped on a plane to Portland, Oregon to spend the week with Cat, Andrea's sister-from-another-family. It was only my second trip to the West Coast and my first to Oregon (and Washington, for that matter, which we popped over to for the Pitch Perfect 2 premiere), and what with this being touted as Boston's mellow, flannely sister city, the trip became one of those intensive strings of first impressions usually reserved for semesters abroad and binge-watchings of that TV show all your friends keep saying you HAVE to watch. A sampling of those impressions follows; Portland, if you don't mind, I'll be addressing you directly:

1. Never have I ever seen such a laid-back town. Seriously, we were downtown during Monday lunch rush, and the traffic felt like an off-season Thursday evening in Oneonta.


2. Many of these comments are going to be about food. Your food-love is justifiably legendary.


3. Cat? Andrea? What was that breakfast place we went to on Tuesday? I kind of wanted to have intimate relations with that hash. [EDIT: Cat has informed me that it was the Country Cat. I'll refrain from sending them creepy fan mail, but it'll take effort.]


4. The latest Portland census data puts the city's 2014 population at around 619,360, which means, if I've done the math correctly, that you have roughly one medical marijuana dispensary per 2.6 people. I'm better understanding the mellow now, but jeezum crow, how much do you people need?


5. Actually, the question from item #4 got answered for me by the contact high I got outside the apartment building. Carry on, folks.


6. As long as we're on the intoxicants question: Cocktails in the diner. Cocktails in the biscuits-and-gravy joint. Cocktails in the ice cream parlor. Cocktails in the movie theatre. I fully expect to be offered a Tom Collins with my double Whopper next time I'm in town.


7. Yes, we did the food truck thing. That food truck court had more ethnic diversity per square foot than a Benetton ad. (Pork-filled Vietnamese steamed dumplings, for the record.)


8. Powell's Books happened, of course. The fact that we were pretty well broke is the only reason I was able to get on the plane home under my own power.


9. We drove out to the beach for an afternoon jaunt. Took a moment to step in the Pacific Ocean, then about a quarter of a moment to step out of it again because the Pacific Ocean is fucking cold. Also, stop hogging all the pretty.


10. I heard more Beatles songs on random in-store radios in one day than I had in the six months prior combined. I doubt that means anything, but there you go.


11. The donuts were Blue Star, not Voodoo, because the word "overrated" kept getting bandied about where Voodoo Donuts are concerned. I have no regrets, even though the passion fruit-cocoa nibs donut was having intimate relations with us. Including hair-pulling and calling us dirty little whores. (There was a LOT of passion fruit on that donut, is what I'm saying.)


12. If we'd had money going in and somehow failed to bankrupt ourselves at Powell's, that game store would have done it. I'm still hyperventilating a bit.


13. I wore my kilt to a dive bar on Friday night. No one noticed.


14. Going in, I wanted the full authentic Portland experience. It rained all week. Mea culpa.


15. Note to chris_walsh: Sorry we didn't catch up with you. We were kind of in full-tilt-boogie mode all week.


16. Yes, I'm going back someday. You win, Portland. You win.