Portland. Part two.

By the third day in the city I found myself feeling at home. Even so, I had heard so much about the great Portland walking tours that I thought it was only right to take a guided tour. The Best of Portland tour started at the Hilton, one of the city's green seal certified hotels, and the greenest of the Hilton corporation. It's as easy as turning off escalators in the evenings, having compact fluorescent lights in all guest rooms, recycling and composting. The Hilton is just one example of the environmental responsible nature of Portland businesses. Our tour guide, Jacob, even pointed out the garbage cans that compact waste and have an indicator alerting waste management when it's full as to not waste fuel sending trucks to half full waste baskets. I'm told that Chicago has a few of these, and I'll be keeping my eyes open for some here in Milwaukee. So, enough about garbage, more about the tour.

Portland has an ordinance requiring one percent of all construction costs to be allocated to public art. A great concept that has led to even greater art work adorning the walk ways leading up to office buildings and the buildings themselves. We also saw the original penny used in choosing the name (which is why my first Portland blog referenced Boston. The two founders were east coast natives and in choosing a name wanted to pay homage to their hometowns. Not all that original, but a nice gesture I guess.). We passed through a park originally dedicated for women only considering the dodgy characters (sailors and loggers) running around the town during its early days. Water fountains from the 1800s also remain on nearly every block, thanks to a teetotaler who foot the installation bill so non-alcohol-drinking patrons wouldn't have to buy a beer to get a glass of water. Our walk continued to a cast iron building, one that Jacob proved to be iron with an I heart PDX magnet. This particular building's windows we also home to my favorite artwork of the entire trip. The people from Tangible Worldwide created fun graphics depicted their favorite parts of Portland. This is my favorite, a bearded flannel-wearing lumberjack with clever, spot-on pins. We tour passed the World's Smallest Park and ended at the waterfront (with a clear view of Mt. Hood). Fun fact: Portland is the only city to remove a fully functioning freeway to provide better access to the waterfront for residents.

With a better understanding of Portland and it's history, it was now time for food. Probably the best choice of the entire trip was to sign up for the Epicurean Excursion. You know a tour is going to be phenomenal when it begins in a chocolate shop that is sampling what can only be described as liquid awesome. The drinking chocolate at Cacao set the bar high, and each shop on the route was up to the challenge. We tried carrot and ginger soup at the Flying Elephant and falafel from a popular street vendor (food pods, street carts with ethnic foods, are all over the city. It's like having a melting pot of grandma's cooking food just like their mothers did. Best. Idea. Ever.). The nice people at the People's sandwich made me caprese-ish sandwich while everyone else munched on a sandwich for carnivores, which I heard was amazing. There was Bacon Stout, oysters and of course, Voodoo doughnuts. Our tour guide, Brad, had us at hello when he sprinkled in some science about the theobromine found in chocolate. I could go on and on about Brad and all of the great Portland locales he shared with us, but, I have photos of all the food we tried and most of the places, so you should check them out for more Portland culinary treats.

Belly full, it was time to bike to meet up with new friends at Brian’s place with hopes of riding a tandem bicycle. Thanks to Grahmn, our hopes became reality. The tandem was a terrifyingly good time. Pedaling the back seat is all the fun of riding a bike without any of the responsibility or control. With time my worries began to ease, but my grip didn’t. I think it would take a few more rides for me to feel really comfortable on it. Brian’s roommates and friends, to no surprise, were friendly, welcoming and generous. It was an amazing potluck spread that included chocolate pudding made from goat’s milk from a goat that lived seven blocks away (a goat I think I fed on a walk the next day). I got back to the hotel smelling of campfire, one of my favorite smells, and sad that my time in Portland was running out.

In Portland when bikers go to the zoo, it’s the ride to the bottom that gets them to the top. Lucky for me, there is a train to get you to the top, so you can have all the fun of coasting to the bottom but not the intense workout that gets you there. The Rose and Japanese Gardens are also on the way down, giving new meaning to “stop and smell the roses,” which we did, over and over. Both gardens have vistas and aromas I’d be willing to pedal to the top for, and even though creepy koi filled the pond the water fall flowed into, it was a beautiful feature of the steam-line, traditional Japanese garden. After basking in the green haven, and taking in as much of the city in the few hours left we biked back to Steve’s to return the bikes. Our last hurrah in Portland was the Organic Beer Festival. It was my first festival of the summer, and a great way to start festival season. So, after sampling IPAs and a couple ciders, we hopped the train back to the airport to begin the red-eye journey back to the Midwest.

Portland. Part One.

As I walked off the plane in Portland, Or, I could hear folk acoustic guitar being played across the terminal, saw a Columbia store and a coffee shop down the hall, and knew I was hooked on Portland before even leaving the airport. The love affair with this Pacific Northwest city continued to grow more and more each day.

It began with stop at the famous Powell Books in the Pearl District to replace the travel guides my adventure buddy Andrew left on the plane. A Half Price Books on steroids, Powell's has three levels of used books for nerds like me to peruse. They had a great Spanish section that made me realize I need to start practicing my Spanish before heading to Guadalajara at the end of the summer. Books replaced, we continued a tour of the Pearl District, which reminded me of the urban renewal of Milwaukee's third ward -- a former industrial area whose warehouses have been converted to boutique shops and lofted condos with garden roofs. That much admiration worked up an appetite, so we stopped at Deschutes Brewery for local beer flights and a bite to eat (they even had two vegetarian options not including appetizers). While trekking through the Pearl district we stumbled upon Cupcake Jones, grabbed Pumpkin Pie and Red Velvet Cupcakes, and went out in search of a coffee shop. Coffee shops are abundant in Portland, unless it's quarter to nine and you want to avoid a Starbucks in hopes of patronizing a local establishment. We were in luck. Although the little french cafe we went into was about to close their kitchen they brewed us two espressos and let us enjoy the Portland weather outside at their sidewalk tables.

Evidence of the friendly and generous nature of Portlanders continued to become evident at nearly every turn. Exhibit number one is Steve. We met Steve through Brian, a friend of Andrew’s, at a small bar a couple miles from the one-step-up-from-hostel- style hotel we called home for four days. Steve heard us talking about renting bikes to roam around the city and, no questions asked, offered us a couple of bikes to borrow for a few days. To my surprise, he didn’t flake out when we called the next day. In fact, he did the opposite of flake out. He had two awesome bikes waiting for us, helmets and locks, and spent about an hour mapping out routes for us. Before we picked up the bikes, we made it downtown to the Wednesday afternoon farmer’s market. For as many people flocking to the booths you’d think it was a Saturday, but once you tried the produce, you’d know why they were there. The hood strawberries may be the best thing I ate this entire trip, and the lavender jam was an unexpected delight. I fell so much in love with the farmer’s market that when I got back to Butler, I went to the Monday farmer’s market today (a good effort, and hopefully a good start to something larger, but definitely lacking in comparison to Portland).

The first stop on Steve’s route was Alberta Street. We passed the Community Cycling Center, where Brian works, and stopped at Random Order to pose as typical Portlanders looking busy in a coffee house and indulge in tasty chai paired with homemade granola (next time I'm there I have to try the pies, they looked amazing, but didn't seem like the right fuel for a days worth of biking ahead). An unexpected adventure awaited us outside when we went back to our bikes. Andrew’s back tire was flat. Luckily we were two short blocks from the cycling center (every town should be so lucky as to have a community cycling center. The work that the center does is phenomenal, and includes refurbishing bikes for the kids and running summer camps and workshops). This happy detour landed us a tour of the center’s shop and sent us on our merry way with a new tire in less than a half hour for less than $25 bucks. Our next stop was a fun thrift store on Hawthorne with a plethora of great hats and a black dress I had to run away from before I got too attached. Unfortunately I have a rule that requires me to give one item of clothing to charity for every new item I purchase, so running away was a must considering I already have to get rid of a shirt for the shirt I bought at the last Portland thrift store (a T-shirt with a sad, but cute, picture of a panda bear painting a cub with black strips to look like a panda under the text: Climate is Changing). Our last stop on was for cocktails at the Bagdad Café, another flight for me, this time Oregonian wines, and a new cider, McMenamins, for Andrew. We walked along the pub/coffee shop/book and thrift store lined street to our bikes ready for a good night sleep. Riding back to the hotel was the perfect ending to our typical Portland local day.

California Dreamin'

Nothing says welcome to California like a hug from an old friend in the calm breeze. Kate was nice enough to pick me up from the San Fransisco airport Saturday, June 19, and be my local tour guide for the long weekend. We stopped off at her apartment in Mountain View first, where I met her awesome hubby, Jon.

To ensure I didn't miss out on any typical tourist traps, Kate brought me to Fisherman's Wharf to see the sea lions sunning themselves on Pier 39. This group of sea lions mysteriously appeared in the area about 20 years ago, and unfortunately, just as mysteriously, groups began leaving the area a couple years ago. Sadly, there aren't nearly as many of the barking bunch left on the wharf today, but there has been a resurgence of lions coming back to the pier recently.

For two sarcastic Midwest girls, kitsch was a must see, and Fisherman's Wharf left nothing to be desired. There were crystal shops; souvenir shops displaying walls and walls of magnetic bottle openers; a wine shop with clever signs like "Friends, like wine, get better with age" and bedazzled wine glass shirts; and a store featuring all types of alpaca attire. We were also lucky enough to encounter a chocolate shop with chocolates molded into asprin tablets, the Golden Gate bridge and miniature chocolates filled with liquors.

A short drive from Fisherman's Warf, with the guidance of the kind of temperamental GPS Mandy, is the Golden Gate bridge. This might be blasphemy, but I was a bit underwhelmed. I understand the great engineering feat, and the hard work that goes into continually repainting the structure orange, but really, it's just a bridge. I saw the Mackinac bridge earlier this summer, which surpassed the length of the Golden Gate in the 50s, and had the same feeling. I never liked bridges especially the kind you have to drive over, and even worse, the ones over water (something about the possibility of falling, far). The good thing, though, is that bridges are always connecting two beautiful pieces of land, and San Fransisco is no exception. To me, nature will always be more awe-inspiring than modern architecture.

My first evening in San Fransisco was less tourist, more local. It's always better to take the culinary advice of locals, especially when the advice of a fellow vegetarian. Kate's friend Catherine suggested Burma Superstar, and even texted us her favorite menu items. While we waited about an hour for our table we hoped across the street to a cafe for a beer to get out of the chilly night air. San Fransisco had "record lows" during my trip, it was about 55 degrees that night. From the outside, Burma Superstar didn't look like much, but inside it was a cute, traditionally decorated space with extra friendly wait staff and the best food I've had the entire trip so far. On Catherine's recommendation, we had a green tea salad to start. The server assembled the salad in front of us, explaining that the tea leaves were picked in Burma and the dressing was a house specialty. My entree was fiery vegetables with coconut rice paired with a Burma Cooler (beer, ginger and lemon over ice). We savored every bite, and didn't get back to Catherine's place until about 11:30. Rather than go to the Mission, which would have been a bit of a drive, we went to a towny bar close by with amazing people watching. Riptide could have been any towny bar in Wisconsin, it even had taxidermy on the wall, but the people were an eclectic group of Californians including a randy chef working his moves on two middle aged ladies, a couple seemingly out of place emo kids and a possible pimp.

We drove back to Kate's after breakfast (a small Mexican restaurant with distant views of the ocean down the road) the next day to pick up Jon and head to wine county. Atop a winding road in the Santa Cruz mountains was our first stop, the Ridge. In addition to having tasty, tasty wine, the Ridge was absolutely beautiful. The vines we lush green, they had a wildflower garden path leading to the highest point of their property, and charming picnic tables throughout the area. I hugged a grape vine and saw a man inadvertently step on a snake. From the Ridge we drove to David Bruce, another Santa Cruz winery known for pinot noirs, then to Byington and finally Regale. While I'm not a wine expert, I would say I am an enthusiast, and, after this trip, contemplating becoming a sommelier, or finding some other job that gives me the opportunity to enjoy amazing vistas daily and share my admiration for wine with others.

My last day in San Fransisco I drove Kate to work and made my way back into the city, utilizing my former FIB driving abilities to cross three lanes of traffic when Mandy suggested I exit with no warning. I started my adventure at the Ferry Building. Unfortunately I wasn't there on a Saturday when they have a large scale local farmers market, but I did get to explore an artisan cheese shop, a mushroom shop (I'm still regretting not buying any of their dried products), chocolatiers, a used book store, and Farm Fresh to You, where I bought my seasonal veggie sandwich, a locally grown pear and pickles from their olive bar. I ate half my sandwich looking out into the bay, and saved the other half to eat at the Golden Gate bridge since I decided to give it another chance. I was hoping to find a bike to rent to ride across it, but timing and location altered my plan, also the wind chill. Lesson learned: always wear layers in San Fransisco. But, the next find was a happy accident. I was looking for a park when I stumbled upon a beach with views of the bridge, and vibrantly green trees towering above the beach. I took my shoes off to feel the grains of sand between my feet, and since I saw people in the water I got close enough to let the tidewater wash over my feet. Since one of the swimmers I had seen run into the water completely naked (That's right, I stumbled upon a nude beach in San Fransisco, what were the chances?!), I hadn't imagined it would be as cold as Lake Michigan in April, but I was wrong. Cold. Cold, but refreshing. I climbed the cliff to walk through the trees back to the car and headed back to Mountain View to pick up Kate and Jon for my last dinner in San Fransisco.

We drove out to Palo Alto to check out where Sanford undergrads hang out. What a completely different college experience than the small town, Main street college experience I had in Whitewater, Wisconsin. I did feel oddly at home, feeling as though I knew what it was like to go to an Ivy League school based on all of the Gilmore Girls I've watched. We had dinner at Thaiphoon (I love clever names like that). It was a great place for my last meal in San Fransisco. Outdoor seating, laid back atmosphere, delicious food and fantastic company. It made it hard to leave the next morning, and obvious that I was falling in love with the west coast. This love would continue to blossom in the next city. Portland.

Viva Las Vegas!

I left for my second trip of the summer last Monday (the first was a fantastic trip to Northern Michigan that will be documented after I try to recount my five day stay in the city of Sin while the memories are still fresh). I traveled from Milwaukee to Las Vegas to meet up with my friends Tommy and Brad via Kansas City and Denver. The benefit of flying Midwest is that before my seemingly inevitable bout with motion sickness during the last 20 minutes of every flight I’ve ever been on, my nerves are put to rest mid-flight with the soothing scent of baking chocolate chip cookies and their even more comforting taste. Thanks to the cookies, and the excitement of my trip to the strip, I made it through all of the landings only a little green.

Day One: The way you make me feel

Night number one in Vegas led me to a bachelorette party featuring a great cast of women ready to celebrate the last days of the lucky Danielle’s singledom. I walked from the MGM past the larger-than-life golden statue of MGM mascot Leo the Lion, through the crowds of card snappers (yes, I believe that is their official name) and to meet the rest of the group at Cabo Wabo Cantina inside Planet Hollywood. We didn't know it when we got there, but it was karaoke night, lucky for the other patrons we decided to keep our singing to a minimum. Just on cue, when we finished singing “The Way You Make Me Feel,” a Michael Jackson look-alike jumped on stage to do his rendition of Billy Jean with exuberant amounts of classic moves including both the moon walk and crotch grab.

After dinner we explored the strip, watched the always-mesmerizing Bellagio water show, and stumbled upon a talented clown who sculpted balloons into hats looking like abstract versions of male unmentionables. As if we didn’t garner enough attention, the hats made sure we were the subject of double-take looks and prepositions for group photos with strangers.

A quick stop for some of the ladies to switch shoes (unfortunately I remained in my heels all night since the MGM is on the other opposite end of the strip), and we were off to the Casino floor. My bachelorette button, though it said “lucky,” did not provide me with anything resembling luck. I managed to only loose $20 my first day on the penny slots and my first time playing Wheel of Fortune. The good thing about the slots is that even if you don’t win, “free” drinks are flowing, so, even though I lost $20, there was still something to be gained.
I was, however, lucky enough though to get home before the guys, at around 3:30, to catch a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. And even with the slight disturbance when they got back to the hotel at sunrise, the black-out curtains and white noise provided enough peace to keep me asleep for at least another four hours.

Day two: Oh, Canada

We woke up on day two a little before noon, and even though we had only been in Vegas one day, Vegas' ability to distort time made our late start seem perfectly normal. There are things on the strip, however, that I'm not sure I could ever get used to, like the sidewalk closing down due to unexplained police/bomb squad action (walking down the strip past the most tempting place in Vegas, the M&M Candy store, police informed us that we’d have to move along since they were closing this particular part of the sidewalk. Nothing looked too out of the ordinary to me, but something must have gone awry. Hopefully it wasn’t something too serious, and to make myself feel better I’m telling myself it was a drill), or people dressed as Sanrio characters or Jack Sparo posing for photos.

Tommy and I continued our trek down the strip while Brad was fulfilling groomsman duties at the rehearsal. We met a Canadian eager to give us coupons for free drinks and shows if we filled out a questionnaire, but, to his dismay our 10 year platonic relationship was not enough to qualify us for the timeshare he was trying to promote to happy couples. He didn’t let that discourage his Midwest-rivaling Canadian friendliness though, he spent the next half hour or so regaling us with Vegas trivia and hints about the best places in town. It’s been a while since I’ve talked to someone for that long without knowing their name, but we left with plenty of must see locations to make it to during our trip, including the newly constructed City Center. It cost 60 billion dollars to construct, and houses its own fire house, police department, hospital and has its own zip code. It's also home to high fashion shopping, a restaurant made completely of redwood, ice column water fountains and water tornadoes reminiscent of the tornadoes I made in elementary school with two soda bottles and duct tape.

Day three: Happily ever after

Day three of Vegas was Danielle and Johnny's big day. I only met the couple earlier that week (they are long-time friends of Tommy and Brad), but I felt so welcome at their celebration. They are two of the sweetest, most kind and generous people I've met in a long time. A group of about 40 people watched the happy couple exchange vows in front of a gazebo in a lush garden chapel at Cesar's Palace and enjoyed a fabulous outdoor meal at Serendipity (for me it was a double decker grilled cheese with brie, swiss and cheddar...amazing). The night continued with a reception in an overwhelmingly beautiful two-story suite at Cesar's, and ended with smiles all around and great memories that will be held dear for years to come.

Day 4: Come on down!

If you thought the possibility of winning a washer/dryer combo was only for those lucky people on tv, think again. Bally's in Las Vegas has a live version of the Price is Right everyday. Now, people like you and me have the chance to frantically run up on stage for the chance to spin the wheel. Todd Newton, of Supermarket Sweep fame, hosts the show encouraging extreme audience participation. Not one of the people from our group got called on stage, but we still had a blast blurting out our guesses for the prices of things like laundry detergent and cookies. Although it would have been sweet to win the showcase showdown Cruise...

As is the case in Vegas most of the time, our "it's five o'clock somewhere" attitude brought us to Margaritaville for dinner. Every hour on the hour, to Jimmy Buffet's classic "Margaritaville," a woman slides down a volcano exploding with dry ice fog, into a giant blender. She dances her way out, grabs onto an over sized fish hook and does insane acrobatic work to get back down to the floor. Needless to say, cheers were abundant.


Day 5: Ka-mazing

During the whole trip we kept meaning to buy a yard or guitar of tasty beverage to enjoy on the strip, and Thursday night even planned to sip them while shopping, however, it was an epic fail. Although we did make it down the strip on our last day for shopping, I did not get my delicious guitar. I did, however, get to pretend to be Louis Vuitton wearing fashionista. I didn't have the confidence to ask to try anything on for fear that the saleswoman would have asked to check my credit first, but I did admire many things from afar. One dress, my favorite, I even held up in front of the mirror. My description won't do it justice, but I'll try. It was pink and black with a black trim that had a handkerchief skirt, zipper down the front of the bodice, and tied back. It was only $3,100. As to not leave empty handed from our shopping extravaganza, I did buy an awesome silver mesh bow tie ring from a store in the Miracle Mile that had a dj spinning live. It was less than 1 percent of the cost of that dress.

That night we went to see Cirque du Soleil's Ka. Our minds were significantly blown. When you first walk in the theatre decor blows you away, and the when the music starts you are already at the edge of your seat, the athleticism and gracefulness of the performers is unreal, the vertical moving stage is unbelievable, at the end you are left speechless. If you have the chance to see it, go. Go now! And, if you don't believe me, check out this trailer: http://www.cirquedusoleil.com/en/shows/ka/default.aspx.

The last night in Vegas was spent at Rio, well, first I crashed for a bit while the rest of the group went up to the Voodoo Lounge which is now a must see for me when I go back after hearing how amazing the view from the 54th floor is, and how fantastic a time everyone had dancing on the outdoor patio. By the time I met up with the group they were ready for some food. We went to the Flamingo where everyone else got the $2 burger special. I opted for the fruit plate. I don't think I've ever been so stoked for fruit. My steady diet of grease and liquor throughout the week was finally catching up with me, and the fruit was everything I hoped it would be, and more. We stayed out until sunrise that morning finishing out late night snacks/breakfasts, and said our goodbyes. I went home and packed for my early flight, and the guys passed out for the last time in our MGM accommodations.

I left the guys dreaming of sugar plums, tried my luck one more time at the slot machines (and lost) and took a taxi to the airport ready for continued adventures north in San Fransisco.