This Thanksgiving Yo and I crossed these big United States of America to visit my family and friends in Portland, Oregon. It’s been over four years since I moved to DC, and it was familiar, yet strange to me. I guess that means I’m now a full-fledged Washingtonian. Even so, I am continually amused by the wonderful weirdness of Portland, with its happy hipsters, passionate protesters and vegan strip clubs (huh?). And then, there are the unique culinary delights…
On Wednesday we had excellent massages at Tescape Massage and Teahouse, my daughter, Ashley’s business. It was great to have an hour to just relax and have a cup of tea!
On Thanksgiving morning we met my friend and former repair tech colleague, Jenni and her husband Nick, for breakfast at Doug Fir. Doug Fir is a music club attached to the Jupiter Hotel. We accidentally stayed there a few years ago, deciding it was better to just drop in for a Logger-man’s Breakfast.
Later on we had an amazing vegan Thankgiving dinner with my daughter, Ashley and her husband Cheyne, family and friends. We had falafel waffles, which we topped off with tabouli, hummus, baba ganoush, slaw, tzatziki, and anything else we could find on the table. It was fantastic! We are going to try it at home – just need to obtain a waffle iron.
In true Portland fashion, it rained all day and all night, racking up 5% of the total annual rainfall in one day. My friends and family jeered at me for carrying in umbrella – wimp!
On Friday we met Chad, and old friend and repair tech pal from Wally’s, for lunch in Woodstock. After lunch we ran into Craig Gibson, a fellow trumpeter and long time client. Did I say that it rained? After that we did some shopping at Sock Dreams in the charming neighborhood of Sellwood. I scored!
That evening we had dinner with my son, Adam, on Mississippi Avenue at Quaintrelle. I’m sure it was raining. The next morning we met again for breakfast at Hotel Modera before heading to the airport. It was great to see the both of them. I miss them.
NEXT STOP: Boise! We decided to make our way back East through the land of potatoes to visit my friend and fellow trumpeter, James Smock and his wife Rebekah, who plays the French Horn.
We had a nice dinner that evening at Fork, and the next day we visited the Boise Art Museum to take in a show on the art of and about internment camps in Minidoka, Idaho during WWII. It’s amazing to think that such a thing could have happened in our country, and it makes you worry for our future. The piece below is made of 120,000 replicated ID tags, one for each person interned in 10 camps.
That evening we trimmed the Christmas tree while listening to early Renaissance music played on crazy instruments like cornettos, sackbuts and rackets.Speaking of crazy, James and I got the bug and played a few duets after dinner – like old times.
It was a good trip, reminding me that family and friends are precious, and something truly to be thankful for. And then there are…