Keep Portland...Shi Shi

After a harrowing journey across America via Minneapolis, I joined my octogenarian friends in Portland who were hobbling around the city, avoiding staircases that their Half-Dome-destroyed thigh and calf muscles could not handle. We ate from the famous(ly overpriced) street carts and visited quaint old warehouses converted to breweries, Rogue and Bridgeport.

Flights of beer never disappoint but we did fail to cross the Willamette to show Rachel a key component of Portlandia. Amanda and I had seen the hip music scene on the other side of the river last time we were here but we didn't make the jump last night. So as delightful as the sports bar and cover band bar we ended up at, we never found the bird shop or the feminist bookstore - or their real-life inspirations. People's clothes were decidedly matching and monochromatic, their jeans far too breathable. We blew it a little. But we also learned that Portland has a hidden, mainstream cache of citizens and bars.

Instead of moshing at an indie punk show, we wandered the streets complying with requests of older couples to blast country songs on our cell phones. So that's something.