“All I need is a good coffee”, I thought to myself.
I pulled out my trusty phone, and with wet fingers typed in my request.
Coffee in California had been terrible. My expectations were low, but having arrived in the hipster haven of Portland, I figured it was worth a second shot (pun intended).
Good coffee. I hoped it would live up to its name.
I entered the store, lowered my lens-free thick rimmed glasses and let my eyes wander over the menu. I noticed perched on the counter a list of more exotic concoctions. When in Rome.
“Which do you recommend?” I said picking a piece of lint of my freshly ironed plaid shirt. I wiped my hands on my black skinny jeans. I hope these beans are organic.
I pondered the irony of Portland. Hipster-hood has become so rife that it has become mainstream. I hated mainstream.
“You could try the smoked orange and maple latte”, said the woman behind the counter. Perfect.
Hands down best coffee of my life (note above clothing details added to story for a bit of artistic flare. I did not wear lens-free glasses, a plaid shirt, or skinny jeans).
The dreary grey wet weather, fresh cherry blossom blooms, and tidy well kept houses made Portland a damn beautiful city. Every house seemed to have character plus. Maybe I was just in the good part of town, but geeze, If I ever want to live in perm-a-rain, Portland would definitely be my go to.
I sampled food carts, took a trip to a bookstore – Powell’s books (which is so massive it takes up an entire block), and basically just walked around.
Really that was my entire trip to Portland, walking around being a little bit bored.
In my boredom I visited a movie theater and watched Ladybird. I would definitely recommend seeing it, better than the Shape of Water I think.
And that’s really it for Portland. A cool city, but one and a half days was more than enough.
Luckily I did catch up on some sleep, as my next stop naturally left me an insomniac.