Portland reminded me a bit of Baltimore (as the above title suggests). Both have a quirky side, possibly born out of living in the shadow of a nearby, more renowned city. I don’t know if Portlanders have the same inferiority complex that Baltimoreans have, but I do know that whenever you think of the Pacific Northwest, you usually think of Seattle before Portland. I even thought this when I initially planned out a PNW vacation, focusing on Seattle and Vancouver without even thinking of Oregon. Luckily for us, I came to my senses, and we started our trip by flying to Portland.
I’ll start with the “travel woes”. We booked a three-legged Southwest itinerary that zig-zagged across the country without any plane changes. While it meant spending about 10 hours on a plane, it also meant not having to worry about connections. That is, until a mechanical issue stalled our departure from BWI. Originally we figured that this hour-plus delay wouldn’t affect us since we were staying on the plane. However, Southwest was now shuffling several of its flights and informed us that we’d now have to switch planes in Chicago. All the steward told us was “go talk to the gate agent”.
We got off, hopeful that our three checked bags were making the corresponding jump. Our next flight was actually boarding as we met the gate agent, so she escorted us past the front of the line since we were technically “thru passengers”. We were able to get decent seats and enjoyed a comfortable flight to Albuquerque, still hopeful that our bags were riding along with us. For the leg to Portland, I made sure that we had a left-side window seat since I knew that the plane would pass very close to Mount Hood on the descent. Coming in, we saw this mountain in the distance and figured that it had to be Mount Hood. Pretty cool I guess. Until 10 seconds later, when the real Mount Hood appeared, so close that you could freakin’ touch it.
Of course, our bags didn’t make it. It kind of amazes me that airlines can’t pinpoint where a bag actually is; can’t they scan them somewhere along the way? Really all the baggage agent can do is speculate that they might be on a certain flight because it’s the next one between your current destination and wherever the bags might’ve flown to. They gave us a window and told us they’d deliver them to us, which was okay since we were staying right next to the airport (they were delivered about 90 minutes later). Not so lucky was the other guy flying our itinerary, who now had to attend a funeral in jeans.
After picking up the rental car, we checked into our hotel room and chilled out for a little bit. We then set out for dinner at Pok Pok, a nationally-renowned Thai restaurant that multiple people had recommended. We’re not Thai aficionados by any means, but this was still a meal that we’d been looking forward to for many months. Upon arrival, we noticed a crowd milling about the exterior, but no one actually eating in the open-air dining area. We asked the hostess what the deal was and apparently they were temporarily closed due to a broken water heater! This nearby sign pretty much summed up our feelings.
Turns out they have a sister restaurant, Whiskey Soda Lounge, right across the street. This place has a different menu, but does serve the main restaurant’s famous “Vietnamese Fish Sauce Wings”. Since the main place was rumored to be reopening in about 45 minutes, we went across the street for drinks and wings in the interim. The drinks were exotic and the wings were definitely unique (and probably the messiest I’ve ever had). They had some odd Thai television programming on, too, which gave the place the feel of a creepy Bangkok dive bar.
Pok Pok did reopen and we made our way back over for a proper dinner. Like I said before, we aren’t huge Asiaphile foodies, and would’ve benefited from dining with someone more knowledgeable about the cuisine. We still very much enjoyed our meal, getting the “Kai Yaang” half rotisserie chicken and the “Muu Sateh” pork skewers, accompanied by a curry-like dipping sauce that was the standout of the spread.
Next we ventured on to the “rose” portion of the day. Portland is nicknamed the “City of Roses” due to its numerous rose gardens, the most prominent being the International Rose Test Garden in Washington Park. The gardens are situated on a hill behind downtown Portland, giving you a beautiful (yet tree-impeded) view of the city with Mount Hood in the background.
It’s a rose “test” garden, meaning that new cultivars are constantly being planted and tested for color, fragrance, and disease resistance. Each species is very unique and has a funky name like “Bajazzo”, “Wing Ding”, or “Chipotle”. The range of colors, even on individual roses, is amazing.
The gardens are multi-tiered and contain various subsections like the “Gold Medal Garden” and a Shakespeare garden (where all the plants are ones that were mentioned in works of Shakespeare). Roses are growing and climbing on everything, from trellises and frames to tennis courts and women’s bathrooms. April, unknowingly, wore her rose garden-themed skirt for the occasion.
Finally, we made our way to the “dough’s”. No trip to Portland is complete without a visit to Voodoo Doughnut, home of the “Marshall Mathers”, “Captain My Captain”, and “Triple Chocolate Penetration” doughnuts, among others. This place used to offer doughnuts laced with Nyquil and Pepto-Bismol, too, until they were discontinued by order of the local health department. Since the original location in downtown Portland is usually slammed, we drove to Voodoo Doughnut Too, which had no wait. April had a chocolate vegan doughnut while I had the “Old Dirty Bastard”(chocolate frosting, peanut butter, and Oreos). My god, this thing was amazing. I’m a peanut butter-phile, and might’ve found my perfect dessert (drool…)
We cleaned up our crumbs and drool and headed back to the hotel, ready to get some rest before heading down into the gorge the following day. Despite a few hiccups, things had worked out for the most part and we had enjoyed a very nice evening in Portland. Boh Knows Rose.
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