Ducks

On Saturday, Lindsay and I drove to Eugene to watch the highly anticipated college football game of the week--#4 Ducks vs. #18 USC--at Autzen Stadium. While driving down I-5 I counted no less than 25 cars sporting Ducks flags out of their windows, and it seemed that every other car on the highway had a Ducks decal in their back window.

We drove down in the afternoon and met up with her brother and his friends to tailgate. We were walking from campus to the field with hundreds of (drunk) students when Lindsay said how perfectly content she is no longer being a college student. I was thinking almost the exact same thing and replied, "I'd like to go back to college with 25 year-olds, not 18 year-olds." A few years ago, I would have loved to go back to the college lifestyle. Don't get me wrong, I love a good time, but it's amazing how quickly things change.

It was easy to distinguish between "adult" tailgates and "student" tailgates. Adults had tents, heat lamps, tables covered with table cloths, blankets, extensive spreads of food, a plethora of drink options. They looked warm and happy. Students were, for the most part, grossly underdressed (it was in the upper 30s by kick-off), huddling around cases of Bud Light at their feet. They looked cold and happy.

According to fans, it "never rains in Autzen stadium" (it always does!). We had a perfectly clear and crisp night.

The Ducks started the game horribly--a few turnovers, terrible pass defense--and were quickly down two touchdowns. I was beginning to think we were bad luck. While we were warming up over a beer in the Moshofsky Center (The Mo, as it's called by students), Oregon launched a third quarter comeback while trailing 24-7. They scored 28 points in the second half (to USC's 17), but came up short. Their kicker missed a 37-yard field goal as time expired, and USC snapped the Ducks' 21 game win streak at home.

Although they lost, it was still a blast. I hope we'll get back to Autzen Stadium next year, where, hopefully they'll win.

Scents

Common smells in my neighborhood:

1. Coffee

2. Beer brewing

3. Marijuana

4. Burning plastic (????)

Common smells in the Bronx:

1. Dog poop

2. Urine

3. Stale beer

4. Garbage

Columbia River Gorge

Portland is notorious for being a wet and cloudy city. In many ways, this is true. It is, however, by no means the wettest or cloudiest city in the country. (I'm trying to reassure myself here!)

Pacific Northwest summers are hailed for being dry, sunny, and absolutely gorgeous. According to Lindsay, weather here is at its prime from late June to the end of September. Then, it tends to get increasingly wet and cloudy.

We woke up yesterday morning to perfectly blue skies and upper 50s.

(While we're on the topic of weather... Last week, in a coffee shop, I overheard a guy griping to another patron about the "cold front." It was probably in the lower 40s--crisp, but sunny. Prime fall weather. I reminded him that at least he wasn't in New York City, where, a rare fall snow storm dumped a few inches of heavy snow and subsequently resulted in 8 million headaches.)

Lindsay's brother and some friends flew to San Fran for the weekend for the Ducks-Stanford game, so he left us with his trusty 1994 Honda Accord. So, we decided to take advantage of what could be one of our last glorious fall days. After my interview Thursday morning, we swung back to our apartment, enjoyed a bowl of Potato Leek soup I had made the night before (delicious!), and hopped on 84 heading east of Portland.

After driving on 84 for about 20 miles, we turned onto the Historic Columbia River Highway-- a scenic route that weaves through the beautiful Columbia River Gorge. Although the striking reds, oranges, and yellows of autumn I'm used to aren't quite as pronounced here, I was surprised by the palette of colors that painted the Gorge. In many ways, I felt home on the East coast. The views reminded me of the Hudson River Valley and the Palisades at autumn's peak.

We turned off to enjoy the view at Crown Point. Far below us, on the Columbia River, a few brave souls were kiteboarding in the biting wind. (The Gorge is praised as one of the best places to kiteboard because its unique geology creates a funneling effect, which can create winds in excess of 50 mph.)

Lindsay at Crown Point

Columbia River Gorge looking east

The Gorge Scenic Area is famous for its waterfalls-- 77 on the Oregon side alone-- and, most notably, Multnomah Falls, which is said to be the most visited natural attraction in Oregon. (I began having flashbacks of our family West coast trip when I was a freshman in high school. Most vivid was a family picture of the six of us standing on the bridge under the waterfall.)

A drive-by snap of Multnomah Falls

We continued for another two miles to Oneonta Gorge, a less touristy hiking spot. Since Lindsay is still recovering from ACL reconstruction and a meniscal repair, we decided it'd be best to do a short hike. We hiked up the gorge for about a half a mile, came to a small waterfall, crossed a bridge, then the hike turned back toward the scenic highway to a cliff that overlooks the Columbia River Gorge (and a beautiful view).

Oneonta Gorge

The temperature dropped significantly near the waterfall! Brrrr.

Across the Gorge

After our hike, we drove past Horsetail Falls, which we could have reached at the end of the Oneonta Gorge hike (but would have been a few miles further).

After swinging by Horsetail Falls, we drove to Hood River for dinner and a beer at Double Mountain Brewery. After dinner, we filled up our growler with their India Red Ale ("IRA" as it is known around Hood River)-- a delicious brew with a ruby red color and rich body with the hop flavors of an IPA-- and went home.

New City, New Runs

One of my favorite ways to explore Portland so far has been by running.

Back in New York, I saw countless areas of the city I'd never seen by running. Virtually, the entire perimeter of Manhattan. (In fact, the first time I saw the Statue of Liberty in person, I was on mile 12 of a 20 miler. I'll just say, I didn't stop to enjoy the view.) Fort Tyron Park and the gorgeous views of the Hudson from the Cloisters on a crisp fall day. Fort Washington Park and the George Washington Bridge. Beautiful neighborhoods of Riverdale in the Bronx. Almost every park in Harlem. All of Central Park (too many times!). I loved seeing new areas of the city, especially in the fall, and I have two years of marathon training to thank for that.

Now that we've been in the city of Portland for two weeks, I've done my fair share of exploring on foot. My first two runs were on trails in Forest Park, which is just a mile from our apartment.

I love weaving through the streets of Northwest. Some of the houses are just beautiful. In some ways, parts of Northwest remind me of neighborhoods on the West side of Buffalo. Beautiful turn-of-the-century Victorian homes. Restored Craftsmen. Tree lined streets. But, in addition to the residential nature of the neighborhood, there are pockets of restaurants, bars, coffee houses sprinkled throughout.

I'm excited to learn more about Portland's origins, because it is evident there is a lot history.

City Park Run

After two runs on dirt trails through the woods, I decided I'd explore more of the city. I began by exploring more of Northwest, then cut over to the Pearl, which is one of Portland's more affluent neighborhoods. As I ran past Bridgeport Brewery, the smell evoked memories of my childhood when my dad brewed beer in our kitchen.

The Pearl is north of downtown, and it's got much more of a "city" feel than my neighborhood. In the late 1990's and early 2000's, the area used to be occupied by warehouses, rail yards, and industry. Then, it went through some serious urban renewal, and now consists mainly of high-rise luxury condo buildings and warehouse to loft conversions. The industrial feel was definitely preserved, which I love. There are strips of restaurants, bars, boutiques, breweries, art galleries.

I ran north along the streetcar line on NW 10th ave and through Jamison Square. The park's central feature is a fountain which simulates a shallow tidal pool. Water falls from stone joints into low pools as the fountain recirculates treated water with energy efficient pumps and motors.

Jamison Square in the summer

Next, I continued running north to Tanner Springs Park, which feels to me to be the complete opposite of Jamison Park. Rather than a spot for recreation, Tanner Springs Park seems to be a place for contemplation.

The Pearl District was at one time a wetland and lake fed from streams that flowed off of the nearby hills. As the water flowed through the wooded hillsides it was cleansed naturally before reaching the Willamette River. The springs of Tanner Creek flowed into Couch Lake.

But, as the population grew in the late 1800's, the creek was rerouted through a system of underground pipes to the Willamette. The wetland and lake were filled to make space for warehouses and rail yards (which were later replaced by condos, lofts, shops and restaurants).

Tanner Springs Park attempts to recapture the area's past--the wetland and creek, as well as its industrial feel. It evokes the feel of a wetland. Streams flow through the grasses from the highest point of the park into a small pond (with fish!!). All of the rainwater that falls in the park is collected and treated within the park without using chemicals. It's touted as a modern experiment in sustainable park design and management.

The park is planted with native grasses and trees and there are walkways made from basalt Belgian Blocks that once cobbled the city's streets. One of the coolest aspects is an art wall made of 99 railroad rails that rise at least 12-15 feet out of the water.

Tanner Springs Park from above

After stopping to soak up the park's uniqueness and history, I headed home.

Waterfront Run

On another run, I ran through the Pearl and Chinatown to the Willamette, where I hopped on the Waterfront Bike Trail. As I ran south along the river, I was reminded of Pittsburgh (all those bridges!!). I ran under five bridges (and a sixth on my way back), and almost the whole way had a nice view of Mt. Hood in the pink distance.

The Hawthorne Bridge and kayakers

Marquam Bridge and Mt. Hood in the distance

View of the Waterfront and Marquam Bridge

I decided I'd continue to run to the South Waterfront, where Lindsay works at OHSU. There, you can hop on the tram and head up the hill to OHSU's main campus. On this particular day, however, I didn't have 8 bucks to shell out for the ride, so I opted to head home with the wind to my back.

South Waterfront Tram with the magnificent Mt. Hood in the distance

After a nice 7 mile run--through city, parks, and along the river--I was home.

Couch Fail

Last Saturday morning, we woke up bright and early and walked to catch the MAX (Portland's light rail) to Lindsay's parents' place in the 'burbs. We were off to buy a couch.

At the furniture store, we found a couch we thought would be just perfect for our apartment. Nice fabric. Cleans easy. Long enough for Lindsay's brother to sleep on. Great price. Sold! The sales guy informed us the couch would be delivered later that night. Same day delivery... can't go wrong.

Delivery #1

Around 7pm the delivery guys show up in an Enterprise rental truck (hmmm). Meanwhile, we are on the 3rd floor of an early 1900's house. The entranceway into our apartment is... tricky. Tight corner, slanted ceiling, a number of stairs and turns. I was hoping they would be able to work some magic, but was incredulous. (And, of course, we didn't measure anything. Mistake.)

They succeeded in getting the couch up the first set of stairs, then had to take off our door because the frame is too narrow. OK, we could handle that. Some pounding later, the door was off. Then, heave, heave, heave (please don't damage our walls!!), heave. "Ummm, sorry, we can't work magic." Damn. Two inches too long. Then, heave, heave, heave, and the couch was back out the door.

Another night of eating in camping chairs.

Delivery #2

The next morning we hopped on the train, headed back to the 'burbs and back to the furniture store. (Groundhog Day, anyone?) Again, somehow, we went without measurements.

We found a similar couch that was 14 inches shorter and about as tall as the previous couch. Yes, it'd fit, and it'd arrive between 6 and 10 pm Sunday night.

At 9:45 the couch guy calls. "Umm miss, we're an hour away." Really? On a Sunday night? You've got to be kidding me. I picture them pounding away at our door to remove it--once again--from its hinges. Our neighbors are going to hate us.

At 10:40, still no word from couch guys, so I call their dispatcher. 30 minutes away. 30 minutes means at least 45.

At 11:20, the couch guys pull up. They don't apologize for being so late. They pound and pound and pound to remove the door. Door off. Check. Couch starts heading up the stairs. It fits around the corner the previous couch couldn't. Check. "Please be careful around the corners, and watch that --riiiiiiiiiiiiiip -- nail."

They set the couch up as Lindsay and I inspect the couch and find--not one, but two--rips in the fabric. Great. We're going to need another couch.

Delivery #3

Early Tuesday afternoon, our property manager called to let me know the technician was on his way to fix our stove. I packed up my lap top, drank the rest of my coffee, and headed home.

Right as I enter my apartment, the couch guys called to let me know they'd be there in 20 minutes.

As the eccentric stove guy talked away to himself and the couch guys pounded away at our door, I stood anxiously at the top of the stairs hoping both could deliver their services. (After 3 failed attempts to fix it, she finally bought us a new one!) The couch guys managed to get the couch up our stairs without hardly breaking a sweat.

Finally.

Now how are we going to get it out when we--someday--move?