some things about portland

• In the coffee shop in which I sit and type, a girl in a Vanilla Ice backpack is inquiring about the price of soup. It's clear she has some money issues. The barista is directing her to a local apple tree. They've spent several minutes now, discussing the quality of that tree's fruit.
• There is a small red tricycle locked to the bike rack outside the Tin Shed.
• As noted on facebook, observed: two men in utilikilts, strangers encountering each other across a busy street, giving each other a thumb's up for their clothing choice.
• There is an initiative to replace some parking spots with bike parking. Laurel explains the theory thus: look how many more customers you can cram into one car's worth of space!
• Two pierced girls discuss pirates at the coffee shop on Mississippi. I roll my eyes, thinking they are part of this stupid punk rock pirate trend, only to realize they are discussing Somali pirates.
• There are traffic signs on the major bike routes around the city. They tell you how to get from one place to another, and also how many minutes it will take you to bike there.
• My local library is in the same building as Whole Foods.
• Older people whiz by you on hiking trails. Younger people knit on them.
• Houses are so personalized that I always know exactly where I am not by the streets but by the houses: the baby pink and baby blue one with the gargoyle, the one with the round upper level porch like a crow's nest, the one with the window in the fence (discovered last night), the one with the tiny palms at regular intervals, the one with the massive acrylic/oil portraits hanging on the outside, the one with the red neon heart visible through the window, the one with the rhubarb garden out front, the tall one on the hill that was two houses stacked on on the other, the one with the giant stuffed animal on the porch, and ours with its rosemary bushes and columnar apples and sign that says Salut.