Veering
Wednesday, January 25
Sometimes life is too predictable. I love the days when I end up in places I hadn't thought of when the day began. Today my planned destination was Multnomah Village in Southwest Portland. At a kiosk outside the community center I learn that Multnomah (which is also the name of the county in which Portland resides) is a Chinookan word and the Willamette River was originally named for it. The village is pretty subdued on this Wednesday mid-day. It is nothing like the Portland I've come to know and I feel like I'm in some small town. Of course, that's what it was before Portland grew and annexed it.

There are several antique and craft shops along the hilly streets. There's a good independent book store, Time for a Change, where the topic of discussion is the book Rogue Nation, which has been a big seller since Osama bin Laden recommended it in his recent video. (I wonder if he might mention the Portland Project next time...) I stop for lunch at the Down to Earth Cafe, a nice spot, and it slowly fills up over the lunch hour. Feeling I've exhausted the possibilities for the village, I drive back, but veer off one of the village's diagonal streets onto another and see where this will take me and then that road merges into another and...OK, let's see where this goes. Where it goes is over the Willamette and I'm in Southeast Portland making random rights and left until I come to something that grabs me: the Red and Black Cafe, one of Portland most famous coffee houses, a worker-owned collective that feels like a place out of the 70s. They brew their own chai here and it's among the best and least expensive in the city.($2.50 for 16 ounces with soy.)

Later, at home I am looking for another "V" to round out the day and I choose Vino Paradiso because they have free music tonight. I walk along the wet sidewalks, through the neighborhood park and over 405 into the Pearl District with its well-lit, fashionable shops. At the bar, the Djangophiles (who play here every other Wednesday night) are setting up. The three-piece jazz band plays to a small but appreciative audience. I watch as the shadow cast by the flickering candle on my table seems to keep time to the music. I leave during the break and as I open the door, all three band members turn around in unison and one says, "Thanks for listening." (It's nice to be appreciated for my main talent!)

I start walking home, but the evening has other plans and I'm pulled into the Vietnamese restaurant, Pho Van and have the salmon spring rolls for $6 (which are amazing). I've been spending more money this month since I've been going out so much. But I figure this one is free, because after ordering my food I realize I've forgotten my umbrella ($5.99 at Walgreens) at the bar and would never had bothered going back if I hadn't stopped. I reflect for a while on the wonders of memory and why things hit you out of the blue (Like much of the day: go this way, now that...) But it all remains a mystery. There are no answers tonight and I retrace my steps and go home, hopping over puddles in the chill, damp evening...