Rockport, Texas

I went to Rockport in August to learn how to interview criminal suspects with about forty cops. I also took a few photos while I was there.

Vacationland!

Look at that leg room!

I went to Maine for a long weekend this summer with the boyfriend. He’s from Maine and I’ve wanted to visit it for years, so the relationship is working out well for me. (Not to mention all his other redeeming qualities.) He did most of the planning and worked in a couple really sweet surprises, namely first-class airfare and an adorable B&B on the water in Bar Harbor.

Liquid Riot

We arrived in Portland around 2 on Thursday, picked up the rental car, and headed to the Old Port. (We barely left the airport before I started raving about how cute Maine is.) First stop was Liquid Riot, a brewery and distillery with a patio over looking the water. Next was a late lunch at the Porthole where I got a $20 lobster roll and Andrew got something less outrageously priced.

Porthole lobster roll

Then we wandered in and out of a few kitchy souvenir shops before hitting the road to Hallowell, a little town about an hour away where Andrew’s parents live. When we got there we had some crab sandwiches and a couple beers before I started falling asleep standing up (we had been up since 4:30 for our flight). So I was in bed by 9, happy as could be.

Hallowell waterfront

Friday morning we headed into town with Sharon (Andrew’s stepmom) and hiked around the “rail trail” for a mile or so before Sharon and I tried and failed to drag Andrew into a few of the antique stores and candy shops on the main street in downtown Hallowell (which was so picturesque it looked like something out of a movie).

Downtown Hallowell

We went back to the house to clean up for the party his parents planned for noon. His parents, two aunts and uncles, stepbrother and fiancé, and a high-school buddy hung out, played lawn games, ate burgers and pasta salad for lunch and grilled scallops and whoopie pies for dinner, drank plenty of local beer, and burned some old wood in a bonfire. The weather was beautiful and it was a great way to relax with his family.

Lunch in Trenton

Then it was up on Saturday morning for the three-hour drive to Bar Harbor, a gorgeous village on the water right next to Acadia National Park. We stopped in Trenton, just outside Bar Harbor, for more lobster and crab sandwiches and then drove straight to Acadia.

Andrew had talked up the Beehive hike so much that I don’t think I had a realistic perspective. I just thought it would be cool. We parked, walked through Sand Beach (which reminded me of pictures of tiny Italian beaches tucked between cliffs), and started climbing.

Sand beach from above

Smiling to avoid crying

It didn’t take long to realize (1) what I had agreed to do and (2) that Andrew didn’t understand how deep my fear of heights runs. It was harrowing, clinging to metal bars sticking out of the cliff and scuttling along ledges just a few inches wider than my feet while death taunted me from the rocks below. Andrew had to coax me through a few times, but we finally made it to the top with no tears. We got to descend via the Bowl Trail, a much more civilized approach to hiking.

Second surprise of the trip

We walked back along Sand Beach, this time taking off our shoes and dipping our toes in the Atlantic (way too cold to swim contrary to what all the lunatics in the water would have you think). Then we drove into Bar Harbor and I immediately started oohing and ahhing about how lovely everything was. When we pulled up to Shore Path Cottage my voice went high pitch.

We settled into “Bob’s Room,” I showered off the terror sweats from the Beehive, and then we walked down the lawn of our hotel to the Shore Path that runs along the water in Bar Harbor. It was less than half a mile to the main downtown strip and it was so picturesque. We wandered in a few more souvenir shops and then went to Galyn’s for dinner. It was only 5. We didn’t care.

It worked out perfectly because Galyn’s had early bird specials from 4–6 (not that either one of us has a reputation for being cheap). And since it was only $21 (early birds) for the full lobster meal, and since I planned on trying it while I was up there, I ordered it (and even wore the bib). It was all right. Lobster just doesn’t live up to the hype for me. It’s good, sure, but not amazing and certainly not worth all the money people charge for it.

This guy <3

After dinner we walked to the grocery store to buy lunch fixings for the next day and a bottle of wine to drink on the lawn at our B&B. When we got back, we grabbed our books and a couple wine glasses and settled into the deck chairs facing the water. It was so perfectly relaxing, and we were in bed by 9 or 10.

Sunday morning we got up at 5 to watch the sunrise over the Shore Path and then went back to bed. Just that little moment felt like the ultimate expression of vacation.

Sunrise from the lawn

Sunrise from the Shore Path

We got back up at 8:30 to catch the free breakfast (blueberry pancakes, toast, English muffins, hard-boiled eggs, yogurt, and fruit salad, oh my!); Andrew made some peanut butter and blueberry sandwiches for our day of hiking; and we got ready to hit some more trails in Acadia.

Spring Trail

We started hiking at Jordan Pond at about 10 am, got a little lost trying to find our trail head, but eventually made it the Spring Trail that would take us to the Penobscot Mountain Trail and then on to the Sargent Mountain Trail. Spring started off pretty brutal and had us climbing straight up through rock crevices and such, but I had a wider buffer between myself and the drop to certain death, so I was much chiller than the day before.

Need to work on this

And it evened out pretty quickly when we got to the Penobscot Trail. From there I settled in for a continuous but manageable slog uphill for about an hour and a half to the top of Penobscot Mountain. I tried to take those fun, jumping pictures at the summit but it's not a good look for me.

Then we pulled out our walking poles (breaking them in for Kilimanjaro) and headed down into a little valley between Penobscot and Sargent Mountains. Not long afterward we started going back uphill and put the poles back in our bags. Then it was about another hour to the top of Sargent where we took our lunch break. FYI, peanut butter and blueberry sandwiches are delicious.

View from Sargent

Then we pulled the hiking poles back out and started down Sargent Mountain. It was dreadful. I dislike going downhill under normal conditions, but Sargent was pretty strenuous, which meant I hated it. I stumbled and slid down jumbles of rocks as I tried to keep up with Andrew, who never seems fazed by any of this stuff. I had to take a break about halfway down because I was getting too grumpy.

But then we crossed a little stream and the downhill got better. Still downhill, but on a trail with manageable rocks and even over some stairs. And before I knew it we were emerging on Jordan Pond. It was a beautiful site, taking over the horizon through the deep trees, getting bigger as we got closer. The trail was flat and a chipmunk greeted us as soon as we came out of the woods.

Acadia

From there it was only about 30 minutes back, over some more rocks and then onto a makeshift boardwalk consisting of two planks running parallel a couple feet off the ground. I was convinced I’d break my ankle on them after making it all the way down Sargent uninjured. But I didn’t and we made it back to the car safe and sound. All told, we hiked about four hours, went 6.5 miles, and summited two mountains. Not too shabby!

We went back to our charming temporary home and cleaned up before going back into the thick of Bar Harbor. The town is adorable and everyone knows it, so it’s a mess of tourists all summer long. We darted around them on the sidewalk as we made our way to the Atlantic Brewery. Call me a brewery snob, but this one simply wasn’t worth the time. A flight of six beer samples is only $5, so I guess if you have nothing else to do, sure. But the beer was pretty meh and it was served in an empty room with a bar against the side wall. No tables or even barstools, but one very disinterested, inattentive bartender.

After our flight we headed two doors down to a bar with happy hour, but after a drink and a snack we were both ready for dinner. Again, it was 5 and we still didn’t give a shit. Being old is awesome. We went to Epi’s because they have Andrew’s favorite sandwich (the Cadillac) and got dinner to go. We ate in the park in the heart of downtown, overlooking the water.

Dinner spot

Then we decided to repeat the previous night because it was so nice, so we went back to the grocery store (which was a mob scene both times we were there), picked up a bottle of wine, and then chilled on the lawn again. That’s currently what we’re doing as I’m writing, but we’re going to head back in town soon (I say that like it’s far; it’s maybe three blocks when we don’t take the Shore Path) for ice cream at CJ’s. Andrew says it’s the best. I’ll let you know.

Nope! Ice cream is supposed to be a joyful experience but CJ’s stressed me out. Crowds of people mobbing the counters so I couldn’t see the flavors, and workers yelling at everyone to come up and order. Nope, nope. The ice cream was good, though. After dessert we went back to the hotel for another gloriously early night.

Cadillac selfie

Monday morning (it came too soon!) we had another delicious breakfast on the porch of the B&B before saying farewell to Bar Harbor. We drove to the top of Cadillac Mountain (tallest peak in Acadia) because I couldn't leave without seeing it. Then Andrew drove me through Bangor, his hometown, and I got to see the house he grew up in before we had lunch at his favorite sandwich place. Then we drove to Freeport to visit LL Bean (which I think is a required pilgrimage for Mainers) with all the tourists who weren’t in Bar Harbor. Soon after we were driving back to Portland to spend our last night in Maine with Andrew’s stepbrother and his fiancé (Rob and Jessie), who live close to the airport and were letting us stay at their house (we had another early flight).

We had one last beer in the Old Port with Andrew’s parents (who drove in just to say goodbye) before going to Rob and Jessie’s. They took us out for great pizza (Portland Pie), we chilled for a bit at their house, and then I crawled in bed early (as usual) anticipating that 5 am alarm that would force me out of bed and out of Maine, but only temporarily.

Laura Versus Las Vegas

I'm coming for you, Vegas.

I'm going to Las Vegas on Saturday for a work conference and I plan on beating the odds. I will not smoke. I might gamble a little, but I'll set a budget and stick to it. Like $50 for the entire five days. I might have one drink with a nice meal, but that's it. I will go to the hotel gym at least once, maybe even twice. I'll be in bed by 10 every night and wake up refreshed every morning.

What are my chances?

Benefits of Not Being in Charge

Over Memorial Day weekend my family (mom, dad, and sister) planned a trip to West Virginia to celebrate my grandfather's 90th birthday. (Go, Grampy!) We were flying to Pittsburgh via Houston painfully early on Friday morning, sightseeing and staying the night there, and then driving down to Buckhannon, West Virginia, on Saturday. The party was scheduled for Sunday afternoon, and then we'd drive back to Pittsburgh on Monday morning to catch our flights home. Great plan.

Unfortunately, Austin experienced heavy rainfall on Thursday night and Friday morning, and the entire Midwest corridor was being bombarded with tornadoes. I didn't realize this when I stumbled out of the guest room at my parents' house (where sister Sarah and I stayed the night due to the early flights) at 5:00 am. I just wanted coffee. Sarah was sitting in the kitchen at my mom's laptop, talking on her cell phone. My mom was hovering near her.

"Our flight to Houston was delayed 8 hours because of storms in Austin," Sarah told me as she was put on hold. "I'm on the phone with United trying to sort it out, since we'll miss our Houston to Pittsburgh flight." I hadn't booked my own flights (thanks, parents!), so I wasn't awoken by a string of texts about delays and cancellations, like my mom and sister were. Which meant I slept peacefully while they stressed out at 4:30 and started making calls. In the end, Sarah sat at the laptop in the kitchen for almost and hour and a half before we were all moved to a new, later flight out of Houston to Pittsburgh. Unfortunately, we'd have to drive down to catch the flight because nothing was leaving Austin. Still, it was sorted, and I got to go back to bed for a couple more hours.

My alarm went off for the second time that morning at about 9:30 and I headed back to the kitchen, again in search of coffee. And again Sarah was sitting at the laptop, on her phone. I stopped and said, "Why do I have a bad sense of deja vu?" She gave me a grim smile and nodded.


via GIPHY

Our Houston to Pittsburgh flight had been canceled during my nap, and now Sarah was scrambling again. After another hour on the phone with United, she had us on flights out of San Antonio (she was by herself, my parents and I were flying out a couple hours later). As soon as she hung up, we all flew into a tizzy trying to get out the door. The drive was a little more than an hour, and Sarah's flight was in two hours. With everything that had already gone wrong, and the state of TSA at the time, we worried she wouldn't make it.

Amazingly, the San Antonio airport was deserted, with TSA checkers standing around and NO ONE waiting to go through security. My parents and I had a quick connection in Chicago, and that amazingly worked too. But then we landed in Pittsburgh. And pulled up to our gate. And stopped about ten feet away from the gate. For almost an hour.

The flight attendant told us that almost everyone at the Pittsburgh airport went home already (it was 8:30 pm) and there was one parking crew working the entire airport. Each plane needs a parking crew to guide it those last ten feet to the gate, so we had to wait our turn for these beleaguered people to make their way to us.

As if that isn't annoying enough, I was sitting next to a group of 50-something guys who seemed to be returning home from a work trip. They started chanting demands for beer, making loud fart noises, and playing obnoxious country songs on their phones. We finally parked and piled out of the plane, and my parents and I grabbed our rental car and met Sarah at the hotel. Her second flight (DC to Pitt) also sat on the tarmac for about an hour, but at least we all made it.

As obnoxious as the day was, I didn't have to do anything to get us there. The beauty of traveling with family when you're the baby is getting to revert to the old behavior patterns and expectations. In my case that means taking lots of naps and letting my big sister figure shit out for me. It's rare that I'm in such a position while traveling, and I made sure to enjoy it.

Shots, shots, shots!

Nope, not that kind. (via GIPHY)





Yep, that's more like it. (via GIPHY)



I went to a travel clinic to find out what vaccines I needed to visit Tanzania. I’ve never been to a travel clinic before, and I was impressed by the printed, bound book they created for me. It listed every recommended vaccine with the reasons for and specifics of it, and the nurse highlighted the ones she most highly recommended (Hep A and B, yellow fever, and typhoid fever). It was fantastic. There was even a section in the back about general travel safety and health concerns.

Not so fantastic was the total cost of only the most highly recommended vaccines: almost $1,000, plus another $100–200 for pills (anti-malaria, altitude sickness, and antibiotics). I asked her if insurance covered any of it, and she said usually they don’t when you’re traveling for fun. If people travel for work, she said the employers usually paid for the vaccines, but I was likely out of luck. I paid her $65 for the visit, took my impressive booklet, and left feeling defeated. There was no way I could afford the shots, but at least none of them were required, just strongly recommended. So I’d have to simply not get sick while in Tanzania.

I’m lucky to have really good insurance coverage through work, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to at least ask about the vaccines. Surprise! They are covered, just not through the clinic I visited. I got the names of some doctors who were covered, booked an appointment, and was getting jabbed the same afternoon. The new office was definitely not as personal or detail oriented as the first place, but I’m not going to turn down free shots. I got the Hep A and B combo shot in one arm, yellow fever in the other, and typhoid pills on ice that I was to start taking later. A couple days later I picked up prescriptions for malaria, altitude sickness, and general antibiotics (just in case, according to the nurse).

The next day my whole right shoulder (yellow fever) was sore, I was super tired, and my right lung felt like it was bruised. I couldn’t take a full breath for almost two days. But then again, I’m a bit of a hypochondriac, so skepticism here won’t offend me.

I was feeling fine within a few days, so I’m curious to see if the next round of shots (Hep A and B again in month) does anything to me. And then after my third and final round of Hep shots (in five months) and a test to make sure I don’t come back from Tanzania with tuberculosis (the vaccine for it sucks, apparently), I’ll basically be invincible.

All told, I'll spend $430 for the shots and pills. It's no small amount, but spread over almost six months (and coming from my HSA), it's manageable:

• $65 clinic-one fee (for a booklet and a quality consultation)
• $65 clinic-two fee (round one of shots)
• $170 in prescriptions
• $65 clinic-two fee (round two of shots)
• $65 clinic-two fee (round three of shots)

Moral of the story: it never hurts to ask! I hate dealing with insurance companies as much as the next girl, but sometimes they just might save you $1,000.

Caddo Lake

Flooding at Caddo Lake

I took a quickie camping trip with a few friends the other weekend and I have some photos to share, if anyone would like to see them. We drove to Shreveport, Louisiana, on Thursday night, stayed in the El Dorado (boyfriend gets free rooms because he's a regular), gambled a bit, and drove to Caddo Lake State Park (back in Texas) on Friday morning.

It rained most of the week leading up to camping, but luckily it stopped on Friday and Saturday. Unfortunately, the rain was enough to flood the lake, and no one was renting canoes or kayaks, which is pretty much all you do at Caddo Lake. 

We hiked the few trails they had, wandered down to the fishing pier with the hope of seeing alligators (nope), and then cooked out before an early bedtime.

The shack down by the bayou

The hiking was limited but beautiful

No gators

On Saturday our friend Joann called a bunch of rental companies in the nearby towns, but they still weren't renting canoes or kayaks. She did find a guy who offered to take us on a sunset tour of the lake, so we jumped on the opportunity. At least we'd get on the water somehow.

The tour wasn't until 6, so we had the whole day to chill. Joann, Marc, and their two kids headed into town to do some sightseeing, and Andrew and I settled into camp chairs with our books. Forced relaxation is pretty sweet. There might have been a nap in there too.

Andrew had found a restaurant that he wanted to try, so around 4:30 all six of us loaded into his car and headed off to dinner. We were the first people in the restaurant, but were shortly joined by geriatrics and other families with young kids. Fully embracing my new-found love of seafood, I ordered the fried catfish and shrimp. When in the bayou, right?

Our tour guide

After dinner we drove over to a boat dock in Uncertain, Texas, to meet our captain. He was very informative and nice, and I'd recommend anyone book with him when visiting the area. He cruised us in and out of little channels and pointed out owls and other birds. It was a nice, relaxing way to see the sunset.

There's an owl in this photo

Bayou highway

I love Spanish moss

On a boat!

Then we drove back to camp, made some s'mores, drank some beers around the fire, and went to bed by 10. We woke up early (for me) on Sunday, packed up, and drove the 5+ hours back to Austin with plenty of time to catch the season premiere of Game of Thrones.

Until next time, Caddo Lake

Four Days in Portland

Recently I had the good fortune to be sent to Portland, Oregon, to attend an editing conference for work. The conference was on a Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, so I flew in Wednesday evening and stayed through Sunday morning. Work paid for my food and hotel through most of Saturday and my flights, so I was able to see a new town (one I’ve been wanting to visit for years!) for only the cost of a hotel room on Saturday night, a few extra meals, drinks, sightseeing, and souvenirs. AND it was sunny and in the 70s the whole time I was there. AND my friend Michele was coming to visit on Saturday. Luck was definitely on my side!

I rarely get to travel for work, but when I do I try to add an extra night or two at my expense when possible. Flights tend to be the biggest expense, so if someone else is covering that for you, take advantage! I won’t bore y’all with details of the conference (although if anyone wants to know about it, I will happily nerd out with you) other than to give you the bare bones as a backdrop for my experience in Portland. The conference was in a Hilton downtown, which was also where my company put me up Wednesday through Friday nights, meaning I could walk around the downtown area super easily. Also, the conference included a dinner on Friday night, but no other meals, so I got to try a bunch of different restaurants.

Day One (Half)

After an easy, direct flight but a painfully expensive cab ride from the airport to the hotel (pro tip: take the train!), I dropped off my bag in my room around 8 pm and headed right back out. I had looked up restaurants and breweries before I left Austin (Portland has more microbreweries than any other U.S. city), so I knew exactly where I was going: Deschutes Brewery in the Pearl, an area just north of downtown. It was a ten- or fifteen-minute walk from my hotel and the weather was perfect.

Deschutes

The restaurant was packed and I waited about 15 minutes for a table next to a vacationing family who kept staring at me. At one point I heard the dad tell his daughters I looked sad and lonely (I wasn’t; I was eagerly picking out beers to try). It seemed like the sort of parenting fail that’s probably going to keep those girls from being very adventurous, but I might not be a good source of parenting advice, not having any kids and all. My waiter was terrible, too, but otherwise the experience was great. For less than the price of two beers I got a flight of six different Deschutes brews (Theory of Sourtivity was my fave, but I’ve been on a sour-beer kick recently and admit it’s not for everyone).

Even more exciting for me was dinner. I’ve been a vegetarian for 22 years, but for the last year or so I kept toying with the idea of adding seafood into my diet. So, I took the plunge! Deschutes had a crab roll on the menu, and it sounded too delicious not to try. Plus, it didn’t seem too seafood-y for my first meal back. And damn if it wasn’t one of the best things I’ve eaten in recent memory. Obviously I don’t have much to compare it to, but I’d highly recommend it to anyone visiting.

Random pretty building

After dinner, I strolled back to the hotel and walked by a semi-homeless artist or musician, Powell’s bookstore (the one place on my must-see list that I didn’t make it to, which feels like a huge failure considering I was at a conference for people who read for a living and it’s all anyone was talking about), another semi-homeless artist or musician, a building with really pretty lights on it, and a gaggle of semi-homeless artists or musicians. Finally it dawned on me: there were more “homeless to be cool or to live more authentically, but not out of necessity” people in Portland than I have ever seen in one place before. And I’ve been to lots of places. It seems to be a subculture that springs out of predominately middle-class, white enclaves (I’m a sociology expert now as well as a parenting expert), so I wasn’t surprised to see so many of them in Portland once I thought about it. I just hadn’t really anticipated it.

Day Two

Maurice

The next morning I had breakfast at the hotel (I thought breakfast would be included in the conference so I hadn’t researched any options at that point), learned some stuff, and then headed north during my lunch break. I had read about a quaint French bakery called Maurice and decided it would be my first lunch in Portland. It was every bit as adorable as I was hoping, and my meal (risotto and lemon soufflé pudding cake) was delicious. A woman who I think was the owner/head chef made my risotto directly in front of my seat at the counter in an old-timey, French-country-looking pot and asked with genuine interest how I liked it after I finished eating. So, so charming.

I took the long way back to the hotel and walked along the river. It was a nice, open space with people biking, jogging, and just walking around on their lunch break like me. And did I mention it was sunny and in the 70s?

I spent the afternoon engrossed by editorial wisdom and then hobnobbed with a few fellow editors at the hotel bar for happy hour. Ever the introvert, though, I politely (or so I hope) ducked out for dinner by myself, hoping it wasn’t obvious that I was intentionally not inviting anyone to join me. I had a couple brewpubs on list, and I decided to try Old Town Brewing because it was near the Lan Su Chinese Gardens, which was also on my must-see list. The plan was to walk over to the Gardens with about an hour of daylight left, wander around inside, and then pop over to Old Town. It was only about a twenty-minute walk and I was going to see Chinatown. Long story short, that didn’t work out and I just went to Old Town.

Old Town and Chinatown

I ordered the Old Town Pils and learned that beer isn’t brewed onsite, but it’s still a local beer, just brewed at a different Old Town in Portland. I had a chatty bartender, which was perfect for the mood I was in: wanting to talk when it was easy without being obligated to carry on a conversation. There were two other people at the bar, not together, who seemed to be in the same mood as me, so we all chatted while I ate my (giant and surprisingly tasty) Caprese sandwich. I learned about heroin’s recent comeback in the area, the Portland basketball team, and the bar's sordid history relating to the Chinatown slave trade. Bartenders used to get people drunk and open a trap door under the bar stools that dropped the drunkards into underground tunnels, where slave-traders would carry them to ships waiting to take them to China and a life of slavery. I did not order a second beer.

By the time I was done eating it was too dark to visit the gardens so I said goodbye to my bar buddies and headed back to the hotel. I walked by Voodoo Donuts on the way but the line was too long and we have one in Austin now anyway. I also walked by the Chinatown arch but there were so many homeless and semi-homeless people around it that my photo is terrible. Then it was a quiet night and early to bed. I was there for work, after all.

Day Three

Imperial

The next morning I still hadn’t looked up breakfast places nearby, so I grabbed a bagel and coffee from the hotel restaurant. For lunch I went to Imperial, a restaurant in a trendy hotel downtown, just a few blocks from the Hilton. It kept popping up in my searches as one of the best restaurants in town and the chef seemed to be a celebrity on the Portland food scene, so I was excited to try it. I was so taken in by all the hype about it that I made a reservation online. For lunch, for one. I know. But, I had a limited window and it was Friday and it was the most popular restaurant in town, so I couldn’t risk it! When I arrived there were open tables and tons of room at the bar, so I asked to sit at the bar without telling the hostess I had a reservation. Pro tip: if you take some very lame, type-A precaution like this while traveling, and it turns out to be unwarranted, no one needs to know (unless you write it in a blog).  

Imperial was stylish and looked cool, and the food was good, but nothing was as amazing as everyone made it out to be. Maybe it was because I ordered simple food (kale salad and a roll), but it didn’t live up to my expectations. I’m glad I checked it out, but Maurice was so much better in every aspect of the experience.

Lan Su Chinese Gardens

After lunch I had enough time to go back to Chinatown and see the Lan Su Chinese Gardens. It cost almost $10 but I’m always willing to pay for gardens in new cities. It was peaceful and beautiful and a mini-oasis surrounded by city architecture. But then it was back to the Hilton to learn more, followed by another informal networking happy hour at the bar. It was banquet night, so I headed down with my networking friend Gina and grabbed spots at a table in the giant ballroom. The food was just okay and it was a cash bar, but one of my table-mates was an editor of Christian romance novels, so that kept things interesting. To close out the night Kory Stamper gave a keynote speech. She’s the editor of Merriam-Webster and a major celebrity among editors. (She seemed super cool, btw.) It was a fun night even if I didn’t leave the hotel.

Day Four

Mother's Bistro

I finally did a little breakfast research and headed over to Mother’s Bistro in the morning. I got there right as it opened because I read that it fills up quickly. I sat at the bar and watched more and more people squeeze through the door as a wait formed, then happily ordered cereal-encrusted French toast. There were two other ladies next to me at the bar and we became buddies. One was attending the same conference I was, and the other was attending a printmaking-artist convention. They were both in their fifties, one early and one late. I glimpsed my future as they discussed how good the fabric stores in Portland were compared to their hometowns.

For my lunch break I headed straight for the river and the Saturday Market. Blocks and blocks heading west toward downtown from the waterfront were taken over by vendor stalls selling prepared food and all the hallmarks of a craft market: jewelry, soap, various forms of art, purses made from recycled jeans, and lots of crystals. My kind of place. I bought a handmade necklace and a purple tank top with an elephant on it. On my way back I walked by Huber’s for probably the twentieth time and decided to have lunch there, solely based on the sign outside saying it was Portland’s oldest restaurant. Meh. It was nice and old-fashioned-looking inside, but the bartender couldn’t have cared less about bringing me anything and what I finally got was mediocre. However, they have a “famous” flaming coffee cocktail that I didn’t order; maybe if I had I would’ve left with a different impression.

Huber's

A couple afternoon sessions later, I was officially on vacation! I had about eight hours of unfettered adventuring in front of me before I would just start falling asleep wherever I was (because I’m old and my body loves sleep more than anything else in the world), and I was going to live it up! First, I wheeled my suitcase about ten blocks south to the cheap hotel I booked by the university. Work was no longer covering my bills, and the Hilton was way too fancy for my checking account.

Michele had been working in Seattle that week and was driving down to hang out for the night. She met me at the hotel and we immediately headed back out. Mish used to live in Portland and was happy to get me out of downtown to see “real” Portland. We hopped in her rental car and headed east across the river. I’m pretty sure we went to three distinct neighborhoods: Mississippi, not sure, and Hawthorne …sorry I can’t remember the middle one.

Ecliptic spread

First she drove us to Mississippi and we went to a brewery (Ecliptic) with perfectly fine beer and delicious snacks. Then we walked down to a bar in a pink house called Liberty Glass Bar. Ecliptic was a little too stark and warehouse-like for my taste, but Liberty was perfect. We sat outside under a vine-covered awning for another drink but time was limited and we had to keep moving. Next was White Eagle, further down the road. It used to be a brothel but now it’s a bar, live-music venue, and hostel. They serve pink beer. One of us ordered one. One of us loved it.

Happy with my life choices

After our beers it was time for dinner, so Michele drove us to the neighborhood whose name I can’t remember to an old school that’s been turned into an adult-fun complex and hotel. Mish informed me that it and the White Eagle are owned by McMenanims, a brewery and real estate investment company that finds old, dilapidated buildings around Portland and turns them into cool places to sell their beer. She also told me they’re better at creating cool bars than making good beer.

The Kennedy School had a full restaurant and lots of little bars scattered around the building, along with a theater. I embraced my new pescatarian side and ordered lobster mac and cheese, and … dang. It’s the richest thing I can remember eating, I think ever. We walked around the whole school to see everything they had (and almost crashed a wedding), but then we had to keep moving.

Backstage

We drove to Hawthorne, parked a couple houses down from the one Mish lived in while she was in Portland, and walked around the corner to our final McMenamins bar of the night: Backstage. This one used to be the backstage of a live theater (that part is a movie theater now), and they kept the high ceilings and catwalk. We had a couple drinks and played shuffleboard, but then my internal clock started telling me it was time for bed. Michele took the hint when I couldn’t stop yawning and we headed back to the hotel, but decided to have one last nightcap before bed, since there was a bar right next door. Besides, we only see each other a couple times a year and we were still catching up. But then it was off to bed, up early to go to the airport, and my Portland experience was over.

It was such a short trip, and I know there are so many areas of the city I haven’t even seen, so I’d love to go back, especially with some time to hike. It’s so green and beautiful that I instantly wanted to move there as we flew in, and I still think it would be a nice place to live. Although Michele insists that it really does rain all the time, so I’m not sure. But I’d definitely be up for another trip (and more of Portland’s delicious food and beer) to continue forming my opinion.