Driving around this state feels a bit like you’re driving in a foreign country. I’m not sure why they’ve chosen to do things unlike all other states, but matters concerning the road are a little different here. The signage vocabulary, for example, is stripped down. They’ve eliminated words like “ahead,” “limit,” “xing” and “falling,” so that the signs simply read “Congestion,” “Speed 55,” “Deer” and “Rocks.” They’re not confusing to understand, they just stand out when you’ve seen a different convention all your life. When there’s a car accident here, they set up impromptu blaze-orange signs that say “Wreck” to caution drivers of the impending mishap ahead. Then there are the intersections enhanced with “stop flaps.” They’re red rubber flaps that poke up from the middle of the road with the word “Stop” emblazoned on them, looking a lot like stop signs that have sunken into the pavement. And when you stop in at the filling station, a uniformed attendant comes sprinting out to pump your gas and wash your windshield. It’s different here alright, but it didn’t take long to appreciate the way these Oregonians do things.

Portland is a great little city with lots of distinctive neighborhoods, each one brimming with personality. It didn’t hurt to have friends Judith and David guiding us to all the best areas, but even had we toured without them, we probably would have determined this city to be just as cool. There are lots of old houses and warehouses that have been restored and developed, rather than razed. You can get a good sense of their gritty industrial past while you walk the downtown streets and along the riverfront. I had always thought Portland was a coastal metropolis, but it’s actually more than fifty miles inland, on the confluence of Columbia and Willamette Rivers. Throughout this urban scene, there’s a good deal of green space too. Something like 10,000 acres of park. They do get their share of rain and then some, but the people have taken an unconcerned attitude toward it and will actually stay seated on unsheltered patios while it showers. Maybe it’s that they don’t notice, I dunno. More importantly, the people are as friendly and welcoming as anywhere we’ve been. It’s possible that all these behaviors are linked to Portland’s microbrewery-to-person ratio, which is highest of all US cities. In any case, we’re hard-pressed to find something unlikable about this place.