Life has a way of getting in the way of writing. And although I strive to post daily when we travel, sometimes other things get in the way and posts, which have started so hopefully, end up on my hard drive uncompleted.

As we design and implement our new blog site, I hope to post some of these unfinished fragments online. Who knows? I may even finish them up one of these days.

Today I post a piece I wrote on my flight back from Portland, Oregon to Washington back in November 2011, having accompanied one of my twin sons on a couple of college visits in the great Northwest. It was my first trip to Portland and to the Pacific Northwest. As you can tell from my mood and writing, it won’t be my last.

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As a general rule, I only blog when we are traveling in Italy. After all, it’s where I first started keeping notes almost a decade ago about our excellent adventures. And unlike life back home, there’s so much interesting and new to write about. Besides, contrary to popular belief, I actually have several other day jobs that keep me busy when I’m back in the USA.

But this weekend, right after saying goodbye to a houseful of relatives over Thanksgiving, I hopped on a flight with one of my twin sons, bound for Portland, Oregon to make some last minute college visits. For him, not me.

What I found on my first visit to Portland, indeed my first visit to the Pacific Northwest, may not have included truffle hunts and cooking classes. We may not have eaten veal faces and lambs lungs. There may have been no noisy Vespas and crumbling ancient ruins. But, man, was it a wonderful experience nonetheless.

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In Italy I write daily of new discoveries, pretending to be an instant expert and avoiding the embarrassment of having my factual errors and ridiculous opinions exposed mainly because:

1. No one reads my blog and
2. Those who do know even less about what I’m writing than me

By committing my knee jerk impressions of Portland to the internet without the protection of rules 1 and 2 (or at least rule 2), I am taking a terrible risk. But what the heck, here it goes.

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Portland is a beautiful city, which I realized even before I was able to see it. Although we arrived from our transcontinental journey in the late afternoon we were greeted with a shroud of fog and darkness, typical for these parts this time of year. Even in the gloom that welcomed us, however, the silhouettes of enormous trees, the type that would make Paul Bunyan salivate, were visible. We weren’t in DC anymore, Toto.

Later in the trip, late the next day to be precise, when the fog and drizzle finally lifted to reveal an almost warm sunshine, did the contours of the urban beauty of the city and its even more beautiful uber natural surroundings become clear. For the next two days, as the shroud descended and lifted, like a beating heart, the crispness, the cleanness of this beautiful city revealed itself.

Getting from the airport was an adventure in itself. Tri Max, the city’s light rail system welcomed us on board just a few steps from the terminal, asking only $2.40 for the right to be deposited a couple of blocks from our downtown hotel. Clean, as everything in this city seems to be, quiet and efficient. Quite the contrast from New York’s Yellow Cab hell ride from LaGuardia or the National Airport to downtown DC experience in broken down jalopies that would make a Havana native fearful.

Planes, trains and automobiles? In Portland there seemed to be no end of modes of transportation. Light rail, buses, taxis. And bicycles. Lots and lots of bicycles. And people walking. But despite the many modes, people did not seem to be in a rush to go anywhere or to get there. We rented a Zipcar to take us to our appointments and as we sped around and out of town I realized something. We weren’t actually speeding. It’s been a long time since I have driven the speed limit. It seemed easy to do here.

And crossing the street? We observed some jaywalking but noticed even more the pedestrians that simply hung out on the other side of the street until the light changed, despite the opportunity to do otherwise. And in a first for DC residents, we were actually waved across the street by cars that had a green light.

But this politeness in traffic and this willingness to slow down shouldn’t have come as a surprise for from the first moment we arrived in Portland we were introduced to a people that seem to genuinely like people, who like to talk to you and connect with you. In Portland, when someone asks you “how’s it going?” there is a pause. They actually want to know, how’s it going?

By the end of dinner our first night we felt as though we were on a first name basis with Portland, a place where when someone says “have a nice day” he means it.

What a pleasant change of pace from our lives back home.

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One of the most interesting features that we discovered during our too short a visit to Portland was the food truck scene. I have only just become aware of this growing phenomenon that seems to be sweeping the country, having been to my first food trucks at a special food truck event in San Francisco this summer. But the food truck has taken root in Portland and seems to be an integral part of the culinary landscape (which, based upon our two outstanding dinners here, is another plus for Portland).

In several parking lots around the city center dozens of food trucks are parked, their windows passageways for Chinese, Thai and Mexican specialties. Malaysian, burgers, dogs, you name it. A veritable buffet table on multiple axels, you can walk around the block peeking at what is being served up until you find the just the right meal.

Mine was porchetta, a whole roasted pig sliced and served on a roll, which we have savored in numerous towns throughout Italy over the years. This particular truck, known as the Peoples Pig, was recommended to me by a friend newly transferred to Portland from DC. Not only did it not disappoint, it exceeded the Italian original by the addition of an incredibly succulent pork au jus flavored with a hint of lemon, giving the generally dry sandwich a moistness and extra kick of flavor that our friends in Italy would be well advised to try. It is a lunch I will not soon forget.

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I am hoping against hope that one of my twins applies to and matriculates to one of the Portland colleges they seem interested in. I think they would be well served by the schools. And it would give me an excuse to come visit Portland again.

Thank you Portland and all you Portlandians that made our brief visit a memorable one. And have a good day.

I really mean it.

Ci vediamo!
Bill and Suzy