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October 20, 2006
Portland: Coming and Leaving I
In four weekends I will have crossed the country three times. You wouldn’t think anyone would do this for pleasure, would you? The oddest thing about this was the productivity of these trips. I get a lot done on the plane and because of the three hour earlier time difference, a lot done in the early morning – knitting, writing and reading.
My route to Portland was an American Airlines transcon to SFO, connecting from there to PDX. I’ve taken the JFK-SFO flight several times before, but this time as I landed I realized my SFO-PDX flight wasn’t on AA metal; it was a codeshare on Alaska Airlines. With a sense of foreboding, I asked the man next to me if American and Alaska were in the same terminal. Of course they’re not. I have just over an hour between flights and headwinds are making the plane 10-15 minutes late. The sprint wasn’t desperate, but it was brisk; I had to leave terminal 3 and walk to terminal 1. You have to leave the secure area, but the buildings are connected by an interior corridor. The route is odd because it passes through what seems like a deserted concourse; you’re convinced you’ve gone the wrong way, but if you press on, the Alaska concourse is there. I had to check in yet again at Alaska and the self serve machine didn’t work, so I needed to wait for the ticket agent. At this point it was 7:24 and the flight left at 8:03. I knew I would make it, but I wasn’t thrilled about having to (politely) get his attention and tell him that I really needed him to check me in. Now. At security – which had a grand total of ONE checkpoint until they took pity and opened a second I showed the guard my boarding pass and he let me jump ahead in line.
Alaska Airline’s flight to Portland isn’t much more than an hour (think NYC to Boston or DC) and getting from PDX to the hotel is simple; the city has comfortable direct light rail for $2. The ticket machines even take credit cards. It took between 30-45 minutes to get to the city center, and a few minutes to orient myself and find the Sheraton Four Points. It was about 11 pm or 2 am in my body. There was one person at check-in. Alas, in front of me were a group of ladies with hairdos. They wanted to know about the garage. They wanted to know about billing. They wanted to know about rollaway cots. I put my head on the counter and started sobbing.
Once the ladies with hairdos were dispatched (it was bloodless) I settled into my room and found a deli a block away. The Four Points is a typical of the brand; smaller rooms and fewer services than a full Sheraton and less public space, but acceptable if you don’t need the services. Both wired and wireless is free, but wireless is unreliable – the signal petered out a few rooms up the hall. Luckily, I keep a 14 foot Ethernet cable packed in my suitcase. The hotel staff is very polite and competent, but there are too few of them. My room didn’t get cleaned the next day until after 6 pm.
I walked around the next morning, and saw a sign for Todai, a seafood buffet that also has a branch in NYC. Mmm. Fish. The buffet was on the fourth floor of a mall, after the meal in my distraction from trying to reach people on my cell phone I went to the bottom floor of the escalator, not realizing it was below street level. I spent five minutes trying to figure my way out of the mall.
In New York City, though the seasons change and you know it from the light and the temperature, you don’t always connect with the change; my usual walk to work doesn’t take me past many trees. Portland was coming into high color in an almost New England manner – maples in scarlet and yellow – and it was my chance to connect with fall.
A friend from Ballet Talk, Bernie, met me in the afternoon for a driving tour of downtown. Portland’s downtown is clean, charming and manageable. It seems to be from two different fin-de-siècles. Yes, we went past Powell’s. Bernie noticed me glomming endlessly on the trees and took pity; we went to Washington Park.
and saw the Rose Garden breathe its last soft sighs before the winter as well as the beautiful Japanese Garden. I’d say the garden is stunning, but it’s too contemplative to describe it that way. It’s on a few terraced acres and has several different aspects.
There are two Zen gardens, one (pictured) of sand
and one of weathered stones. Portland skyscraper seen through Bonsai.
The views everywhere were beautiful. Like the Bonsai, the entire garden was nature forced into ideals; an entire garden rigorously planned, pruned and bound to look “natural”.
Posted by Leigh Witchel at October 20, 2006 1:40 PM
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