Portland, OR - Day 2

While hostels are always easier on the bank than traditional hotels they do not offer the privacy and associated common courtesies that come with the higher price tags. To that effect, I was rudely awoken by the cacophony of my roommates collective alarms, belching, and locker clanging. So I hopped from my bed and onto the streets of Portland again.

Portland International Rose Garden

Some of the colorful bushes lining the paths up to the rose garden

With a mild hangover and my nalgene bottle full of water, I decided to waste no more time and start smelling the roses - literally. Portland, also known as the "City of Roses" is home to one of the largest and most expansive collections of roses in all the world. To get there you must first stroll up lazy zigzagging paths bordered by large bushes alive with the colorful blooms of flowers. It must have taken me over 30 minutes to walk the half mile trail up to the rose garden itself because I was constantly stopping to take pictures at each new bush. I was in good company though as most of the other people I saw on my way up were also engrossed in a variety organic scenes.

The center kiosk and some of the rows of roses

The rose garden itself lies along a plateaued part of the greater garden's hill with row upon row of rose bushes. Each row is a unique variety of rose with its own color, smell and style. Small copper plaques indicate the specific strain of rose contained in that row, and in the center of the garden, a kiosk with multiple panels further elaborates on these distinctions. I buzzed like a bumble bee from bush to bush, sometimes inhaling deeply, other times just gazing into the richness of the powerful colors. To see more pictures of all of the roses you can look at my photo album

A view of the line in front of VD.
I had to stand all the way on the other side of the street so
that I could fit it into the frame.

The Voodoo Doughnut

Who knew that one of Portland's most famous culinary shops could serve nothing more than doughnuts? Rogue Brewery has even made a collaboration beer with Voodoo Doughnut to commemorate its famous bacon maple flavored pastry. For those of you wondering it tastes like maple and cedar - I say it's like drinking a sauna full of freshly cooked bacon. VD is located in the Southwest end of town, just past the bustle of downtown. I first tried snagging a glazed prize from this stronghold earlier in the day before my walk through the rose garden but when I arrived at 9 am there was a line the needed to fold on itself twice to avoid spilling into the street. Waiting is not one of my strong suits so I came back later after dinner for a dessert time doughnut.

Butter fingering on top and old dirty bastard on the bottom

Once inside I stared down VD's arsenal of over the top creations. All of their doughnuts have highly inuendoed names such as the butter fingering (a chocolate cake donut with vanilla frosting and butter finger crumb dusting), the triple chocolate penetration (chocolate cake donut with chocolate frosting, topped with coco puffs) and the gay bar (a vanilla glazed cream filled bar with a rainbow fruit loop flag). Even their moto is sexual, "It's all in the hole." I settled on a butter fingering and an old dirty bastard (a classic donut with chocolate frosting, oreos and peanut butter). The butter fingering was delicious, but slightly airy in consistency. The donut itself would have been nothing special if it weren't for the addition of the butter finger.  Overall I enjoyed it, but was not blown away by the experience. It seems that Voodoo Doughnut's success lies more in its ambiance and ingenuity than it's pure donut power. I'm saving the ODB for breakfast tomorrow so VD has one more chance to redeem itself.

Portland, OR - Day 1

Mary's Club

Portland and appreciate many of the same things, good beer, delicious food, beautiful gardens and bicycles. I rolled onto it's shady streets town around 8pm and checked into my hostel in the alphabet district. Before I had even set my bags down I befriended a group of six wonderful gents, John, Garret, Alibe, Josh, Daniel and RJ. They had been in Portland since the previous Tuesday as part of RJ's bachelor party weekend extravaganza. Throughout the night each one of them would individually admit that they hadn't slept more than 4 hours on any given night and weren't sure if they were going to make it through the whole trip. That didn't stop their collective spirit from aspiring to bro greatness by drinking heavily each and every night. Up for an adventure, I joined their ranks in search of some immediate gratification. We all walked about the streets of Portland looking for a nice bar with some food and eventually settled on Henry's Tavern in the Pearl district. A burger and a few social lubricants later we were all laughing heartily as if we had known each other for ages. We passed through 2 bars before the inevitable happened; the group decided that it just wouldn't be a proper bachelor party without going to a strip club. We all stumbled 300 feet down the road to what we would later learn was the oldest nude review in all of Portland, Mary's club. RJ became the unwitting recipient of a three girl dance to the song "Girls girls girls" by Motley Crue. While he had said earlier in the night that he, "wasn't a strip club kind of guy," his hands begged to differ once inside. Too tired to continue on, I bid the group goodnight and strolled back to the hostel at 3AM.

The Journey Begins: SF- Bend, OR

After a full week of sad goodbyes, near mental breakdowns and sporadic bursts of shoving all my possessions into both my car, Roy (short for Rookie Of the Year), and a large wooden storage container I was finally ready to hit the open road.

The NPR duo of Ira Glass from This American Life and Terry Gross from Fresh Air kept me company as a coasted up the 80 and 505 freeways at a constant clip towards Bend, OR. Every two hours I made sure to keep the blood flowing by pulling over at the nearest rest stop and completing a one minute cycle of burpee push-ups. I inevitable received many perplexed stares from the other resting motorists, but the call of the road left no time for embarassement. I hopped back into Roy and sped onward.

Six hours and 60 burpees further into my journey my stomach began to growl and I decided to grab a small snack from the local Klammath Falls grocery store. Wanting to eat something mildly healthy, I went to the produce aisle for some baby carrots and an apple. I searched for some hummus to go with the carrots, but I found it's stickered place on the refrigerated shelf empty. One slot over, however, I discovered a small tub of 5-layer dip, calling out to me. I had never had 5-layer dip, but I figured with guacamole, sour cream, salsa, refried beans, mystery layer five and a sprinkling of cheddar cheese, how could I go wrong? In the parking lot, I dived into the dip with my baby carrots only to be disappointed by the odd combination. Oh well, road trip: 1, JP: 0.

The rest of 505 proved uneventful yet beautiful. I snapped some pictures of the landscape with my phone while driving, bouncing from the center divided to the right white line as my gaze split itself between the road and my camera. Most of the main roads in Oregon are incredibly straight and incredibly long causing any driver to be easily lulled into dulled mental state. Nothing a few self induced slaps to the face couldn't cure.

I arrived at my aunt Marilyn and uncle John's house in Bend at about 8PM and was greeted by the proud patrol of their three dogs Butch, Frank and Beans. They made it difficult to park as they constantly darted in front of Roy attempting to fend off my intruding presence. Marilyn, John and I shared stories over a delicious dinner of lasagna and salad with a dessert of chocolate covered peanut butter and cookie bars - yum. I called it a night tired from a long 9 hour drive.