dissecting urban space, architecture, cultural meaning and myth through the act of walking (in used shoes) and narration in chinatown/oldtown - portland, oregon

Sunday

the slowest scattering I've been to in awhile

Every crawling creature in Portland was out today - due in respect of the fine weather we had, the first of the year. I decided to break in my new rain boots that I had bought at the Goodwill with my disability check. I came to the conclusion that I would wear the boots for a whole day before starting a new job - to break them in.

I started off my morning - well early afternoon - at the Bijou Café. The café sits pine trees south of Burnside - almost as far south as you can go in Old Town. I wandered in the door and squeezed my thin framed body through a small army of silver-haired old ladies waiting to get called to sit down. I found the list; there were about 7 groups ahead of me... a waiter came up to me and asked me if I was on the list yet. "Yes," I said - as I pointed to the bottom of the list. His reply confused me a bit... "Follow me."
The restaurant is quite packed with tables that are packed in turn with people. The place is nice and loud - like a Sunday morning brunch should be, unless your head has a pounding hang over of course.
The restaurant sits on the northwest corner of the intersection and thus gets great natural light in the early afternoon. The walls are bright white, making the space feel even more open. But just as many Portland restaurants have the curse of becoming the storage space for many a local artist's left overs, this one is no exception. There is a large bright orange painting above me that is called "Solar Buddha".
The brioche French toast (leave the maple syrup off, it doesn't need it) and some tea give me the boost I need to needlessly wander around.
After brunch, I returned to 3rd and followed my shadow in the direction of the train station. This area of Old Town is dead on Sunday afternoons, as it is recouping from the night of loud music, drinking and dancing. Me...I’m just recouping from the drinking.


As I am passing up Berbati's on the sidewalk, I began to smell the fresh donuts being cooked at Voodoo Donuts. I stick my head in the door to get a better smell and to wave to the punk rockers working there. The lobby of the donut shop is a small room covered in punk rock show fliers and pictures of local celebrities; and a rotating glass display cabinet that has a spread of donuts that resemble a scene out of a Tim Burton movie. Some donuts have a variety of colorful kids cereal on top of them, while others are shaped like large phalluses. The redhead girl who is behind the counter tells me that she made a bunch of "experimental" donuts and asked if I wanted to try one. "Wow! I’m really full, but I'd love to take one for later!" She smiled and handed me a small paper sack with a donut in it. I returned the smile and walked out the door.

The "gum boots" were entirely out of place today - because the weather was sunny - but they fit right in at Voodoo Donuts.

1 comment:

Tristan and On said...

Must I give you a lesson (lessen) in lowercases and capitals?