After 11+ years in Orange County, Steve and I donated most of our belongings and moved to Portland, OR. We arrived on March 1. Ten days later, we were essentially locked-down.
A global pandemic certainly didn’t align with our plans for a new start in a new city. It has limited our opportunities to get to know PDX as a whole and its quirky independent neighborhoods. We only got a small taste of the renowned restaurants, coffee shops and artsy weirdness we were anticipating.
We initially secured a 2-month short-term rental in the Historic Mississippi district of NE Portland. While it was supposed to be just a homebase for further exploration of the city and beyond, the neighborhood soon became the entire scope of our physical existence.
Even though we were limited to a 1-2 mile radius, our little slice of Bridgetown did not disappoint. I’ve already expressed my amazement of how spring is displayed here, but that was only a small part of the expressive spirit of our temporary hood. Between Robot Alley, Before I Die, Poetry Posts, ancient trees, quirky lawn ornaments, mini-pigs and “A to Zoo,” our daily walks were often filled with delight at a distance. Bustache even even got to experience his first snow at 41 years old.
So big props to NE Portlanders for powering through this pandemic with purpose and pose. You’ve made this quarantine a little less depressing, and these transplants are truly grateful.