The Pacific Northwest

I meant to stop 80 miles ago, but I suddenly wanted to see museums, shops, the ocean. Eastern Oregon turned out to be a sparse desert next to the dramatic desert of Idaho (who'da thought?). The museums I wanted to see in Boise closed when I arrived last night and would not open Monday; the small museums and shops I planned to stop at today are also not open Mondays. Clearly no one wants to deal with the reality of Monday. So today was for driving until it was pretty, and until culture would be open to me. I want to be in Portland tomorrow, and that meant driving today. I stopped at Hood River, Oregon, but there aren't really many trailer parks, taking me over a narrow, scary bridge into Washington, where I find a cute town with local food and a man playing a ukulele.

Today, I listened to "The Omnivore's Dilemma." I started it a long time ago, but my iPod was stolen while I was in the middle, and I never cared to find my place again. It depressed me as much as "Thousand Splendid Suns" did, for different reasons. I mourned food, and every field I passed was full of baby cows that would probably be sent to a feed lot to eat corn until they became diabetic, their livers became necrotic, and finally the blessing of death on an E. coli covered manure pit. Then we eat it. It is not noble for the poor cows, and it is nasty of us. I can taste the difference in chickens, between the one flapping out its happy life in a field, eating seeds and bugs and grass, and the one that is force fed corn in a tiny cage with no beak. I can't believe it, but I can taste the difference. You could to. You should try it.

Thus, the idea of lingering in Boise, of sleeping in the sparse desert, were not appealing, and I arrived at the Mount Hood region (what a mountain it is too!) and found delicious things, local wines, and a lovely river-side park, where I have WiFi, but all I can imagine is sleep.

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