Passing through downtown Hood River, I saw a little shop that I just knew belonged to my long lost friend, Suzy. Even still, I almost left. I almost left the state after standing right on her doorstep and not taking a knock. But I didn't. I knocked. And she was as warm and welcoming as I remembered her, and insisted I follow her home and stay the evening with her and her husband. They bought a house in a remote corner of the valley, with a large meadow full of garden and chickens, and two teenage goat ladies, who rubbed their heads against my hands like my cats do.
I wish I could explain how warm and beautiful it was, how content I was, and entranced by these little food animals running around. The chickens laid brown, blue, green and white eggs, and they made a beautiful omelet the next morning.
Kvan insisted I take a basket of two dozen eggs, and he clipped greens out of his garden to send with me. I hated to go, and could see I was welcome to stay, but I was determined to get to Portland and the museums.
The museums were a disappointment, mostly because I found navigating the city with the trailer so difficult. I dropped it off at a trailer park, and felt odd and bulky driving the car around, suddenly going too fast and breaking too hard, struggling to navigate and park. Finally, I decided Portland would be like New York City was for me--a place I would not be able to enjoy until my second trip. Accepting this, I returned to my trailer, stopping at Trader Joe's and now at Barnes and Noble (my 'hits' of big-box civilization). I have an early journey tomorrow to get up into the mountains, park my trailer, then 4WD to a remote hot springs for a Inipi Ceremony I am looking forward to. I will be out of Internet or phone range tomorrow. I will post as soon as I can.
Passing through downtown Hood River, I saw a little shop that I just knew belonged to my long lost friend, Suzy. Even still, I almost left. I almost left the state after standing right on her doorstep and not taking a knock. But I didn't. I knocked. And she was as warm and welcoming as I remembered her, and insisted I follow her home and stay the evening with her and her husband. They bought a house in a remote corner of the valley, with a large meadow full of garden and chickens, and two teenage goat ladies, who rubbed their heads against my hands like my cats do.
I wish I could explain how warm and beautiful it was, how content I was, and entranced by these little food animals running around. The chickens laid brown, blue, green and white eggs, and they made a beautiful omelet the next morning.
Kvan insisted I take a basket of two dozen eggs, and he clipped greens out of his garden to send with me. I hated to go, and could see I was welcome to stay, but I was determined to get to Portland and the museums.
The museums were a disappointment, mostly because I found navigating the city with the trailer so difficult. I dropped it off at a trailer park, and felt odd and bulky driving the car around, suddenly going too fast and breaking too hard, struggling to navigate and park. Finally, I decided Portland would be like New York City was for me--a place I would not be able to enjoy until my second trip. Accepting this, I returned to my trailer, stopping at Trader Joe's and now at Barnes and Noble (my 'hits' of big-box civilization). I have an early journey tomorrow to get up into the mountains, park my trailer, then 4WD to a remote hot springs for a Inipi Ceremony I am looking forward to. I will be out of Internet or phone range tomorrow. I will post as soon as I can.
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