The Rose Festival

Yesterday was the start of the Rose Festival, which is a really big deal in Portland every year: although it isn't June 21, it marks the beginning of summer. Parades and festival-like stuff abound. After waiting by the phone at the hostel for some time, I found out that I was accepted for the apartment, but she was with a client and said she'd call me back. She got really busy and didn't call back, so when it got to be about 1 pm and I was still sitting by the phone (reading my new book by Ursula K. LeGuin), and so I called again, even though I hate to nag, and she apologized profusely for not calling back and arranged for me to come sign paperwork and pay a deposit on the apartment the next morning (which I indeed did this morning). The next time I looked at a clock, it was already 1:30, so I had lunch at the hostel before wandering off.

I walked to the big main downtown library again, this time not getting distracted by astronauts roaming the streets but rather by shops and art galleries. I wandered in but, believe it or not, never bought anything. It's not like I had $2,000 to buy an antique Tibetan cabinet, anyway.

I was walking past a big antique store and noticed, to my astonishment, some brightly painted Tibetan cabinets inside, so of course I had to wander in--the store was full of stuff like that (I tactfully refrained from asking how they got these Tibetan things) and also some stuff from China, India, and Nepal. If I ever become a millionaire, I'm returning to that store. Yeah.

The next place to distract me and lure me in was the Lawrence Gallery, really the back garden entrance, because it was real purty and had a water fountain. So I wandered around in there, and it included a regular art gallery with some fascinating artwork and some more conventional artwork that I didn't find so fascinating (there were a few originals by Salvador Dali and Picasso, otherwise contemporary artists). The other part of the building was a free trade international crafts gallery, and it had lots of enticing things, like handcrafted dolls from Guatemala and puppets from Rajasthan, India. I decided I'd go back there after I, like, move to Portland and, like, get a job. I may have wandered into a few other places after that, but fortunately for my checking account, none of them were bookstores.

I got to the public library, spent one hour there on the Internet, and then headed down Yamhill Avenue all the way toward the Waterfront Park to enjoy the Rose Festival. It was, amazingly, bright and sunny and close to 70 degrees, and it never rained the entire day. I'm not making this up. But I wielded my umbrella anyway. Walking around downtown Portland with a tall cane-shaped umbrella, I feel like I should be wearing a top hat.

There was a $5 entrance fee to get into the park, or specifically the temporary WaMu Village, where there were lots of pavilions and games and roller-coaster type stuff. If you can imagine me wandering around and looking bemusedly at amusement park rides....well, that part was boring. However, there were a couple of stages with live music. Before I got to the live music, I sat through a clown act that was more for children but turned out to be funny anyway, and it including a performing dog.

Attending a concert performed by a group with seven varying xylophones, drums, and gourds was worth the $5. That may sound odd, but it was Carribbean/African music and was quite lively. A local rock band called Amadan (rhymes with Ramadan) was also a delight. They seemed Irish, but they were local Americans anyway. It must be because they included a fiddler or violinist who performed some rather Irish-sounding tunes. And maybe they looked Irish because of their hats, and the drummer wore suspenders. However, their tatoos didn't look Irish. During this Bacchanalian celebration, it occurred to me that the intense guitarist looked like a short Bono sans sunglasses.

There was also a big tent with a dinosaur exhibit, but none of the dinosaurs were alive. I could hear roaring and they certainly looked realistic, though. The tent next to that was full of "exotic animals," most of which had been rescued, but despite the rescue part I found it very distressing to see the toucan, porcupine, and wildcats inside cages and not having enough space. And whenever a marching band went by, I could tell at least one of the cats was annoyed with the noise; Cosette pulls back her ears if she hears a recording of bagpipes, and that was much like the bobcat’s reaction to the marching band. There was a baby Bengal tiger that seemed rather content, and people went into the cage and played with it. How cuuuute! And a bobcat had a grey tabby for company.

Oh, yes, there was also a beautiful view of the river, and after dark fireworks were set off from a barge. (Those of you who live in St. Louis probably think that sounds familiar. I saw many boats before the fireworks, and swish swish of the water and a couple of mallards who like popcorn. While it was daylight and I stood by the water, people on boats waved at people onland.

Anyway, I've paid the deposit on the apartment, and I'll be, briefly, leaving Portland early early tomorrow morning.