Eastbank Esplanade

Yesterday I walked approximately ten miles! I met up with friends on the Eastbank Esplanade, by the statue of Vera Katz, a former mayor of Portland. Most of the group had started the hike at the Oregon Convention Center, but since I live within walking distance of the Esplanade, I simply walked to my meeting place. When we reached OMSI (Oregon Museum of Science and Industry), James said that there are nine of us on this journey and one of us must throw the ring into Mount Doom. I raised my beringed hands.

We walked all the way down the Esplanade till it ended in front of the offices of the Portland Opera (where I once had a job interview with the box office) and for a very short distance we had no path and had to follow a sidewalk. I found this a bit weird for a hike, but James explained that the city couldn’t get this one little stretch by the Willamette River. However, it didn’t take us long before we came to an archway above a paved trail littered with cyclists and a few hikers. On the archway were the words: “Springside Corridor."

We continued the trek down this corridor, at first a narrow path, and we continued to look mostly to the right and enjoy the view of the Willamette River and the trees and plants along its bank. We passed the Ross Island Bridge, where the graffiti is plentiful and some of it is colorful and very artistic, so I took a picture. On our left was a chain link fence, and on the other side of it a set of train tracks, and everyone stopped when a calico cat was visible on the other side of the tracks. We were hoping she’d come toward us, but she didn’t; someone had left bowls of cat food and water for her.

Graffiti under the Ross Island Bridge

After the Ross Island Bridge, we came to a sort of lump of land (it wasn’t enough to call a hill) where some not-quite-natural looking rocks sat--large rocks, some of which had a sort of beehive shape with rusty mental bands around them. Some were very flat, good places to sit. There were also concrete walls extending out of the earth and pointing toward the Willamette River. Some of the group did some daredevil climbing here. I on the other hand chose to simply sit down on a rock and rest my feet.

At some point, the right side of the trail was flanked by many many trees. Throughout the walk, there was a lot of conversation, as we broke into twos and threes. I had a long conversation with Sunil, who grew up in India and left it when he was twenty-one, and I told him about my trips to India, Nepal, and Tibet, among other things. I also frequently got into conversation with Kris or James. We came to the Oak Amusement Park (I think that’s what it was called) where there were colorful rides, a disturbing roller coaster, and a carrousel. We had heard kids screaming before we could see any of the rides, and I made up a theory that it was an alien invasion and people were running away in sheer panic, but Kris pointed out that it sounded like joyful screams. If I were screaming on a roller coaster, my screams would not be joyful. I mentioned how when I was eight years old I went with a school group to an amusement park, and a teacher bribed me into riding a roller coaster and I was terrified and had a splitting headache.

Shortly after that, we came to a digital highway sign announcing the trail would be closed on September 5, and some of the group was concerned even though that was two days ago. We kept walking and arrived in Sellwood with no blockade or trench to avoid, and we turned left onto a sidewalk and proceeded up to the quaint downtown area. We passed the bright red caboose, Looking Glass Books, which I have yet to set foot inside because I found out about it while I was job hunting and came to the conclusion that it was too small a store to want another employee. Still, seeing it there I got to thinking it would be fun to just go inside and browse, even given what a tiny store it must be.

Mekong Vietnamese Restaurant in Sellwood

We walked a little further and, as it turned out, the Thai restaurant we had looked forward to was closed for Labor Day, but right across the street was the Vietnamese restaurant, Mekong, that Cathleen had told us about, and it was open. We went in and rearranged the restaurant, putting several small tables in a row. I ordered tofu rolls and peanut sauce and, like most of us, ordered a bottomless bowl of soup called Vegetarian Pho. Fee, fi, pho fum. It was a delicious meal, with great conversation, and I ended up getting a take-home container with a large portion of soup that I placed in my backpack. Backpacks are good for treks like this.

When we stepped outside, the next discussion was about who wants to return by bus and who wants to walk back the way we came. Cathleen and Lindsey decided on the bus (one other person had already left us in order to attend a potluck in Sellwood) and so we were down to only six people walking back to the trail. James of course made another reference to heading for Mount Doom, since our numbers were clearly shrinking. I already felt like a footsore tourist, but after eating such a huge lunch, I felt very full and like I should work off the food, so I definitely preferred to walk.

This time we noticed here and there cat food dishes, some of which were converted plastic jugs on which someone had written with a marker an explanation that these were for spayed and neutered feral cats. James had made a donation to the FCC (Feral Cat Coalition) during the Hawthorne Street Festival; the organization spays and neuters the cats and sets them free. It’s true they’re still out loose, but at least they’re not having kittens and increasing the feral cat population. We saw a couple more cats on this return walk and continued to walk and talk and joke around much like on the previous journey. However, we were walking slower than previously, which was good in my opinion since my walks are usually significantly slower.

A Day on the Oregon Coast

My foot in the Pacific Ocean

Cathleen rented a car and invited me to accompany her and Sage to the Oregon Coast for a beach party. Of course I couldn’t pass up this offer. We are members of the Vegetarian and Vegan Meet-Up Group in Portland, and other members of the group would be waiting for us at the coast.

We met up in downtown Manzanita, Oregon, a charming little coast town that is surprisingly vegetarian- and free trade-friendly. We explored a little organic market called Mother Nature, which sells vegan bakery items and organic fruit, and we went next door to a Mexican restaurant and had lunch on the patio. A beach was just down the street, so we walked there, looking at various shops on the way. We passed a store called Moxie that specializes in free-trade handcrafted international items, several art galleries, a log cabin with two large dogs lounging on the front porch, a park with many luscious plants, several cafes, a bakery, and a store that specialized in dog supplies.

When we reached the end of the street, we were on sand and sat down on a long rock to take our shoes off. The hot sand felt good on my feet, as we walked further toward the swish-swishing waves. The wind by the ocean was overwhelming, blowing my hair in my face, and Ana, one of the Meet-Up members spending the weekend at a campground, said that they took morning walks, before the wind picked up later in the day.

My feet sank a little in the sand, and I had to pull my feet forward at every step, so that walking even a short distance required considerably more energy than walking on a flat, stable surface. As we came closer to the ocean, the sand was packed and wet, so we walked on its surface instead of sinking into it, and it wasn’t as warm as the dry sand. I walked closer and closer till I was standing in ice-cold shallow water. A wave crashed up and wet my ankles and the cuffs of my jeans.

We drove to the much-lauded yurt in Nehalem Bay State Park. Yurts are cylindrical and very sturdy structures based on Mongolian tents, but those on the coast of Oregon have modern conveniences such as electricity and heating. The yurt was surrounded by numerous other yurts, some of which had patios larger than the actual building. Even this one, with a smaller patio, had two picnic benches out front. Inside was a large bunk bed, a couch bed, and a small table and chairs. The showers and restrooms were in a separate building down a scenic tree-line path.

Inside the yurt, we discovered that Ana had accidentally created a pile of sand on the floor. Fortunately, the yurt came with a broom and dustpan. However, rather than sweep it up immediately, Ana pushed the sand together and Evan commented that it looked like a Zen garden, so he proceeded to rake it with his fingers. I dashed out and picked up three pebbles, brought them inside, and set them up on the raked sand, so it did indeed look as though we had a small Zen garden on the floor of the yurt. Next Evan took out a game piece and set it up as a Buddha. Then Cathleen brought in some twigs and greenery and added them. Each time something was added to the Zen garden, I took a picture. Finally, Evan and I both took pictures of the Zen garden, and someone shined a flashlight on it to add some atmosphere.

We took off our shoes again and walked from the yurt to another beach location. As we walked in the shifted sand and came to dunes with tuffs of grass on either side of us, the scenery reminded me of the Indiana Dunes State Park along Lake Michigan. But as we walked further, the blue and whispering waves I saw ahead of me was the Pacific Ocean, not Lake Michigan. We walked past a sand castle with some resemblance to Castle Carnarvon, and another that looked more like an ancient Indian stupa in the distance. The wind was harsh, just as it was at the other beach, but that was a mild inconvenient compared to seeing the surrounding mountains while watching and listening to the rocking white waves on the bright blue ocean.

We drove to another beach location and parked in a small and packed parking lot where we saw people carrying surfboards. We took a short hike through the woods, on a path alongside the Short Sand Creek babbling over rocks. It struck me as a bit odd to be walking in the woods and seeing surfers carrying their boards across a footbridge. The woods were full of moss-covered trees, so typical of Oregon. An enormous tree had fallen down, and its moss-covered roots lay facing us and looking like a peculiar green sculpture with bits of wood poking out in all directions and green dangling things. Large white mushrooms decorated many of the enormous evergreen trees.

We knew we were close to the ocean when we could hear the waves swish-swishing rather louder than the creek babbled. The tall evergreens began to thin out, and sand lay beneath our feet. Between the trees, we could see mountains and the ocean in the distance, before we stepped away from the trees and followed a much-used path and wooden steps leading down a dune onto the beach.

The stretch of pale sandy beach before us was flanked on either side by tall dark cliffs, and below the cliffs were a few equally dark and dramatic rocks in the water. This was a popular beach, especially for surfers: we continually saw surfers walking by with their long boards, or gliding on the taller waves. I was surprised at the number of dogs on the beach, all of whom clearly enjoyed the setting, as they wagged their tails and ran on the sand or into the water. One black lab played with a Frisbee in the ocean. Meanwhile, I built two more little Zen gardens, mostly from rocks and sand, and an assemblage made of twigs, feathers, and seaweed. I walked into the water, relishing the sound of the whispering waves moving in and pulling back repeatedly, creating a subtle and natural music. The air smelled fresh, salty, and unpolluted. The water was cold, in contrast with the dry parts of the beach, and I watched a stick floating on the waves toward me and then stop in front of me and lie in the wet sand, as the waves retreated and quieted. When I returned to the beach, the group was lying on the beach, and Cathleen handed me a pink towel, so I lay down partially under the protection of a large parasol stuck into the ground. We lay there for some time, before the wind turned the parasol inside out and flapping, with the sun beating on us relentlessly.

As we walked quietly along the beach, heading for the steps that lead back to the woods, I watched and listened to the waves mindfully. They gently moved closer, uttered a crashing sound, and then just as gently backed away and whispered more quietly. The waves have a steady rhythm, symbolic of the circular nature of the world and of time.

On the drive back to the yurt, we stopped at several look-out points. We were on the side of Neakhanie Mountain, in Oswald West State Park. Oswald West was an Oregon governor from 1911-1915, who was responsible for state parks and for creating OR-101 for the sake of letting citizens enjoy the beautiful coastal scenery. The two-lane highway curved along the side of the mountain and occasionally through it, thanks to a couple of tunnels, and the look-out points were small walled parking lots at the edge of the cliff. Looking out, we could see many trees, the ocean, and the beach gently curving along the edge of the ocean, like a scene out of a movie or travel brochure.

Back at the camp grounds, the zip car passed a woman with a cute little dog. The dog didn’t say anything, but I heard the woman say, “Are you the Meet-up Group?” She didn’t look familiar, and I knew from the Meet-Up website that only seven people were signed up, so I thought she must mean a different Meet-Up Group. As it turned out, her name was Kris and she had had not really signed up because of some confusion on the website, but she had posted a comment that she would like to spend just Saturday with us and not spend the night. Since she had been unable to find us all day, Kris and the Chihuahua, auspiciously named Minerva, had spent the day on the beach by themselves, so the trip wasn’t wasted.

She stayed with us for dinner, and as it turned out she is a new member and is also a member of Portland Meet-In, through which she knows our most outgoing organizer, James. We had a potluck meal that included cherries, carrot sticks, two types of hummus (including some that Kris made from scratch), multi-grain organic sandwich bread, tortilla chips and salsa, energy bars, dried mangoes, and amazing gluten-free cookies. Before dinner was over, Evan skillfully started a bonfire, using newspaper, twigs, driftwood, moss, corn husks, and a small bundle of logs that he purchased from a guy driving by in a cart.

Kris, Cathleen, Sage, and I left shortly after dinner. We had spent a relaxing and rejuvenating day along the coast and look forward to other such Meet-Ups. We typically have meet-ups at restaurants in Portland, and Sage expressed an interest in doing more adventures like this one, such as visiting Multnomah Falls and the Gorge. In short, we spent the day well and while it was relaxing it was simultaneously an adventure.

Message from the Giant Pit of Extreme Willful Ignorance

This is a message I received from my cousin Teddi:


INDIANA: Republican lawmakers object to legislation that funds free breast- and cervical-cancer screenings for uninsured women.
Why?


Oh. my. Goddess.
I grew up in Indiana, and I can tell you it is overrun with Repugnantcans (really, only in this country is the word "republican" a euphemism for fascist, militaristic, war-mongering white male supremacist). Maybe the twits object to any phrase containing words like "breast" or "cervical." I think it boils down to power-tripping: one way to keep poor women down is to keep them from getting healthcare, so they suffer more and die sooner. Mind boggling.

Connecting with Tibet and India

I did not plan this day to have an India and Tibet theme, honesty. It simply happened.

For the first time, I faced my fear of buses and traveled via public bus to downtown. I didn’t get lost, and the bus drivers were really friendly! Toto, we’re not in St. Louis anymore.

I got off the bus and walked to the Portland Art Museum, where I attended a dharma talk by Shamar Rimpoche. He’s a member of the Karma Kagyu sect of Tibetan Buddhism, and he’s the second highest-ranking tulku in that lineage, right after the Karmapa. He’s not young and pretty like the present Karmapa, but he knows more and had insightful words to say. The talk was in a small conference room, and the volunteer who spoke said they were expecting a small turnout. Um, not only was every seat filled, but there were people lining the walls, standing in back (with me) and ultimately sitting around on the floor way up front. He talked about the Four Noble Truths and meditation practice. I took notes, although not on everything he said.

All in the same day, I saw Shamar Rimpoche, cooked mung dal from scratch (this is the first time I’ve ever cooked dal from scratch instead of using ready-made dal that comes out of a box or can), saw Slumdog Millionaire for the first (and certainly not the last) time, and was reading In the Buddha’s Words: An Anthology of Discourses from the Pali Canon, edited by Bhikkhu Bodhi and The Space Between Us by Thrity Umrigar. Additionally, I took the Buddha book with me to see Shamar Rimpoche, and I took The Space Between Us with me to see Slumdog Millionaire, because of course I always have at least one book with me.

Perhaps more past life memories will come back to me after a day like this.

The Hawthorne and Belmont Neighborhood

Here are photos that I've taken in my new neighborhood. People saw me wandering around with a camera and taking pictures, and they gave me odd looks. That's one way to make an impression on new neighbors.

Bamboo!

The architecture around here is impressive: here's a Victorian house with a tower, and across the street is a stucco apartment building from the 1920s.

Strangely, this looks like a governor's mansion. It's probably a commune.

I thought the plants here were at least as interesting as the house. Later I noticed that the balcony is, um, under construction.

I've seen so many beautiful flowering trees lately. Achoo.

A Japanese archway stands between a house and an apartment building. Japanese garden architecture, particularly gates and fences, are popular in Portland, Oregon.

This is a Chinese temple (presumably Zen) with gold letters on the wall proclaiming it the Buddhist Preaching Association, North America (or something like that).

Quanyin statue in the garden

The neighborhood is full of cats. This particular cat purred and rolled around on the sidewalk and let me pet her.

This is one of many cement sculpture/benches, and it has an acquatic theme. It's in the front yard of a big old house, which might be divided into apartments or might be a communal living situation.

A purple house trimmed with yellow, and with Tibetan prayer flags.

Landscaping is in. Flowers spill out over the sidewalk, like a water fountain made of plants.

This tree looks like a claw reaching up for the sky.

These stones look like Buddhist offerings to me, like on Vulture Peak in India.

A Japanese gate.

A friendly cat and bamboo.

I hope someone fixes up this big old house and moves in.

The Portland Dharma Center, or Zen Center.

Flowers like tiny bells.

This is a strange, twisty plant. (That's not the botanical jargon.)

Daphnes, with a powerful aroma. They're reminiscent of lilacs. I wonder if there's a flower named after Scooby Doo.

An outdoor mural....or impressive graffiti.

The popular Avalon Theater, a combination movie theater and pinball machine arcade. It's quite an experience.

Guesthouse with sculptures in the front lawn.

I'm not sure it's clear in the photo, but this sculpture on the gate includes a bird playing an old saxophone. It's a real saxophone.

This bright and sunny house is at an intersection that has vestiges of paint on the pavement, I think forming a sun shape that used to fill the intersection.

Murals with a Hispanic theme.

More metal fence art, and beyond that is a brightly painted Mexican restaurant and an equally bright bus.

Oozing flowers

Another friendly cat.

This yard art is amazing.

African masks made of found items, such as forks.

Goddess shadowbox. It's not really visible in this photo, but the shadowbox includes a tiny Willendorf Goddess.

Another random pretty house.

Maybe this house was painted to match the flowering trees.

Umbrella-like flowering tree

Salmon Street Writer's Group

I've never seen this kind of plant before, but I've seen several in this neighborhood.

Glorious orange