Portland and Seattle

December 8th, 2005. Categories / Portland, Seattle

On Monday night, I flew up to Portland to meet some people at a cool place to work and check out the city. If San Francisco was cold, then Portland’s air temperature was even cooler, thereby making said place even colder than the place it’s compared to in this very example. Cold weather makes me less clever, I discovered. But the air is invigorating, making your thoughts shift to survival, making the outdoors more crisp and intense. I arrived in Seattle on Wednesday.

Moments of note:

Food: The food I’ve had since being back is delicious with a lot of flavors that I couldn’t get in Thailand. However, it sits in my stomach like and expanding rock. Whether it’s the increased bread intake or decrease in spice or vegetable matter, a smaller amount of food fills me up faster. To make matters worst, it is hard to find small portions. Every dish is a least 3-4x the size of a normal Thai dish. That alone can help explain why Americans are walking blimps.

Train ride: Fell for a lady on the Max train into town from the airport. It was love at first sight. But we could only exchange a few pleasantries before my stop.

Hotel: Posh and stylish. I felt unworthy of such a nice free room. It smelled a little perfumed though, and the bed was so soft I was swallowed by it.

Farm House: Stayed with J. at his recently purchased 1907 farm house. Quaint and charming with an awesome sounding acoustic guitar and an equally sonorous cat.

Singing: People competed in a “Jingle Bells” singing contest. Prizes for who sang best, worst, and with the most raunchy altered lyrics. Someone had suggested that I break out the guitar and make history, but I was exhausted and didn’t even bother to look up the music.

Rickety flight to Seattle: The flight was delayed from Portland, giving me a lot of time to sit in the terminal and people watch. There were some fatty, fatty, fat, fats. With a few exceptions, the people there were either, pasty, fat, or ugly. Often all at the same time. I am not casting judgment deeper than their skin; I don’t know them. But even the ugliest person can redeem themselves by carrying a smile, and those are rare in an airport. The place felt like a dour obesity colony in outer space.

Portland feels like a miniaturized Seattle. Craftsman houses line the streets, the downtown is edged with a useable body of water, the hills are green, the cement is mossy, and snowcapped mountains loom in the distance. Meeting with people at the agency went well and I am hopeful to get the job. The atmosphere was arty and creative, and its people were excessively witty and friendly. Moreover, I respect the work and “philosophy” of the place. I hung out at J.’s desk for a second day and felt very comfortable, almost as if I was working there already.

Gibson: J2.’s Gibson guitar from the 60s sounds far better than my guitar, but not 10x better.

Cool thing: I worked on a cool test animation that I won’t be able to post for a while. Hopefully it will get me some work.

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