Portland

I arrived at Portland exactly on the first rainy day of the season. That was just fair because a sunny Portland wouldn't be Portland. The minute you get into the city you feel like your car doesn’t fit in. You may want to make it disappear because there is no place to put it. But once you left it behind, you realize that this city is one of the most walkable urban areas you would ever find. The downtown itself is relatively small and you can get to every point by bus or train. The city is absolutely better off without cars.

The first thing I notice is that the population is very young and very white. I’ve been living in the US for nine years and this is the first time that I find a place that matches the branding or America. This is a vibrating spot for liberal artists. You can see their expression and you can tell something is ticking in their brains all the time.  It’s not the neutral gesture of someone that goes to the office every weekday but the distressing face of someone who is not contempt with the world as it is. You can see them writing, drawing and reading in every corner. 

The selection and quality of cafes and restaurants are overwhelming for such a small area. Looking for a regular breakfast late in the morning I got into a place called Irving Street Kitchen. Any of these restaurants are worth driving twenty miles in any city, and here they are, one after another, with a bright and inviting design that pleases the eye. 

I went for a Salmon Gravlax Benedict. The service was so good that I felt guilty. None of the waitresses let my cup of coffee go empty while I was waiting. When the plate came out and I tried it, I felt like Julie Andrews in the famous opening shot of “The Sound of Music”. But I was afraid that the check would make me feel like Edward North in “American History X” in the scene when he got raped in the showers. Surprisingly the price was comparable with a regular IHOP meal, while the quality was Paris like.

In most cities, you find square and unorganized stores and sporadic elegant spots with personality. In Portland the equation is inverse: Most businesses have a very inviting atmosphere with cutting edge design and a generous use of space; so the regular Payless store looks ugly in the same block.  

The little plazas are conceived in such a minimalistic and asserted way that you get into the habit of buying more coffee just to be seated in there doing nothing. Actually, the whole city smells like fresh coffee.

I passed by the iconic Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall and found that the Oregon Symphony will be playing the Tchaikovsky’s “Pathetique” the same day. I asked if there was any space still available and the guy in the ticket box told me that someone actually canceled and he gave me his entrance for free. I enjoyed the passionate direction of Carlos Kalmar and the immaculate performance of a first class Symphony.

I’ll have a hard time trying to remember how my life was before all this.

After Tahoe

In my first post about Tahoe, I asked: “how you leave a place like this?” Now I know: you leave crying. 

The purpose of a trip is not taking pictures but stimulating your senses in such a way that makes you change. Tahoe did that for me. I can tell with certainty that the man that came out of the lake is different than the person that got in.

I’m not telling you that a beautiful landscape will shock you to the next step of personal development. You can try the same trip and find nothing while having a profound spiritual experience with the fortune cookie of your local Chinese restaurant. What I’m telling here is that, in my particular case, a missed piece was found. I was able to envision love and affection in a way completely unknown for me until now. Now I understand that certain feelings can be irrational and constructive at the same time.

I was raised Catholic, and we are trained to cross ourselves when passing in front of a church. I erased that reflect long ago, but now in front of the lake, I feel the same urge. It was interesting to learn that natives actually consider this lake sacred.

The sensation is that you can give everything without measure. Eventually, that value comes around, but the real peace resides in not been waiting for that reward. That doesn’t make sense for the individual mind, but it does for the aggregate. Life can be and is unfair, but you keep loving her. (I know that I should use “it” in the last sentence, but in Spanish, life is a feminine noun, and it’s so appropriate that I won’t change it).  

You love life, and you give everything, on the understanding that you are more likely to lose. But the alternative of been cautious converts you in such a square and boring person that you may as well save the world all the water you are polluting.

This trip is working.

Truckee

As I keep traveling, I get increasingly suspicious of the world “historic”.

Here is the Historic town of Truckee, for a while the closest you can get from Lake Tahoe by train.

There’s actually a map at the train station detailing the history of each building. But you go on and read things like “House of Doyle McGwinn build in 1895, who grew up to be the town butcher for many years.” Then you go to the house of the butcher and find that it has new interiors to allow for electricity and plumbing.

History is just a show featured for the present. And tourism is a hype of locality to sell souvenirs made in China. To make an analogy between society and the individual, History is like nostalgia, and tourism is like scar bragging. The reminiscence is more a reflection of current concerns, and the scars have nothing of the original injury but the pattern.

But one thing has been kept alive as it was in the old days: there is nothing to do. Business close short after lunch and the only crowd are tourists wandering around for a cup of coffee. 

There was one fascinating thing, though. Uphill, a glacier made a huge rock laid on another in such a position that it will balance with the touch of a finger. Well, that was the case until somebody pushed so hard that it actually made the rock sit still, so it doesn’t move anymore. So the only interesting thing in town was set to be quiet and boring as the rest.

I’m writing this to save you gas. Go to Tahoe but skip Truckee. And explain your travel partners the myth of history and the deception of tourism to support your omission.

Healthy Discrimination

Nearby there is a sign that warns the public: “Spitting on Sidewalks Prohibited: Penalty $5 to $100”. It makes you wonder about the difference between a $5 and a $100 spittle, but it should be enforced in every city. In any case, it’s working but not for the threat. Here is a town of people that don’t spit on the streets by its own nature.

So far the only attitude filter we use is purchase power. Works roughly but it creates class resentment and the impression that your value can be measured in dollars.

It would be sweet to allow access to people based on their proved disposition. A person known for its kindness and respect for others should be granted more confidence than those caught on senseless vandalism or noisy behavior. Actually, we make that discrimination every day. But those impressions are hard to enforce and to record systematically. We live the principle of “all man created equal”. But that doesn’t mean that they all remain equal. A human is his own craft, and some may not deserve our confidence.

When I walk through a beach, I usually pick up at least one plastic bottle from someone else and walk to the next trashcan. I’m not a good person, I’m just one with dignity, and I would like to be surrounded by the same breed. Having natural resources open for a destructive crowd is a decadent interpretation of equality.

Behavior is the new race, and we all have the right and the duty to discriminate on that basis.

Four Blocks

Tahoe doesn’t make you wait until you get to a famous landmark. In the morning you look out of the window and get caught by the picture of giant acorns on the ground. The leaves around them alternate between light green and brown. Some trees were already wearing red globes at the end of their branches, showing their punctuality to the autumn.

Then I start to walk down the street.  I like to look back because the hostel is at the foot of a hill with a hairstyle of high pines. The triangular shadows from the other side of the road make the town look like part of the woods.

The narrow roads and the odd distance among houses add to the impression of spontaneity and wilderness. Trees and buildings live together, sharing space and light. Colorful flowers are planted at the front side of the windows, and only bees dare to touch them. I thank any trace of beauty that depends on the cooperation of the neighborhood because that tells me not just “here is a pot of flowers” but “here is a group of people that respect a pot of flowers”.

Even the local tattoo artist decorates its shop with colorful petals. It’s funny to see a corpulent guy with a dragon in his chest standing among sunflowers.

One of these flowered businesses is a mini golf. A proud sign claims it was founded in 1957. The small ticket box was closed with a sign reading: “Thank You. See you next summer”. Sounds like a healthy business model: make money, but not too much. It has a fence at the level of your hip, but nobody jumps in to mess with the toys. The place will be respected as it is for three seasons. 

Next down the block is a Dog Bakery. The concept was new for me. It’s a store that sells things that dogs like to chew. It’s an authentically old wood house, not a new one designed to look rustic. The windows are open and their doors have big pine shape holes. Inside you can treat your pet with bones of diverse materials. Americans have always been criticized for their love to pets, but I have a word in their defense: dogs are more than animals, they are affection conductors. Love comes easily in and out of them, while for people there are a lot of doors to be open and a bunch of protocols to be followed before the first hug. 

The next business I ran into was the Brockway Theater, a wood made cinema. There’s no parking lot or lobby with pinball games, just the screening room and some popcorn for sale up front. I got in to see “Hope Springs”, and the movie was shown just for me since I was the only one in the room. By the way, Tommy Lee Jones makes his better performance ever. Meryl Streep is also excellent, but she can’t surpass herself.

After the movie, you can enjoy one of the most authentic hamburgers you will ever taste. You will see the flames from across the street. These burgers are so good that you will need a written pardon from your coronary system.

All those experiences take nothing more than four blocks.

Emerald Bay

Emerald Bay is so beautiful that it's dangerous. There's a narrow road running one thousand feet high, and people tend to stop trying to capture the view. But once you find the proper spot, your eyes can enjoy the image of an island that seems to be supported for the reflection of trees in a horizontal blue mirror.

If you park and walk down a trail, you arrive at a little Scandinavian style castle built in 1930 for someone who could afford to buy two hundred acres of land in the bay. Now the beach belongs to a national park and everybody can sneak in. The only island of the lake is in front of this castle, and a tea house remains on the top of it. Maybe because these things are not one hundred years old, people are allowed to go in private boats to the island and try to climb.

The sand at the bay looks like the chemistry games they used to sell on Christmas, full of samples of different pulverized metals. From there you can assess the devastating effects of an avalanche that ran from the top of the hills throwing rocks and trunks that missed the castle for not much in 1955.

I also got lost and ended in a river where red salmons were swimming stream up. Eventually, I found the way to the coast, walk to the ruins of an old luxury resort and came out to the main road.

 

Even in the day you less expect it, you are guaranteed to burn a ton of calories. 

Tahoe City

Even a regular bus stop matches the wood feeling of Tahoe City. I found this town too small for its touristic potential, but it is a welcome anomaly since you tend to think that such places no longer exist. 

You walk into a business with a little bit of apprehension since you feel like you are getting in somebody’s home. They are houses indeed, just with a bell hanging from the inner side of the main door. Inside you will find artwork, chocolates, organic food and antiquities for yard decoration. Even the auto parts shop obeys the design rules for the façade, so the main street has a consistent view of brown porches decorated with colorful flowers. Some businesses add stone walls and bear statues climbing them.

Even the mall was made of wood. You just go ahead some steps and find again the incredibly clear waters of the lake, proving that it’s not an accident or a visual effect of Sand Harbor. The image of the rocks underneath has a healing impact on your soul. It revitalizes your faith in beauty and makes you eager not just to preserve this place but to build similar landscapes in the rest of the world. 

The clarity of this water is a combination of temperature, controlled pollution and adverse condition for the growth of algae, while still optimal for salmon. Science is closer to understand how all this is happening. We may be getting closer to an age where instead of suffering from the loss of natural resources we may be able to reproduce them. Proactive ecology.

And today is the time to realize than protecting this environment is not doing it a favor, it’s our duty. The transparency of Tahoe Lake is decreasing by one foot every year. The damage can be quantified and repaired with projects that are in place right now like reducing erosion by temporary closing certain roads and filtering the channels that drain water from the streets to the lake. If a number can be placed alongside the restoration cost, a fair tax can be charged to the visitors to compensate for the damage we inevitably do with our sole presence.

This spot is so beautiful and unique that its protection shouldn’t be considered an American affair but a universal obligation. 

I feel an ambitious optimism flowing trough my veins, not a lame song of tragedy blowing out of my throat.