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#PortlandOregon #thattimewelivedinPortland
#PortlandOregon #thattimewelivedinPortland
Friday, August 29, 2014
Thursday, August 28, 2014
That time I was in South America and Everything Was Beautiful and Nothing Hurt
Excerpt from journal
March 8, 2009
Peru
Train to Machu Picchu, the cars barrel down the tracks at a frantic pace, immense foliage and rock a blur, the mountains can be seen every 30 to 40 seconds, their presence is indescribable, they are the most immense things I've ever seen. You feel as if you're being whisked away to meet some god, barreling deeper and deeper into the jungle. It does not feel real. It does not feel real. I'm so out of my body right now. It's eerie almost. On all sides, you're closed in by jungle, the mountains tower over, the green is so thick and overgrown, you really feel like you're traveling to the heart, the core, of something. The window is open, the air is cool and damp, it's been raining. The only sound is the wheels over the train tracks, and the occasional twitter of a bird. There's a stillness- a majesty- a watchfulness- about this jungle. There's a condescending wisdom to it. White fog clings to the tops of the mountains. The sky is overcast. The rock faces under the green foliage are various shades of brown and wet gray. To my left is a window, and the mountains are there. To my right, across the car, is the view of the powerful, rushing water of the river. There's an indescribable solitude about this ride. You are aware of other people in the car, but no one is speaking, and nothing registers over the sound of the clicking of the train tracks. You feel alone because you are witnessing something- something that surrounds and cloaks you. I shake my head at certain moments, at the impossibility of a place like this existing. It's too beautiful, too powerful, too overwhelming. You feel unworthy, basically. You feel like you're seeing too much, like how could you be so lucky to see this? And when I look around, finally acknowledging that others are around me, I see some people sleeping. How? That's all I can ask. It's like a dream. A hazy, mythical dream. We go under rock tunnels, and the whole train car goes dark. This isn't how we originally planned to see it, but it doesn't matter, because nothing could be better than this. I think this is how I was supposed to travel to Machu Picchu. You have to "see" the journey, you have to see what it is that you're traveling to the heart of. If we had taken the train last night like we were supposed to, it would have been pitch black, and we would have missed all this, missed the poetry, missed the implication. I'm so grateful we missed that train! This ride is like being told a story, a story that you need to hear before you reach Machu Picchu. Because it's not just Machu Picchu, it's this whole country. And seeing all this, on this train, reinforces all that.
March 8, 2009
Peru
Train to Machu Picchu, the cars barrel down the tracks at a frantic pace, immense foliage and rock a blur, the mountains can be seen every 30 to 40 seconds, their presence is indescribable, they are the most immense things I've ever seen. You feel as if you're being whisked away to meet some god, barreling deeper and deeper into the jungle. It does not feel real. It does not feel real. I'm so out of my body right now. It's eerie almost. On all sides, you're closed in by jungle, the mountains tower over, the green is so thick and overgrown, you really feel like you're traveling to the heart, the core, of something. The window is open, the air is cool and damp, it's been raining. The only sound is the wheels over the train tracks, and the occasional twitter of a bird. There's a stillness- a majesty- a watchfulness- about this jungle. There's a condescending wisdom to it. White fog clings to the tops of the mountains. The sky is overcast. The rock faces under the green foliage are various shades of brown and wet gray. To my left is a window, and the mountains are there. To my right, across the car, is the view of the powerful, rushing water of the river. There's an indescribable solitude about this ride. You are aware of other people in the car, but no one is speaking, and nothing registers over the sound of the clicking of the train tracks. You feel alone because you are witnessing something- something that surrounds and cloaks you. I shake my head at certain moments, at the impossibility of a place like this existing. It's too beautiful, too powerful, too overwhelming. You feel unworthy, basically. You feel like you're seeing too much, like how could you be so lucky to see this? And when I look around, finally acknowledging that others are around me, I see some people sleeping. How? That's all I can ask. It's like a dream. A hazy, mythical dream. We go under rock tunnels, and the whole train car goes dark. This isn't how we originally planned to see it, but it doesn't matter, because nothing could be better than this. I think this is how I was supposed to travel to Machu Picchu. You have to "see" the journey, you have to see what it is that you're traveling to the heart of. If we had taken the train last night like we were supposed to, it would have been pitch black, and we would have missed all this, missed the poetry, missed the implication. I'm so grateful we missed that train! This ride is like being told a story, a story that you need to hear before you reach Machu Picchu. Because it's not just Machu Picchu, it's this whole country. And seeing all this, on this train, reinforces all that.
Monday, August 25, 2014
What I learned from Pinterest today
Contrary to popular belief, dogs and horses can be friends
Indians and pilgrims do belong on cupcakes
Always fall in love with yourself first
Pick-up lines to try out at the bar tonight
Indians and pilgrims do belong on cupcakes
Always fall in love with yourself first
Pick-up lines to try out at the bar tonight
Weekend in Columbus, Ohio
 | ||||
| View of downtown Columbus from the Columbus Crew Stadium. Look at that typical overcast and gloomy Ohio sky!! |
My significant other ("SO") and I drove down to Columbus, Ohio the weekend before last on August 16th, a Saturday afternoon. There were two reasons for the trip: The 4th Annual Columbus Food Truck Festival and the Columbus Crew vs LA Galaxy game (That's soccer, Americans). Food trucks and soccer are two of our favorite things, so it was kind of mandatory that we make the trip. (You try living in Portland, Oregon, for three years and not come away with an overwhelming fondness for culinary delights sold out of the side of a truck and what the rest of the world considers football).
We arrived at the food truck festival around three in the afternoon, and it was a teensy bit crowded.
Reasons to have a blog
1. To prove that you're pathetic
2. To give your thoughts, interests, and activities some much needed organization and focus.
2. To give your thoughts, interests, and activities some much needed organization and focus.
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