beautiful days

Remember when the Pearl District was all industrial and its warehouses were GASP warehouses?? It wasn't really that long ago, was it? But since the transformation, I find myself drawn there constantly. And now I work in the Pearl and have the pleasure of wandering through it on a daily basis. Because I have to. Wonderful. And now the fruit of my wanderings...

milk stretch

That's right, you stretch it. You don't foam or froth it. I confess that these last couple weeks, I've been wondering why my latte foam is not how I want it to be. Today I figured it out. 

On another note, the weather these days has been incredible. As I sit here now it's absolutely pouring. Several hours ago it was clear and there was just a sliver of the moon visible. And before that more rain. And before that sunshine and rainbows. Rainbows in the exact same place as yesterday's rainbows. Really.

the usual? yes puh - lease.

Suddenly, I'm finding that my schedule is totally packed and it feels soo good... I graduated from college back in June and have been looking for a job ever since. I hate not having any real structure to my day, which up till now, school has provided for me. Finally, I have that back (more or less...). I started working last week at the art school coffee cart here in town, serving The Delicious Stumptown Coffee. Hairbender. 

Turns out, I love LOVE love making coffee. 

(and yes, that is an actual Stumptown, not my cute little coffee cart...)

Truly, I haven't the slightest idea why, but I'm thinking it has to do with giving people something that makes me so happy. Coffee. How many people cannot begin their day until they have it? But even more, it reminds me of living in Spain. What I miss the most about Cádiz was the sense community that I've never felt before. By contrast to Rome, there is no such thing as being on time in Cádiz, if only for the fact that when walking through the streets you must stop if you happen to run into anyone you know. Including shop owners standing in their doorways. Anyone. I love knowing the candy store owner's name (let's not talk about what this really says about me), having to stop to say hi on my way to class. This is the same feeling that I get as a barista. I love this. 

the blue door

Lately, I've been working on a website for our beach house, The Blue Door on the Oregon Coast. The town is called Oceanside but people always get it mixed up with Canon Beach because of the rocks in the water (for future reference, Cannon Beach has Haystack Rock; Oceanside has Three Arch Rocks, Storm rock, Seal Rock and the Three Arch National Wildlife Refuge). My family and I have been going to Oceanside since I was tiny and I confess that it has never stopped growing on me. There are few places as beautiful and unique. It's situated on a quiet hill town unspoiled by commerce and on the beautiful Three Capes Loop. Oceanside has three miles of beach, rugged volcanic cliffs and enticing tidepools. Each visit is unlike any other. 

The Blue Door is a cozy cabin overlooking and walking distance from the ocean. Many a visitor has spent hours gazing out the enormous living room window at the water, the rocks, the clouds... While it's perfect for three to four, it can sleep up to six people. And regardless of the admittedly often sporadic Oregon Coast weather, one can safely say the place never disappoints. Please pay a visit to The Blue Door website for more information and images!

simple feelings

Inspired by fashiontoast's images and the feeling of a cold and rainy Sunday in November, I thought I would post some photographs of my own.

a human town

A couple weeks ago two friends came down to visit from Seattle. All I could think of to show them the city was food, so we literally jumped from crepes at home to St. Honore Boulangerie for coffee to lunch to coffee to tinto de verano in the park to appetizers and so on...

On our return home, a woman stopped to comment on how "human" Portland is. I thought this was an interesting  word choice. Upon a bit of reflection, it occurred to me that this is exactly what I love about the city. For years, I believed Portland to be simply a somewhat smaller version of Seattle. While I do still believe this to a certain extent, the last couple years I found myself more and more amazed at the size and the feel of Seattle and how drastically different it is from Portland. Seattle, I see now as a composite city made up of many different smaller towns ("towns" isn't the right word here, but the right one evades me...). 

But I think Portland is seriously catching on there, too, and while I can't begin to describe how much I miss Seattle, there's nothing quite like wandering around here.

wisdom tooth

Today I am utterly out of commission. But it's okay because I'm sitting here on the living room couch watching the light change in the garden. It's bouncing off my white mug on the window sill and reflecting onto the cedar that surrounds the window, revealing each and every weathered knick. Time can take its toll.

summer days

Once again, I've been trying to see Portland in a different light. Lately, this endeavor has been more or less a success. These summer days are perfect for strolling through the city or biking around the river: Waterfront, bridge up, Waterfront, Esplanade, bridge up, Esplanade, etc. Anyway, I've been doing a lot of both, which I realize may have something to do with why Portland feels so different. I've slowed down. Dramatically. And to think that I believed I knew and loved Portland before... I am painfully aware of the fact, however, that this is still not the case, but every day I do love it just a little bit more.

café tour part I: everett street (i)

...and eleventh. One of my favorite intersections in the Pearl. Evidently, I have always been drawn to cafés with an international feel, something that I'm sure in reality I owe that largely to my mother. Our Café Days began at the Pearl Bakery when I was little, but I'll come back to that.

Having the experience fresh in my mind I feel that a better subject would be the Everett Street Bistro. This European bistro throws you across the country, across an ocean, and into a little café in Paris the second you step through the door and catch Edith Piaf floating from the high-up stamped ceiling. Wicker chairs cluster around little tables, giant mirrors and a quiet bar create a sensation of casual European refinement.

The menu is classic. Quiches, soups, salads...steak tartare. The antipasti plate is perfect to share with assorted meats and pickled vegetables.

Inexplicably, the light and open space hurled me back to one Parisian café in particular. This one was long, dark, and narrow, reaching back away from the street, seemingly endless. Perhaps the only similarity being the commanding presence of the giant mirror on the furthest wall. Though the latter may sound unwelcoming and austere, in fact it was not and it proved to be the perfect escape from the relentless drizzle on the street.

While the Everett Street Bistro is far from severe, the minor details collaborate to create a distinctly European (and in my eyes Parisian) experience.

(Image from Breakfast in Portland)

new turn

I have decided due to the fact that my travels are now greatly limited, to take this in a slightly new direction, but not forgetting what this blog began as. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a coffee NUT. The truth is, it's not really so much about the coffee itself, but more about the experience. In my opinion drinking coffee is the very best way to travel. With no jet lag.

So...that is the new direction. Let's see how it goes!

tornata

a new kind of homesick

Why is it that every time I realize I've been taking something for granted, it never ever sticks? I guess for me it's always moving that calls my attention to this. Living in Rome, I never actually wanted to leave but it wasn't until maybe two weeks before my flight home that I really came to realize how much the city had changed me. And Cádiz was the same story. The entire last month my highest priority was getting to the beach before the sun began it's descent. Every single second became excruciatingly short. Sometimes I can't tell if living in the now actually makes time fly by faster...

Now I'm preparing to leave Seattle. Everything I see is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. The adolescents flocking to the parking lot across from my apartment after it's emptied for the night. The people leaning against the bus stop post gazing at the sky... I cannot believe that after four years "living" in this incredible city, I've never known how striking the skies are here. This dorm-like studio of mine has a view that I will never forget. Even the rainiest days have the most beautiful sunsets. How is this possible? And how can I only now be realizing it's been my reality for so long?

tu va pa' chiclana?

I know it's been forever, but the strangest thing happened to me yesterday. I realize that my last entry here was about how I wanted to treat even my home as though it were foreign to me, but yesterday it actually hit. Hard. Walking around the U District I passed a woman posting the daily special at her kebap shop, and taking in a deep breath of second hand smoke from some Ave-rat hipster, I was brutally thrown back to Europe. Since that moment, I can't get the feeling out of my head that I'm seeing everything for the first time and that it's all completely new and foreign.

And just now my world shrank a few more sizes, when listening to "my recommendations" on Last.fm... Los Delinqüentes, a band from Jerez de la Frontera, playing "Chiclana." These moments are my favourites. What gives a better feeling than stumbling across a tie to your own most-beautiful-most-loved place ever?

Additionally, I must say that this weekend has been the greatest ever. (Aside from the Swollen concert Thursday night, which...actually, let's not even go there.) Friday night I went to Ocho, a tapas joint in Ballard (I am so in love with Ballard) with patatas bravas and la carolina to die for. The restaurant itself is tiny and packed to the brim with people (suffering from the most debilitating nostalgia, too?) but the struggle for elbow-space is a good one: amiable and punctuated by the happiest smiles.

As if that wasn't enough, the sunshine has been truly relentless and has led me (finally) to the discovery of my building's beautiful roof. I must say that surrounded by the mountains and within sight of the Seattle skyline and lakes, I could not be happier. Well...maybe bump the temp up 3 degrees, but really I'm not complaining.