Photos are random and more or less just stuff that looked interesting at the time. Some, like this one, I can't explain except that there was some draw.
I got the impression that my calling this place 'the bra bar' didn't go over well for someone who actually speaks French.
A lot happens at Jake's grill. After-dinner drinks, dessert, post-opera drunkenness (not mine), group dates (also not mine), announcements that we should all applaud for a celebrated, decorated Marine in our midst, dead animals on the walls, and naked persons running through the streets in front of the window (not me).
Looks better than it tasted.
Tastes better than it looks.
Time to walk home -- pouring down rain. This photo was an attempt to capture the 3 police cars that showed up to restrain the aforementioned naked man who was running through the streets. He must have been cold. I surmised that maybe he's just a visitor to Portland as several times I figured it didn't matter what I said or did as I would not see these people again, most likely. Though my rationale only had me taking pictures of strangers and laughing out loud when the mood struck. I kept my clothes on throughout.
View from breakfast.
Look how sunny it is. Walking to Powells', I found these elephants posing for a photo.
Not the best view, is it?
We sat in the Powell's coffee shop and watched the storm come in. Dumped down rain for a while. I spent my time eavesdropping on college entrance interviews going on at the next table. I think my engaging in other people's lives gives Emily the willies.
Oh, Mary!
Lovely sunflower's dying day.
If you have the chance to stop by a cellar bar, I highly recommend it. This one in particular, but perhaps any would do. Down down down the steep stairs into a warm little cave with the friendliest bartender and the funkiest vibe.
Our bartending host. He made me a drink with apple cider named after fall that was quite good (a little sweet) that he was going to enter into a contest the next day. I can't remember the contest, his name, or the name of the drink. Matt? Ben? Zeek? I don't know. I remember his stories though -- wants to home-brew hard liquors, has a small son, a wife who does lots of different things including the artwork for a local (celebrated) donut shop (Voodoo Donuts).
I saw these signs all over. Someone wrote a law. Someone had to write a law based on a perceived problem?
We sat at the bar and chatted with good ol' whatshisface, but here's a view of the rest of the seating area.
New buds. He was on board with my 'I'll never see this people again, so what the hell' attitude and probably did not mind being the subject of my photo-intrusion.
Bike scuplture.
Mmmm. Yummy sushi dinner at a little teeny place with very little opportunities for eavesdropping.
But I managed. Two women on this side of the table, two men on that. The woman on the left seemed to be with the man on the left. The man on the right was doing a pretty good job of talking himself up to impress the woman on the right. There are more details. All imagined. But you're probably not as interested.
There was also quite a mural to behold.
A quick stop at a cajun place for decaf coffee and sweet potato ice cream while Emily warmed up her pipes for karaoke night.
The singing was great (Emily's), but I think Emily was disappointed in the overall outing. There were a couple of really good singers, a bunch of drunk people, and a "KJ in training" who stood behind all the singers and stared at the women from behind. I was ready to leave about an hour before we got there. It wasn't my night though -- so I stayed as long as I could until I started whining.
Met up with some of Emily's friends from Utah who now live in Portland and have an adorably stubborn, independent, and thoughtful little girl.
Who wanted to check out just about everything.
But does not smile on cue.
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1 comment:
I really enjoy your observations of people--maybe I just need to find you a camera that's disguised as a lipstick case (since I don't see you wearing bowties).
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