Some Travel, Shared Backwards

Two weeks ago I went to LA; this last Thursday and Friday I went to Portland. I will recount LA second. Portland was a quick birthday trip to a) buy books at Powell’s and b) see some knitting friends and knit with them at their LYS.

My hotel was AMAZING. Thank you, hotels.com free night!

That's some headboard, eh?

That’s some headboard, eh?

...and the sitting area.

…and the sitting area.

This was some couch. Also comfy.

This was some couch. Also comfy.

This isn't a kitchenette, it's a kitchen.

This isn’t a kitchenette, it’s a kitchen.

...with a Keurig, just like home.

…with a Keurig, just like home.

kitchen-desk-tv

Kitchen/desk/mondo TV

I got in around 11, dropped my stuff off at the amazing hotel, and jumped into the streetcar to Powell’s. Ah, bliss.

Walking into nirvana:

Deep breath!

Deep breath!

 

Everything you see here, except the stuff facing you at the end, is knitting books. Just knitting books.

If it ain't here, they didn't publish it, methinks.

If it ain’t here, they didn’t publish it, methinks.

Part of the ceiling of the blue (literature) room:

I spent a lot of time in this room.

I spent a lot of time in this room.

And clearly they are used to tourists:

No need to hit the cambio!

No need to hit the cambio!

 

I spent a few hours and a bunch of money there and then went back, checked into the hotel, quaffed some coffee and a Luna bar (“why do I have a headache? Oh…I had a bagel at SFO this morning and nothing since!”) and then met some fibery friends for dinner at a brewpub. I had cider, being a non-beer-girl, and some fantastic salmon. Then we went to Pearl Fiber Arts, where I was welcomed into the Thursday night wine-and-knitting group. I also bought some pretties.

photo-5

My friends dropped me at my hotel; I luxuriated in the suite. I wished I could stay a few nights! There was no tub, which was the only drawback (I had a handicapped-accessible suite) but the doubleheaded showerheads at either end of the shower made up for it.

I packed:

What do YOU put in YOUR suitace?

What do YOU put in YOUR suitace?

There was also this pretty book for my great-niece:

Blue horse!

Blue horse!

Next day, back to Powell’s, where I had this conversation with the cashier:

Me: (Explained I was up for my birthday)

She: Thirtieth?

Me: Oh, you’re so cute! Forty-six.

She: You look good!

Aw.

Went and had lunch at a brewpub a couple of blocks away, where I had gone with a friend in 2009 when I was last in Portland. More ciders!

Local-ish cider. Yum.

Local-ish cider. Yum.

I had two. I reckon that if every Friday lunch had a couple of ciders, life would be much nicer.

There’s a sign to the bathrooms that points and says, “Over here.” When you turn in the direction of the pointer, you see:

Well, that's what they said!

Well, that’s what they said!

And you also get to see beer in progress on your way:

Fresh!

Fresh!

Outside, there are fleurs:

Pretty!

Pretty!

I hopped the streetcar back to the hotel, got a taxi, and went to hang at PDX for awhile. Bought a couple more books at Powell’s at PDX (last gasp!) and then got on the flight. Where the Indian guy in the middle was hitting up the girl by the window, even though she told him she was thirteen and going into eighth grade. I ended up buying beef jerky for her because she only had cash and they only took debit or credit cards (she paid me, of course). Got in a half hour early, my sister came and got me, and I didn’t leave the house for the next thirty-six hours. I’ve already finished one of the books I bought (Catilin Moran’s How to be a Woman) and am working on a couple more.

Back to work tomorrow. Alas!

 

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