Did I mention I live in Portland now? I do. It's been complicated-- these past few years. I suppose the moving started two years ago. First it was every month or so I'd come up to work or visit. Then last year I essentially lived here but all of my stuff was back in San Francisco. And then on the second day of this year, all of my stuff came up, too.
And even with all of this time to transition, I'm still getting used to it. I'm finding my spots, how to get around without a car (except when dear friends give rides/let me borrow theirs *insertthankfulhandemoji*), working from home. I'm slowly putting a home together, filling it with all of the green life I can find for cheap.
But more on that later. These photos are from late last summer (October is still considered summer back home). I'd just gotten back from Europe, was about to head to Mexico, and needed to get my film developed before I left the next day. So David and I went to one of my favorite spots during my favorite time: the pier at golden hour.
I'm still figuring out this whole film thing. I have my dad's old Minolta and I usually shoot with a prayer that everything will turn out. I'm glad it did this time. Now I want to blow them up and frame them so I can have pictures of home in my new home. That'd be something, wouldn't it?
During the same weekend we went west to the coast, we also drove north to the Gorge. Being the non-hikers that we are, we did our best to "research" and find places that would be scenic without making us want to keel over and die.
I'm not sure how we happened about this little haven, or what it's even called, but it's on the Washington side of the Gorge, somewhere around Beacon Rock. At first, there was one really steep hill and all I could think about was when it would level out, which it did for a hot second then climbed up even further. We then came to a split path where we could continue for who knows how many more miles up hill, or head lower into the forest and catch our breath.
We're wimps. We went downhill. But it was so lovely and lush that I couldn't imagine a prettier place for our laziness to bring us.
We drove out to the coast during the long weekend and, although the town was filled with more people than I usually like to be around, Ecola State Park was beautiful.
We joked about "escaping" to Ecola during the Portland e coli scare, I kept wishing we'd brought a picnic until it started raining, and we almost ran out of gas on the way back (there was a moment when David suggested shifting into neutral while going downhill to preserve what little gas we had left!) I even brought my little Minolta and am hopeful the film turns out.
Having grown up in a beach town, it feels strange needing to drive two hours to see the Pacific again-- but it's always worth it.
Happiest birthday to the guy who picks up and delivers a 100-person cake for my niece's baptism, re-watches episodes so I can catch up, travels at the same pace, adores donuts as much as I do, and says, "that goes without saying" when I ask if I look cute.
You are forever thoughtful and surprising and sweet. I'm glad you're mine.
In November, David and I went to Tiergartenquelle for our last night in Berlin. It was recommended by a friend as "very German" but with "American-sized portions" (which I still giggle at whenever I remember). For the record, he was right: the portions were enormous (and delicious).
Beyond portion sizes, I loved this place for its charm and warmth. It's located directly underneath the S-Bahn so while you're eating, you can hear and feel the train come and go overhead. I suppose this might be unnerving for some but I found it comforting. I can't explain it. That, along with communal seating, dim lights, and sitting across from one of my favorite people made for a lovely last evening.
I miss Europe.