Saturday reflections

From the archives:

This was taken in Portland, a few years ago, and for some reason never processed. I love the red truck.

Saturday reflections

It's not immediately obvious just what is the reflection here, which is why I like these otherwise unremarkable buildings in downtown Portland.

Saturday reflections

This is the window of a store called Art of Persia in Portland. It was closed when I walked by, but these plates caught my eye. I didn't actually see ceramics like this in Iran, but those patterns, and the overlapping petal shapes like a flattened squinch, were immediately familiar. They caught my eye, and now that there's a tentative deal to lift the sanctions and I've been hoping things are going to get better for the many lovely people I met there, my heart.

I couldn't get clear shots of most of the patterns because of the reflections but it makes a pretty abstract.

More Salmon Street fountain

More pictures from the fountain. I used a really fast shutter speed to catch as many individual drops of water as I could. I love the way they shimmer in the light.

Salmon Street fountain

During the afternoon break, I took a walk along the river. There were almost as many children running through the Salmon Street fountain as there were last time I was there, although it was typical warm but breezy Portland weather and not the smothering heat and humidity we had last year. It reminded me of warm days in San Francisco, growing up, when on any of the rare days when the thermometer edged above 70 degrees we'd beg to put on our bathing suits and run through the sprinkler until our fingers pruned and our teeth were chattering.

Saturday reflections

Some very cool reflections in downtown Portland.

The setup

I was a caterer in a former life, so I have some idea of the enormous amount of work involved in pulling an event like this off. Just plating the food takes time and many willing hands when you have to do it 600 times. Then the plates have to be actually delivered to the tables -- er, beds.

I never worked an event where the tables and chairs had to be built first, though. These beds came from Ikea, so there was a certain amount of assembling involved. Kudos to the team behind this -- we got to just sit on the beds and eat and talk and laugh. They made it possible.

Proof of accomplishment

"(E)steem and admiration of all who behold it until the end of time."

Make it so.

Worldwide waffles

I'm not in the habit of going to bed with strangers. And definitely not in public.

But this morning I found myself in bed with three people I'd just met, in the middle of Pioneer Square in Portland. Not that anyone noticed -- ours was just one of 168 beds full of pajama-clad new acquaintances, gathered to set a world record for the biggest breakfast in bed party.

It was the kickoff for the 2015 World Domination Summit. Like everything else at WDS, it was organized down to the smallest detail. It was a ridiculous amount of fun. And since the beds and mattresses were donated to charity afterwards, it had an element of community service as well.

As for the world record, yes, that's an actual thing. And yes, we smashed the existing record of 388 people with a few hundred to spare (take that, Shanghai!) I know that I always assumed that if I were going to be setting world records, it would probably be something in the performing arts, or possibly track and field. (Major joke here, for anyone who actually knows me.) But breakfast in bed is an area where I have extensive experience, although unfortunately I usually have to make it before I can eat it, and I can honestly say that I performed my record-setting duties with aplomb.

We all had to start eating at the same moment, and then continue to eat the yummy veggie burrito and yogurt parfait for five additional minutes. While remaining on the bed. It was tricky, but all the training paid off, and I'm proud to say I did it. We did it.

Urban poetry

I love old signs, faded, usually obsolete, painted on the sides of buildings. This one happens to be in Portland, but there are many more of them in New York, like ghosts of a city that no longer exists, directing you to establishments that no one remembers.

Saturday reflections

I loved the random shapes inside this window (taken from a streetcar in Portland last month) and the green reflections of the trees outside.

Geometries

Stone steps at the Japanese Garden in Portland.

The serenity and sense of order are more than usually appealing to me this morning. I woke bleary-eyed and coughing from what's either an oncoming cold, or my sinuses misbehaving more than usual, to rain pouring down outside my window.

And an apartment that was already bursting at the seams now holds eight more cartons of stuff, plus framed photographs and a painting I bought in Beijing many years ago.

I'm downsizing from an office to a cubicle at work, the first step in extricating myself from this job. My request to move to a four-day workweek was turned down, but I'm working on a new strategy. If that doesn't work, there's always Plan B. Plan C. Plan D.

Some people would see a rainy Saturday as an opportunity to go through the cartons and figure out what I'm keeping, what goes to charity, what goes to storage. My first impulse is to go back to bed with coffee, emerging only when the mug is empty or the coffee is cold.

Urban poetry

Cooling off in the heat wave on one of the bridges spanning the Willamette River in Portland.

Saturday reflections

The ceiling at "the Schnitz" -- the Arlene Schnitzer hall where the World Domination Summit is held. It's the only remaining theatre on Portland's Broadway, originally a vaudeville house, then a movie theatre, then a concert hall.

How do you live a remarkable life in a conventional world? Simple question, some simple answers: be brave. Take risks. Do something, even if it's not perfect.

"Jump and the net will appear." That was the advice of Sake Mafundikwa, who worked as a graphic designer in New York for many years before returning to his native Zimbabwe to open a design school. Even though at my age a net doesn't sound like enough -- I also want a helmet, knee pads, shin guards and possibly a parachute -- I also know that big leaps actually consist of thousands of small decisions and little actions.

I met a woman, Franci Claudon, on the river cruise. She worked in HR for many years and now paints full time. She not only gave me excellent advice about my work situation, she also inspired me to admit that the plan I thought I had for the rest of my life was probably no longer an option. And that might be a very good thing.

I took the first steps this week. Little steps, baby steps, but brave ones. I had forgotten how brave I can be.

Check out Franci's beautiful paintings here.

Urban poetry

Okay, not particularly poetic, but oh so Portland: a bacon maple bar from Voodoo Doughnuts. They are famous for making donuts with toppings like Tang and Oreos and Cap'n Crunch cereal, and lines that are even longer than a certain Avis I could mention.

They will also perform weddings, but I'm guessing you have to make arrangements in advance. You probably still have to wait in line.

Being John Malkovich

Considering that we didn’t have a map or a GPS, the fact that we only drove past the Japanese Garden once showed some fairly impressive navigational skills on my part, if I do say so myself. Well, that and the abundant and useful signs, plus more than usual good luck.

There’s a tram from the parking lot to the garden entrance, and while we were waiting for everyone to board, Jayne said to me, “Don’t you think that guy over there looks like John Malkovich?” He did, indeed, probably because it was John Malkovich – he said something to one of his companions as he was getting on the tram, and the voice was unmistakable. We both thought it was funny because, while we might have passed him on the street without even noticing in Manhattan, we weren’t expecting celebrity sightings at parks in Portland.

We went off in different directions soon after we arrived at the gardens, and I didn’t see him again, but I heard about him until we left. “Did you see John Malkovich?” “Yeah, that was John Malkovich.” “I talked to his assistant and…” “He’s probably here because…” “John Malkovich—“ “John Malkovich!” “JOHN MALKOVICH!”

Honestly, it made being John Malkovich – being anyone recognizable by a majority of the people you encounter – seem almost unbearable, even for someone a lot less self-conscious than I am. Anyone whose skin crawls at the thought of being scrutinized is not likely to think of acting as an attractive career choice, especially in the theatre. (I've been lucky enough to see Mr. Malkovich on stage several times; I still laugh every time I remember his delivery of the line, "Do you have any orange pekoe?" in Burn This.) But even so, to have people watching and pointing and photographing every time you go out to buy milk or go to the movies must be difficult to live with. Maybe you get used to it. Maybe you just have to learn to ignore it.

I do see the irony that I'm violating some tiny bit of his privacy as well by writing about it, even on an obscure blog he'll never see or know about, even though I'm not writing about anything more scandalous than a visit to a park.

Koi

I couldn't pick between these two pictures of this beautiful fish.

More pictures of the gardens

Japanese Garden

We drove back to Portland this afternoon. We had a few hours before meeting friends for dinner, and spent them in the Japanese Garden in the hills above the city.

The very tall Pacific Northwest trees towering over everything don't feel that Japanese, but they provided welcome shade on another blistering day. The gardens themselves, as you can see in the picture, are idyllic, another perfect spot for daydreaming and mulling things over.

It's not all kale chips and microbrews

Other cuisine options on SW Third Avenue.