lions and tigers and bears…
at one point, when i was surrounded by giraffes and elephants and zebras and wildebeasts in the heart of africa, i vowed that i would never again visit a zoo. but while such a unique experience as an african safari cannot be compared to an american zoo, i have decided that there is still a place for the zoo in my heart. i love watching the otter swim around, playfully, on his back. and the underwater dance of two sea lions. and the afternoon nap of the musk ox. and even the frustrated bellowing of a hungry penguin. so much can be learned by watching animals; much also, by watching the people who watch the animals. there are the children who stare in silent wonder. the father with the impromptu biology lesson. the mother, more concerned about staging the perfect family christmas photo than the exotic creatures in front of her. the school children hurrying past the informational plaques to make it to the monkeys. and the quiet middle-aged gentleman, contentedly observing from a distance, perhaps a writer. the zoo is an american staple; and one of my favorite adventures.
mcminnville
today, claire and i went to a small town southwest of portland, surrounded by lush forest and artisan vineyards, called mcminnville. we wanted to go someplace relatively close, but far enough out of the city to feel like an adventure. if it weren’t for our giant, iced coffee drinks, the drive out would have been hard to take. highway 99W, in it’s heyday was surely a convenient route through many of the old mill towns south of the city; but it has suffered the familiar fate of other american suburban highways, each town only distinguishable by a new cluster of fast food and super retail chains.
about 30 miles south of portland, minutes before it would start raining a slow, constant oregon rain, we made a quick u-turn at a little roadside shop advertising ‘curios’ and ’sale on here.’ I heard the proprietor call it a second-hand shop, which is probably the best way to put it, but i might have said antique shop. the air was colder inside than out, the lighting was poor, and the walls and shelves were crammed so full of old things that my eyes almost didn’t know what to do. a man came in while we were shuffling around, and began talking to the shop owner. one of the men had recently dropped off some junk at the county dump, and the other was praising him for it, saying that many people nowadays just leave their crap on the side of the road. ‘this new generation of kids has no respect.’ ‘yeah, and it’s only gonna get worse.’ and i protested with something like, ’some of us are still good’. as i was paying for my little souvenir, the burly old gentleman commented on its patina, and gave me change out of his very own wallet.
mcminnville is charming enough. it’s got a great main street lined with boutiques and restaurants. most of the buildings were built in the late 1800s and have quite a bit of charm. we hung out long enough to make a few purchases and pick up a map of the area. did you know that the spruce goose lives in oregon? i didn’t. but it does. it rests in a huge hangar at the evergreen aviation museum just outside of mcminnville. we decided not to pay the entrance fee to the museum because there was so much to see outside of it. there were 7 or 8 smaller planes parked around the perimeter, and tucked into a grove of impossibly tall oregon trees was a collection of military tanks. i don’t know if i’ve ever been that close to a real tank before, but it was a heavy experience, regardless.
back in town, we stopped at a local brew pub for lunch. the food was good, if somewhat unremarkable. but claire was extremely exicited to discover that she loves beets. we sampled the house pinot noir, as obligated, and agreed that it was pretty good for a glass of wine. on the way out we stopped at a city park near the library, with a great playground and nice old light posts. we walked along the mossy, ferny, ravine-y paths, and decided that it had been a damn good day.
it is lamentable that, to be a good patriot, one has to become the enemy of the rest of mankind
-voltaire
finding janet
Last Saturday’s adventure was car shopping. It may not seem to qualify, until you consider that car lots are completely foreign territory to most of us. It’s not just the endless rows of shiny, homeless cars, packed in like a petrified traffic jam. The people are what makes the place totally alien. The argument could go around in circles forever, but I had to make myself believe that the people I spoke to were lying to me; that it’s all a scam and numbers don’t mean anything until you go inside, and all the cars are sparkly on the outside and crap on the inside. Seriously, isn’t that what we’re taught to think? The first place we went was pretty terrible. The salesman and I almost couldn’t walk between the cars to get to the one that was supposed to be ‘exactly what you’re looking for’ and $12,000 more than I clearly stated I would spend. I told my new, smarmy friend that I believed I could find the car I was looking for at the price I could pay and I had plenty of time so I wasn’t going to stop looking until I found it. He nodded in feigned understanding and kept showing me cars that I didn’t want and couldn’t pay for, insisting that the sticker price didn’t mean anything. Finally, he lured me into an awful room with low ceilings and cold tables half-filled with people getting hassled. “This feels like death,” I told him. I wanted to run, but he kept talking and shoving papers at me, filled with blanks for information about me that the IRS doesn’t even know. He told me that they need to know who’s driving their cars before they could put me in for a test drive. Finally, I told him I had been drinking and was not prepared to test drive anything. Thanks though, really.
Eventually, we ended up at the Honda dealership, and it all went down just like a fairy tale. A woman named Janet had come in to have her oil changed; she loved her car and always had it serviced at the dealership. While she was waiting, she decided to check out a newer model. She fell in love, and then I did. I got to talk to her for a minute, the guys helping us chuckled as we talked about how the color looks in the sun versus the usual Portland cloud cover. It took her a half an hour to say goodbye, and by then, I was ready to say hello. I decided that good deals go fast, and that’s why I couldn’t find anything that matched my list of requirements. They gave me a good price, and kept the car to give it a full service, polish and detail. They sold me a 4 year warrantee that covers everything, and gave me a copy of the carfax, which was pristine. And tonight, I get to go pick her up. My new car, Janet.
hood
