Our friend Elizabeth is one of the highly employed, so she is unable to spend today with us in Portland, but she has given us tickets to go see the Pittock Mansion. Built in 1914, it was cutting edge for its time and very opulent. It fell into disrepair and in 1965 and was destined to be torn down, but enough funds were raised for the city to purchase the mansion for $225,000 and restore it to its former glory.
If you have been reading my blog for any amount of time, you know how much I love a good shower. While it sounds like a fancy shower would always appeal to me, this one looks a bit too much like a gas chamber. This was the master of the house's private shower, and it has all sorts of fancy contraptions like two "liver showers", those shower heads you see in the middle. He must have had a dirty liver.
Outside the mansion are luxurious gardens…
…and a breathtaking view over the city.
We had to take some steep roads to get up here, but I had no idea Portland was so lumpy.
Hubs and I plug in the next address into our GPS and wind up at Laurelhurst Market, home of all things meaty.
We choose a plate of crusty bread, pickled items, mustards, and meats in various forms, including venison pâté. Hubs likes it all, but the pâté tastes too much like animal to me.
Next, we drive to Olympic Provisions, an unassuming-looking warehouse that opens into a restaurant. In case patrons aren't aware of what they sell, there is a helpful sign on the wall.
A part of a pig is aging on a string.
Portland is home to Powell's, the largest independent bookstore in the world, and Hubs is nearly salivating by the time we get there. Unfortunately for him, I detour us into Cupcake Jones for a fudgy mint cupcake.
With this consumed, I am dragged full-speed off to the land of books. Powell's has a rare book room on the third floor with some old and pricey specimens on display.
This book is $12,500.
This book is from 1506.
I get lost in the architecture section while Hubs abandons me in search of books unread.
We are to meet Elizabeth for dinner, and not a moment too soon. We haven't been nearly gluttonous enough today and hope to fill in the cracks.
On the way to dinner, I spot this jaw-dropping mural on some back street.
Our destination for dinner is a pod of food carts parked on the east side of Portland.
There is a '63 Airstream Tradewind that has been turned into a frilly-things shop, and I don't begrudge this transformation because the Airstream is a hot mess anyway. It looks like it was shot up with a BB gun in a former life.
There is another Airstream that is vending handmade fragrances and toiletries, and a double-decker bus selling vintage clothing. These are the only three non-edible trailers on the premises.
This city block is crammed with every kind of cart selling a wide variety of food and beverages, handmade and delicious. It is just like a carnival for the taste buds, and we are here to have some fun.
We dash hither and thither among the alluring aromas and venders calling out finished orders, hardly able to settle on what to eat first. We choose a woodfired pizza and split it three ways.
Elizabeth picks up some homemade soda while Hubs scampers away to bring back a surprise second course. All reassembled, we feast on a Scandinavian salmon wrap with cucumber and partake of cucumber soda. I choose the next course (a concession to my sweet tooth), nutella and bananas sandwiched between two waffles. Hubs surprises us next with a Greek dish, and as Elizabeth and I groan over our overindulgence, he is eyeing a hotdog cart. It is getting late, and the highly-employed Elizabeth needs her sleep, so we drag Hubs away from his food source and go home. Back at the Airstream, Hubs eats a whole other dinner's worth.