After a couple of days of walking in parkland, I decided that today should see more exploration downtown, so I pulled out my torn and slightly damp map, and noticed a familiar name: Pioneer Center. Fairbanks had a Pioneer Park, Seattle too, and it now seems to be a regular attribute for american cities. (I've just checked Eugene, my next location, and that has a Pioneer Cemetry!) Here in Portland, Pioneer Center is a shopping mall; that's the easiest way of describing it. A four storey building, split into two with a skybridge like Macy's of Seattle. Almost immediately after entering I noticed that Christmas had most certainly arrived in Portland. Christmas carols were encircling each storey of this center, Santa was greeting the young children (and the parents from what I saw), and a large hanging Christmas tree composed of several metal balls hung from the ceiling.
In fact, this particular center was quite sophisticated in its choice of furnishings. The only other mall I've walked through was at Anchorage, and compared to that Alaskan take, this one was very elite. Golden and gleaming strips of metal bordered the escalators, and most of the shops were selling designer products. How a women's handbag can cost more than a $100 beats me! I quickly made my way around; I even went into a few shops, although after three months wearing the same clothes, I felt a little bit of an outcast to be browsing such fashionable apparel.
As I was heading for the food court, passing two very mature people who were trying to work an ipad, I decided that it was time to treat myself to a lunch. I scrupulously scanned each menu from the different outlets, and finally the italian side of me opted for the Pizza combo: a large slice of pizza, with a drink and two breadsticks for $6.99 wasn't bad. I sat, and listened to the selection of festive tunes. I was about to leave but Paul McCartney's Wonderful Christmas Time came on (the first original tune I had heard I think) and it immediately brought back memories of past Christmases, so I hung around a little longer. How wonderful will the Los Angeles' take on Christmas be, I wondered?
My next stop was the Oregon History Musuem. Outside it, two state troopers were standing over a handcuffed man laying on the floor; history was being made in front of me, but I was more interested to see what the musuem had to offer. Indeed, it offered more than I thought, as is always the case with these places. Here in Portland, like Seattle, I'm a child at 18 so saved $6 on the admission fee which is always a good saving. On floor 3, the exhibits centered around a 'Pre-1950' theme, going back to early exploration and voyages of the Oregon coast. The center piece was a long canoe; at its length, it could probably have held quite a capacity; I wonder how many people it took to move it!
The musuem has at least thought about how it presents its information. There's a make-believe lift which, when you enter by pushing the conventional two direction buttons, actually turns out to be a small video room, where you can learn about the art of Portland. When it comes to discussing Portland's transport system, you board a bus and all the information you need is in there, and for the foot weary there's even real bus seats! I especially liked the fruit machine counter; selecting, not fruit, but a video about Portland that appears behind the counter on a screen.
With a lot on the itenary, and with the Sun already starting to set, I made a quick walk down to the river to see the famous Portland Steel Bridge. Truss in design, it's a double decked bridge, with the metro tram and car traffic using the top deck, and pedestrians, cyclists and freight trains making use of the bottom deck. Apparently, it's the only double deck bridge with independant lifts in the world. Set inf front of a disused manufacturing factory, it's a distinct reminder about Portland's industrious past, and you really get that feel when you walk over it.
City lights were beginning to be turned on in the city; early evening was fastly approaching, and from the other side of the river, Portland was one colourfully luminous city. The river was rippling slightly, obscuring the reflection momentarily, but otherwise this seemed to be a very quiet city indeed. Of course, when I returned to the downtown district, the case was totally the contrary. Evening rush hour was taking hold, and I was one of a couple hundred thousand trying to get to a particular destination in time.
Well, for me, Powell's Bookstore; the world's largest used and new bookstore was awaiting my arrival. Wow, what a place. A bookworm's paradise; you can quite easily get lost in here. Row after row, shelf after shelf, room after room; you could literally spend an entire lifetime in here and not get bored! I browsed aimlessly, and then decided that I had to buy a book from this internationally recognised shop. So my shop-wide search for Bill Bryson's Notes from a small island (that Ronald from Fairbanks introduced me to on our first field trip) began. Was it under B for Bryson? N for Notes? The section on England? Or should I say the room for England? That's how big this place is! Well, it was under the Travel section, in the Red room. I think I will make one more visit before I leave, but I don't think another purchase would be wise; my bag is becoming full of books!
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