Bologna, fiascoes, and tripping the light fantastic.

OK, the last time I wrote it was at night in Bologna at The Hotel Touring. I had the bolognese and some red house wine. Then planned to walk around but was just too tired. So I crashed and got up at 8:30, had some free breakfast buffet, showered and got dressed. I checked out and held my luggage at the hotel, and walked around. My train leaves at 11, so I got some time to kill. I walked around Bologna, which by the way is a beautiful city, it has been decreed since the 1400's that all newly built sidewalks have porticoes. So it's all covered sidewalks. It lends a really cool feeling intimacy to the city. I had coffee, went and printed my ticket at the train station, and toured a small but amazing medieval museum. I still had time so I ended up at the Irish pub and had some beers with a Londoner named Perry. We talked for a while and was joined by another English speaker from the states, Kerry Gilmore. This is not a touristy town and you don't really hear any other language than Italian. So I guess, speaking english just attracts others who speak it. We hung out for a while then went looking for some dinner, Perry was a little drunk and stopped to pee, and never was seen again. He went inside some place while Kerry and I waited, and after like 20 minutes, we decided to leave, there were several exits out of the place, so we thought he left. Oh well, nice chatting Perry. We found this little place and got some wine, and met the guy next to us who is a Canadian wine importer. Cool guy, nice dinner, I had some pasta, and for a second course about a half pound pile of cavallo tartare, fresh ground horse meat, raw, with a chicken egg on top. It was pretty tasty, really mild and light. I just finished the meal and had to bounce to catch my train. I grabbed a cab, had him wait, got my shit, and went to the station to await the train, which by the way was a half hour late.


The train finally came and I was on my way to Munich to catch a flight to Portland. I was supposed to get to Munich at 6:30am, leaving me ample time to munch on some sausage and shit in Germany. Didn't happen that way. The train was delayed 3 hours because of some fire or accident or something, so we sat at a station in northern Italy for hours waiting to go. Finally we start but don't get to Munich till 9:15. So that leaves me just enough time to hop on another train to the airport. Awesome. I get to the airport at a little after ten, check my stuff. I had to go through two metal detectors, and on the second one they found my multitool which I thought I checked. With a nice sized knife on it, I was like shit, whatever, take it. And they kept asking each other something, passing it back and forth. I'm in the background, going, take it, it's fine. And then thought, shit, I hope they don't arrest my ass. Well finally the guy hands it back and says it's OK. Really? A knife on board in my carry on is cool? It doesn't make me feel that safe, but then again, if there are any terrorists, at least I'm armed, right? Anyway I find a restaurant and throw down a couple schnitzels, some rot kraut, potato salad and some sausages, not really in the leisurely manner I envisioned since I almost missed my flight in the process, and washed it all down with a tall beer, not a bad breakfast. Mind you, I've been up since yesterday morning with but a short nap all night. I made my flight and with an hour layover in Philly I was on my way to Portland.

I landed in Portland at like 9pmish and hopped on the MAX to downtown just in time to go to Zachs place of work. It's a cool, modern, nouveau Peruvian restaurant bar. Man, the food is simply splendid. Saw my old bacon chomping jewish buddy and chatted it up. He tried to convince a table of girls that my smuggled guanciale was the saved, cured, afterbirth of his son. They were sceptical but handled the package gingerly. Silly. We went back to his house and talked for a while, but at this point I had been up for days, literally, and slammed my face into the nearest pillow. Thursday I was up early and Sarah Zach's sister came over to visit, we have an arranged marriage but I don't think it's goona work out, at least unless she dumps her currrent boyfriend, cause that just might be a little weird. Anyway, I talked to my friend Chad who was at work, and Sarah and I went down to see him, Zach was doing family stuff and would join us later. So we walk in to Produce Row restaurant bar, the original McMenamins by the way, and go out back. There's just one two top out there and a server talking to them, we made brief eye contact, and I thought to myself, she looks totally familiar, she also gave me a funny look. I thought, whatever it's just Portland. Mind you, I lived in Portland collectively for ten moist years. Which means you run into people often. Its not a very big town, and fairly concentrated, so I just thought that she was someone I met in Portland. Wrong. She walks up and says point blank, I know you. Dayna! erupts forth from my mouth, Dave! from hers, we lock in embrace just in time for Chad to walk out and say, what the fuck!? How do? Uh, I.......What? Well turns out, she is my former homemate from about thirteen years prior when I lived in Santa Cruz. And well, I haven't seen her since, until now...Trippy shit my friends, what a small west coast. Anyway we sit down and get joined by friend after friend until there is just a happy reunion of fine folks talking shit, laughing, drinking, and catching up on lots of old and new stories. It was a lovely time. Ooooh! Let us not forget that at about 8 several of us left to go to Zach's to chop up some guanciale into a fresh carbonara we hand crafted to go along with some wine and cheese he got at Pastaworks. More chatting and merriment ensued until the wee hours of the morn. The next morning I had some breakfast at Broders, the Swedish breakfast joint, with my lil' nigs Ryan Neal and his brother Erik. Fantastic food and better company. I had some baked eggs, with Swedish cheese and romesco sauce, with some of the best bacon ever on the side, and some walnut bread toast. Oh my shit, it was good. I did like a mini Portland breakfast/brunch tour while I was here, and let me tell you that Portland is an amazing food destination every bit as delicious as Vegas, often times more so, and a lot fuckin cheaper. 90% of these restaurants are one owner small joints with people that love food, its amazing man, you know you leave a place and forget cool little shit like this that you took for granted for years, dumb. But cool to come back to. I also went to Tasty and Sons, ridculous, and Pine State Biscuits, for a fried chicken, egg, bacon, cheese, and sausage gravy breakfast sandwich. Can you say dick in the dirt? Now I really can.

Anyway my time in Portland was great, I saw a lot of just really great people, and had a relaxing rainy time. It was perfect, thanks Zach and Angie, Chad and Erin, and Bryan Wolf for the hospitality. And next time you want to play the game again Bryan (is this spelled right?) I am more than willing to kick your ass again. Rum and cokes and board games=fun.

However this morning I flew to Puerto Rico, long flight brethren, where I'm sitting now in Old San Juan. Just had a mojito and a mixed seafood mofongo, smashed cooked green plantains shaped in a bowl, filled with shrimp, fish, octopus, mussels, clams, and finished in a spicy creole tomato sauce. My mouth and belly don't deserve this brand of good. Despite that I stuffed my face readily with it anyway. So good... Its nice here, tonight its like humid but 70 degrees with a nice breeze. Sweet. Tomorrow I fly to St. Thomas via Seaborne Airlines and we'll see what happens then won't we?