I’m sipping ginger tea in Portland. I’m restocking a personal supply of batteries in Portland. I’m being passively harassed by a Hare Krishna in Portland (and why are those boys always so young and adorable---that seems invariably to be the case, not only in Portland).

Yes, I’ve been waiting to be in Portland for two years now. Anxiously ever since I read in some dental office hiking magazine how They placed a moratorium on expansion in favor of wildlife preservation. And to They I say Hurrah with ripples of heartfelt appreciation (along with Mt. Rainier, Mt. St. Helen, Mt. Hood...the list goes on) for that act of conservation, for looking around me on all sides are gentle towering hills dense like beaver coat, crowded like Venice Beach, over capacity like general admission Pink Floyd---mountains saturated in pine. For as far as the eye can see beyond the dozen or so semi-skyscrapers of this 500,000-people-big city, natural wonder’s wine glass overflows.

In Portland a man nudged me in the isle at Rite Aid and not only said he was sorry, but with eye contact, asked then if I was okay (I was).

In Portland the bus driver not only gave me detailed directions to my destination, but took 75 cents instead of the $1.35 fare, saying it would avoid confusion (it did).

In Portland I found myself lost in Wonderland, intoxicated in scent, wandering fancifully among an immaculate rose garden. I found myself curled up next to the shady sound of water falls, reading Tom Robbins in a traditional Japanese garden. I found myself contemplating what kind of incense the sun prefers in the Pacific North West. Best of all, I found my Clutch sweatshirt, a little dirtier and a little wetter, tucked discretely in the hydrangea bush (exactly where I had taken it off on a walk two days earlier and forgotten about it). Um......in Portland?

Oh, yes I did! And the community of people who comprise the 3,000 seat audiences at the Keller Auditorium are unafraid to express appreciation and praise, notably less self-conscious and more giving than any audience we have had since I’ve been on the road. (You didn’t know audiences had definitive collective personalities, did you? They do).

And in Portland there are recycling bins backstage if you practice that sort of thing (we do).

I found a heads up penny on the sidewalk today but it could have been a rotten melon...

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