Cultural isolation. In the midst of another culture.

German countryside, mixed in with American Military. What a contrast from the hippie lifestyle I was enmeshed in back in Portland. Where I'd regularly ride my bike into the night, dressed as a bicycle demoness of some sort. Regurgitating the cultural chaos of the masses. Everyone had their clique. I found it sick and comforting. Mournful now for the crazed, elite bike crowd, the twig-legged unisex bandies, the proliferation of self-professed artists, the rope-haired hippies who loitered outside the local coop, all making me feel like an outsider in my own neighborhood, because I was white collar professional, working for The Man.

This week I've been Portland-sick. Maybe it's time for a visit.