Friday night we ventured downtown to catch free entry to the Portland Art Museum, where an exhibit by Carrie Weems (born in Portland, OR) was on display among the other goodies on the walls. We pulled into a spot a block away, and heard "excellent parking job!" coming from the sky- a guy hanging out his balcony. He said, "I watched a big car try to get into that spot a while ago. Didn't fit!"
An hour and a half in the art museum wasn't enough time and we were a little sad leaving. On our short walk back to the car, we were peeking at the sculptures outside through holes in the wall, when a man in all black (museum employee) told us it was free on Sunday from 12-5 also.
It's the small things.
Saturday night, we headed downtown again, to catch Blind Pilot playing with the Oregon Symphony at the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall. We'd discovered Blind Pilot at Bonnaroo last summer, and then found out they were all Oregonians and living in Portland. And our favorite song of theirs was composed at Kitty Hawk, NC. Strange correlations. Their music is suited perfectly to orchestral accompaniment and we felt lucky to be there together.
Yesterday was a lazy Sunday, with another few hours at the Portland Art Museum, a stop at the REI used gear sale and doing my first oil change with the instructional hand of Drazen nearby. I wish I'd had the opportunity to learn about cars growing up. It's such an area of weakness for me, and it's life-skill-knowledge that's really handy to know. Unfortunately, I think most car repair people are fairly crooked and unintelligent. I had a good shop in Iowa. I'm still looking out here. But that's a small worry compared to the rest.