The next morning we were up and at 'em, because Blue Star donuts were calling our name. Voodoo is the touristy place, but a couple of locals recommended Blue Star and I gotta say, they were pretty A+. I got blueberry basil bourbon and Mexican chocolate cake and both of them were darn good, and there was absolutely no line, at least in the location on the northwesty side of Portland.
Next up was Powell's Bookstore. I've never met a bookstore I didn't like, and I've been to a lot of bookstores, but I gotta say, Powell's was pretty top notch. It takes up a whole block, so the inside is obviously enormous. It's a little overwhelming, but I wound through the literature (scooped up a McCarthy and something by an author I didn't recognize) to the sci-fi (had to tell myself I didn't need a second copy of GoT just because I left it at home) to the psychology/business/religion to the travel (got a tad heart-eyed over a beeeeautiful book called Inside Tracks that has these gorgeous photos from Robyn Davidson's journey and from when they were filming the movie, this one's going on the Christmas list FO SHO) to the food/music/art to the YA (I think I wound up buying An Abundance of Katherines, finally). It was practically a library-caliber bookstore, and I don't say that lightly.
It was Boone-ing when we left, aka misting hard enough to get you damp but not enough to get in the way of plans, so off we went to Hoyt Arboretum, where we completed a "two-hour" walk in forty-five minutes (high five, Bix! we were probably supposed to linger at the signs or something). It would have been nicer on a prettier day, obvs, but they had maples and ash trees, magnolias, other kinds, ones we've got at home and ones that change color, which was a nice little nuzzle for a slightly homesick traveler.
Ooh! This is an exciting twist in the story. So in Seattle, I'd gone to see the Durham-based band Bombadil, who I love very much and see pretty much whenever they play near Chapel Hill. While I was eating my food truck burrito, they posted on Instagram that they were in Portland, so I said I was too, and they said: let's hang out! And - drumroll - we did. We got happy hour drinks at a place called the Observatory, where I panic-ordered an IPA (update: still don't like IPAs), and then because James lived in Portland for a while and knows the cool kid Portland spots, we went to Mt. Tabor and watched all the little city lights buzz around while the sky got darker. We got tacos and drinks and went to an actual tiki bar (but in the Pacific Northwest, so I'm not sure if it REALLY counts) and it was so, so nice to hang out with them because a) they're cool, b) they sometimes say "y'all," and c) they're not creepy Tinderboys. Winning all around.