TITLE: The San Franciscans visit The Portlanders
DATE: 11:02:00 PM
San Franciscans visit Portlanders for the holiday weekend; strangers in a strange land... of too many ciggies, not enough veggies, the odd absence of sales tax, unusually friggin' coldly-cold, inquisitors masquerading as polite conversationalists, and Thanksgiving dinner on paper plates around the tellie-set.
Beset (blessed? cursed?) with whatever pre-conceived conceptions of SF, we were prodded,
observed, isolated, tested, and pursued... Received with genuine warmth, dutiful
hospitality, absurd disinterest, cheerful curiosity, thinly-disguised desire for
connection, fear, the joy of generations gathered together to experience one another,
and the good 'ol fashioned oral tradition of story-telling.
And thus shadows were cast as long as the sunny fall afternoon, and in the seasonal shades of a factory alive with the happy chugging of industry, and that of a dead and dilapidated building alongside the highway.
Some things never change!
Be it ever so humble, there IS no place like home.
Labels: portland, San Francisco, sunset stories, thanksgiving