Aaah. Rest days in Portland. Piper went to the bike shop in the morning of Day 64 to replace his chain, cassette, and head set...all of which were horribly worn out. I took him into downtown Portland and showed him Powell's, which is probably the most famous (and the most awesome) used book store in the United States. We grabbed some slices at Rocco's Pizza and sat around in Pioneer Square, watching games of hacky sack and street performers. We rode the MAX line up to North Portland to visit my buddy Chris, then went back to Alli's house in the evening, where many young people were listening to music and tossing frisbees around in the dimly lit backyard.
The next morning, Piper and I said our goodbyes. He began riding south to visit his brother in Eureka, California. I stuck around in Portland.
That night, I went to the last Thursday art walk on Alberta Street. The street was alive with raw street art and the energy of urban youth. Fire dancers moved to the pulsating drone of drums and didgeridoos. A clown rode up and down the street on his tall bike, blasting flames and hooting wherever he went. Clown girls with black pom-poms danced in a mud pit to the bizarre noises of an electric guitar hooked up with sound effects and an amplifier. Artists lined the sidewalks with prints and canvasses. Tall bike jousting competitions took place in backyards, while music and dancing enveloped the streets. Wow, I miss Portland, I thought. It is a wild, crusty city, like none other.
