Travelogue Chapter 2: Portland, Oregon, USA

Dear Readers.

Day four. Now living in a youth hostel. While herself was swing-dancing last night, I made good my escape. Things had taken a turn for the worst, not so much that anything had changed, but with Donal's departure (more on that later), there was silence and quality time enough to realise that I was deeply unhappy and had had all the discussions about elaborate and complicated feelings that I ever wanted or needed to have on this holiday. Besides, myself and the ferret were particularly disagreeable. He had nicked my shoes. All of them. Hidden them under the couch.

She had given it a bath, and in a confounding sequence of cause and effect - it actually smelled worse than it ever had before. As I was contemplating my situation while sitting on the couch, it transpired that it was not happy enough with the shoes i had carelessly left inside my rucksack, but wanted the ones on my feet as well, and he began tugging at the laces. I was living in a hostile environment. I was reminded of Wilde's comment to the wallpaper in the room over Shakespeare and Co. where he Died, "One of us has got to go..." and decided, as Wilde did, that it was myself. My race was run and kirby the ferret had won the lady's affections.

On the trip to the hostel, my bags were considerably heavier than my heart, I'm happy to report. I'm sharing with a guy who introduced himself as Udon from Japan. I grinned slightly as i resisted the temptation to say that I was Potato from Ireland and met his friend Baguette from France on my in. Udon sleeps like someone who is blowing up a beach ball but doesn't have to inhale. Always exhaling. It's quite comforting. Almost oceanic.

The weekend was fun. Donal from fourth-year philosophy, who some of you might know (but I didn't), came for a visit - and his companionship was much much appreciated. It really is nice to hear a familiar accent in a strange city. Went to a Saturday market where almost everything had to be made of something that was perfectly useful before it was made a craft: Jewelry made out of coins, forks, spoons, bike parts, fossils; chopsticks made out of... eh you know, trees. All kinds of wierd stuff.

By the way folks, if anyone is looking for a particular book, I live beside the biggest book shop on the West coast and I have a voucher for the place that needs using so let me know. I'll save it or post it or whatever. Really.

Just briefly, to let you know what the place is like: Portaland has an 11% unemployment rate so everybody hangs out. All of the time. People play chess, drink coffee and pierce and tatoo themselves all the livelong day. Everything is pretty laid back, no-one seems angry about anything. Haven't seen a single drunk person, and the homeless community (which is thriving) seem to be content and polite.

C'est tout.

James.

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