What’s it like? It’s like food truck fried chicken in a plaza where a dude with my little pony mohawk hair busks using Postal Service songs and a uke. Like that. That’s actually the best part. Just being there in the unabashed strange.
A lot of Portland people I spoke to (or… who kept speaking to me…) volunteered where I should go and most of what I was told definitely delivered – I still have a variety of recommendations scratched on a restaurant bill that I ran out of time to get to, as a result I must return.
Voodoo Donuts: no one told me then / there would be vegan donuts / full of cream magic
Food Truck Clusters: Van City spoiled / I the food truck dilletante / was fed but blase
Alcohol: yes, craft beer heaven / but distillery district / has heart forever
For Canadians: urban Trader Joes / with your free tiny coffee / so convenient
Transportation: frequent fast bus land / this is familiar man / oop crossed bridge turn back