Japanese Gardens Portland, Oregon

In the Hopes of Tomorrow

Today is a day for some winding down, so that I may wine-up tomorrow.  I am gearing up to head out in the morning to wine country.  Pre-departure, I had set up a tour of the Willamette Valley wineries to see the romance and process of wine-making.  I have been a bartender and wine enthusiast for about 8 years, and now I finally get to see a real functioning winery.  At the outset, the Supernormal Wine Tour had different intentions I was to be travelling with someone, but the fates shifted that one out of our collective hands.  What a shame.  I hope to make the best of ill-fortune and turn what was positive in the outset – then hopeless and empty in the middle, into something positive in the end.  Here’s to two days in wine country.  If the Portland scenery is any barometer, then the Willamette Valley is sure to be a show-stopper.  Some strumming in the vines and a little soul-searching. 

Burning Ancient Dinosaur Graves

I don’t drive.  I don’t own a car and barely have a license.   The AZ Driver’s license I do have exists only because modern societal discourse dictates that I keep one current.  This one is good through 2043, so, I won’t have to deal with the DMV for a spell.  Whew.  I found that having a car makes me miss too much.  And I mean more than just my four-dollars-plus per gallon.  Sure the trip to the grocery store was a breeze back when I used to turn my hard-earned cash into flammable liquid, but, the walk to the grocery store is a blessing as well for better reasons than convenience.  I hope that I don’t miss the forest for the “G’s” when I turn the key and press the pedal tomorrow morning. Vroom! 

Mural of Hawthorne Boulevard Portland, Oregon

The Joy of having a Jive-foot

As far as getting around Portland proper goes, I waltz past every little nook and blemish of this city, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I get to see what would be a blur to the daily driver, I get to zoom in on details and see faces while others whiz by in a mad race for a potential parking space.  Pedestrians are not a nuisance to the Hobo Traveller, I can’t, nor do I wish to honk at them or scream “Get out of the way!”  Instead we share a “hello”, or a “pardon me” and a smile. 

Front Porch Bluesman 

Around 3:00 PM, I sat on the front porch of the Hawthorne Traveller’s Hostel and played through some of my tunes.  I hadn’t played at all since I arrived Sunday night.  So, I figured I would get the cobwebs out.  Some fellow hostellers were on the other side of the porch and they would applaud and smile when I finished the tunes.  Passers-by gave the standard nod of approval as they walked past.  As for the daily-drivers; I doubt they ever saw me.  Blessing or curse?  Better or worse?  Who knows?

The sun came out and the wind sneaked over the river and wafted down Hawthorne and created an afternoon very conducive to a little front porch Git-fiddle and Harmy-time.  It was soul-soothing on the porch soaking up my last moments before the exodus uptown to the madness of the Dollar desk at the Portland International Airport, then out on the highway and into the vines.  Excitement abounds.  Even though this is going against the concept of a Public Transit Tour.      

9 muses

While I was playing, another guy with a guitar came up on the porch and told us all about the show tonight (Tuesday May, 13th) at a little acoustic pub six blocks north of the hostel called 9 Muses.  I mentioned yesterday about Joseph O’Brien, a busker I saw on Hawthorne.  He gave me his flyer and I posted his video and information on supernormalrecords.com and now this other guy was telling me about the same show.  These kids were definitely doing the footwork, and I am a firm believer that effort should be rewarded with a reward.  In this case that would mean a packed house, so I committed my mind to going and tried to help remind people around the hostel to go tonight.

I decided to fast today.  I hadn’t eaten at all and the hunger had come and gone, and there was a show I wanted to see at the Doug Fir.  I don’t know why I wanted to see it, but for some reason I opted out of eating, in favor of seeing this show. 

Upon entering, I found out why I wasn’t supposed to miss this for a plate of pasta.  There was an Amoeba Music show, and it was featuring some stellar singer/songwriters.

• Quincy Colemanhad finished up her set as I arrived.  Country-tinged rhythms and she utilizes the nearly patented Dwight Yoakam toe twist move. 
• Brandi Shearer and her band took the stage next.   Chris Bruce was on Guitar and he has mastered tone like few else, I told him so in the stair well.  Nice guy, humble in spite of his glowing talent.  The drums were tight, but, I was having such a good time I failed to do my job and get his full name.  Ramey? something, sorry man.
• Kate Walsh, from Brighton, UK closed the night.  Smooth and nearly flawless performance, and impeccable songwriting.  Nice little ‘lovey-dovey’s and Heart-Breakers.   

Brandi Shearer Live Sample from Monday’s Gig

Singer/Songwriter Joseph O’Brien busking on SE Hawthorne in Portland, Oregon.  Hear more at Joseph’s MySpace page

Or, if you are in the Portland Area, he is playing live to night at 9 Muses (2715 E. Belmont Street)

No town is a town without the errant Elvis here or there.  I present to you, Portland Elvis.

I really dig this guy, having fun with it.  I like how he’s billing it as a Sidewalk Tour 2008, sounds like the Public Transit Tour.

Creaking for the Coffee

My hostel room has a built in alarm clock.  A feature not listed on the Portland Hawthorne Hostel website pre-arrival, nor was it covered in the tour.  When the early-riser goes to the kitchen for their morning cup of Joe, the aging floor boards creak underfoot.  The floorboards also happen to be my ceiling above my top bunk perch.  Mind you, this is not a complaint.  It gets me up and out for the day, I didn’t have to call the front desk and request an 8 am wake-up call, instead I am nudged awake gently by little creaking noises and the occasional dropped item.  Hostel travel is all positives.  In fact, this feature should be touted as an upgrade.  A wise traveller should opt for the room with the 8 am creaky-roof”.  It’s all mine for two more nights, sorry guys.

Gresham MAX line

Out the door and on the Tri-met

After the shower, and the java it’s to the 14 Hawthorne, over the river and up the hill to the Japanese Gardens.  I had heard about the gardens and saw some footage on YouTube, so I added this to my mental-list of must-see places.  On my first ‘free-day’ I jumped at the chance to see this beautiful place.  Being from Arizona, I am accustomed to a different kind of green.  Foliage and what-not is a very hearty green back home, yellow-green and browns, reds, etc.  I was in need of some good ole’ deciduous-chewy-basil-kind-of-green. 

 Enter the Garden

A Little Walk 

I explored every inch of the Japanese Gardens and spent a good three hours retracing my steps and turning back to do it all again.  When I visit a place like the Japanese Gardens, or a zoo I like to go through the park in one direction and then revers the path so that I see everything differently.  If I were capable I would have burrowed into the soil and dug on them roots. 

Central pond, reminded me of Monet’s Giverny

Loopy-loops

On one of my reverse laps, I found something I had missed the first time around.  I stumbled into a little hut type meditation thing.  I don’t really meditate in the traditional sense, but I figured I’d try to get into it, Supernormal-style.  So I took out my notebook, closed my eyes, and began making little hash marks on the paper while I sat and listened to the garden and walked through the Garden again in my mind. 

 I was surprised when I opened my eyes that there was a picture-of-sorts there.  And it did look a little like a Japanese Garden.  I titled and dated it and I’m gonna keep it, but, here you can have a copy.  No one ever said I was a visual artist.  I play music like a banshee, but, I draw like a monkey. No shame in that.  If you can walk you can dance, if you can talk you can sing.  No judgment on how well, just a can-do kind of thing. 

This place is enchanting, delicately trained vines sculpted with rudimentary methodology.  Simple sticks of bamboo fastened to branches with twine have done the majority of the shaping and training of the branches, but, most of the Japanese trees and plants look as though that is just how they grow.  What I know of Japan is it’s art, I can say Japanese art, and I get an image in my mind as I am sure you do as well.  There is a distinctive look beyond a simple font to all things Japanese, and the reason for that I would guess is nature.  The trees shrubs and other things beyond my botanical prowess have that distinctive ordered Japanese look.

 Right-click, Save as Desktop

From the Garden to the City

I spent the next few hours walking downtown and asking around if anyone knew of a place where I could have a Beer and Blog.  I don’t mean Wi-fi.  I mean, a bar with physical computers in it.  Why do we all have to own a laptop?  I don’t like carrying around all of that stuff, power cable, computer, then with all of the other elements of this SupernormalRecords.com enterprise.  What if i drop it?  What if I get caught in the rain, and soaked to the bone, or in this case; memory?  Just to many what-if’s.  But, here is yet another ‘what if’. 

Training Branches Traditionally

What if?

What if a bar put along one of its walls an array of a few basic desktops.  I am in the Fat Straw, a little Bubble Tea Joint and I love working in this place, but I want a beer man.  My love for blogging and my love for beer are two very strong competitors.  And I would argue, life sustaining drives, urges man!  C’mon Bar Owners.  Open the Beer and Blog, the Blog-N-Beer Tavern, or The Blogger and Lager!   I’ll do it if you give me the dough of course. 

 If this were filled with Sake I would have Stayed here all day

There’s that for now.  I think I’m gonna traipse around downtown and see if I can get a little more of the strong pulse of this cities music scene.   Back into the city now…

I did some sight seeing today at the Japanese Gardens and toured the city finding street performers.  I’ve got some amazing pics and videos to share, but, the Fat Straw is closing.

Till tomorrow…

How’s that for a Root Chakra?

Well, the White Eagle Saloon has a great Songwriter’s Night.  Positive environment and high-quality songwriters.  It reminded me of home – Rula Bula style. 

The View of the Stage from a Barstool

Out the door and into the Eagle

I left the hostel and went to my locker to grab the video camera, and a voice said, “wait…is one’s just for me.”  That voice was mine and my apologies, dear readers, I elected to leave the camera where it belonged, in the locker and set out for the night.  And what a fortuitous choice because I suddenly remembered that I have a Digital Still camera that has video capabilities, andit was in my pocket.  So, you get pictures and I got a lighter load.  No need to lug around the old clunky Sony Hi-8 camera anyway.  I began to scold myself because I carted that thing in here unnecessarily.  Then I forgave myself when I considered that my mobile office (Jansport Back Pack) is stuffed to the gills with necessities.  The camera bag gave me a little more storage room.  I never stay mad at myself for long.

Tri-Met’n it - to Rocking it

An earlier trip down the street to Fat Straw (my temporary office) brought me the trip information and I was back on the 14 Hawthorne bus Rocketing at 35 miles per hour toward City Center.  A few transfers and zang, there I was sitting at the bar chatting with local singer/songwriters honing the craft andpolishing up their latest wares.  The market is good in Portland.  Thoughtful, evoking, and at times enchanting music is emanating from the Open Mics and Songwriters Nights of Stumptown’s pubs and such. 

Connie: The First Perfomer of the Night

For ’props’ sake, I managed to jot down the roster of the artists that signed up last night.  The player that struck me the most was Connie, a mother of two (she brought her kids – well behaved, and supportive of their mom, a great mother’s day gift I’m sure).  Connie played first and shortly thereafter took the kids home to bed.  And that’s Rock andRoll.  In it’s truest definition, behind the scenes of the biggest names it is no different.  Rock the House, manage the house.  In all professions, that statement rings true.  Connie’s profession/passion just happens to be music.  Yours could be in the medical field or whatever and the rules are the same, Rock it, cook dinner, put the kids to bed – do it again tomorrow, and so goes life.  You had better recognize the inherent beauty in a thing like that.  Ahh, life.

Here we go! and How’d it go?

I stepped outside for my last smoke and to tune up, two people were leaving and saw me putting on my Lee Oskar Harmonica Holder, the kind that lets a guitarist use both hand, you know the drill.  One guy said, “oh man you are gonna play harmonica?”  He was disappointed that he and his cadre were heading home.  I told them to come to the show, and I think I need to bite the bullet and print some flyers, I swore them off a while ago, but, get a bar guest two drinks deep and then ask them to remember supernormalrecords.com.  Not likely.  For that matter, get me a few deep and try to get me to pronounce it (I had some trouble with that too). 

Set List

I played Father’s Son, and The Thing’s I’m Gonna Miss.  The guy running the night only allows two songs so I picked one from each end of the spectrum.  Father’s Son, an up-beat number, because the previous artists were very introspective and quite confessional.  I figured I’d try to raise the spirits and the tone first, then follow suit and crush them with ‘The Things I’m Gonna Miss’.  Success in both regards.

The Drunken Navigator

The trip home was a dooz.  Thank god this was Portland and Tri-Metwas looking out for me, I didn’t have a map so the navigation gets a little hairy when the city plan follows a river made by mother earth.  Her work was done before land ordinances andthe concept of the city block.  Tall buildings can confound a hazy-brained imbibed traveller. However, a few short “hello’s” and a few “can you tell me how to get to SW 2nd and Main’s?” and I found the 14 bus, but not before finding a quiet, poorly-lit place to dispense a bit o’ beer.  Sorry Portland but for a moment you were Tyler’s-Tinkle-Town, I much prefer the concept of a restroom, but, in a pinch, I am merely an animal.

I returned to the Hostel around 2 am and found a seated crescent of travelers perched on plastic chairs sharing swigs from a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey.  Night cap?  Why yes I will if you don’t mind.  Rock the house, lost the house, found the house, did a little front porch sippin and chattin, then hit the sheets. 

Till tomorrow… Maybe I’ll do some sight-seeing?

You have all heard about the Public Transit Tour for some time now.  Well, I packed the bags, cabbed it to the Phoenix airport and did the ceremonial strip dance for the TSA, and here we go!  

The Road Kit: Travel Light Much?

PHX to PDX

Mt. Hood From the Plane

Success right out of the gates.  The wheels touched down at 10:15 PDX local time, and as any airport designed for the quick expediting of fare paying customers, the Portland International Airport did not disappoint.  Follow the signs to baggage claim, wait impatiently for the guitar to come rolling off of the carousel…  Wait… Wait… See the guitar case flop through the rubber flaps and onto the oversize baggage stainless steel stage.  Restart pulse again.  I once lost my guitar for three hours in the Czech Republic, I feared the worst, but PDX delivered, and made short work of it.  I decided to relax a little.  Grow Slow. 

Airport Exterior

A View From the MAX Redline to City Center

A quick Jaunt to downtown on the MAX RED LINE rail to City Center which picks travellers up on the curb outside the airport where others are standing for someone they called on Tuesday, to pick them up on Sunday.  They didn’t want to drive on the free way down to the airport to pick-up so-and-so but nonetheless they did, and now they fain excitement and hugs and such.

Also, they most likely arrived long after I was under the smooth pull of an electric train on my way to downtown.  Public transit never pisses off friends.  The MAX will never forget you. 

As per usual, I got off at the wrong stop, I got jumpy just like I always do when I visit a new city.  I remember, in Prague, I ended up on the outskirts of town amongst communist row houses that disappeared off into the horizon while I stood on a mud street with suspicious spectators.  That was a ‘Woops’, and I think two drops of pee came out.  This time it was different.  It was roughly 11:30 AM and I was in the middle of a boisterous downtown that showed little wear.  Foot traffic abounded.  A rarity where I come from, but something so very common where I now stood.  There I stood at the 11th ave Transit Center and looked left… right… and did a few determined “set-outs” for what I assumed to be my destination before I admitted my folly and headed back to the platform to re-board another train on the same tracks heading in the general direction that I decided (at the time) was the right way to go. 

City Center – somewhat

So, it was on to the Hillsboro Blue line.  I assumed (incorrectly) that this train would shimmy left once it crossed the Willamette River and drop me in the Yamhill District.  Well, it shimmied right, I assumed it to be North at the time, (I’ll look that up later when I buy a map).  I’ll also make it a point to find an electronics store so that I can buy a USB cable for my camera then we all can see pictures of my descriptions.  For now, they rest helplessly eager in my pocket powered off and ignored until I can solve the problem for us.  Thank goodness for the gig of memory.

Brochure Truth

I am beginning to believe that Portland, Oregon is all that she claims to be: A green haven , in all senses of the word, a beatific invention that has been driven by kind and caring people who wish to live simply so that others may simply live.  I have never moved so freely in a city before.  I have never felt so welcome to do so.  At home, I get honked at and yelled at from the elitist drivers of Escalades, and let’s be honest Sentras.  The totem is tall in tinfoil-town. 

Why am I so at peace and comfortable here in Portland?  Is it because I have travelled this way before?  Or, is it because I have been destined to travel HERE for so long?  Maybe it’s experience.  Maybe it is THE experience.  I have never said hello to so many perfect strangers before in my life.  Everyone has a hello for me here.  This is beginning to seem to make sense.  This immediately felt like home.  But, enough with the gush and on to the itinerary.

Escape of the Downtown-er

A Bus for all of Us

I finally managed to board the 14 Hawthorne Bus to cross the Willamette once again and actually (correctly) approach my intended destination: The Portland Oregon Hawthorne Travellers Hostel.  The images online do not do it justice.  It looms like a flowerbed with windows, it smells of damp wood and fresh coffee, and resonates with the murmur of sincere kind voices.  It’s filled to the brim with the errant hippie.  Good people.

Just before the 14 pulled up and brought me ‘home’ I met a local.  She suggested a tea house.  I went after I checked in and bought a card to send home and some “throat soothe” tea – whatever that is.  I soothed the throat and wrote a post card home on the porch of the Herb/Tea House, and chicken-scratch-sketched a view from the porch. 

Shortly thereafter, the rain came to Portland and it was exactly as a fellow Arizonan told me pre-departure, “it rains like once and then it clears up for the day.”  I traipsed on through it and sought out Eugenios – the 500 sq foot club that I am to perform at Friday May 16th.

Division Derision

The Hostel where I am staying is at 3031 SE Hawthorne Blvd.  Eugenios (the place I am playing Friday) is on 3584 SE Division Street, roughly one mile south and probably a quarter of a mile East of where I am staying.  I put Skecher to pavement and set out to see what it looks like in real life.  The rain came down and, no bother, I just ducked under trees and waited for the drops to resemble mist before setting out again.  I learned that one in Sweden; good trick. 

But these houses distract and what appear to be towering piles of fresh mint and Icelandic Poppies, garnished with Magnolia actually do have a house somewhere in there.  People are on their porches and one porch has a group of guitarists playing Irish tunes.  Oh, those crazy suburbanites.  Are you kidding me?!  In Arizona, you are lucky to meet your neighbor of 14 years.  It’s into the garage and out of the garage.  Neighbors are mere noises over the backyard fence.  Neighbors afraid of neighbors, critical, or despondent.

 

Lincoln Avenue Stroll

The warm spectacle of Portland suburb life distracted me so much that I ended up on Lincoln Avenue, so it was back to the starting point and retracing the steps to see where I went wrong.  I finally stumbled upon Eugenios (on Division) and I opened the door to find that tables and chairs stacked in the dining room and two “Beard Club” members behind the bar.  Brothers of the Scruff.  My people.  I asked a whole-heartedly foolish question for someone who works in the bar business; “Are you guys open?”  (Duh, really I knew the answer it was only an ice-breaker)  Walking in on employees who are just there on a Sunday to “Cook the Meatballs” is a little like walking in on a stranger naked.  It’s not rude, just really weird and causes you to mutter inappropriate foolish phrases “oh sorry, are uh…chuckle chortle…etc.”  After confirming a return time for tomorrow, I set back out on the streets toward Hawthorne, Mecca of the non-exhibitionist bohemian.  Some Earth-children are doing it to be different.  Here on Hawthorne, they are just humans.  I can be human here.  No one has to apologize for anything, and no one seems to trespass.  A glowing revue, but, it is but, day 1.  Yet, I remain an optimist.  I don’t doubt the sincerity of nice people.

Fish and Chips and Several Pabst Sips.

On my walk back, get this, I strolled along side an elderly man with a hearing aide and shot the breeze.  After a brief back-and-forth, he complimented me on my timing and my keen mastery of nuance.  What?  I love it, a real conversation for conversations sake, for in true old-guy fashion, he said abruptly; “Well, I’m going this way, it’s been really nice talking with you.”  And off he went with his hearing aide taking it all in.  He’s got no time for farting around one minute longer than he cares to.  This is most-likely his scheduled walk which he has taken for twenty years, north on 36th Ave and a left on Hawthorne, and off into the mileiu.  Far be it for this whipper-snapper to alter a time-tested route.  I continued east and found a little fish and chips joint.  

Eat here if you are here!

$2.50 Pabst Drafts and Chili Fried Cod with Jalapeno Tartar.  Hot damn!  I perused the Portland Mercury and got the super-skinny on local music happenings.  

I’ll Book it Willamette!

I had promoted to over 20 bars in the Portland Area.  I started the booking process too late and gave up too early so I never did book a night at The White Eagle, but guess what I found hiding in Courtney Ferguson’s Music Calendar.  SUNDAY MAY 11TH – Open Mic at the White Eagle.  Consider it booked.  We either make our own destiny or it remains un-made.  So it is on to the ‘goog’ to map it and then to the Tri-met website to see how I can get there, and after 8pm sometime tonight I rock Portland! 

Tonight’s Gig

I’ve got 9 days in this state (two of which were to be devoted to driving to wineries and seeing the coast) I think Portland just might deserve all of my devoted attention.  I just might stay and play.  I’ll let you know after I see how tonight goes.   Fly like an Eagle?  Nah, I never really liked Steve Miller, I’ll just stick to what I know… Supernormal Tyler tunes. 

Till later…  

The Public Transit Tour is rapidly approaching.  Here is a sneak preview of the poster for the show at Eugenio’s to take place on Friday May 16th.

• Listen to some Supernormal Tyler music. (link will open in a new window)
• Learn more about the ‘Public Transit Tour’.
• Watch all our videos right here.
• Read the life story of your’s truly.

In addition to the music performances to be part of the Public Transit Tour, Supernormal Records has added another aspect to an already packed itinerary.  Through our varied associations, we have booked a Wine Tour of the Willamette Valley Wine region west of Portland, Oregon. 

Follow Supernormal Tyler as he teaches you about Oregon Wines and ride shotgun as we travel some of the most breath-taking scenery in the US, and strum the strings among the vines. 

Wineries to be visited

• Argyle Winery 691 Highway 99W Dundee, Oregon 97115 (Map It) Argyle Winery produces still and sparkling wines in Oregon’s Willamette Valley. Their wines have received numberous 90+ point ratings from publications all over the world, and our customers prize these reasonably priced, delicious wines.

• Sokol Blosser Winery 5000 Sokol Blosser Lane Dundee, Oregon 97115 (Map It) Sokol Blosser has survived, grown and prospered as a family-owned and run operation, and the family is proud to have been part of developing and shaping Oregon’s now prominent wine industry.   Sokol Blosser Winery strives to create wines of world class quality that are produced sustainably, mindful of the environment and your health, and that express the distinctive flavors of their hillside vineyards. Sokol Blosser wines reflect who Sokol Blosser is – Their values and their sense of place. 

• Archery Summit Winery 18599 NE Archery Summit Rd Dayton, O.R. 97114 (Map It) Centuries of winemaking have proven that the best way to move grapes from bin to barrel is with the natural force of gravity. This is particularly true for the delicate, easily damaged Pinot Noir grape.  From the start, the building at Archery Summit would be, despite the cost, a gravity flow winery. They also wanted their “home” to be simple. Designed from the ground up, actually, from below the ground, the winery integrates classic architecture and technically advanced viticulture.

• King Estate Winery 80854 Territorial Hwy, Eugene, OR (Map It) In 2002, King Estate winery, vineyards, nursery, and all surrounding gardens and landscape received organic certification by the Oregon Tilth Certified Organic association. Today we are home to the world’s largest contiguous organic vineyard with over 465 acres planted. They are known for Pinot Noir and Pinot Gris/Grigio, which we farm organically and dry (dry-farming means no irrigation is used).

We will keep you updated with the developments of this program and the release date of the “Supernormal Wine Tour: Willamette Valley” to be released in the month of June.

MORE INFORMATION 

• Listen to some Supernormal Tyler music. (link will open in a new window)
• Learn more about the ‘Public Transit Tour’.
• Watch all our videos right here!
• Read the life story of your’s truly.