Poets in Portland


First impressions on Portland were a little bit creepy. Instead of the typical hustle and bustle of the big cities we cam across a very clean and quiet downtown with a bunch of odd people. Everything looked normal until people started screaming and a man dressed up as a skeleton passed by. Our couchsurfer told us that it wasn't going to be possible so we were left to our luck in the middle of the city. Anyone is Portland is from Portland. So anyone knows where anything is. Hopefully luck always fund us and we ended up in Backspace cafe in the finals of the poetry slam of Portland. We got a last minute couchsurfer that pick us up right on the spot and we went to the north-east end of town. The artsy side.
We decided to stay a couple of days in the place. It was bound to be raining a lot so we could visit around in the sunny moments. Morgan, the neighbour, showed us around, draw with chalked in the street, got some hemp strings and enjoyed the girls playing 'sitting on the dock of the bay' in banjo and typewriter. The day went by in a slow pace, with people going to and from the house. Met a mormon, talked about politics, healthcare and the great America. And how good is to be Canadian.

'hundreds of year the man has been trying to perfect the perpetual motion machine without realizing that is our body'

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