A Snapshot of Stumptown, in the Year of Our Lord 2014

Red and I had a good weekend staying at the Mark Spencer. The king suite was comfortable and clean. The front desk service was courteous and helpful. In terms of superficial ambiance it was clear that they are trying to compete with the hipper hotels around, but that it was probably a little more conventional than some of its rivals. The guest demography probably skews a little older.

Nevertheless the Mark Spencer is a decent modern hotel, with a fun historical pedigree, and the location is about as good as you can get right now.

We stayed mostly in the West End, checking out the blocks around. Red had lived down near here, back when she moved to Portland, so we both had fun comparing how things had changed. Everything seemed in flux.

On Saturday we ventured down Stark towards lower downtown. On the way, I remarked that Stark is a good street if you want to give yourself a walking tour of some of the grand old architecture of Portland, culminating in a classic vista at the corner of Third Streets, of old Cameron Books and the  Portland Outdoor Store, as rustic as it gets in downtown.

Nearby on Third at Huber's Cafe, the classic bistro that this Willamette Week article informed us is the oldest restaurant in Portland. That's a freebie answer to the quiz in the article.

Of course we had their combo plate, which comes with both ham and their signature roast turkey. We got to watch the making of their famous Spanish coffee when the couple at the table next to us ordered it.

On the way back we walked along Second as a warm spring rain began to fall. We passed the mockworthy tourists lined up to buy the disgusting offerings of Voodoo Doughnut. Then, without an umbrella, taking refuge in the bus shelters, we picked our way up Burnside from the gate of Chinatown, past the parade of the blessed damned with shopping carts and garbage bags.

While waiting under the awning of a shuttered food cart trailer, we admired the ruins of the old Grove Hotel across Burnside. The homeless camp had recently been evicted from the lot next to it.

A block up Burnside we passed Broadway, where one could see the sign for Mary's Club, the famous seedy landmark. "That's where _____ _____ used to work," I said, mentioning the name of another answer to the Willamette Week quiz.

When we got back up to our neighborhood in the West End we detoured to check out Union Way, the new urban shopping center (a makeshift covered alley connecting Stark and Burnside) that the New York Times called "so Portland it hurts." It was built in the ruins of two famous dive bars, by the same guy who had remodeled the old Fish Grotto.

Actually they had some very nice furniture in the boutiques. Red and I played "Price is Right" with the tags dangling form the leather sofas. Outrageous!

Of course we dropped by Powell's. My friend Nick is often working there, but we didn't see him that day. I bought some language books. Sort of my obsession lately.

In the morning we got our own box of donuts, not at Voodoo but at Blue Star. That's where the real locals go, as well as some of the classier tourists, and even rabble like us, masquerading as normal.