My good friend Garrett and I met eight years ago in a mandatory training class for a U of O Housing job. He is funny, positive, spontaneous, adventurous, and an awesome friend. This blog was almost about the two of us traveling together for half a summer in Mexico, but Garrett is allergic to planning and coordinating. Right now he is living in Eugene and studying for the CFA-II (Chartered Financial Analyst?) in a week or so. It’s a big, challenging test, so most of my time here has been spent having quiet time on the other computer trying desperately to catch up on my blog.
When I got into Eugene from the farm, I pulled Garrett away from his studies and we took a walk around his old neighbourhood seeing the sights. It was peaceful and fun to see him reminisce about all the places he hasn’t been in years. Then I was off for a lunch date with a random blast from my past. Backstory: several months ago on Facebook I got a “’so-and-so’ wants to be your friend” message from a guy I knew in another lifetime. Kevin, Chris, and I were like the three musketeers for a wild summer and then some: the advent of ICQ (like MSN messenger) was fertile ground for our friendship. After some legal troubles, Kevin disappeared and I never heard from him again. Isn’t facebook amazing?
Back home, after several hours of Portland plan-making for the next week, I headed to campus to attend a “Women Travelers” seminar I’d heard about. It ended up being a terribly disguised speech by a Hostelling International representative chock full of dated and dangerous advice (she hadn’t traveled since the 90’s and told a questioning woman that, faced with unwanted physical attention from men on the road, she should grin and bear it in order to avoid cultural offense!). Ack! The whole ordeal faded quickly in the face of a yummy quinoa veggie dinner topped off with another round of pumpkin pie.
Coordinating visits to friends is significantly more complicated and stressful than just traveling — so I stayed up too late lining out more plans for Portland. In the morning, I rushed to prepare for the impending car-ditch. I needed three different sets of gear (city, cabin, sailing/backpacking) to be spread among four different bags and three different vehicles ultimately landing me in Vancouver, B.C. with only one bag to impose upon whatever ride I find back south. I managed to get it together, late of course, which worked well for Erica.
Erica and I met in Arcata when I unexpectedly worked/volunteered a stint as a pre-school gymnastics teacher right after Pat and I moved to Humboldt. I trained her on the ins and outs of managing a wild bunch of screaming, leaping, tumbling, cutest-things-you’ve-ever-seens, and we hit it off on subsequent bike rides, hikes, etc. She graduated from HSU recently, and has moved back to Oregon to re-establish residency before getting her masters at the U of O. I was delighted to play Eugene tour guide. I took her up Spencer’s Butte, pointed out hot spots, went on a walking tour, happened across a free beer tasting, introduced her to a few old haunts (High Street McMenamins, Max’s), and ended up at a place I never knew existed but apparently has for years.
I was right at home at “The Cooler” — essentially a giant barn complete with karaoke and $1 well drinks (obviously the makings for a wild evening). We had a great time, sang our hearts out (or was that me?), and ended up at a dive in West Eugene to finish out the night.
We made it out to Studio One — the most awesome French toast in the world — for breakfast in the morning, went for a nice morning stroll, visited Skinner’s Butte and then I was off to meet Tai for our Memorial Day Weekend tour of Portland and drop off my car to be babysat at the farm (thank you Matt and Lauren!).
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