Portland is not like any American city. It is green,
very green, alive and most of all full of secrets. The bus I had taken from
Seattle to Portland last December also wasn't like any other bus. It was very
slow, very quiet and very cold. The driver had to drive slowly since the road
was very slippery, and most people in the bus were sleeping, or very sleepy.
And the reason why I am using a lot the word "very" is because that
part of the country succeeded in giving itself a unique image comparing to the
rest of the States, an image of modernity, beauty, peculiarity and extreme love
for nature.
Three hours were enough to enjoy the Washington-Oregon
sights from the window. Arriving to Portland meant the beginning of an
extraordinary journey in the beautiful State of Oregon. I managed to quickly
find my hotel, check in and take my back bag to start wandering in the city's
streets and be happy getting lost.
Like everything else, Portland's architecture is
unique. So many colours, weird shapes, futuristic designs and historical
statues in almost every park, made the city look like it was founded by aliens,
wild animals and armies from a lost era. It was fascinating to be in such a
vibrant city, a city that managed to maintain originality, beauty,
sustainability and art to make life there a unique experience. The city has a
lot to offer, not only for a curious tourist like myself, but also for people
who have been living there for years and still can find pleasure and joy in
being one of the inhabitants of Portland.
Not too far from the city centre, I found beautiful
Japanese miniature landscapes with Zen gardens around and small paths to
follow. As I was strolling near the gardens, I discovered something else. It
was grey, strange and a bit disturbing. A huge black wall was standing in the
middle of the trees, with very small scriptures and random objects on the
ground that looked like everyday items. As I was approaching the wall and as I
started reading what was written, I realized that the wall was actually a
memorial dedicated to victims of the Holocaust. The everyday items I saw on the
ground were made of steel, they cannot be removed, they can only be seen or
touched, and then remain on the ground, quietly telling the story that many
survivors wanted to tell to the world.
I paused for a moment. I realized that I was in the
middle of a quiet green forest sitting in front of a violent and clamorous
piece of history. I had many thoughts in mind. One of them was thinking of how
fortunate I was to get to experience something like that in a city like
Portland. The moment was strong, sincere and breathtaking. However, it was full
of peace, love and hope.
As I was getting ready to leave, and explore more
wonders of Portland, I heard quick loud steps behind me. I saw a little child
running towards me and a woman's voice suddenly said "honey wait, that is
not a doll don't touch it".
#AIK #YAL
That is not a doll, don't touch it
XII.XVII.MMXIII
That is not a bag
These are not letters
This is not a violin
No comments:
Post a Comment