Several keys have been removed from the keyboard here at the office. Odd, yes. Inconvienent, no. Oh, those keyboards..so conniving!

Notes on My Adventure in July 2005

The home that seems less and less like home. The tourists are scary, they are scary in the eyes of my parents, who have accustomed to the slower pace of typical coastal folk. City people tend to be more intense, more picky and louder than their rural-residing counterparts. What I have learned is this: On the coast, take your time, expect facilities to be broken, slow or lagging in the latest technology.

My pet Aussie Shepherd, Blue, is developing tendencies that make him moonlight as Merlin on walks. He thoroughly enjoys peeing on fences, sniffing unmentionables and humping unsuspecting pedestrian limbs. All in all he is a normal, affectionate 2 year old canine.

Tillamook head is great but luxury condos at the end are a spoiler. The 10.5 miles in 4 hours has got to be a personal record. Impending darkness in a deserted forest is a superb motivator. So is Odwalla’s Blackberry Fruit Shake.

Highlights included the sunsets near Indian Beach, seeing Justin’s wedding site again and the dark, creepy forested segments. The spruce trees make for a nice, dark cool environment.

Tillamook Rock lighthouse is hard to photograph with my lens arsenal. Once a lighthouse warning ships of impending basaltic treachery, it is now a mausoleum. The number of people whose remains are entombed within Terrible Tilly has exceeded its operations permit. A word to the bereaved: your bones aren’t around here anymore.

Seaside’s A and W turned Muchos Gracias makes a decent, if yet greasy enchilada. The combo dinner was way too plentiful. Much to my surprise there was a chile relleno being held captive under my burrito. This chain is run by and staffed by 100% Mexican chefs and waitresses, giving them a good chance at a steady, safe employment, rather than in the farm industry, where the lettuce barons chotto exploit them.

The Pelican Pub and Brewery, nestled in the nook of sandy Cape Kiwanda, has finally sold out to the yuppie crowd and is way, way overpriced. Two dinner were 60 bucks. Cape Kiwanda is still about half scoured away and no resort yet. Dining with a former barmaid surprisingly netted no discount. Progress? I’d just assume eat a toe jam and beetle sandwich rather than see developers destroy yet another pristine environment…

Vancouver Weekend

Tourists on a budget rejoice and feast upon 93 Canadian cent pizza slices; Vancouver’s ghetto lunch on the run. However no word on how it tastes. British Columbia’s alternative to the meatier 99 cent Big Mac. I love Canadian coins and bills. So many queens, so many colors. No secret Masonic eye or any of the God stuff that is on the dollar. Plus, they even sport my favorite animals, the beaver and the loon.

The Templeton; special folks and good grilled cheese sandwiches, all in a retro 1950’s style diner complete with hoards of Gay Vancouverites. Recommended. They also sport a soda fountain that a little bird told me is luscious. But I’m on a diet so I wouldn’t eat such slag. The processed sugar industry I feel, is wholeheartedly to blame for this.

Bus stop at Robson. Leaning on the granite edifice of Sears and Roebuck, a disenfranchised man sings his songs, rattles his change cup and watches a global sprinkling of humanity await their electric, non-foul exhaust-emitting bus’s arrival. The music was a bit of a cross between Willy Nelson, Merle Haggard and Axl Rose.

Squamish climbing. Ascending the apron, an off-vertical glacial polished hillside circumvented by vertical cracks. Without them the hill might need bolts. Trees along the route make small ledges that are a feature of climbs near and on the Chief. Got my shoe stuck in cat crack, my first foray into granite climbing. BC power lines provide and interesting background to the industrial, yet green Squamish region.

I noticed a lot of New Zealanders in Vancouver. All are nice and pleasant. Kiwi girls are among the nicest. Their men have the tendency to be mean drunks.

Oregon: The Beaver State

Costco families converge in Warrenton, Oregon. Mix of people: definite. Locals easily spotted: you bet your buns. Mangoes: stringy yet refreshingly sweet. Buying in bulk? For the homeowner, probably an excessive buying strategy. I noticed again how wasteful and excessive dining out in America is. Luckily the concept of a light meal is gaining ground. In every store, town and airport, however obese (and I mean like over 100 pounds overweight) easily spotted. I often pine for a day where Costco goes bezerk and makes its suppliers take back all that excessive packaging. After reading Garbage land: On the secret trail of trash, I feel as if people are truly oblivious creatures when it comes to limiting our ecological footprint…

At Costco I spied Fat Boy Ice Cream Sandwiches. Knee braces and a do-it-yourself stomach stapling kit now included. Bravo for a company not trying to pretty up its image. Brutal partially hydrogenated soybean oil-coated honest marketing.

July 20, 2005. Venue: Saddle Mountain State Park. Incident: two folks who didn’t take kindly to my comments on the local timber industry. Fat mom with idiot son. Likely driving Ford 350 XT with duellies. Not environmentally progressive as it turns out. Lesson learned: keep politics out of casual conversations to avoid bubbles bursting and heads exploding at challenges to the status quo. Isn’t it sad that a free exchange of ideas, a pillar of democracy has begun to be replaced by gravitation toward secularism. Did Jesus invent the chainsaw in his free time? Would he advocate general ignorance of modern, cost-effective alternative forestry?

Atop Saddle Mountain Sis and I met a Scottish photographer at the summit of the stately 3200 foot peak. Nepalese might call that more of a hill. What adventure led a Scot to reside in Portland? I am curious…

My sister, thoroughly in the grasp of what I like to call the University Student trance, has developed what you might call a bit of flab around her midriff. As do I. She still eats like a pre-teen, despite have recently joined the ranks of full-fledged adulthood. I’m talking about things like neon fruit cut-outs, diet Oreos. Hiking for the day with me she experienced her first sugar burn-out. Reduced-calorie Oreos. Snack-food of champions.

Lots of God loves America, etc ribbons seen on cards and hindquarters. All this renewed patriotism certainly reminds me of that old song, Tie a Yellow Ribbon, about a prisoner pining for his freedom and his former partner. At 99 cents they are a cheap way to act and believe as Fox news dictates. Kind of a political spin-off of the WWJD thing. I’ll tell you one thing, you can’t blame Jesus for the Crusades, Iraq or any other folly perpetuated by the Church. I am beginning to sound chotto anti, aren’t I?

Land…mighty land stretching across the horizon. Few high-tension lines souring mountain vistas. For that we have massive altmodish clear cuts. Greenery: simply everywhere. It is really not a fair comparison. There is so much real estate in the US that just remains idle, fallow, underutilized and staggeringly cheap whence compared with urban Japan, where land is sold in units as small as a half meter square. Just look at my mother in law’s garden plot as an example. She bought the remaining half-meter from the landlady for a premium. Though quite useful land and very fertile once the concrete cap was removed, it boast what the father in law jests must certainly be Kobe’s most expensive daikon (long, tubular and intimidating radish).

LAX Walkabout:

The situation is that in LAX no one likes their job, at least no one I have encountered. I have used the airport here just three times, either inbound our en route to that long, facially taxing 11.5 hour leg from Osaka’s KIX. I had a few hours to kill and since LAX is bisected by California’s famed Highway 1, a walkabout seemed in order.

A decent taco salad from Carl’s Jr and an admonishment from a homeless window washer to not be afraid of the African American race later, I had seen enough. Being a car culture, LA takes spread out to the extreme. I enjoyed the walk, and the bustling commerce surrounding the terminals themselves. The inter-terminal shuttle driver, miffed tourists in tote, was talking on her cell to coordinate a desperate apartment search. A friendly man outside gave good advice, as long as I supported his ecumenical leanings. Bring it on, I say.

Tourists stopped ME and asked for directions. Do I look Californian? I always seem to notice that in LA there is a contacts and no glasses rule. My wardrobe nixes that notion but admittedly being asked for directions gives people two options. First, a great chance to send the weary and disoriented astray. On the happy end, It is prime time to share the knowledge banging around my head like small, misplaced pebbles.

Peter Jennings died. He should have followed Tom Brokaw’s example and stayed healthy by rock climbing frequently. I respect a newscast that likes the nature, didn’t smoke and works for a network that hasn’t been touched by anything, including an angel. Feedback welcome to ryaninjapan76@yahoo.com, at your leisure.

###

Notes on My Adventure in July 2005

The home that seems less and less like home. The tourists are scary, they are scary in the eyes of my parents, who have accustomed to the slower pace of typical coastal folk. City people tend to be more intense, more picky and louder than their rural-residing counterparts. What I have learned is this: On the coast, take your time, expect facilities to be broken, slow or lagging in the latest technology.

My pet Aussie Shepherd, Blue, is developing tendencies that make him moonlight as Merlin on walks. He thoroughly enjoys peeing on fences, sniffing unmentionables and humping unsuspecting pedestrian limbs. All in all he is a normal, affectionate 2 year old canine.

Tillamook head is great but luxury condos at the end are a spoiler. The 10.5 miles in 4 hours has got to be a personal record. Impending darkness in a deserted forest is a superb motivator. So is Odwalla’s Blackberry Fruit Shake.

Highlights included the sunsets near Indian Beach, seeing Justin’s wedding site again and the dark, creepy forested segments. The spruce trees make for a nice, dark cool environment.

Tillamook Rock lighthouse is hard to photograph with my lens arsenal. Once a lighthouse warning ships of impending basaltic treachery, it is now a mausoleum. The number of people whose remains are entombed within Terrible Tilly has exceeded its operations permit. A word to the bereaved: your bones aren’t around here anymore.

Seaside’s A and W turned Muchos Gracias makes a decent, if yet greasy enchilada. The combo dinner was way too plentiful. Much to my surprise there was a chile relleno being held captive under my burrito. This chain is run by and staffed by 100% Mexican chefs and waitresses, giving them a good chance at a steady, safe employment, rather than in the farm industry, where the lettuce barons chotto exploit them.

The Pelican Pub and Brewery, nestled in the nook of sandy Cape Kiwanda, has finally sold out to the yuppie crowd and is way, way overpriced. Two dinner were 60 bucks. Cape Kiwanda is still about half scoured away and no resort yet. Dining with a former barmaid surprisingly netted no discount. Progress? I’d just assume eat a toe jam and beetle sandwich rather than see developers destroy yet another pristine environment…

Vancouver Weekend

Tourists on a budget rejoice and feast upon 93 Canadian cent pizza slices; Vancouver’s ghetto lunch on the run. However no word on how it tastes. British Columbia’s alternative to the meatier 99 cent Big Mac. I love Canadian coins and bills. So many queens, so many colors. No secret Masonic eye or any of the God stuff that is on the dollar. Plus, they even sport my favorite animals, the beaver and the loon.

The Templeton; special folks and good grilled cheese sandwiches, all in a retro 1950’s style diner complete with hoards of Gay Vancouverites. Recommended. They also sport a soda fountain that a little bird told me is luscious. But I’m on a diet so I wouldn’t eat such slag. The processed sugar industry I feel, is wholeheartedly to blame for this.

Bus stop at Robson. Leaning on the granite edifice of Sears and Roebuck, a disenfranchised man sings his songs, rattles his change cup and watches a global sprinkling of humanity await their electric, non-foul exhaust-emitting bus’s arrival. The music was a bit of a cross between Willy Nelson, Merle Haggard and Axl Rose.

Squamish climbing. Ascending the apron, an off-vertical glacial polished hillside circumvented by vertical cracks. Without them the hill might need bolts. Trees along the route make small ledges that are a feature of climbs near and on the Chief. Got my shoe stuck in cat crack, my first foray into granite climbing. BC power lines provide and interesting background to the industrial, yet green Squamish region.

I noticed a lot of New Zealanders in Vancouver. All are nice and pleasant. Kiwi girls are among the nicest. Their men have the tendency to be mean drunks.

Oregon: The Beaver State

Costco families converge in Warrenton, Oregon. Mix of people: definite. Locals easily spotted: you bet your buns. Mangoes: stringy yet refreshingly sweet. Buying in bulk? For the homeowner, probably an excessive buying strategy. I noticed again how wasteful and excessive dining out in America is. Luckily the concept of a light meal is gaining ground. In every store, town and airport, however obese (and I mean like over 100 pounds overweight) easily spotted. I often pine for a day where Costco goes bezerk and makes its suppliers take back all that excessive packaging. After reading Garbage land: On the secret trail of trash, I feel as if people are truly oblivious creatures when it comes to limiting our ecological footprint…

At Costco I spied Fat Boy Ice Cream Sandwiches. Knee braces and a do-it-yourself stomach stapling kit now included. Bravo for a company not trying to pretty up its image. Brutal partially hydrogenated soybean oil-coated honest marketing.

July 20, 2005. Venue: Saddle Mountain State Park. Incident: two folks who didn’t take kindly to my comments on the local timber industry. Fat mom with idiot son. Likely driving Ford 350 XT with duellies. Not environmentally progressive as it turns out. Lesson learned: keep politics out of casual conversations to avoid bubbles bursting and heads exploding at challenges to the status quo. Isn’t it sad that a free exchange of ideas, a pillar of democracy has begun to be replaced by gravitation toward secularism. Did Jesus invent the chainsaw in his free time? Would he advocate general ignorance of modern, cost-effective alternative forestry?

Atop Saddle Mountain Sis and I met a Scottish photographer at the summit of the stately 3200 foot peak. Nepalese might call that more of a hill. What adventure led a Scot to reside in Portland? I am curious…

My sister, thoroughly in the grasp of what I like to call the University Student trance, has developed what you might call a bit of flab around her midriff. As do I. She still eats like a pre-teen, despite have recently joined the ranks of full-fledged adulthood. I’m talking about things like neon fruit cut-outs, diet Oreos. Hiking for the day with me she experienced her first sugar burn-out. Reduced-calorie Oreos. Snack-food of champions.

Lots of God loves America, etc ribbons seen on cards and hindquarters. All this renewed patriotism certainly reminds me of that old song, Tie a Yellow Ribbon, about a prisoner pining for his freedom and his former partner. At 99 cents they are a cheap way to act and believe as Fox news dictates. Kind of a political spin-off of the WWJD thing. I’ll tell you one thing, you can’t blame Jesus for the Crusades, Iraq or any other folly perpetuated by the Church. I am beginning to sound chotto anti, aren’t I?

Land…mighty land stretching across the horizon. Few high-tension lines souring mountain vistas. For that we have massive altmodish clear cuts. Greenery: simply everywhere. It is really not a fair comparison. There is so much real estate in the US that just remains idle, fallow, underutilized and staggeringly cheap whence compared with urban Japan, where land is sold in units as small as a half meter square. Just look at my mother in law’s garden plot as an example. She bought the remaining half-meter from the landlady for a premium. Though quite useful land and very fertile once the concrete cap was removed, it boast what the father in law jests must certainly be Kobe’s most expensive daikon (long, tubular and intimidating radish).

LAX Walkabout:

The situation is that in LAX no one likes their job, at least no one I have encountered. I have used the airport here just three times, either inbound our en route to that long, facially taxing 11.5 hour leg from Osaka’s KIX. I had a few hours to kill and since LAX is bisected by California’s famed Highway 1, a walkabout seemed in order.

A decent taco salad from Carl’s Jr and an admonishment from a homeless window washer to not be afraid of the African American race later, I had seen enough. Being a car culture, LA takes spread out to the extreme. I enjoyed the walk, and the bustling commerce surrounding the terminals themselves. The inter-terminal shuttle driver, miffed tourists in tote, was talking on her cell to coordinate a desperate apartment search. A friendly man outside gave good advice, as long as I supported his ecumenical leanings. Bring it on, I say.

Tourists stopped ME and asked for directions. Do I look Californian? I always seem to notice that in LA there is a contacts and no glasses rule. My wardrobe nixes that notion but admittedly being asked for directions gives people two options. First, a great chance to send the weary and disoriented astray. On the happy end, It is prime time to share the knowledge banging around my head like small, misplaced pebbles.

Peter Jennings died. He should have followed Tom Brokaw’s example and stayed healthy by rock climbing frequently. I respect a newscast that likes the nature, didn’t smoke and works for a network that hasn’t been touched by anything, including an angel. Feedback welcome to ryaninjapan76@yahoo.com, at your leisure.

###