Portland I

Irving Street NW
Thursday, January 12
One of my favorite books that I have never read is Xavier de Maistre's A Journey Around My Room. Confined to his room for six weeks after being arrested for taking part in a duel in France in 1790, de Maistre undertook a journey around his room, treating it as if he were travelling, looking at things there as if for the first time. He writes: "There's no more attractive pleasure, in my view, than following one's ideas wherever they lead." This is exactly the spirit of the Portland Project.

Today I succumb to the ease of having an "I" in my own backyard. Actually, since my apartment building has no backyard, Irving Street is the next nearest thing that I can set foot upon. My experience of Irving Street so far is using it for overflow parking when I can't find a space on my street. Surely it holds more than that.

I walk east. The first block is a solid canyon of apartment buildings. Further down there are more apartments, a church, a senior center, a few offices. Then I'm surprised to see a row of colorful old Victorian-style houses. Even the sidewalks are brick and there are electric lanterns for street lights. I wonder if this street is all that's left of a larger Victorian neighborhood, but there's no one around to ask. Soon, Irving Street is barricaded by the freeway, preventing me from exploring the many temptations of the Pearl District (perhaps we'll get there another day.) A nearby print shop has two signs pasted to it's side door: NO UPS. I've seen these signs (sometimes they say, YES) since I arrived in Portland and have always wondered what is going. Is it a blood feud with Fed Ex? A ballot referendum?

Turning back I retrace my steps and cross the commercial areas of 21st and 23rd Avenues. At the corner of 23rd I see the painted horse is out in front of Dazzle, an upscale gift store. In the spirit of the day, I name him Irving. There are just a few more blocks to go before the street dead-ends, but this time there is a long flight of stairs that takes me up to what would be a good view, if not for the construction fence and the rain and fog that sock in the city below.

As I descend the stairs I see there is no way to sugar-coat this journey. Is it because it's not a very interesting street or that I am unable to find anything much of interest? As I wonder about this I cross paths with a UPS man walking to his truck. I ask him about the signs. He laughs at my suggestion of a UPS boycott and tells me that the signs are actually used by those who have UPS accounts and the NO UPS is just a way of saying they don't have anything to pick up. "Saves a trip inside," he says. So while there are no particularly interesting insights today, at least one mystery is solved.