Max, the light rail train, was waiting for us inside the airport. The fare was a dollar. It took us downtown, within two blocks of our hotel. We had arrived for Christmas in Portland.
Stepping off the train downtown, I was panhandled (for my light rail ticket — I gave it to him). Rain was falling but no one carried an umbrella (Portlanders wear hoodies). A goldfish bowl sat on the counter at the front desk of our hotel, a sign identifying the goldfish by name (Buddy and Fred). Another sign listed the names of all the dogs staying in the hotel that night. We were invited to a free wine tasting at five.
Oh yes, I remember this place: it’s Portland. And today is Christmas Eve.
But hey: pictures convey a thousand words. Click on any one of those below to embiggen and read the captions.