We are enamored with Portland. Rain and cold and all. We rewatch Portlandia episodes and find them even funnier. Half-seriously, Imo and I tell the kids we're thinking about moving to Portland. (They object violently.) Houses there are a fraction of what they cost here in SoCal. We could get a little craftsman in one of the southeast neighborhoods. We could open a Filipino food truck that serves sisig and tapsilog -- dishes that would go perfectly with the beer and coffee that are so well-loved there. We could start over (again). We don't know shit about running a business, and won't have family or friends close by, but the fantasy of a future elsewhere is thrilling, terrifying, tempting.
In my dreams, I can always fly. It is so trippy, the best feeling ever. I feel like I am seeing "reality" when I ascend and see over cities -- everything visible and understandable to me. For some reason, the same views don't feel real to me when I am awake. But that's a great feeling too. These past days of our "fallen empires" tour, I've seen ruins of entire cities. I see my entire high school history lessons flash in front of my eyes. The Trojan War, The Fall of Constantinople, The Rise of the Ottoman Empire are realities, not just terms I had to memorize in school. It feels unreal.