10.20.11: Omelettes, Waffles and Bacon – Oh, My!

Omelettes, Waffles and Bacon – Oh, My!

I’m a big breakfast fan. In fact, I would rank it as one of my three favorite meals of the day! Actually, when dining out, if I find myself in one of those restaurants that serves breakfast all day long, I’m much more likely to opt for an omelette over, say, a burger – ordering breakfast out feels like a warm and cozy indulgence, and it’s a meal that tastes most delicious when somebody else cooks it. Fortunately, Portlanders share my enthusiasm for a hearty first meal; the Rose City is chock-full of cafes, coffee shops, bistros, and (naturally) food carts that serve delicious and filling breakfasts morning, noon and night. In the mood for more than a McMuffin? Here are just a few of my favorite Portland-area breakfast spots…hardly a definitive list, but a good launching pad for further breakfast exploration.

Pine State Biscuits (two locations – Alberta and Belmont, plus the Portland Farmer’s Market) is a haven for folks who aren’t afraid of a little – gasp! – cholesterol in their diets, and judging by the long lines at this popular eatery, there are many people willing to throw caution to the wind for a bite of the scrumptious biscuits dished out here daily. Most popular is The Reggie, a glorious ode to gluttony consisting of the holy grail of culinary excess – fried chicken, bacon and cheese – sandwiched between a flaky, buttery biscuit topped with sausage gravy. Make it a Deluxe (let’s face it, why wouldn’t you?) and you’ll also get an egg. Much like the statue of the umbrella-wielding man in Pioneer Square, The Reggie is a Portland icon, and every bit as tasty as it sounds. There are other options, including a Steak Club and an Andoulle Corn Dog, but it’s that magic combination of chicken, biscuits and gravy that makes my mouth water most.

Venture further down Belmont and you’ll find Slappy Cakes, a do-it-yourself breakfast joint with hot griddles built into the middle of each table. The owners have taken the concept popularized by fondue restaurants and extended it to breakfast; here, patrons cook their own pancakes. There are plenty of batter options for everybody (buttermilk, vegan, whole grain, gluten-free), and a fun selection of mix-in ingredients. You can choose sweet fixins like chocolate chips, bananas and pecans, or savory ones such as bacon, chorizo or cheddar. Can’t decide? Go crazy, and mix them all in! Nobody is watching, anyway. Top your pancakes with a variety of tasty syrups diverse enough to please any palate. In the mood for something other than flapjacks, or just too darn lazy to do your own cooking? Fear not, the menu contains plenty of breakfast favorites the kitchen will prepare for you, including Huevos Rancheros and a pork belly Benedict. I’m sure they’re delicious, but I can’t go there and not order their pancakes. Plus, with a tantalizing list of breakfast cocktails – including Bloody Marys served by the pitcher – you simply can’t go wrong here!

Pine State isn’t the only place serving up hearty, fluffy biscuits. The appropriately named Biscuits Café (twelve locations in the Portland area and two in Vancouver) offers their namesake dish, plus a whole bunch of others, in generous portions that will leave you feeling satisfied for hours…and then planning your next visit soon after. Don’t be fooled by the fact that they’re a restaurant chain; Biscuits serves quality, made-from-scratch food at reasonable prices, and their wait staff is second to none. You’ll want to try the biscuits, of course; whether accompanied with one of their seasonal, homemade jams as a side dish or smothered beneath a rich, tangy layer of sausage gravy as the star attraction, they are wonderfully addictive. But don’t stop there; Biscuits offers up omelettes that are among the best in the metro area: fluffy, expertly cooked eggs stuffed with an array of tempting and unique ingredients. The Chorizo Omelette, packed with spicy sausage, avocado, green chilies and jack cheese and finished with a topping of salsa and sour cream is a personal favorite; also can’t-miss choices include a Greek Omelette, a Fajita Omelette, and a Shrimp Omelette. On the off chance that your salivary glands aren’t running on overdrive yet, how does a Breakfast Taco grab you? Or a Diced Ham Scramble? How about Chicken Fried Steak and Eggs, buried beneath their signature sausage gravy? If you’re not drooling yet, there’s something wrong with you!

One of the joys of wandering around a farmer’s market – aside from scoring fresh produce – is deciding where to stop for a bite to eat. Lugging around a bag filled with fruits and veggies will make you work up an appetite, after all. C’est Si Bon can be found at several Portland-area markets (PSU, Pioneer Square, OHSU, King Market) and perfectly bridges the gap between breakfast and lunch by offering a variety of either sweet or savory crepes. On one recent visit, a pork confit-caramelized onion-organic spring mix crepe competed with a strawberry-and-whipped-cream crepe for my attention. Savory won out over sweet – but just barely. With a rotating list of seasonal ingredients and perfectly airy crepes (available in both natural and buckwheat versions), C’est Si Bon delivers a bit of Parisian street flair to Portland, no matter the season.

Mark Petruska

---

Mark Petruska is in love and wants the world to know it. The object of his affection? The Pacific Northwest, where he has lived since 1994. Born in Hawaii, his father was in the Air Force, and the family moved often. Over the years, Mark has called many places home – Dayton, Ohio; Rapid City, South Dakota; San Jose, California – but his heart belongs to Portland.

Mark is also passionate about writing, and has cranked out a number of novels and short stories over the years. His dream is to become a published author. “I’d love to walk into Powell’s Books someday, and pull a novel with my name on it from the shelf,” he says. “It will happen…mark my words!”

A recent corporate layoff prompted Mark to pursue his passion and begin a freelance writing career. With a steady and growing client base, he hopes to make a living solely through his writing. Hobbies include cooking, blogging, photography, hiking, and “mind-numbing reality television.”

6.25.11: How to be a Portlander

How to be a Portlander, by Mark Petruska

Earlier this year, cable channel IFC aired a series called “Portlandia” that brilliantly spoofed the Rose City. Adored by critics, the series was laugh-out-loud funny and, I believe, a perfect representation of Portland. Thankfully, it’s been renewed for a second season, which will air next January.

The fact that such an outlandish series airing on Friday nights on a little-seen cable television network would prove so popular – not just in Portland, but nationwide – thrills me, and makes me believe that our little corner of the country holds an allure for many outsiders. They scoff at out liberal eccentricities and laugh out loud over the stereotypes that are off the charts wacky and yet, undeniably, true – while secretly yearning to see just what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s because we’re tucked way up here in the top left corner of the U.S. and sometimes seem like a separate country populated by coffee-swilling, flannel-clad, bicycle-riding vegans who are pro-marijuana, pro-assisted suicide, pro-spotted owl, and anti-establishment. I’d be curious to see just what was going on up here if I lived elsewhere, I’m sure.

With Portland now such a trendy place and in the spotlight, I thought I would offer up a few tips to anybody planning a trip to our fair city. This will help you blend in with the locals and will enhance your appreciation for all things PDX.

Without further ado, then, here is my guide on How To Be A Portlander.

1. First, and most importantly, learn how to pronounce Oregon. It’s OR-ih-guhn. Not OR-eeh-gahn or anything else like that. Mispronouncing the name of our state will immediately blow your cover. Likewise, figure out the correct pronunciation for the Willamette River in order to avoid looking like a fool.
2. Familiarize yourself with the city’s nicknames. We’re not just the Rose City; we also answer to Stumptown, Rip City, and SoMuchAwesomerThanSeattle.
3. Grow some facial hair. Be prepared to sport, at the least, 3 days’ worth of stubble. Bonus points for goatees and beards. Mustaches, however, went out of vogue in 1982…unless you’re Tom Selleck.
4. Observe our dress code. It’s really quite simple: there is no dress code. Dress however you please! A few popular looks include shorts in the dead of winter, pairing socks with sandals, flannel shirts, Birkenstocks, glasses, faded rock ‘n roll t-shirts, tie-dye, pajama bottoms, anything made from hemp or decorated with peace signs, and Gore-Tex.
5. Fall in love with trees. You don’t have to hug them – how literal and cliché – but you’d better appreciate them. After all, they’re on the state license plate. Learn the difference between a Douglas fir, western hemlock, and Sitka spruce.
6. Poke fun at Californians. Even if they’ve never done anything to wrong you. Learning a few California jokes to whip out at social gatherings is especially helpful.
7. Overcome your fear of needles. People here don’t talk about their tattoo, they talk about their “first tattoo” and their eyes grow misty as they remember that long-ago occasion. If you don’t have one, you’d better get one to blend in. If you have one, for crying out loud, why do you only have one?! Needles are also useful for piercing parts of your anatomy and for pumping lethal doses in your veins when you’re ready to Die With Dignity.
8. Do not, under any circumstances, walk into a coffee shop and order coffee. You’d better be ready for a latte or an Americano or something with chai. And when your barista creates a work of art in that swirl of steamed milk floating atop your brew, tip him.
9. Work up a good head of steam whenever you find an aluminum can – gasp! – in the trash can. If you’ve actually seen the perpetrator commit the offense, unleash a tirade about saving the earth. Then write to your Congressman and demand they pass a law banning plastic bags from grocery stores.
10. If you’ve never been to Powell’s, turn around and leave the city immediately.
11. Learn the lingo. “The Schnitz” is the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, “Big Pink” is the U.S. Bancorp Tower, and “The Fonz” was that cool dude on Happy Days. The last one isn’t too relevant these days.
12. Do not buy an umbrella. It’s much cooler to walk around and end up getting drenched. The rain is a constant here; if you don’t embrace it, you’ll go crazy. Also weather-related: throw around the term “sun breaks” whenever the spigot temporarily shuts off and that orange ball of light can be seen through the clouds, and be prepared for utter chaos and panic – school closures, around-the-clock news coverage with reporters standing on overpasses holding microphones while traffic crawls by beneath – whenever an inch of snow falls, which is more than enough to paralyze the city.

---

Mark Petruska is in love and wants the world to know it. The object of his affection? The Pacific Northwest, where he has lived since 1994. Born in Hawaii, his father was in the Air Force, and the family moved often. Over the years, Mark has called many places home – Dayton, Ohio; Rapid City, South Dakota; San Jose, California – but his heart belongs to Portland.

Mark is also passionate about writing, and has cranked out a number of novels and short stories over the years. His dream is to become a published author.

“I’d love to walk into Powell’s Books someday, and pull a novel with my name on it from the shelf,” he says. “It will happen…mark my words!”

A recent corporate layoff prompted Mark to pursue his passion and begin a freelance writing career. With a steady and growing client base, he hopes to make a living solely through his writing. Hobbies include cooking, blogging, photography, hiking, and “mind-numbing reality television.”

5.7.11: Bridges, Bubblers & Volcanoes

Bridges, Bubblers & Volcanoes: The Iconic Images of Portland, by Mark Petruska

Think of New York, and what comes to mind? Chances are it’s the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building. Paris has the Eiffel Tower, London’s got double-decker buses, and in Seattle, the Space Needle reigns supreme. All cities have certain images associated with them, and while Portland may not have one singular defining visual that comes immediately to mind when you think of the town, there are still a number of iconic images that perfectly represent the Rose City. When I think of Portland, here’s what pops into my head.

1. Bridges.
   Like Brooklyn and San Francisco, bridges are synonymous with P-Town…but we’ve got a whole bunch of ‘em, and keeping track of them all is a task few can master. There are ten bridges that span the Willamette River, joining east side to west, and even after living here for more than 16 years, I’m hard pressed to recognize more than a handful of them by sight. Bless the pioneers for their foresight in providing multiple river crossings, but curse them for having so many of them. I can barely remember the names of all Three Stooges.
    
2. Benson Bubblers.
   Let’s say you’re a filthy stinkin’ rich lumber baron. What would you like your legacy to be? Naturally, you’re probably thinking, “a water fountain!” Simon Benson was back in 1912, when he paid for his namesake “Benson Bubblers” that are now scattered throughout downtown. Simon had them installed so that his employees wouldn’t be sneaking off to the corner tavern for gin and whiskey on their lunch breaks, because – newsflash! – alcohol and chainsaws don’t mix. 
    
3. That sign with the deer on it that keeps changing.
   You know the one I’m talking about – the sign in Old Town with a leaping deer that gets a red nose every Christmas in celebration of drunk Santa. I mean, Rudolph. It seems like every time you turn around, it’s advertising something new. Over the years, it has morphed from the White Stag Sportswear logo to Made In Oregon to just plain old Portland, Oregon. So, this is what happens when corporate sponsorships dry up.
4. Roses.
   Personally, I think blackberries are far more prolific around these parts and – let’s face it – they taste a whole lot better, but changing the city’s namesake Rose Festival to a Blackberry Festival would be a thorny proposition, so flowers it is! Apparently our climate is ideal for growing roses. Interesting, because our climate is also ideal for growing moss, and you can bet that having a Moss Festival every year would be even less appealing than a Rose Festival.
5. Mount Hood.
   Much like the Matterhorn – only not plastic, and without a two-hour wait for a three-minute ride down from the top – Mount Hood rises majestically to the east of Portland in all its snowcapped glory, providing a postcard-perfect view when the weather is sunny, and pretty much invisible the other 350 days of the year. But when the mountain is out, oh, how beautiful it is.

There you have it: Portland in a nutshell. There are some notable runners-up, like colorful mayors, microbreweries, “sun breaks” and bacon-topped doughnuts, but we’ll save those for another list! 

---

 

Mark Petruska is in love and wants the world to know it. The object of his affection? The Pacific Northwest, where he has lived since 1994. Born in Hawaii, his father was in the Air Force, and the family moved often. Over the years, Mark has called many places home – Dayton, Ohio; Rapid City, South Dakota; San Jose, California – but his heart belongs to Portland.

Mark is also passionate about writing, and has cranked out a number of novels and short stories over the years. His dream is to become a published author.

“I’d love to walk into Powell’s Books someday, and pull a novel with my name on it from the shelf,” he says. “It will happen…mark my words!”

A recent corporate layoff prompted Mark to pursue his passion and begin a freelance writing career. With a steady and growing client base, he hopes to make a living solely through his writing. Hobbies include cooking, blogging, photography, hiking, and “mind-numbing reality television.”

3.16.11: A Tale of Two Doughnuts

By Mark Petruska

On SW 3^rd Avenue, in the heart of Old Town, people line up at all hours to gain entrance into the hallowed and cramped lobby of a doughnut shop. While its proprietors proudly declare, “the magic is in the hole,” the only real sleight of hand going on is the cash leaving your wallet and entering their till. Not an insignificant amount, either, for the doughnuts are pricey. Then again, the flocks of folks queuing up in all kinds of weather for a wait that can take over an hour aren’t really here for the doughnuts. It’s all about the communal experience.

It may sound like I’m not a fan of Voodoo Doughnut, but that’s not true. In fact, I am one of their biggest proponents. Voodoo so perfectly conjures up the spirit of Portland: funky, independent, a little bizarre. It attracts people from all walks of life: hipsters, tourists, families, college students, businessmen, Goths. They come here because the television told them to; Voodoo has been featured on countless broadcasts including The Tonight Show, Good Morning America, ESPN, and various specials on The Travel Channel and The Food Network. It has become a must-see spot thanks to its colorful proprietors, Cat Daddy (an ordained minister) and Tres, who hold onsite weddings, and a variety of creative doughnuts. Voodoo gets off on topping their doughnuts with outlandish confections – Captain Crunch, Fruit Loops, Coco Puffs, grape dust, Tang, Oreos (and once, until the FDA stepped in, Nyquil) – and meat. They cater to Elvis aficionados with the Memphis Mafia, to bachelorettes with the Cock-N-Balls, to potheads with the Maple Blazer Blunt, and to gays with the rainbow-colored Gay Bar. There is no doubt Voodoo is fun. The entertainment factor? Through the roof. The minute you (finally) step through the doors you are greeted with pink walls, tribal masks, loud music and a “Wall of Death” papered with celebrity obituaries.

But what about the doughnuts? Some might argue there’s no such thing as a bad doughnut, and while that may be true to an extent, there are varying degrees of deliciousness. Aside from Voodoo’s signature bacon maple bar – a sweet and savory concoction whose flavors perfectly balance each other, the crispness of the bacon adding harmonious contrast to the soft chewiness of the dough – their offerings tend to be mediocre. The Portland Crème, the city’s “official doughnut”? Nothing special or particularly forward thinking; it’s just your basic chocolate-covered, Bavarian cream-filled treat. The cereal atop the Captain My Captain and others tends to the stale side, and while the Voodoo Doll, with its pretzel stake through the heart and raspberry “blood” is fun to look at and poke, it’s really nothing special.

By all means, go to Voodoo Doughnut. Submerse yourself in the experience and you’ll have a great time and an okay doughnut or three.

Meanwhile, across the river in the humble northeast section of town is Tonalli’s Donuts & Cream, a hole in the wall joint smack dab in the middle of the colorful and jazzy Alberta Arts District. This unassuming shop may have zero name recognition, but it makes up for that with great doughnuts, friendly service, and prices that won’t stretch your wallet.

On a recent rainy Saturday morning, I pulled up to the curb right in front of the store and parked my car three steps from the front door – for free. I marveled at the fact that there weren’t two hundred people lined up halfway around the block, inching their way forward. Upon entering, I was greeted with a cheerful smile by one of the employees, who struck up a friendly conversation and eagerly pointed out their newest creation, a blueberry cake doughnut. The walls weren’t pink, Metallica was not blaring from the loudspeakers, and there was nary an overpriced t-shirt or sticker for sale. What I saw, instead, were doughnuts – and plenty of them, all neatly organized and showcased behind a glass counter. All the usual suspects were on hand: old-fashioned, glazed, raised, maple bars (sans the bacon), chocolate covered, etc. And oh, were they good! Perfectly crisp on the outside, moist and slightly chewy on the inside, Tonalli’s doughnuts are fried to perfection. They’re light and springy – not at all dense or saturated with grease. These guys might not be able to have you exchange “I do’s”, but they’ve perfected the art of doughnut making. The buttermilk bar is tangy and cakelike, its crunchy exterior giving way to a puffy middle. The Bavarian-filled chocolate doughnut here may not be Portland’s “official doughnut” but it’s every bit as regal as its cross-town rival. And that blueberry cake doughnut they were so proud of? It may have been the best of the bunch – a full twelve hours later.

It just goes to show that all the publicity in the world doesn’t necessarily equate to quality. While many are lured by flash over substance, those who dig a little deeper will reap the rewards. The real magic is happening at Tonalli’s.

---

Mark Petruska is in love and wants the world to know it.  The object of his affection?  The Pacific Northwest, where he has lived since 1994.  Born in Hawaii, his father was in the Air Force, and the family moved often.  Over the years, Mark has called many places home – Dayton, Ohio; Rapid City, South Dakota; San Jose, California – but his heart belongs to Portland.

Mark is also passionate about writing, and has cranked out a number of novels and short stories over the years. His dream is to become a published author.

“I’d love to walk into Powell’s Books someday, and pull a novel with my name on it from the shelf,” he says. “It will happen…mark my words!”

A recent corporate layoff prompted Mark to pursue his passion and begin a freelance writing career. With a steady and growing client base, he hopes to make a living solely through his writing. Hobbies include cooking, blogging, photography, hiking, and “mind-numbing reality television.”

2.15.11: Go East Young Man

By Mark Petruska

Think of Portland, and what images pop into your head? Skyscrapers, bridges, and bacon-covered doughnuts, almost certainly. While the “heart” of the city may lie in its downtown core, crossing the Willamette and exploring the east side of town will yield its own treasure trove of rewards.

The Vera Katz Eastbank Esplanade, named after our colorful former mayor, is a 1.5-mile pedestrian and bicycle path that runs from the Steel Bridge to the Hawthorne Bridge on the east shore of the Willamette River. Its most unique feature is a floating walkway that allows you an up close and personal look at the river – you can literally feel it beneath your feet as the platform sways gently in the wake of passing boats. You can walk from Tom McCall Waterfront Park across the Steel Bridge to hook up with the esplanade (a great excursion if you’re looking to walk off that elephant ear you just ate at the Saturday Market), or find it from a number of spots on the east side of the river.

If you think OMSI (Oregon Museum of Science and Industry) is for kids only, guess again. There are enough enthralling exhibits to keep adults interested, too – and an IMAX theater for in-your-face movies. After hours, check out a laser light show in the Planetarium. Pink Floyd is synonymous with lasers and is always playing, but a rotating list of shows – including Led Zeppelin and Nirvana (highly recommended!) – fills out the calendar. Even if OMSI is closed, it’s worth a trip there after dark for the best view of the Portland skyline in town. Adjacent to the parking lot and overlooking the river, you’ll find the lights of the city sparkling on the Willamette – vibrant shades of gold, green and red are a stunning sight and a great photo opportunity.

The best restaurants are typically holes in the wall that you wouldn’t normally give a second glance, and the east side has plenty of these unassuming spots that provide a great meal on the cheap. One of my favorites is no longer a secret thanks to national exposure on shows like The Food Network’s “Best Thing I Ever Ate,” but don’t let the hype scare you away from a great meal. Bunk Sandwiches on SE Morrison offers up heaping sandwich happenings that will have your taste buds screaming “more!” Especially tasty are their pig-centric offerings: both the Pork Belly Cubano and the Pulled Pork with apple slaw are mouth-wateringly delicious.

A short distance away is the vibrantly hip Hawthorne District. Located on SE Hawthorne Blvd. between 17th and 43rd Avenues, the Hawthorne District is a funky and eclectic mix of shops and restaurants. Familiar faces like Powell’s Books and Ben & Jerry’s coexist beside pipe shops, tattoo parlors, and vintage stores. Though far from downtown, Hawthorne is quintessentially Portland; you’ll find a veritable rainbow cornucopia of Generation-X types roaming the ‘hood, including hipsters, hippies, bicycle messengers, environmental activists, and gays. The Bagdad Theater & Pub, an historic movie palace owned by the McMenamin brothers and part of their impressive chain, is a great place to kick back for a cocktail and people-watch, or check out a movie or concert.

Finally, don’t miss Mount Tabor, a volcanic cinder cone that towers over southeast Portland and offers a great view of downtown from a distance. The perfect spot to catch a sunset, Mount Tabor’s got walking trails, benches, and a playground for your inner child.

—————————————

Mark Petruska is in love and wants the world to know it.  The object of his affection?  The Pacific Northwest, where he has lived since 1994.  Born in Hawaii, his father was in the Air Force, and the family moved often.  Over the years, Mark has called many places home – Dayton, Ohio; Rapid City, South Dakota; San Jose, California – but his heart belongs to Portland.

Mark is also passionate about writing, and has cranked out a number of novels and short stories over the years. His dream is to become a published author.

“I’d love to walk into Powell’s Books someday, and pull a novel with my name on it from the shelf,” he says. “It will happen…mark my words!”

A recent corporate layoff prompted Mark to pursue his passion and begin a freelance writing career. With a steady and growing client base, he hopes to make a living solely through his writing. Hobbies include cooking, blogging, photography, hiking, and “mind-numbing reality television.”

1.10.11: A Ghost Of A Chance

By Mark Petruska

Welcome to Rose City Unwrapped!

Portland, Oregon is a vibrant and dynamic city full of interesting places (and people). There is nothing I enjoy more than venturing downtown and exploring its nooks and crannies. I’ve rubbed elbows with hippies, vegans, punk rockers, political activists, businessmen, college kids, and soccer moms – sometimes all on the same street corner. That’s what I love about PDX – its eclectic mix of diversity and culture of open acceptance makes me feel at home no matter the time of day or season of the year. Portland is like the cool hipster who marches to the beat of his own drum – he doesn’t care what anybody thinks, yet welcomes all into his home. Each month I’ll write about my favorite haunts in the Portland area – some well known, others, less so. Are you ready to hit the streets?

Haunts is not an accidental word choice for my first article. I have long been fascinated with the paranormal, and so a little over a year ago, I signed up for the Beyond Bizarre Ghost Tour from Portland Walking Tours . Where else would I have the opportunity to walk around with an EMF meter, attempting to contact the spirits of the deceased, Ghost Hunters-style?

Accompanied by my brother and his girlfriend, who were visiting from out of town, we met in front of Old Town Pizza on a balmy Friday night in August. There are two tours available, one for all ages at 7:00, and an “adults only” (18+) tour at 10:00. We opted for the latter. We were split into two groups, and our guide – a typical free-spirited bohemian type sporting a black derby and scarf tied around her neck – said the main difference between the tours was that they didn’t shy away from some of the more unsavory aspects of the dearly departed (ties to prostitution, grisly murder details) on ours. Plus, she promised a lot of cussing, and proved her point by assaulting us with a few choice profanities right off the bat. Most of us smirked like grade-schoolers.

F words out of the way, we hopped on the MAX train for a quick ride to the White Eagle Saloon & Tavern, a brick hotel dating back to 1905 (and now a part of the McMenamin’s chain) that is allegedly haunted by the spirits of Rose (a prostitute) and a former tenant named Sam. Armed with EMF meters that would light up in Christmasy shades of red and green in the presence of any electrical interference, we marched upstairs into the hallway of the so-called “rock ‘n roll hotel”, waving our devices around and hoping for “hits.” In theory, spirits manifest themselves by creating an electrical disturbance in the atmosphere. Nothing very exciting happened here, but I can vouch that my EMF meter worked fine, as it lit up crazily when I moved it over an electrical box in the wall.

Our sweep of the joint completed, and largely without fanfare, we exited the hotel and walked through the streets of Portland, where we proceeded to get heckled mercilessly by the late-night crowds, most of whom appeared to be in search of a different type of spirit. Apparently we were quite the sight, a dozen people walking around downtown while waving blinking devices through the air. We didn’t let their catcalls and slurs keep us from our appointed rounds with the dead, though, and soldiered on. Our guide talked nonstop about Portland’s haunted history and covered a myriad of ghostly topics like voodoo (which gave her an excellent excuse to stop at Voodoo Doughnut, where she emerged with a pink box full of goodies for us to share). We made various stops along the way, where she pointed out a number of paranormal hot spots, including a parking lot where – inexplicably – we did get a lot of activity on our EMF meters.

Eventually we circled back to Old Town Pizza for the grand finale. This former hotel is one of Portland’s most haunted spots; many people claim the spirit of Nina, a prostitute (again!) who allegedly fell – or was pushed – down an elevator shaft to her death there, roams the place. There have been a bunch of sightings and unexplained noises over the years, so I was eager to check it out! We were given flashlights and descended into the basement, a dank and dark room that contains a boarded-up entrance to one of the city’s infamous underground Shanghai tunnels. Some in our group got EMF hits, but most of us experienced nothing. I snapped a photo down there, and discovered later the presence of orbs in my shot, which – depending upon your beliefs – were either ghostly spirits floating about our heads, or dust. I’m going with the former, because it makes for a far more interesting tale!

Our tour ended there, and our group disbanded shortly before midnight, scattering into the dark in various directions. Even though we didn’t encounter any hard evidence of the paranormal, I enjoyed myself immensely, and learned quite a bit about Portland’s past. This is a fun tour for anybody interested in ghosts or history, or looking to do something different on a weekend night. Just be prepared to deal with occasionally rowdy passers-by.

—————————————

Mark Petruska is in love and wants the world to know it.  The object of his affection?  The Pacific Northwest, where he has lived since 1994.  Born in Hawaii, his father was in the Air Force, and the family moved often.  Over the years, Mark has called many places home – Dayton, Ohio; Rapid City, South Dakota; San Jose, California – but his heart belongs to Portland.

Mark is also passionate about writing, and has cranked out a number of novels and short stories over the years. His dream is to become a published author.

“I’d love to walk into Powell’s Books someday, and pull a novel with my name on it from the shelf,” he says. “It will happen…mark my words!”

A recent corporate layoff prompted Mark to pursue his passion and begin a freelance writing career. With a steady and growing client base, he hopes to make a living solely through his writing. Hobbies include cooking, blogging, photography, hiking, and “mind-numbing reality television.”