Portland, OR

So I’ve been in Florida for two weeks now, and I have one more to go before I get to return to Portland. I am literally counting the hours.

Allow me to digress for just a moment…Something that I do like about Portland is that it seems as though many people I have met there are not from Portland, but rather are people who chose to move to Portland (usually after one visit). I have lived many places now, and most of those cities were cities where people just seemed to grow up there or near there, or it was the closest big city to their hometown. Not to say that every city doesn’t have it’s fair share of people who actively seek out and choose to move there, but in Portland, it seems that many people move there because something compels them to live there. In that most newbies didn’t move to Portland for a job per se, instead moving to a beautiful city and hoping to find a job once there. That is a sign of love.

I kind of feel like a broken record talking about Portland while I am staying in Florida. One, I am not a Florida fan. Sure, I like the Gulf and the Atlantic is cool, but the interior is a like a blackhole of culture. I’m sorry if I have just offended a Central Florida resident, but come on…I’m right. Admit it.

And two, I really like where I live, so I tend to gush…that’s right, gush, and I am not a gushing kind of gal. I know that everyone around me is tired of my talking about how much better Portland is than Orlando. I sort of feel like an obnoxious New Yorker.

But anyway, there is a point to this post today. Portland is a very “green” city. Yes, yes, there’s trees and it’s lush in foliage, but I also refer to the treehugger definition of green. The trash receptacles around town have these little cages on the side for recyclables. Everyone rides the TriMet or rides a bike. I feel like people are giving me dirty looks when I forget to bring my re-usable shopping bag to Trader Joe’s. I love it.

I grew up in Michigan. You know that state with the ten cent deposit on soda cans and bottles. Guess what you never see as trash or litter in Michigan? My parents recycled before it was cool. I remember filling up the station wagon with the bins and bags full of glass, tin cans, and newspaper to take to the one grocery store in town that had these what looked like train cars with a few holes along the side with signs that designated what stuff to put where. Maybe because I was a kid, I thought it was kind of fun. And it seemed like a lot of people were always there. So you see, I have just always recycled. It is so ingrained in me it is a subconscious act for me to separate garbage.

In Portland, yes, there is generally a very “granola” vibe about town. In Florida, I feel like I have entered a Bizzarro World in which everything, and I mean everything goes in the trash. I keep trying to find ways to casually ask about recycling, like, “Oh, hey, where does this big plastic soda bottle go?” I get strange looks, and then the answer, “Um, the trash.”

I looked up some statistics for Osceola County, Florida. They only recycle one percent (yeah, that’s right, 1%) of all steel cans here. Like I titled this post…Culture Shock. They start fires with gasoline down here. Everyone drives an SUV or big pick-up truck. No streets are planned out for pedestrians. 151 hours to go…

Portland, Florida, Orlando, New Yorker, Giuliani, green, treehugger, TriMet, bike, Trader Joe’s, Michigan, recycling, granola, bizzarro world, trash, Osceola County