F*ck Cancer

This is the fourth time my son is fighting for his life. The first time was when he was diagnosed at 5 years old with acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL). He only did two months of chemotherapy but it didn’t work (this is called refractory leukemia). We had his older brother tested to see if he was a match for a bone marrow transplant and fortunately he was a perfect match. After four years and seven months, he relapsed. The search for an unrelated match was an uphill battle (him being biracial). Usually your donor should be the same ethnicity as you. But by God’s grace, we found one all the way from Germany. She is full blooded German though which is interesting. Her stem cells were infused on September 2, 2015. Three years and eight months later, he relapsed again. That was just two weeks ago (May 6, 2019).

Cancer, we will beat you again. And thank goodness for science, we have a plan to kill you for good.

I’m angry and bitter but I can’t keep feeling this way. I need to be strong for my son. I need to fight for him. And cancer can go fuck off!

Setting Me Free

Last year I made a pact with myself: in order to move on with my life, I need to stop thinking about the past, to stop worrying about the future, and to only focus on the present. But last night, it all brought me back to the past and once again felt all the emotions I have been trying to escape from.

Before I temporarily deactivated my Facebook a few months ago, I was answering all those silly questions that appeared on my profile page. The idea of these random questions was to learn more about the Facebook user. I remember writing, “Netflix binging” as a joke for my New Year’s resolution. It seems the joke’s on me because I find myself in front of the TV a lot lately.

Last night, I cried myself to sleep after watching Me Before You. And I don’t mean soft tears. I was actually sobbing and at times hysterical. I had an outburst of emotion, not really sure where it was coming from (most likely from my lingering PTSD). The movie’s story line does not in any way mirror my life but it somehow touched me deeply, taking me back to all the difficult memories I had at the hospital when my son was there for his cancer treatment. Then I thought of my dad and the last time we spoke before he passed away.

It must have been the subject of death and suffering that made me very emotional. Because those two things have unfortunately often touched my life in the past few years. We practically lived in the hospital for months and were surrounded by children with cancer, some in very terminal stages. I’ve seen kids who were sent home because there was nothing more that their doctors could do for them. We knew kids who passed away and after seeing their young life taken away from them, I couldn’t help but think, what is really one’s purpose on earth?

Last year I made a pact with myself: in order to move on with my life, I need to stop thinking about the past, to stop worrying about the future, and to only focus on the present. But last night, it all brought me back to the past and once again felt all the emotions I have been trying to escape from.

Another movie had me thinking of the future: Arrival (if you haven’t seen the movie, I highly recommend it). In the movie’s ending, I was confronted with the question,”If you could see your whole life laid out in front of you, would you change things?” I pondered on it and honestly I’m not sure what I would do. Although if I have seen the suffering we’ve all been through, would that motivate me to change my life? Would I have married my husband knowing that we would eventually have difficult challenges, give birth to kids whose lives will become familiar with suffering—one from depression and the other from childhood cancer? My husband said he wouldn’t do anything differently. Because according to him life is all about suffering anyway (taken from the principles of Buddhism) and there’s no escaping from it.

The movie, Revolutionary Road, was perhaps the movie (out of the three I’ve seen recently) that made the biggest impact on me. The movie is about yearning for fulfillment and passion in life and seeking to escape from the conventionality of suburbia. Ah, sounds too familiar! As I desperately try to escape from conventional, something in the universe seems to conspire to always bring me back.

You might be wondering what this post’s title got to do with my Netflix binging lately. It’s me, living my life freely by laying in bed all day and binging on thought provoking movies….

Ok LOL that’s a joke!

The truth is I’ve finally woken up and realized I have been very conservative with my approach in life. By living freely is to take more risks, be more courageous, and just be able to say what the fuck! Life is too short to limit myself.

Living free also means standing my ground. On the day of my departure to France last October, my husband complained all the way to the airport when he found out I was going to be gone longer than he expected. Normally I’d budge and cut my trip shorter. Because that’s just me, always giving in and catering to other people’s needs. But I stood my ground and told him I’m not changing anything.

Living free is doing things that make ME happy and will no longer be subjected to people’s opinions. And more importantly, to not care if I’m being judged by others because they have certain moral biases. My goal is to make myself happy and fulfilled, but only according to my own definition of what “happy” is and not anyone else’s.

When travel is concerned, if you know me well, travel is my love language. I feel most alive when I’m traveling. After taking a solo trip last year, I found myself again, the person who’s been lost for quite sometime now. I recognized what truly sets me free is to escape from the humdrum of my life by traveling and exploring different countries and cultures, thus, I promised myself nothing will stop me now from doing what I love.

Going back to what my husband said, can we really not escape from suffering? Is life really all about that—pain and suffering?

Perhaps….

But today I am setting my life free by living to the fullest. To be in places I’ve dreamed about. To be happy without feeling guilt. To stop worrying about people’s opinions. And to realize that this is my life and I will live it according to my own rules.

I’ll always have Paris… 

“I need to move around a bit. To shuffle my surroundings. To wake up in cities I don’t know my way around and have conversations in languages I cannot entirely comprehend. There is always this tremendous longing in my heart to be lost, to be someplace else, to be far far away from all of this.”

My life had its share of ups and downs. It has seen a lot of heartaches and disappoitments. After my son’s relapse with cancer, life hasn’t exactly gone back to normal. Life at home is just as stressful as it was. Besides tending to my younger son’s medical and everyday needs, my husband has been suffering  from anxiety attacks. I used to think it was just a once-every-few-months occurrence but lately the attacks have  been occurring with increasing frequency. They often strike out of the blue without any warning even when the atmosphere is relaxed. I also worry about my older son. He recently came out and it was revealed to us in his blog that he’d been bullied in high school. Since this revelation, I’ve been worried sick about him. I’ve been concerned about his happiness and finding love, as I’ve been made aware by my gay friends that a homosexual lifestyle can be very lonely. I think about him a lot and sometimes I make myself sick by overly agonizing about his well-being. And as for me, I believe I still have PTSD. I’ve had countless of sleepless nights drowning  in sorrow. I have done everything to help alleviate the loneliness. I walked. I hiked. I wrote. I read. But no matter what I did, there’s always that feeling that something was still missing.

Perhaps I needed to take time away for myself to recharge my batteries and travel somewhere I’d always wanted to go. In a city where I could do as I wished without regard to what a traveling companion wanted to do. Where I was entirely alone and free. And to be far away from all of this.

I’ve always had this fantasy of being in Paris alone. To wander in the city, without any destination in mind. To go where the moment takes me. To stop rushing from place to place. I want to experience Paris. I want to take chances and have adventures. To learn the art of talking less. To take my time and savor each Parisian minute. To stay at a cafe and survey the scene. Take pictures of anything and everything that catches my eye. To contemplate. To have Paris all by myself, my way.

And I did just that….and more.

I also got to do some of the (touristy) things I missed out on in my previous visits. I have stood in front of the Eiffel Tower many times before  but never got the chance to climb it (that’s because none of my companions wanted to).
And so it was the very first thing I did on this trip.

I didn’t only climb the Eiffel Tower but treated myself to a wonderful lunch at the 58 Tour Eiffel.  For about $50, I had a three course lunch with wine and tea. Was the food good? It wasn’t spectacular. Was it worth it? Absolutely!

I also learned to use a tripod, and taught myself to be self-indulgent by taking a lot of pictures of me. I loved it for a change!

Like the Eiffel Tower, I have never made it on top of the Arc de Triomphe in my previous visits.

And so once again, I climbed another famous structure! The benefits of solo travel!

I took a million pictures of the Eiffel Tower in various filters. Regardless of how many times I have seen this tower, I can’t get tired of it. It never gets old. Paris never gets old.

I wanted to get lost in the moment, to go anywhere without a destination in mind, to walk around aimlessly, and…I did! My wish, granted: I wandered, got lost, but found my way back. Now I know what it means when people say do not be afraid to get lost!

But once again, I got lost…this time in the company of books at Shakespeare And Company,

Someday I’ll remind myself these words by Hafiz: I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of your own being.

And to also remember that little things can instantly bring a ray of sunshine such as a free bench.

I went for a walk at Jardin du Tuileries, to contemplate life…

and to admire the beauty of the autumn leaves.

Reminding myself once again that no matter what life brings, it is still beautiful just like those flowers in bloom…

To always stop and appreciate the moment. To look around me in awe and be grateful at how lucky I am to be surrounded by such beauty.

One of the great pleasures of being in Paris, that is truly très magnifique, is the art of cafe-sitting. And no one can deny that this city is a gastronomical dream!

I had tea at Mariage Fréres.

I indulged on a cup of rich hot thick chocolat at Angelina.

They say, “To err is human. To loaf is a Parisian.” My daily petit dejeuner were croissants and baguettes.

I drank wine. Every. Single. Day.

But I also ate light on some nights and had this fantastic Salade Nicoise with tuna at a bistro near my hotel. It was so good I went back twice.

I looked up at every building and swooned over the architecture,

and took pictures of whatever that caught my eyes.

I declared that my most favorite metro station is the Abbesses,

and spent a whole afternoon in the Bohemian and artsy Montmartre.

And there, in Montmartre, I found the wall. No, not Donald Trump’s wall, but a wall where love comes together in every language: Le mur des Je t’aime,

I love you wall.

Although Paris is the city of love, it is the perfect place to be alone. It is perfect for strolling by yourself without the constraints of pleasing somebody. Since I usually travel with my family I didn’t realize that this adventure gave me the opportunity to be completely selfish–something I don’t normally get to be when I’m at home. I almost forgot what it felt like to not have to worry about anyone but myself.  It took a lot for me to finally take a step and just go. I left feeling lost, lonely, and wanting to escape life. I was hopeful that during my alone time, I would find myself in the mystery of a new place.

I pondered each night on how much I learned about myself on this trip. I wrote journals with pensive thoughts: what had happened, I wrote, to the woman who loved spontaneity and great adventures? Had she disappeared?

Somehow, when I disconnected myself from the usual habits, I reconnected with myself. Perhaps this is what traveling alone usually does: you rediscover and reconnect with yourself.


Oh, but then again, I wasn’t completely alone. Paris was there with me the entire time–to accompany me on my journey of self discovery. And whenever I start to feel lonely again, or feel that life is passing me by, I will remind myself that I’ll always have Paris.

 

A Reflection on life while crossing the Brooklyn Bridge 

There’s a metaphorical reason why I want to cross a bridge on my milestone birthday. Perhaps everything I had wished for in life is waiting for me at the other end. But the reality is there’s a huge gap between that end and from where I am.

When I  crossed the Golden Gate Bridge a few months ago, I knew this was something I would like to do on my  milestone birthday. I never liked celebrating my birthday but I felt I needed to do something different this year. I came up with the idea to celebrate it by crossing the Brooklyn Bridge. Of course, it has to be in New York, where I feel most alive. 


There’s probably a metaphorical reason why I want to cross a bridge on my birthday. Perhaps a bridge is a symbol of hope, and everything I had hoped for in life is waiting for me at the other end. Unfortunately, there’s a huge gap between that end and from where I am. And before I reach that point, I need to learn the lessons that not everything bad that happened to me happened because of me. I have to learn to love and treat myself better. I need to learn to be my own hero. Without those lessons, I will never be able to fill the empty void. No bridge will ever be built between those two opposite ends without realizing my life is beautiful regardless of how empty I feel.


Life is beautiful indeed and every moment is a celebration of being alive. But my life hasn’t  always been beautiful. It’s been one big struggle and I believe I have faced deep adversities and challenges much more than anyone I know. I have been through abusive and deceitful relationships that forced me to make moral decisions at a young age. I have dealt with life or death situations in the face of childhood cancer. My father passed away without the chance of me saying goodbye and will carry that guilt and regret forever. And more recently, I’ve to face another difficult challenge: my older son’s identity crisis.


If I have to write a memoir, I don’t think anyone would believe a person could go through a series of disappointments and heartaches in just one lifetime. It would put Elizabeth Gilbert’s struggles to shame in her book Eat, Pray, Love but would parallel Cheryl Strayed’s deeply scarred emotions in Wild. But unlike them, I don’t have a bestseller book or any claim to fame. Instead, what I have is a huge reservoir of sadness.


It’s probably right to assume that what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger. That’s why I’m still here, standing strong, hoping to fill the empty void someday, and that my life will finally see what’s waiting for me at the other end. But for now, I will have to settle and make peace with the sadness I feel on most days, thinking it’s all part of life–my life.

**if you are interested, the best site I found for a complete guide on walking the Brooklyn Bridge  is by Free Tours by Foot (http://www.freetoursbyfoot.com/walking-the-brooklyn-bridge/).

 

I’m in a New York state of mind 

Working as a flight attendant on a trip assignment to New York, I can still remember my excitement as our plane started its descent. Looking down from the plane’s galley window, I saw magnificent views of undulating Manhattan skyscrapers. I felt butterflies in my stomach, that same feeling you get when you’re on a first date with the boy (or girl) of your dreams. I was eager to get off the plane, and as I strapped my seatbelt before landing, my anticipation tremendous. I could already feel the energy in Manhattan that night, waiting for me to uncover. It was my first time to set foot in the city and I was young, curious, and restless.


It was also on that same flight when I met a Frenchman named Michel, who I’m still in touch with up to this day. On my first trip to France, he invited me to visit him in Avignon, a city in southeastern France’s Provence region. En route, my cousin and I had quite the adventure via the three-hour TGV ride from Paris, filled with a lot of laughter and memories we will forever treasure together. When Michel picked us up at the station, he told me he lived with his partner, Louie. “I’m a om-seshual,” he told me. Unable to fathom the words he just uttered, I curled my nose, the thing I do when I have no idea what people are saying, and asked,”what do you mean?” He asked me if it was a problem, if it bothered me that he’s homosexual, it was only when I understood what he said. I laughed and told him it did not bother me one bit. It is, however, strange to me that homosexuals have to “confess” about their sexual orientation when heterosexuals are not subjected to the same expectations, so why should they be? It would be like me saying to someone I first meet, “hi, I’m Boots, I’m heterosexual!” Honestly, it’s no one else’s business who people choose to love. (Last I heard Michel and his new partner were trekking the Himalayas).
Since then, I’ve fallen madly in love with New York and have made lasting memories each time I visited. I’ve also lived there for a year, flying back and forth from JFK and La Guardia airports in 1995, before I moved to Tokyo with my husband shortly after our honeymoon in Italy. The time I was based in New York was probably the highlight of my airline career. The most memorable was a trip to Athens, Greece, where I was asked by the scheduling department, as a favor, to cover the assignment due to shortage of staff. Glad I did because on our way back to the States, the second officer accidentally opened an armed door and blew a slide. As a result, we stayed another night in Athens and had to share a hotel room with two other flight attendants, something out of the ordinary. But that’s not what made that trip extra-ordinary. Once we found out we were there for another night and none of the first class meals were consumed, our crew bagged everything up, from the caviar to the champagne. We brought all the goodies with us to the hotel and had a feast by poolside. If cellphones were already available then, we probably would’ve all been in trouble.

More recently, in the years 2012, 2013, and 2014, I went back each summer— for three years in a row—yet still couldn’t get enough of it. I have an inexplicable love affair with New York and if you ask me about a soul mate or a true love, I will tell you it’s not “who” but rather “where”.


This year, after exactly three years of being apart, I’m back to celebrate a milestone birthday. I normally don’t like celebrating my birthdays, and I never spend it away from my husband and two sons, but this year I felt I needed to be in New York , the city where I feel most alive.


It is after all the day of my birth, when I should feel most alive! So on that day, I crossed the Brooklyn Bridge! Because the next chapters of my life is unknown as life is always unpredictable. So I ask myself what happens next? Well, I’ll just cross the bridge when I get there. 😜

Books, chicken wings, and ice cream: Portland, Day 2

I waited for the rain to subside, but it just kept pouring. I hate wasting time while on vacation so I abruptly woke up my son and told him to get ready. “But it’s still raining!” he said. “Yeah, so? I have the perfect place in mind!” I told him.

The disastrous start of our first day in Portland had worn us out that as soon as we got back to our hotel, we crawled into our beds and immediately fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up to (what I assumed) the sound of rain.  I peered outside and was disheartened to see it was really raining! Because we lucked out with  yesterday’s weather, I was hoping it’ll be the same today (yeah, wishful thinking). This time, you are raining on my parade, Portland! I was now posed with the challenge: what to do in Portland when it’s raining?

Texas is two hours ahead of Oregon. Much to my son’s annoyance, I was wide awake by 6am local time. This morning (and everyday for four days), I had breakfast in our hotel alone. One of the disadvantages of traveling with college-aged kids is they  would rather sleep in than have breakfast.

I waited for the rain to subside, but it just kept pouring. I hate wasting time while on vacation so I abruptly woke up my son and told him to get ready. “But it’s still raining!” he said. “Yeah, so? I have the perfect place in mind!” I told him.


Those who know me well know that it doesn’t take much to make me happy. Sushi, tea, and books are among the things I really enjoy. And if given a choice–going to a mall or browsing books at a bookstore–I would always pick the latter. When my older son was still in high school (before he drove on his own), I would stay for hours at the bookstore before picking him up at school. But sadly, there’s been a decline for bricks-and-mortar bookstores and are now slowly being replaced by digital technology.

two of the items I bought at Powell’s

 


The flagship, Powell’s City of Books is listed as one of the must-visit places in Portland. It is claimed to be the largest independent new and used bookstore in the world! A map is provided to find your way around the bookstore! Cruising the aisles, I found the books I normally wouldn’t find in a regular bookstore. I told my son I’d move to Portland just to be near Powell’s. It’s that good!

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After a few hours of browsing, the stimulation from the books must have made us really hungry. Famous for their Southeast Asian specialties, Pok Pok, one of the most famous places to eat  in Portland, was what I had in mind.

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The food is out of this world and if you’re expecting normal dishes you’ usually find in Asian restaurants, you will be disappointed.

Deep fried wings marinated in fish sauce and palm sugar, Ike’s Vietnamese Fish Sauce Wings is their most ordered dish in the menu. If you’re thinking what’s so special about chicken wings, trust me, you haven’t had these chicken wings. After eating one of the most satisfying restaurant meals I’ve had in a long time, I couldn’t help but wonder why the restaurant was named Pok Pok. The server explained that it had something to do with chopping something on a wooden block (in Thai).  I shared with him what pokpok meant in my language (it’s slang for slut).. LOL!

The combination of spicy and salty got us craving for something sweet after. We were in luck because Salt and Straws was just down the street.


One of my son’s friends in college (who’s from Portland) told him this ice cream shop is a must-visit! The sea salt and caramel ice cream topped with caramel sauce and hazelnuts was absolutely divine, I went back to get more the next day!

Day 2 in Portland was a success! Spending hours at Powell’s was my idea of  heaven on earth!  Browsing through the aisles, finding books I wouldn’t normally find in other bookstores surely gave me bookgasm, a feeling I can’t fully describe or express in words whenever my hands touch a book! All I can say is it’s butterflies in my stomach. Did I already mention that I just experienced heaven on earth?
 

Don’t rain on my parade: Portland, Day 1

I’m one of those crazy people who absolutely adore the rain! The soft pitter patter of the rain is the most peaceful sound in the world. Watching each raindrop is genuinely one of my favorite entertainments. But when the rain stops, and the sun begins to show up, I always have this strange feeling of disorientated chaos, as if the sun had obliterated my zen. However, when you’re on vacation, it’s a totally different story. The rain becomes your nemesis, especially in a city where most of the activities are done outdoors

When it’s cloudy and rainy outside, everyone is usually complaining about how yucky the weather is. Not me. Because I’m one of those crazy people who absolutely adore the rain! To me, the soft pitter patter of the rain is the most peaceful sound in the world. And watching each raindrop is genuinely one of my favorite entertainments. It’s also the most perfect opportunity to curl up and read a book. (Or Netflix binge lol). But when the rain stops, and the sun begins to show up, I always have this strange feeling of disorientated chaos, as if the sun had obliterated my zen.

However, when you’re on vacation, it’s a totally different story. The rain becomes your nemesis, especially in a city where most of the activities are done outdoors. Perhaps Spring isn’t the best time to visit Portland, but I was thinking of the trees, the hiking, the mountains, the food, but not the weather.

Day 1

When my plane landed, I was relieved to see it wasn’t raining and that the sun was partially out. I was also excited to meet my older son at the airport. It’s been three months since I last saw him. But thanks to technology— FaceTime and text messaging—it made communication easier and less lonely without his presence at home.


It was his idea to go to the Pacific Northwest on his spring break. I suggested we’d visit Portland (instead of Seattle). I’ve only been on short overnight layovers in Portland when I was still a flight attendant thus I wasn’t able to explore much of the city.

From the airport, we took the Max (light rail service) to the city center and transferred to the Portland streetcar, which luckily had a stop in front of our hotel. We immediately went out after checking in, worried that the rain will show up soon. We had lunch at Bamboo Sushi, popular for their sustainable fish. Sadly, the hype was bigger than the food.


After lunch, we asked the hostess if there was a Max stop nearby that goes to Washington Park. People go to Washington Park to visit the zoo or the International Rose Garden, but I was more interested in the Japanese Garden. The hostess told us she’s never been to Washington Park. I was surprised to hear she’s never been, assuming all Portlanders were the outdoorsy type 😉

When we arrived at the park, we searched for the shuttle bus but didn’t see any. We decided to walk following the signs to the Japanese Garden. But after walking for 20 minutes (the road was not very pedestrian friendly), we had a feeling we were heading the wrong way. We turned around, back to where we started.



We went to the information desk and the person there told us that the free park shuttles were not in service until May!

Whaaat???

Epic travel fail #1: not doing your research! Oh wait, I did my research! But I didn’t read that the shuttles were not in service in early Spring! In fact, no mention at all about this on their website. (Wanna hear something awful? A few days later, we found out that the Japanese Garden had been closed for renovation and won’t reopen until a week after we leave Portland—another thing they conveniently failed to mention in the website? Gosh, even the man at the info center didn’t know it was closed or perhaps didn’t bother to inform us. Wow!).

I felt a complete failure and it was only our first day.

My son told me he was really exhausted. And that could only mean one thing: go back to the hotel. We haven’t even done anything yet. All we did was eat mediocre sushi! We hopped on the Max back to the city center and another mishap occurred—we got on the wrong train! We only realized our mistake when it took us to the end of the line.

Ughhhhhhhhhh…..

Epic travel fail #2: not paying attention to where you’re going! This time I was guilty. How on earth was I making so many mistakes! I’m a seasoned traveler goddammit—or so I thought! Determined not to give up so easily, I persuaded my son we should go to the Chinese garden. He wasn’t too thrilled (probably assuming it can’t be that good if it’s located right in Chinatown).


“It’s one of the top 10 things to do in Portland according to Time,” I said to convince him. He reluctantly agreed and we got off the Max at Chinatown. As we were walking looking for the garden’s location, it lead us to a row of beautiful cherry blossom trees along the Willamette river.


It reminded me of the time when we lived in Japan. For just a few weeks every Spring, Japan celebrates hanami by gathering and sitting under the trees, bringing food and drinks with them. Cherry blossoms symbolize spring and the hanami was for welcoming the new season.

“Imagine yourself in the 16th century China, standing in the courtyard of the home and garden of a wealthy family. The peaceful and soothing garden is their spiritual utopia, designed to escape the problems of everyday life,” according to the brochure’s description of the Lan Su Chinese Garden.


I can see why this garden is a spiritual utopia for anybody. If I had a garden this beautiful, I would be inspired to meditate daily.


From the earlier fiasco, I needed to de-stress and sought solace from the garden’s tranquility.


In spite of the location, with all the buzzing noise from cars and people, Lan Su Chinese Garden is a perfect place to get away yet you’re still within the city limits.

At this point, I would’ve been fine if we went back to the hotel after visiting the garden. The row of cherry blossoms trees and Lan Su Chinese Garden were the redemption I needed from a terrible start. But my son, looking at the map on his phone, told me Voodoo Doughnut was nearby.

The famous Voodoo Doughnut is located in a seedy area, but nothing to worry about, with the crowd and long lines, you’ll hardly feel unsafe. It’s crazy to be waiting in line just to get donuts. And heck, for that matter, I don’t even like donuts! But if it’s a must-thing to do in Portland, I needed to suck it up so we waited in line for at least 45 minutes. However, there’s plenty of entertainment while waiting. We were serenaded by a man playing the violin, a very animated homeless guy talking to himself, a midget asking for spare change, a homeless gal with a cat for attraction, and listening to conversations among tourists. Before you know it, you’re in the shop.


Known for their quirky donuts, we chose the Voodoo doll, which is by the way the shop’s icon. My son also wanted to try two other flavors (Tang and Bacon Maple).

I posted the picture above on my Facebook with the caption, “voodoo doll,” and my friend asked who I had in mind. I replied by saying she should know who. “Trump, I hope,” she said. No comment. 😊


So you’re probably wondering—was it good? Was it worth waiting in line for? It’s one of those things you can check off your list in your itinerary and if it wasn’t one of the must-things to see, do, or eat in Portland, I wouldn’t wait 45 minutes for it.

We dodged the rain all day, but tomorrow was going to be a different story.