When I got to Portland I was expecting a big, ‘I have arrived!’ moment, instead I had a ‘this is it?’ moment. In all fairness, I was actually in South Portland staying at an airport hotel. It was across from a giant mall, surrounded by other strip malls. Now that I’ve been here awhile I have learned that it is the least attractive place in the whole area. However, even the next day when I did head into Portland I wasn’t immediately bowled over. I shouldn’t, though it’s hard not to, compare my arrival in Portland to my arrival in San Francisco. Sixteen years ago, when I drove to San Fran, I arrived in the city on a beautiful spring day. I crossed the Golden Gate Bridge right at sunset. Short of angels singing, it was a very ethereal moment. To top it off, the friend I was staying with for the first few weeks lived in Pacific Heights – I nearly panicked when I saw the hill I had to drive up, but when I did - what a view. Portland doesn’t take your breath away like that; instead I think it has a charm that grows on you with time.
Portland is just that, a port town. As such, many of the buildings were built for function more than for looks. Red brick dominates the port area and though the buildings may appear unimpressive on the outside, many have been turned into trendy restaurants, art galleries and a variety of small shops. Not much has been done with the waterfront but I have learned that there are plans for redevelopment and, of course, controversy surrounding those plans. I have seen a few large cruise ships in the port so I sense that tourism here is doing well.
A short stroll up the street takes you to Congress Street, the main thoroughfare through town. Walking along it gave me a mixed sense of how the city is doing. In parts there was a fair amount of activity, a farmers’ market, people milling about. Other sections seemed somewhat abandoned, less traffic and vacant buildings. I didn’t notice much construction going on which has me concerned as to the economic wellbeing of the city. The downtown area is on a peninsula and there is a promenade on either side where, historically, many of the wealthier residents lived. Despite the formidable nature of the mansions, the landscaping was basic and didn’t reflect the grandeur of what they must have been like decades ago. They aren’t neglected but they need work.
My first impressions gave me concern but the more I’m here and the more I look around I am seeing signs of hope. While I haven’t noticed many big construction projects there is a lot of rehabbing going on. Many of the older buildings are being remodeled, the brick streets and sidewalks are being repaired and one gets the sense that the town is trying to clean up while maintaining its character. You won’t see many box stores or strip-malls (they’re all in South Portland). I see Portland as a small city with the attitude of a big city. It has a symphony, theaters, art galleries, and, per capita, more restaurants than most other cities. People are starting to move here from other places. There is even a sense that the city is becoming more diverse and the people, in town anyway, are embracing it. With time I’ve come to the conclusion that the city is rejuvenating just not as fast as places like Chicago or San Francisco. Because it is so small, it will be a slower process.
Besides exploring my first week here I was also looking for a place to live. Using Craigslist I had contacted a number of people with rooms to rent or apartments to share. Unfortunately, by the time I got here most were taken; I ended up only seeing two. The first was is Saco, a town about 15 minutes south of Portland. It was a small condo but very new and set up nicely. The owner was from Maine originally and had just moved back from San Diego to take care of his ailing parents. Living there would have been a lot like living in San Carlos – a very nice, middle-class neighborhood, cute downtown, etc. The other place, where I ended up, is in Falmouth just five minutes north of downtown Portland. I didn’t see the second place until after I had already decided to go ahead with the condo, though something told me not to turn down the house just yet. On Saturday, five days after arriving in Portland, I moved into the condo. It was a horribly hot and humid day. The condo was on the second floor, had cathedral ceilings which made the heat worse. My stomach was really bothering me and I was feeling more and more uneasy – it just didn’t feel right. The roommate helped me bring my things in, showed me around, introduced me to a neighbor, drove me around town and we had a nice lunch together. Afterwards I began to unpack. The bedroom was nice but small; there was enough room for my stuff but that was about it. The heat was getting to me and I decided to lay down for a minute but the music from the other room and the fact that the roommate was right outside the door made it hard to get comfortable. I was realizing that the small size of the place would not allow for much privacy. Charles, the roommate, decided to leave for a while and give me some time to get settled. He went outside and had a conversation with a neighbor which I almost felt apart of as I could hear most every word. There was going to be no peace and quiet there.
At that moment I had a breakdown. This was a nice place, in a nice town but I didn’t want to live in ‘San Carlos’ anymore. The feeling that I had made a huge mistake, wondering if Portland was really where I wanted to be, not knowing anyone, and missing everyone back home all hit at once. I lay down on the floor and cried for a good hour. Semi-composed, I called a couple friends and talked it through with them. The combination of crying and turning to friends was very cathartic. It was clear what I needed to do – repack and load up the car; I couldn’t stay there. I waited for Charles to return but after a few hours I decided to call him. He came home soon afterwards with pizza and a friend, he probably didn’t want to be alone with this nut-job, and we talked it out. He was very understanding at it worked out fine.
I moved into the Falmouth house two days later. I don’t know how to begin describing this setup, but by the time I’m done you’ll probably be wondering ‘what was he thinking’. The house is over a hundred years old, Christina, my roommate, was guessing that it was built in the late 1800’s. It’s a mid-sized frame house on a pretty large plot of land. Falmouth has a very rural feel to it. There are no blocks, just windy roads though the forest, dotted with houses along the way. You have neighbors but the houses are pretty spread apart so you’re not very aware of them. Kind of the best of both worlds: a quiet, rural setting but only five minutes from the city.
Christina is about my age. She and her husband bought this house and began work remodeling the house but ended up divorcing before it was done. They have a daughter but she is a senior in college and lives elsewhere. They got several of the rooms replastered and painted, put siding on the outside and replaced all the windows though none of the trim has been painted yet. They chose some interesting colors for some of the rooms. The dining room is bright orange with purple drapes and the living room, front hall, stairway and upstairs hall are painted yellow. I guess the good thing with that is, should there be a power outage, I suspect the reflection from one candle off the bright walls would light half the house. Much of the furniture has that PT Cruiser look – clearly modern though trying to emulate an old-fashioned car. A green desk or a yellow dresser built in a traditional style. The whole place has a ‘19th Century meets Ikea’ look to it. Fortunately, I do like how they did my room. The upstairs originally had three bedrooms but two were very small so they knocked out the wall and turned them into one big room, my room. It’s painted green but it’s pretty subtle so I kind of like it.
The two rooms that didn’t get finished are the kitchen and the bathroom. There are some new parts to the kitchen like the stove and refrigerator but a lot remains undone. Clearly some things were torn out and not replaced. The flooring, which is pretty well worn, is short by a foot along one wall. It hasn’t been painted and there is a big hole in the ceiling. It doesn’t look so good but at least it’s functional so I don’t mind. The bathroom is a bit more difficult. How I missed the fact that it has no sink when I got the initial tour stumped me until I realized I never saw the bathroom before moving in. I have to wash my face and brush my teeth in the bathtub. And to top things off, a couple of days after moving in the door hinges popped out of the wall. Now you have to lift the whole door and place it in the frame to close it. Fortunately, it’s a u-shaped room and the tub and toilet are not visible from the hall so I usually don’t bother. There is a powder room downstairs (with a red toilet seat) but she has most of her stuff there and it’s too small for both of us. What else? Oh yes, on evening I was stretching on the floor and I noticed a few little black dots in the rug that jumped when you touch them. The former roommate had a cat with fleas. We had to spray down the house and I shampooed the rug. I think we got them all – we’ll see.
Christina is an interesting person. She appears the petite little thing but is an absolute dynamo. She can talk a mile-a-minute but is not offended if you have to cut her off. She teaches piano out of the living room and seems to love doing it, but it’s a tough way to make a substantial living. She can be a little scattered at times but I think it’s just that she is adjusting to taking on a whole house by herself plus suddenly finding herself on a tight budget - she bought out her husband’s interest in the house. There is also a little cottage out back that she rents and has to keep tabs on. She has been very helpful as I get settled and always is thinking of things for me to consider. However, one of the underlying reasons I picked this place is because I think I will be able to help out around here. Charles’ condo was perfect and I would have been concerned about wreaking something (I am a klutz and have already caused some damage but it doesn’t show up as much here). For example, today she was cutting the grass, a sizable task, but ran out of time half way. I went out and finished it for her. Actually enjoyed is as it was a beautiful day and I haven’t mowed a lawn in over 20 years. In short, it’s an odd situation but it suits me and I believe we’ll get along well.
The first ten days here didn’t go so well. Disappointment in the city, the wrong choice of a place to live, not knowing anyone and really beginning to miss people back home, getting lost all the time, and no idea what I was going to do for work really got to me. With time I realized I just need to be patient; it is a big move and it’s going to take time adjust. With that in mind I’ve started taking a new look at the city and am seeing why it’s considered such a good place to live. There is a lot to explore and you feel safe pretty much everywhere. I’ve gone for some drives and taken walks on some gorgeous beaches. I’m learning my way around and have found a gym, grocery stores, etc. I’ve met a few people who have given me little tours of their favorite places. I have interviews with LL Bean and Macy’s next week, helping out with the holiday rush, and I get my fingerprints done on Thursday so I can submit applications to sub in the local schools. Things are coming together.
By next June I’ll have to decide if I’m moving here for good or is it just a leave of absence. Do I want to start over and try something new and exciting or go back to a comfortable paycheck, friends, and good weather. In the mean time, I am going to make the most of being here and see as much of New England as possible. I’m very excited about my first fall here. The leaves are already beginning to turn and reports say that it should be an exceptionally good year for color. It’s been tough but I’m more optimistic. Expect pictures of fall in the next email. J
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