Sunday, January 29, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
On the Road Again
It's another cold, rainy winter day in Oregon. And it's looking like we probably only have about eight more left here.
At the end of this month, we will have been here for exactly six months. I had intended for us to stay longer, but things didn't work out as planned. Funny how that happens.
My original reason for moving to Oregon from the East coast was two-fold: First, I had hoped to get a job in the wine industry here. Second, there was this guy...
The first hope more or less panned out, but not to the degree I wanted or needed it to. I worked as a sales rep for several months with a wholesale distributor in Portland, provided some part-time event and harvest assistance to a winery in Cornelius, and worked a few Saturdays with a wine shop/tasting room in Forest Grove. But none of it was enough to keep me afloat financially, and efforts to find something, anything that would pay enough to keep me from going into debt have been fruitless. The unemployment rate here is pretty high (8.6% at last tally) and competition for full-time, administrative jobs with health benefits is fierce.
Then, there's the guy. I don't feel like going into the details, but I had really high hopes for this relationship and no clue that he had lost that same hope while I was away in Crete, Greece for four months prior to moving here. All seemed well, then about a week after I arrived in Oregon, he broke it off. It didn't make it any easier on me when about five hours after he ended things, I got a call from my dad in Northern Virginia that my mother had died. It was a pretty sucky day.
I had already started the job with the distributor, and was renting a room in a house with a really awesome young woman with whom I got on well, so I decided to stay and see how things panned out. Long story short, the distributor position was not financially viable; primarily commission-driven, no health benefits and the mileage I was putting on my 2003 Honda Civic was doubtless going to contribute to its early demise. So I quit that in early October to devote my full attention to finding a traditional desk job with health benefits. As I already mentioned, that hasn't worked out so well.
So here we are, six months into our latest adventure, and it is clearly time to move on.
There has been much that I have enjoyed about this experience and that I will miss. Portland is a great little city, with lots of character and charm. The farmland that surrounds the outer suburbs is sublimely pretty, and the sky here sometimes takes my breath away. There is a wonderful local food and drink scene, with wines that in my opinion are second to none. The people on the whole are more polite than in my native Washington, DC, and the traffic, although it can be annoying at certain times of the day and in certain locations, doesn't come close to the clusterf*ck that reigns supreme in the major east coast metro areas. Although my social network has been slow to develop, I have met a handful of really intelligent, interesting and enjoyable people to hang out with from time to time. I'm finding that I enjoy the more liberal mindset of the people here, even if I don't often agree with many of their economic viewpoints. There are quite a few good schools in the greater Portland area, and a resulting community of people who are interested in interesting things like science and philosophy. I have enjoyed being part of a number of meetups, attended by mostly freethinker types.
But of all the things that have made my stay here meaningful, it is my living situation that I will miss the most. Megan has provided a fun, comfortable, affordable and supportive environment. We have consumed much wine together. We have commiserated about men. She graciously forgave me when I inadvertently allowed her pet duck to be killed by the racoons. She has taken care of Rikki when I've been away, and I have taken care of her awesome dog and three cats when she has been away. She is laid back, friendly, funny, smart, reliable and generous. I don't quickly or often feel at ease with people, but this has felt almost like family from the get-go. She has even been kind enough to offer to let me slide for a couple of months on rent if it will mean that I can stay and continue to look for work. But alas, I fear I would only be postponing the inevitable, and it is time to go.
Rikki and I will be returning to the Washington, DC area, where we will stay with my father for a few months while I look for employment. The unemployment rate in Fairfax County is 4%, so I'm hopeful that I'll have better luck there. I am also really looking forward to being in close proximity to my family and close friends again.
After much internal debate about how to travel, I think I've decided on driving. It would cost about the same to ship my car and fly, but the car transport people say that the interior of the car must remain empty, and that all belongings must fit into the trunk. Although I have whittled my personal effects down quite a bit over the last few years, I still have enough that I will need to utilize the majority of the passenger space. Also, the trucking companies only accept cash as payment, and that's not something that I have in abundant supply right now. If I drive, I can put the gas and hotels on credit.
Since it's winter, we'll be taking a southerly route...down through California, across Arizona, New Mexico, a little bit of Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Tennessee, Virginia. If we can manage eight hours a day of driving, we should get there in about eight days.
If we can manage eight hours a day of driving. Rikki has traveled with me to Greece and back twice. He has flown cross country twice. Has seen the airports of DC, Frankfurt, Munich, Athens, Chania, Tampa, Montreal, Toronto and Portland...some of them on more than one occasion. He has adjusted remarkably well to many new environments over the last seven years - nine to be exact. But eight days in a car? I'll admit to being a bit queasy at the thought.
But damn it, I want him to see the Grand Canyon. I want someone to take a picture of us standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona. I want to have one last adventure, no matter how uncomfortable it may end up being for us both, before we have to settle down for a while in an ordinary world.
So Rikki, my dear - prepare yourself. It'll be fun....really.
At the end of this month, we will have been here for exactly six months. I had intended for us to stay longer, but things didn't work out as planned. Funny how that happens.
My original reason for moving to Oregon from the East coast was two-fold: First, I had hoped to get a job in the wine industry here. Second, there was this guy...
The first hope more or less panned out, but not to the degree I wanted or needed it to. I worked as a sales rep for several months with a wholesale distributor in Portland, provided some part-time event and harvest assistance to a winery in Cornelius, and worked a few Saturdays with a wine shop/tasting room in Forest Grove. But none of it was enough to keep me afloat financially, and efforts to find something, anything that would pay enough to keep me from going into debt have been fruitless. The unemployment rate here is pretty high (8.6% at last tally) and competition for full-time, administrative jobs with health benefits is fierce.
Then, there's the guy. I don't feel like going into the details, but I had really high hopes for this relationship and no clue that he had lost that same hope while I was away in Crete, Greece for four months prior to moving here. All seemed well, then about a week after I arrived in Oregon, he broke it off. It didn't make it any easier on me when about five hours after he ended things, I got a call from my dad in Northern Virginia that my mother had died. It was a pretty sucky day.
I had already started the job with the distributor, and was renting a room in a house with a really awesome young woman with whom I got on well, so I decided to stay and see how things panned out. Long story short, the distributor position was not financially viable; primarily commission-driven, no health benefits and the mileage I was putting on my 2003 Honda Civic was doubtless going to contribute to its early demise. So I quit that in early October to devote my full attention to finding a traditional desk job with health benefits. As I already mentioned, that hasn't worked out so well.
So here we are, six months into our latest adventure, and it is clearly time to move on.
There has been much that I have enjoyed about this experience and that I will miss. Portland is a great little city, with lots of character and charm. The farmland that surrounds the outer suburbs is sublimely pretty, and the sky here sometimes takes my breath away. There is a wonderful local food and drink scene, with wines that in my opinion are second to none. The people on the whole are more polite than in my native Washington, DC, and the traffic, although it can be annoying at certain times of the day and in certain locations, doesn't come close to the clusterf*ck that reigns supreme in the major east coast metro areas. Although my social network has been slow to develop, I have met a handful of really intelligent, interesting and enjoyable people to hang out with from time to time. I'm finding that I enjoy the more liberal mindset of the people here, even if I don't often agree with many of their economic viewpoints. There are quite a few good schools in the greater Portland area, and a resulting community of people who are interested in interesting things like science and philosophy. I have enjoyed being part of a number of meetups, attended by mostly freethinker types.
But of all the things that have made my stay here meaningful, it is my living situation that I will miss the most. Megan has provided a fun, comfortable, affordable and supportive environment. We have consumed much wine together. We have commiserated about men. She graciously forgave me when I inadvertently allowed her pet duck to be killed by the racoons. She has taken care of Rikki when I've been away, and I have taken care of her awesome dog and three cats when she has been away. She is laid back, friendly, funny, smart, reliable and generous. I don't quickly or often feel at ease with people, but this has felt almost like family from the get-go. She has even been kind enough to offer to let me slide for a couple of months on rent if it will mean that I can stay and continue to look for work. But alas, I fear I would only be postponing the inevitable, and it is time to go.
Rikki and I will be returning to the Washington, DC area, where we will stay with my father for a few months while I look for employment. The unemployment rate in Fairfax County is 4%, so I'm hopeful that I'll have better luck there. I am also really looking forward to being in close proximity to my family and close friends again.
After much internal debate about how to travel, I think I've decided on driving. It would cost about the same to ship my car and fly, but the car transport people say that the interior of the car must remain empty, and that all belongings must fit into the trunk. Although I have whittled my personal effects down quite a bit over the last few years, I still have enough that I will need to utilize the majority of the passenger space. Also, the trucking companies only accept cash as payment, and that's not something that I have in abundant supply right now. If I drive, I can put the gas and hotels on credit.
Since it's winter, we'll be taking a southerly route...down through California, across Arizona, New Mexico, a little bit of Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Tennessee, Virginia. If we can manage eight hours a day of driving, we should get there in about eight days.
If we can manage eight hours a day of driving. Rikki has traveled with me to Greece and back twice. He has flown cross country twice. Has seen the airports of DC, Frankfurt, Munich, Athens, Chania, Tampa, Montreal, Toronto and Portland...some of them on more than one occasion. He has adjusted remarkably well to many new environments over the last seven years - nine to be exact. But eight days in a car? I'll admit to being a bit queasy at the thought.
But damn it, I want him to see the Grand Canyon. I want someone to take a picture of us standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona. I want to have one last adventure, no matter how uncomfortable it may end up being for us both, before we have to settle down for a while in an ordinary world.
So Rikki, my dear - prepare yourself. It'll be fun....really.
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