Tranny pride, gay pride, this is rainbow city

Portland has always appealed as one of the most liveable of cities in the USA.

Worryingly, the traffic is starting to become an issue. There have been massive backlogs on the major arterial roads. As in so many places now, the populations and the car numbers are starting to choke things up at peak hours.

Ah, but it is the city of peaks. There on its horizon are snow-capped Mt Hood and Mt St Helen. They're a pretty spectacular backdrop when they are visible.

Yep, Portland is the most fabulous American city.

It is the city of Powell’s Bookstore - the greatest bookshop in the world.

It is a city with dope stores on every corner. There are people with waving billboards on corners directing the public to this or that specialist marijuana store - the new Green industry of this green state.

Cannabis is the major agricultural crop here now.

Who knew this legal marijuana business could have grown so immense and be such a thing of carefully-regulated efficiency? It is a sophisticated science.

It reaps the government hearty taxes and has opened up myriad new collateral industries, among them the design and manufacture of dope pipes. Glass blowers seem to have cornered the market but there is everything imaginable being made, as well as myriad souvenirs for visitors like us, magazines and recipe books...even ashtrays.

It is a signpost for the world.

This is not to say that wine is out of favour. The local wines are elegant and lovely.

We have had a splendid sojourn here with my cherished chums, Rachel and Bob.

It is hard to leave.

As it is with old friends, there is a sense that the conversation has just resumed and we could talk on for aeons.

But we have cooked together and laughed together.

Bob has been making stunning cashew cheeses, a vegan specialty. He makes them in red curry flavour and he makes them smoked and double-smoked.

It is hard to stop eating them, especially warm from the smoker.

I've helped him in bottling his beer. Yep, if he was the chief cook, I was chief bottle washer. We've been to a cider festival where we all wore "Designated Driver" wristbands because we were not there to drink but to listen to some fabulous music. And, by chance, to see some of the most sublime gemstone jewellery I have ever encountered.

We have been out eating kosher food at Kenny and Zukes.

I had my fix of matzo ball soup - Jewish penicillin and the ultimate comfort food all in one.

We have rambled through the wonders and wonders and wonders of Powell’s.

It is so big one has to use a map.

it swarms with bookish people, who are the best people, of course.

It is full of temptations which, for reasons of weight and bulk, the traveller must resist.

It reassures one that books are alive and well, that sensibilities are extant, that civilization is whole and hearty, that curiosity and self-expression are thriving...

All of this is underscored in Portland by the fabulous weekend market.

Cleverly, it is divided into two sections - one for imported market goodies such as Asian rag trade merchandise, the other just for the Oregon craftspeople. This latter is quite thrilling and refreshing in all its originality and ingenuity. Marvellous clothes and jewellery, domestic artwork, chocolates and fudges, massage stones and aromatic oils…

En route to the market, we ran into a massive street march.

Gay Pride is waving its rainbow flags ferociously in Portland.

There is deep ire at the discrimination towards transgender people denied access to women’s rooms in the Carolinas and, of course, absolute grief and outrage at the Orlando massacre.

The LGBT community has been marching the streets singing and chanting, flourishing placards and banners.

They have dressed up. They have brought their dogs and their kids.

They come young and old, flamboyant and conservative. Straights march with them.

They are a force and they will be reckoned with.

The Gay Pride sentiment does not stop there in Portland.

Rainbow flags festoon buildings.

They adorn restaurant walls. They are ubiquitous in a loving stand of societal support.

Three lovely days…

We have walked the suburb where we are staying. It is located on the flank of a cinder cone, a steep old volcanic hill in this volcanic region. Mt Hood and Mt St Helens were visible through the stands of suburban trees last night - spectacular with their snowy caps.

We have driven the city loop by day and by night admiring the bridges and the architecture.

We’ve admired the city’s public art and even the utilities markers on the footpaths.

We have gone to the Vietnamese part of town and feasted on salt and pepper squid.

We’ve sat with books and sunned on our little deck.

And now it is time to move on.

Such is life on the road.

Pot-tering in Oregon

Never in my wildest hippie dreams did I imagine shopping in a gourmet marijuana store.

Now that legal marijuana is on the market, the market has gone upmarket.

Oregon has been a pioneer state in this business. It’s always been an emancipated place.

Look at its attitude towards voluntary euthanasia.

So Oregon's a state where you come to shop for pot.

So we did, with Oregon being on our route.

Here in lovely Ashland, set in a very conservative building, Breeze Botanicals sells both medical and recreational marijuana.

A male receptionist sits behind a tall counter in what turns out to be the very salubrious shop-cum-waiting room. It offers nice alternative herbs and incenses and pleasant hippie domestic things.

The real shop, is behind a door marked PRIVATE.

Before being admitted, one has to show photo ID. This business is Adults Only. Even grey hair is not proof of age around here.

With our antiquity approved, we are escorted into the inner sanctum.

Therein, dense buds sit in glass jars in showcases and fancy glass pipes and chilums are arrayed in illuminated glass cabinets.

It’s very slick, classy, highly specialist - and mind-blowing. There are so many variations on the theme. Where to begin?

There’s waxy stuff that is a bit like hashish, but it is not hashish.  It’s some modern variation.

There is dope for every mood and every time of day.

A customer with a particularly strident voice is telling the shop assistant how much she really, really loves this shop. And she really, really loves this assistant. She has come a long way to do her shopping and this is just the best, best place ever. She would never shop for her pot elsewhere. Truly. Hand on heart. Oh, it has done her so much good. Thanks so much. She really feels centred now. And she really loves you people so much. In fact, come to think of it, she loves everyone.

Now that’s customer satisfaction.

I bet they get a lot of that.

We’re a bit shy. The young male proprietor, who actually comes from Georgia, is leading Bruce through the products, explaining how chic it has become to grow top weed, what pride the growers take, how they like to create specialist product, how pure and powerful it all is, how they’re always looking for new growers, how fastidiously tested and inspected all the products are...

Here, smell this.

There are lots of statistics. It’s all very scientific. Pure and organic. Scientist Bruce is impressed by the levels of analysis.

Indica indicators are all over the place.

And their product descriptions are lyrical cousins to the rhapsodies on wine labels.

THC is 12.31 per cent in the CBD God. It is sungrown. “Earthy and sweet, this strain is known to lean towards a relaxing yet creative high…”

THC 16.67 per cent in LA Confidential, also sungrown. “a well-rounded strain that delivers a fast-approachig sensation…"

There’s Big Wreck, Mango Tango, Old School Purple, Critical Cure, Lemon Cannabull, Swiss Tsunami, Strawberry Diesel, Jaego Kush…all sun grown.

Then there are indoor cultivars - Sativas such as Dark Star, Cheesy Dick and Candyland.

There are blends.

There are extracts.

There are concentrates.

There’s a whole Vape section.

There are oils and tinctures. Edibles.

More wild names. Sour Diesel. Skunk Dawg, Dream Lotus.

You gotta be stoned to think of these names.

Average price is about $12 a gram. Oh, and Oregon has a State Tax for recreational users.

It’s all a bit overwhelming.

Problem is, there is no sampling.

The building is smoke free.