NickCummings.com

When you’re searching blindly for a purpose or direction in life, it’s probably natural to find your mind wandering into some pretty morbid places. I’m not saying I’m feeling depressed or that I’m contemplating the fringe benefits of kicking the bucket; I just think that, with all the time in the world to ponder life’s mysteries, it doesn’t take long before you’re left pondering the biggest of them all.

So it’s little wonder that I’ve taken such a liking to Mary Roach’s book Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers. (Amazon link)

It’s not just that the book provides such an unflinching and candid account of the many fascinating things that happen once you’ve shuffled off this mortal coil. What makes this book so special is how Roach treats her subject matter with such a delicate balance of awkward hilarity and genuine reverence. Dying is a serious, somber event, but what happens after the fact is  sometimes disgusting, sometimes uncanny, and almost always utterly fascinating.

Roach is the kind of writer I aspire to be. She’s got a sharp wit and an irrepressible curiosity that imbue this book with an oddly endearing personality. You’re probably going to feel an uncomfortable, unsettling feeling as you read her descriptions of cadavers being dissected, subjected to car and weapon safety tests and, yes, decomposing in the hot Tennessee sun, but Roach’s frank personality adds some much-needed levity to an unquestionably weighty subject.

It’s a strange kind of book to recommend, I know, but it’s also unlike just about anything else out there. And in my experience, reading a book with a dead person on the cover makes for some unusual conversations with strangers at coffee shops.

Forgive me, for I’m about to violate a couple of the Cardinal Rules of Blogging:

1. Thou shalt not write about the minute, inane details of thine day; and
2. Thou shalt not blogge about Portland, for every individual Portlander doth blogge

To be frank, having to move out from my apartment in Northeast Portland has been one of the most disappointing turns in recent memory. I had to move back home for a number of reasons, which is certainly better than having nowhere to go, but giving up my autonomy to move back into the guest room at Mom’s isn’t exactly the highest aspiration of someone in his twenties.

Adding insult to injury, I’m now playing host to some disgusting troupe of illnesses that seems quite intent on haunting me until I arrive at the grave, tired and mucus-y. I’ve spent more than a week at home feeling terrible, so it was fortunate that a friend who’s visiting for the holiday decided to call me up on the first day where I really started to feel capable of functioning in the real world. She suggested a trip into downtown Portland. It made for a nice reminder that Portland certainly isn’t perfect, but it is still certifiably awesome.

We stopped in at just a few of my favorite places, but they’re all worth mentioning.

Mio Gelato isn’t the only gelato shop in Portland, but it’s probably the most reliable one out there. Generous portions and a great variety of flavors make for a great snack, even when the weather is dismal. I’ve heard the sandwiches are great as well. I used to frequent Staccato Gelato when I lived in Northeast, which deserves recognition for its weekly bizarre flavors (usually worth trying) and fresh donuts, but when it comes down to it, Mio just makes the best gelato. We stopped at the one in the Pearl District, but the one on NW 23rd is just as good.

The Stumptown Coffee at the Ace Hotel in Portland (SW 11th and Stark)

I wouldn’t claim to be anything of a coffee expert, but I know that Stumptown Coffee brews the absolute best black coffee I’ve ever had. Although it’s a bit excessive, I was accustomed to spending a bit more to buy Stumptown whole bean coffee to grind and make at home on a pretty regular basis. Fortunately, their cafe drinks are just as impressive as the coffee they originate from.

When I was in Seattle a couple months back, I spent a fair bit of time walking around downtown and Capitol Hill. It surprised me to see so many smaller coffee shops advertising Stumptown Coffee; isn’t boasting about serving coffee from another state heresy in Seattle? I suppose it could be interpreted as an important life lesson: When coffee tastes this good, not much else matters.

There’s not much that needs to be said about Powell’s Books. Its reputation precedes itself. Essentially, it’s a book lover’s paradise, and one could easily lose an entire day wandering the stacks. I’m a notorious book abandoner — I start every great book I hear about and end up abandoning it about halfway through to start another one — so I have to be cautious with my money at Powell’s. But even just browsing the store’s massive selection is enjoyable.

None of these locations will be unfamiliar to anyone who’s spent much time around Portland, but I wanted to write a bit about them so I can remind myself why I like living in Oregon. It’s hard to say when and where I might move next, but I know I can’t just stay here forever. In the meantime, it’s nice to remember the elements that give this city its identity — and give me a reason to return.