There’s something about Portland, Oregon, that keeps pulling me back. Maybe it’s the way the air smells like rain and roasted coffee beans, or how every neighborhood feels like its own little world, quietly buzzing with creativity. I’ve visited the city multiple times over the years—sometimes for work, sometimes just to reset—and each time, I discover something new that makes me fall for it all over again.
My first trip to Portland was in early spring, when the cherry blossoms along the waterfront were starting to bloom. I stayed downtown, walked everywhere, and immediately noticed the city’s rhythm: slower, softer, but still humming with life. Powell’s City of Books was my first stop (of course), and I lost hours wandering the labyrinth of shelves. Since then, Powell’s has become a ritual—like visiting an old friend who always has something interesting to say.
On later visits, I started digging deeper into the neighborhoods. Alberta Arts District stole my heart with its murals, boutique shops, and killer brunch spots. Over on Division Street, I became mildly obsessed with Salt & Straw ice cream (yes, even when it was 45 degrees and raining), and I had one of the best meals of my life at a cozy corner spot where the chef greeted every table like family.
What I love about Portland is that it doesn’t try too hard. It’s cool, but it doesn’t boast. It’s got grit, but it’s warm. People ride bikes in the rain. Strangers say hello on the street. And there’s a quiet kind of magic in the way moss clings to the trees and buildings—like nature never gave up its claim.
I’ve explored the city by foot, bike, bus, light rail, and streetcar. I’ve sipped lattes in minimalist cafes, browsed farmers’ markets overflowing with wild mushrooms and local honey, and tucked into dive bars with pinball machines and cheap beer. I’ve wandered Forest Park’s misty trails and watched the sunset from the Pittock Mansion, where the city looks like it’s been tucked into a forested dream.
Portland isn’t flashy. It’s thoughtful. It’s layered. It’s a place that welcomes you back like an old friend—ready to show you something new if you’re paying attention.
And that’s why I keep returning. Because in Portland, I can slow down. I can breathe. And I can remember that the best kind of travel doesn’t always mean going somewhere new—it means seeing a familiar place with fresh eyes.
