Sunday, September 27, 2026

Cloudy Capital Ottawa: A Fulbright Canada Return


An early morning sunrise in Portland, Oregon with Mount Hood in the background. (Note: Click on images to see in better resolution.)

 

Shwarma is a culinary witness to Canada's majestic capital Ottawa. This statement might seem preposterous. After all, just a glance away is Gatineau on the Quebec side. A French influence can almost be taken for granted. A variety of foods can be for a confluence of diplomats, immigrants, Canadians, and out-of-towners. Yet I chose the humble shwarma for my (carry-out) final meal of the trip.  

--

After seven years, I had returned to Ottawa. The previous visit (active link to post) occurred pre-pandemic on the heels of my Fulbright program in Edmonton. An exciting memory to behold! Return visit, by extension, saw me visit as a Fulbrighter on the alumni advisory committee and a champion of the program. 

My revisit perhaps leaned even more on cultural exchange than back then. This time, Canadian patience with American rudeness is running thin. Sure, it is less sour than the War of 1812... where Canadian troops burned down the White House. Nonetheless, fraying ties, fewer linkages, present a daunting task for cultural exchange.  


Day 1. August 31st

Unlike these possibly unraveling cords, the trip began remarkably smoothly from Portland on August 31st. Bright and early around 5:30 AM Pacific, a fairly usual daytime hour for East Coast. 

Portland International Airport has a spacious wooden ceiling, and a remarkable green carpet. Very cohesive layout. Some readers may recall that I have muscular dystrophy, a mild form, and get wheelchair assistance at airports. There's an extra coordination step involved, but the Portland airport is world-class in this regard. 

Found myself to the airplane door soon enough. 

Flight 1 gave me the opportunity to wake up, eat a humble pastrami sandwich packed by mom, and see two mountains of the Cascades range out my window. Slipped on a plane movie for the sake of curiosity. I felt a calm stasis for the time being. 

However, the most mind-numbing segment was immediate. Upon touch down at O'Hare, water poured down accompanied by fierce lightning. Some flights were grounded; in this case, the plane had to pause on the tarmac with the gate closed. This situation continued on for likely around 45 minutes until we finally got the go ahead to enter inside. My flight suddenly fell into interrogation.


In retrospect, I wish I had met up with a friend. As lightning came down again, a delay seemed in the cards. At first, a four hour layover should have lasted until around 6 PM. First, 15 minutes were added into the hourglass. This became two and a half hours. An hour later, three more hours added on. Somewhere in here, I pulled out my laptop and continued playing a game with some 70 hours logged. If I had nowhere to be, I could at least make some progress.

The gate changed concourses silently from B to C, as if it was natural for us to simply know. A far distance by foot. I go again through the process of requesting wheelchair assistance. Takes two separate agents contacting for help before things start moving again. 

Now at my second (final) gate near the hopeful final departure time. It has been easily over 8 hours. The plane to Ottawa, apparently, was coming from another US state (Indiana?) before storms delays struck there too.

Finally, near midnight, I got on board, feeling exhausted. My legs quivered with a series of minute contractions. Later I would recuperate and held myself steady. On board, I asked my mom to contact the Lord Elgin hotel to at least smooth over my arrival. Surely, this was it. 

Our flight departed around 1 AM, and still sleep evaded me. (Admittedly, another plane film preoccupied me.)


Landed in Ottawa around 4 AM on September 1st. What a surreal feeling, finally making it, finally letting the trip get off to a start. Got off the plane after some milling around in my seat. Double checked every item, afraid of leaving even one item. (A recyclable aluminum water bottle might have been a casualty, but an acceptable one.) Took rideshare from Ottawa airport to the Lord Elgin hotel. 

Fortunately, I got some help, even at this hour, and headed to my room, legs feeling very unsteady. My usual twitching sensation when the muscle energy reserves got a bit low. A quick shower came before a nap.

Day 2: September 1st 

Sleeping from 6 AM to 10 AM probably is closer to a nap, after all. Somehow, this light rest had alleviated my aches. A good bed, maybe? My body chose to lift me up and get exploring, not snooze. 

Later, a very long-awaited meeting with a friend would happen. After holding to a planned informational interview, I strolled along the roads near my hotel.


The Korean Cultural Centre was small, tucked away and a delightful surprise. Just an array of traditional clothing, some fusion style paintings. Within that same building (another part) was a series of paintings, including a positively luminescent teal experience. 

Moving around this section revealed more beauty to be found. The Heritage Building provided an appropriately weighty landmark, though I did not go inside. Oriented myself within Ottawa ahead of days of activity.

In the process of these little strolls, I looked for a place to eat. Peruvian sounded good, though it was right by a construction vertical bilayer. Ultimately, the restaurant of choice was a simple continental style place. I ate a steak-frites at Browns Social House - not exactly a regional flair though flavorful. This meal made up for totally missing breakfast. On a half-night's rest, food was especially required. 

Back at the hotel, I exercised at the gym, and collected myself for the evening. That long-awaited meeting happened around 6:30 PM. 

Just outside the hotel, I notice someone looking at their phone at the same time as me. It's the hallmark of meeting an online friend for the first time. Of course, we knew the sketch of each other's appearance. Still surreal nonetheless. 

Perhaps less surprising is how down to earth the meeting was. We'd already decided to head to the Rideau Canal, a feature of our conversations online. (This friend was less than happy the year the Canal never opened for ice skating.) 

Getting down took some ingenuity (read: paying attention). It happened after an extra ten minutes. Strolling by the water placed the capital city in a new light. Many people availed themselves of the lovely late summer weather, especially as we got closer to the outlet. 

Seagulls are a little out of sorts in Ottawa; it's not quite coastal. But they're common enough says my friend. They and the ducks seemed to be at odds, not wanting to visit with each other. 

Like in 2019, the Locks made for a spectacular viewing. Ducks seemed to be as big of fans of this space as I was. These old gates felt reminiscent of Lord of the Rings. 

Making our way down, I mentioned my muscular dystrophy to my friend. As it turns out, he had been keeping that in mind. The way became steeper as we drew closer to the outlet, the body of water between Quebec and Ontario. Stamina began dipping. This time, I would not walk the bridge between provinces. Instead, a quiet look at a beautiful scene stretched out. 


Returning uphill, my legs began to demand more rest breaks. Benches served handily. We faced with an adorable barrier to walking up, a burrow of some (7?) rabbits sat on the grass. Eventually, I had to decide to walk up past the critters, prompting them to scatter. Not before some photos though!

Surprisingly, Ottawa is a great place to find a variety of creatures. Sure, not many Canadian geese yet. But this area of Canada has an astounding variety of squirrels. Take a look at this black one that frolicked in the Confederation Park. My friend said his mom never saw them growing up in another part of Ontario. I took the chance to also bring up the California ground squirrels (ones with this thatched fur pattern) that live in the Portland Rose Garden. Squirrels can be fascinating. There were the more usual red and gray squirrels around as well, of course, though not as exquisite. 

Confederation Park is where the sun began to set on this temperate 20-something Celsius day. Back home, it was actually cooler, wetter. My friend and I continued our discussions on a bench. About our interests in Japanese language and culture, about various Canada characteristics. 

Our penultimate stop took us to Elgin Street Diner, a restaurant about as old as I am. Admittedly, this seemed similar to my lunch spot, a continental sort of place. But pubs can be charming. Here in this diner, I jumped for a reuben and poutine. Both seemed fitting for a Montreal type mood. 

Now there was a little awkward moment about the poutine....I wasn't sure if their gravy had pork or not, and had to ask after taking a bite. FORTUNATELY it was a vegetarian poutine! Felt a little foolish, but my friend understood, I think. As a meal, satisfying. Maybe the two items separately have been made better; they worked well as a combo, though.  

My friend and I chatted about probably mundane, low-key things. The HST being 13%, and the movies I saw on the plane rides (Super Mario Galaxy Movie and Warfare). In the cloak of night, we stopped at the Lord's lobby.  We spent probably some thirty extra minutes talking, mostly about shows we had seen. Getting to see him in person was really good, a little strange. We both had our own engagements in the morning, though, and called it there around 9:30. 

After a long day, I was already in the hotel. What's next? I caught up with some sleep, this time not a nap. 

Day 3: September 2nd

All-day boardroom meeting, running from 8:30 to 4:30. Much of the day would be semi-confidential, slightly celebratory, and substantially formal. Clouds, general gloom, expected across the capital city. Not a bad idea to be mostly indoors, right?

To my brain, there was some residual tiredness getting up at 6:40 AM. Pulled off 7 hours of sleep, which was so much better than 4 hours. I knew this was an important day. 

Got up, tidied my space/packed up a bit, headed out the door around 8 AM. I removed the "Stay Green and Save" placard, requesting the housekeeping team to clean. 

Heading out Elgin's doors, I came across a familiar person, a fellow committee member, a fellow Oregonian. Naturally, I opted to join him on our jaunt. My companion Orb (pseudonym) had a fair few years on me, smidge of a shuffle from a bad knee. No concern here other than my natural walking pace being a bit brisker than his. Noticing we might be going the wrong way, I suggested a double back. Fortunately, he gracefully acquiesced.

There is 'zero' way we would be on time. Seeming to recognize this, Orb suggests that I head on ahead a few times. Nonetheless, I insist on "it's better if two of us arrive." Granted, the coordination act seemed a little tough, though I could always just cross the street and wait. Humanity's need for companionship might have been on my mind too.

Finally, the Constitution Square was finally ahead. Cana flowers -- a floral being seemingly common in both my hometown and Canada's capital, even enjoyed by my mom -- signified our arrival.

 
 
Orb and I arrived late...if the session was strictly on time. Fortunately, we were in line with the new cadence. 

There was a room FULL of many individuals who had been Zoom screens before. The Fulbright Canada Head provided a gracious presence, as did 75% of our committee. Most excitingly, our Point of Contact, the one facilitating our discussions and this trip, was also live. They were really fun to talk to, which was totally consistent with the previous times. (They'd helped me figure out how one gets from Oregon to Ottawa in one piece, even.)
 
At this point, I'll ask for forgiveness, as a lot of details are about to be anonymized and blended.  The reason: this committee meeting was coordinated, critical, and curiosity-filled.

Two other committee members I'm fond of were in a friendly chat. One lives in Ottawa (perhaps not that shocking), and the other lives in D.C. After giving a little buffer, I met both individuals in the 'meeting of the capitals'. We met each other on the room, ate some scrambled eggs and pastries (no bacon for me).
 
Around this point, the meeting began going. We had our chance to host a 'proper' meeting after several virtual ones. Fulbright Canada's Head orated plentiful wise remarks about Fulbright program turning 80 while so much felt at stake. The tariffs and Lake "America" were mere symbols, but they reflected an increasing trend to the U.S. defying international relationships. How, then, do we convince the Fulbright Canada program to continue another 80 years? By layering new connections into an organized structure. 

Brain matter whizzed by mentally as the committee deliberated. Geographical focuses, authenticity with potential applicants, developing ties between institutions, connecting to alumni. Need for an informal community, longevity to commitment. Many great concepts taking hours.

Around 1 pm, lunch provided a tempting notion. I looked forward to the bonding opportunity to move past these weighty, lofty ideas into relationship building. One committee person (let's say Jun for this pseudonym) in particular had to step away sadly; they would return for the next day. Another person, also sadly, would come for lunch and then head away to the airport for a conference presentation tomorrow.
 
Given our busy lives, it's impressive to think we had this small window with the committee's majority present. For lunch, we strolled to Occo, a very hip and trendy type of place. A cosmopolitan restaurant for a wide-ranging group (to be fair, us). 
 
Open layouts, dark tables, Canadian meals. Seafood sounded right, leading me to a couple smaller dishes. Newfoundland Cod Cake, sounds pretty regional. Shrimp taco -- well they had run out of fish -- meant being mature. (Usually I'm not much of a shrimp eater. Today felt different.)  
 
 
 
Following lunch came a scramble for finishing up some documents and giving 'owners' to our tasks.  Codifying our committee contributions and plans. 

Our allotment for this activity faded into a visit from US Embassy folks. Their particular group covered public diplomacy, rather relevant to us as you could imagine.  
 
This final hour covered resources and strategies from the embassy on building out the program's reach.

One burning topic of interest was welcoming Americans at the orientation. They were coming tomorrow. How to accomplish this in a tense environment? The answer: by leading with curiosity in Canadian culture, which appeals to everyone in the program. Observing the dimensionality of Canadian experiences across the provinces, across the full length. Such a session made my head almost dizzy with the possibilities of better ties.
 
Before departure, I took a Fulbright Canada umbrella for myself, reasoning it may be useful.  Stepping outside, there was a rain falling down. Unfortunately, the umbrella's length caused my hand to cramp up a little, so I furled and carried it instead. Such a light spray misting from above. Nothing to worry over. Orb returned with me part of the way and mentioned having his own business, motioning to a pharmacy. I took his suggestion, especially since it was a rough halfway point. 
 
The hotel room had an unmade bed upon my return. I realized that the hotel sustainability door tag had a timeline stipulated well before *8 am*. In other words, I still chose ecofriendliness albeit unintentionally. To be the good son, I called my parents for their anniversary, offered happy comments, and reassured them about my doing well.

Rain started pouring more, as the clouds and day grew darker. Forecast storms seemed more likely. 

 Meet Noodle recurred in my mind. Our committee co-chair, the American one, had remarked on a place that crafted its own noodles, a Chinese place mentioned by our committee co-chair early on, provided inspiration for a tasty meal. Only a short walk away from Lord Elgin. I was a little surprised to be in Canada and have to actually search for some (East) Asian cuisine. 

Portland metro creates an expectation of plentiful food from these areas. Numerous Chinese options in particular, to say nothing of Thai, Vietnamese, Korean, and Japanese restaurants.
 
(Of course, I enjoy the full range of Asian cuisines in line with the Pan-Asian philosophy. South, Central, and West all count in my book. South Asian food, from my personal heritage, reminds me the most of family.) 
 
A deeply rich broth, noodles one can pull apart and take in the fresh flavor, and melty braised beef. Hearty doses of spice were summoned. (Across the way, someone remarked how this meal is not spicy if you're used to Indian spice.) Despite my care, a couple droplets likely touched my dress clothes. Slurping noodles felt incredible enough for me to take these risks. 
 

Expectant storms gushed, finally seeping into my jacket. Light had been strained out of the day. My comically large umbrella, sitting at home, may have helped.  Few could deny the 'soup' weather feeling of the moment!

Back at the Elgin, I donned exercise clothes and stretched my tired muscles. Phoned my parents again for their anniversary. This trip had, after all, usurped my celebration with them. We managed this state of affairs still.

Tomorrow was the orientation, pinnacle of the trip. Sleep came with surprisingly little deviations and surprises.
 
Day 4: September 3rd

I am likely one of those social introverts. This would be a long day immersing myself in an ocean of people. 

Little Victories coffeeshop promised no WiFi and conversation. I had crossed the road twice -- once by the Canadian National Art Gallery. A straight line as crows fly interrupted by a full construction zone near the hotel. However, it only added a couple minutes to a short walk. Sunshine echoed across the patio area filled with seated people. 

I stepped inside and ordered a pain au chocolat + hot cocoa combo. Far wall held up an artfully jagged stone segment with shelves adorned with fabric shaped as plants. It felt a little lonely being here, on my own. Soon enough, there would be a flood of new Fulbrighters. 

Well, the time to head over arrived. I caught a beautiful sight of cana flowers and a statue, complete with bees busy grabbing pollen. 

Despite my worries, it turns out the orientation was delayed some 20 minutes. After a quick respite, I was back for the event. As we entered lunch time, I had the rare exchange of positively talking about America. Once inside,  I took my seat at the same table as Orb. Orb was getting into the particulars about food policy with one of the newcomers. As we were both committee members, something seemed off about my being here. 

One of the Fulbright Canada folks approached and redirected me to my actual seat. Fulbright Canada's Head, like yesterday, gave inspiring, sensational remarks that filled, lightened the room. His faith in our ability to forge ties remains unvarnished, 7 years after my own orientation here.

My table was a healthy mix of current undergrads and some professors. The person to my left, for example, taught me about recreating art forms of indigenous Texans while also explaining the distinction from Texas 'Indians', a different perception of the indigenous label. Across from me, one person excitedly pulled out a pink camera containing surprising lore. That's right. They had caught Ottawan buildings via lightning-cast shadows. A brave soul witnessing last night's storm. 

What did I eat for lunch? It was catered by the hotel in those silver containers; beyond that, not sure. 

What I do remember is the co-chairs standing up at the podium. American one reminds us about being a clinical psychologist. He wanted us to stand up and talk instead of residing in one corner. Our mode was receiving a question and finding someone who could help answer that question.

Thus began the Meet and Greet session. Questions included "talk to someone whose work you do not know", "find someone with an interesting hobby", and "find someone who has been somewhere you have not". In order, someone studying IMAX film history, someone who makes beats for other artists, and someone from Tennessee. 

Our session closed with each person relaying their exchange places and a fun fact. My exchange took me from Oregon to Alberta. Aiming to be a little funny, I added *two* fun facts: my affinity for public speaking and my experience holding and beholding the ax from The Shining. 

The Head fervently anticipated our reactions to the freshly arranged Energy Security and Sustainability Panel. (Yesterday, during the US Embassy visit, as I recall, he stepped outside to make final arrangements.) As a group, we walked across to the National Art Gallery, digesting each other's research. One professor described the (strange) imagery of the America 250 'celebrations' in DC. From the designated room, magnificent views of the Fairmont Hotel, the city's own castle.

The launch of a US-Canada energy initiative was publicly beginning. One prominent challenge is how integrated US and Canada are, even while undergoing trade conflicts. This is also the first 50-year window where the US is a major oil/gas importer, as a panelist explained. Matters of energy transfer had become more pressing.

I worried at this point that maybe climate change would get swept away from the conversation; current political trends seem to bury its discussion. It wasn't swept away though - renewables matter in this conversation. I asked on hydroelectric power, citing my home region of Pacific Northwest, followed by a person from Atlantic Canada asking about tidal energy. The presenters each inquired and uplifted our ideas in the discussion.

It was just the start of discussing energy development in an era of rising electricity demand.  

 
 
After the panel, I rested for a little while at the hotel room, taking 4-6 pm to recharge for the last part.  Wait, recharge? Clearly it was occasion for my blue suit and purple tie. (Trained to put on a tie as properly as possible without direct supervision.)
 
Rideau Club offered a remarkable view across the skyline, interrupted by manmade peaks, onto the water. Grandness incarnate, a place of prime ministers. I saw Justin Trudeau there.... as a photograph. Our work was important enough to be permitted entrance to grand. We entered our reception room replete with dark-toned hues, a sea of champagne (as far as I know), and plates of small food being served. Thus began the talking time in full force. 


 
Two alumni had a healthy discourse over AI; I, of course, joined the skeptic side by pointing out AI's issues in places like Flock Cameras. One incoming scholar came up and asked me about public speaking -- namely overcoming the terror of it . I was a little surprised, but happy to show some expertise. Afterwards, I found the opening to speak with fellow alumnus Jun. They were curious to hear my impressions, which feels like a delightful rarity for me.  I had to pause.At this point, our delightful Point of Contact began speaking and raising our attention.

The Head stood graciously at the podium, drawing from his earlier remarks. American Senator Fulbright, the program's namesake, came to realize cultural exchange as the antidote to conflict.  In 1947, such an attitude countered the emerging mentality of war all the time.

I finished my story to Jun, focusing on the Meet and Greet part. There was a nice feeling to 'continue' the story after interruption. Being in this busy room, I felt a little overwhelmed. 

Come time for dinner, sitting in place felt easier. We were stuck to our seats for now. A multi course meal proceeded out for us, beginning with butternut squash soup, a branzino (seabass) for me, and a fancy creme brulee. Normally, I avoid eating fish skin; here, I opted to and found it surprisingly manageable. During the meal, actually, the Point of Contact asked me about my opinions on the Meet and Greet; I relished in getting to draw on the comments I'd given to Jun earlier.  There was a hum of discussion between the plates being carried out.





A delightful evening had carried forward. At one point, with all my items eaten, I walked around a little bit. Spoke with the Nova Scotian who had asked about wave energy too. He was intrigued to hear Oregon was also developing tidal energy, and pointed out my state could be a better place. Nova Scotia, it seems, may have too powerful of waves while Oregon's might be just right. Far from the only interesting conversation this night, though I enjoyed making this connection.  

My blue suit with a lilac purple tie set against a white shirt. Hair was still in place, and, to my knowledge, I still showed social grace. Got up the nerve to ask someone to take a picture of Orb and I. Two Oregonians taking in the immaculate vibes. The photo (not shown) turned out great. I just wanted to remove the confirmation so you can simply take me at my word. 

Our schedule had ended at 10 PM. Of course, there were stragglers holding up the way. Snagged some photos while making my way out, wondering what would happen next. Still fascinating conversations along the way to the elevator, and the way out. 

Standing outside the Club, people dispersed.  After some discussion, a mix of alumni and staff went together for drinks. Tomorrow was Friday. Among neon lights and a little bit of sunken illumination, I found myself; in this speakeasy with others 'past my bedtime.' I sipped a non-alcoholic strawberry lemonade and arranged a bar stool near the conversation. This was my usual energy saving mode, aiming to keep myself going without irritating my muscular dystrophy. 

Across three subdivisions of people, there were three separate talks, occasionally weaving together. Interactions of a more personal, down to earth nature without formal structure. Words blending in the space. 

A couple alumni walked with me back to the Elgin, livening up the night. In my mind, having company for this walk was a genuine surprise (positive). I acquiesced to my final rest in this hotel bed before tomorrow's departure. Some 18 hours conscious came to a pause.

Day 5: September 4th 

My prior time in Ottawa was Fall 2019.  Coming back after the pandemic drew out reminiscence. The year 2022 had likewise brought me back to Edmonton, the site of my Fulbright, and almost convinced me to span the whole city. Comparatively, I restrained myself this time. 

My flight required me to head to airport around 2 PM, after sleep at 2 AM. Nearly made it to my minimum desired sleep level (6 hours). There was still a fair few pending items (gym amenity, packing, wondering why my items did not fit the roll-on as well now) and the fun intangibles. 

Forgoing cleaning had netted a slightly more scattered room  and also $10 in vouchers. Money to go into some pancakes at the hotel, the most Quebecois-esque item with maple syrup. Hardly especially complex, and a really solid take on a classic. 


Though I consider myself occasionally wise, a mistake happened. Upstairs sat my wallet...fortunately, I was covered by still being checked in. I scurried up to my room and brought the card for payment.
 
Tidied up my room for the final time. Coaxing my rollon to shut was considerably harder this time; my extra button-up shirt was not the cause but did not help. I checked out at 1 PM. (A courtesy late checkout because I asked.)

Orb passed by me with a rollon heading off - our paths would cross again at the airport in a few hours. Another alumni strolled by and bid hello, themself flying out that day. (Not to same region as me, though.)  To delay leg strain, I left my rollon, backpack, and the Fulbright Canada umbrella with the hotel. There was a mission before leaving Canada. A veritable set of goals I had verbally rattled off the night before. 
 
I stopped by Nando's for a tasty meal, just there on Elgin street. Complete with dabbing the extra hot sauce, the sweet burn that is not enough to intimidate me. Nando's is definitely good, but this is also a nostalgic activity. Back in 2012, my grandparents took me to Nando's in Pakistan; a year later, grandfather passed away. Food is a powerful connector, I reflected. 
 
Honestly, I really tried to find the Celebration cookies for a hometown friend, only to learn Shoppers had none. Got some Aeros hazelnut creme-filled chocolates instead (any more would hurt the rollon's zipper..).  Bought a shwarma, the one mentioned at the start, for my plane ride.  Checked Circle K for Celebration...and the clerk knew of them. They were not there. These snacks seemed a bit high-class. Plus Circle K was more sensible than Shoppers for the chocolate I just bought... Well, I can chalk this up to a learning experience, and finding a souvenir. 
 
Walking across the downtown Ottawa and Elgin street gave me a holistic view of the city. Ottawa is a remarkable city, a European-inspired metropolis. The pandemic had removed some of the shine, construction layers scattered throughout. I had even passed by a disappointed flyer on day 1 about the Ottawa City Council not taking housing affordability seriously. 
 
Back at the hotel, I regained my items, nervously perused them, and insisted it was time to go.  The rideshare to the airport carried me past my final views and ideas. Majestic capital was not impervious. It is a remarkable place, across the waters from Quebec. It is facing the many challenges of any big city post-pandemic. Somehow one photo, the one below, consolidated these stray thoughts. 
 
 
The airport was squeaky clean, and a little eerily quiet. I waited for my wheelchair help for some 30 minutes. Fortunately, it did not put me in danger of missing my flight. Numerous passport/boarding pass checkpoints happened on the way, amounting to maybe 5. I put my items away only to take them out again moments later. 
 
Even had my "obvious American" moment going through security. Put my laptop on the tray but overlooked needing to take off my shoes. Stepping through, the officer had to swab my shoe soles. By this point, I was pretty apologetic for messing up the procedure. 
 
Shortly after, a US customs gave me sarcasm and snide remarks over a few apple slices. (I should have removed it, but forgot.) The person commented on 'confiscating' my snacks (the ones that were totally fine). 
 
Now at the gate, I noticed Orb coming by. He observed how Mexican culture is much more forgiving of adult children living with their parents. I assured him that Pakistani culture was quite similar there. Pausing a moment, Orb let me know that he had almost done a fellowship in Pakistan, but then India and Pakistan went to war. This casual chat at the airport gate felt very comfortable. 

Bid goodbye to Ottawa, and to Canada, zooming away. On Flight 1, I probably watched some episodes on my laptop. Not an immensely long flight. Though I was back at viewing media, my mind did shift back to the trip. We landed at O'Hare, waited 30 minutes, and then I deplaned with my umbrella, backpack, and rollon.

Round 2 at O'Hare had clear skies as promised by Chicago friends. Mayor Brandon Johnson's voice carried through the colorful tunnel below the runway, asking me to visit Chicago. Still would love to! Right now, I just needed to get across the airport's eternal stretch with help on wheels. I made it to my flight shortly before boarding began and positioned myself with Orb when he appeared. Our chat was a little less involved this time, as we probably sought to get home in one piece.

Flight 2 was fine for a ~4 hour stretch. In the air, I watched When Harry Met Sally, a stylish film that had long been on my list. Spent an inordinate amount of time staring into space before bringing out paper and pencil for practice. There is a funny story to mention here: on Sept. 10th, I would take the Law School Admission Test. Naturally, that meant entering the world of each argument in a couple minutes. Surprisingly, my haphazard guessing while half asleep had an average hit rate. Still remembered the umbrella (another thought repeating internally until home). 

Back in Portland, a funny thought came up. Here I was awake at 2 AM (Eastern) two nights in a row. On a more plain note, my parents picked me up. Mom found my large umbrella, still in hand, rather amusing. After all, this rain protector had traveled across international borders. Once home, I did something strange and unpacked most of my items before sleeping.

--

Being on a plane for a few more hours had created a canvas for my scattered thoughts. I pondered on the strategies for global engagement learned and the people encountered. 

Cultural exchange is not opposed by anyone I have talked to. It weighs on my mind as a cerebral matter. I wonder why it does not feel like a gut punch. The frustration and madness of "America" clinging onto vestigial glory is surreal. How do you counter that?

Perhaps, though, there is a more positive spin. My trip to Ottawa offered the chance to more cheerfully engage these issues through formal discussions and casual conversations. The weight feels less material when it is shared by people working towards a common goal. Through those warm connections, I discovered a positive swell balancing out the anti-diplomatic madness. 

Cultural exchange's atmosphere skillfully won me over, I suppose. 





Monday, August 3, 2026

Waking by the Wallowas: an Eastern Oregon Travelogue

Opening
The Wallowa mountains towered around me. All those years of coming to Timberline Lodge (at the mile-high mark) had instructed my lungs. Tolerate some altitude and thin air, along with the mid-July ambient lighting. We had arrived at our prime destination on day 3.  Here follows a travelogue on this excursion .

Travel across the globe is a cherished ideal for good reason. Beholding spaces within my grasp, within my cartographic corner, is just as worthwhile. After 5 years, my family and I checked off a special bucket list item: traveling the 7 hours by motor vehicle to Joseph, Oregon. A famed mountain town almost within Idaho’s clutches.

Back in May, we plotted out this July trip. A few days prior to leaving, I decided to leave my laptop behind. That's a little strange. 

You might be wondering...is our dear author going to RELAX? Some may use the words relaxing to describe our trip. 'Entertaining saga' fits this tale better, though.

Joseph, our golden goose, proved remarkable with sweeping views, and the unfortunate outreach of wildfire smoke. Overall, a fantastic experience, with even the challenges adding on beautiful contours. Read on past this point to witness my nearly boatless Eastern Oregon voyage.

Day 1: Portland to Pendleton
House exodus at half past 9 AM. Sun screened, bug sprayed. Car packed.  
Route mapped out across multiple platforms, mediums, venues, and meetings.With all our preparation, all that was left was the impulse to head out. 

Pendleton emerged on our route around 11 AM. 

As if! We actually had not even breached the metro area.

The Sugarpine Drive-In in Troutdale provided us a sugary sustenance by the Columbia River’s gaping mouth. Vegan blueberry-ube sorbet gave the purple you can taste. It blended together spectacularly. Oh, and my grilled cheese sandwich was pretty good; had a waffle-like pattern too. 11 AM felt a little early for food of this nature, yet it worked. 

 

In winter and spring, the Columbia River Gorge starts out verdant green in the west with grass mixed with numerous trees. Summer brought out a golden brown shade that remained entrenched throughout. Ordinarily, golden brown and regular brown can seem similar, especially as an Oregonian. Instead, these subtle hues came out dazzling under azure skies.A very surprising color also appeared during the stretch I drove: construction orange, truly the other summer hue. 

At one point, turbines appeared high above. This entire region is known as a wind tunnel, occasionally getting intense gusts. It makes sense, even if Don Quixote may not be happy.  

John Day Dam surprised me in its size and apparent intensity; with that water flow, it has strong hydroelectric capacity. The turbines peered down upon it. A whole renewable energy medley treat as cars whizzed by on the interstate.

 
 
 
Traveling to Pendleton generally kept us in this corridor of sights for a few hours, scarcely a turn onto another road. At around 3 PM, the city was struck, and we checked into the first hotel.  

Carstuckness, a particular feeling, alerted me to complaining legs. A need for activity before venturing forth. In the hotel fitness center, I clocked a quick exercise session before returning to the room. Perhaps not so strangely, I had the opportunity to wait for the rest of my party. 

Following two hours of hoteltime, we sallied forth into the dusty, warm day. Sun glowing the glaring red of wildfire smoke. 

At Hamley’s Saloon and Steakhouse, I enjoyed a steak. Imagine old typewriters, a country singer playing live just outside. Eastern Oregon is known for ranching and meat quality. It is also the old country where people rode horses along the Oregon trail. Both sides came together in Hamley's.  Across the hall, a vintage crimson Wells Fargo traveling safe from the 1800s. I understood the cowboy charm exuding from each inch.


Another charm of this smaller city: a Farmers Market nearby on a Friday evening. We caught the tail end. People strewn across the closed roads pitching their wares until 7 pm. How else to appreciate a place than to see its local sales!
 
Pendleton provided a honky tonky feeling. Even though the yearly Roundup (a rodeo) had long since left town. I could not help but find charm in this pit stop, a place to sleep. Such rich history easily viewable in a tight downtown. In truth, here we also had the best hotel of our journey; from here, adventure abounded bucking our expectations. 
 
With our strategy, Day 1 was an easing in before entering properly rural Oregon. Scarcely had we left the Gorge, let alone neared the Eastern corners. Now, Pendleton is known as a conservative area, but they were still welcoming. 
 
Not taking a laptop had given a gentle excuse to not do work. Somehow, you could find me writing a few too many 3 paragraph emails on my phone. Listen, the springs of curiosity began flowing but were not full yet. Vacation mode, I reckoned, was something to relearn. The room bedtime ended up around 9 PM; no need for an endlessly late night here.

Day 2: Pendleton to Joseph
Day 1, a Friday, provided the high bar for lodging.  We had slept in the best hotel by far of the trip; breakfast with waffles, decorum, all around nice.  

During the car ride, I began reading Tales from Earthsea, a short story collection brought for low-tech fun. Though known for flatness, the sights around were anything but. The scenery impressed upon me how….hard reading would be. A rather fortunate problem to have. Especially with the immense build up to the golden goose Joseph, and one day until our must-impress Day 3. (Unlike in a certain video game, no moon crashing down.)

Having observational skills was a big plus: our route crossed La Grande, a college town. Thus, I added the town onto our route. 

Just after Pendleton, the asphalt climbed higher and wider; speed limits hit 70 miles per hour (blistering speeds for our area). Trucks whizzing by, as the road curves snaked into infinity. It was a little intimidating! Despite what you may think, though, the roads were impressively in great shape. We approached a must-see item on my sister's list. 

En route once more brought us
to a curious sight: the Deadman’s Pass overlook
to see for an eternity.  

Named for the treacherous curves,
the Deadman’s Pass gave us our stop and stretch moment
as trees and hills extended, perhaps akin to home. 
 
 
Mountains loomed as we entered the city. La Grande, actually, is a certified Tree City, adding to its aura. A few deer crossed the road at varying points. 
 
I was curious to see another university, having been to a few already (University of Oregon, Oregon State University, and Western Oregon University). Eastern Oregon University took only a few minutes with the small campus size. Police just down the road inspired us to be quick. (For legal purposes, this is a joke.) 
 

Following a brief tour, it was time for food. 
 
My choice may throw you off: for it was *Thai food*. Indeed, Thai food, despite being this far from home. Surprisingly, we enjoyed our meal; my stir-fried noodle dish was a touch oily, while on the spicy side! 
 
Back on the road after a short, scarcely planned stop. Through a highly anticipated stretch. 

Blue Mountains held high as forested giants
as the road lead us onward
past geologic majesty,
through the powerfully named Hells Canyon Scenic Byway. 

It is the Blues,
a rocky range underpinned by the Humongous Fungus
whose name needed to be recalled once more in the car;
a memento for Oregon's largest creature. 

Crystal clear water streaming beside the car,
a voyage through pebbles and stones,
white threads, semi-alpine wonder. 

Cows, horses, and pasture presaged our caravan’s transit through truly rural towns. One small spot judiciously halted this movement. Lostine, a hamlet a few minutes long, had this internet-famous coffeeshop called the Blue Banana. Unfortunately, we arrived an hour after closing; nonetheless, it was time for a few photos in the cutouts depicting exactly what you’d expect.

So-called flatness was firmly gone by the time we hit Enterprise, which lives and breathes with the Wallowa Mountains. The town itself sits at 4000 feet. Past the Safeway, and up a hill, one could find a hotel. 
 
Sadly, the check in was not without incident – the hotel accidentally assigned us someone else’s room before correcting the mistake. Certainly, I do not blame the staff here, but finally getting to relax mattered too. That is, after we checked for bed bugs by shining lights and moving the sheets around. My time went into munching leftovers, attending to the gym, and recharging for a scouting excursion.
 
A deer strolled to the hotel's back and munched on tree leaves.  

Joseph, sitting in the northeastern corner of Oregon, was immensely popular for a town of nearly a couple thousand people; the Main Street was filled, despite the smoke lingering. Rumors had not betrayed us: this place was beloved.The sun glowered in crimson as gray thickness converged. 
 
Below is Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce indigenous tribe, namesake of the town. My personal favorite statue, even under the angry sun. 
 
Views covered up. Doubt’s seed was finally planted; would we be able to enjoy this destination? While the answer is “yes”, I was not sure how anything would fit together.  
 
This night's hotel felt a little seedier; the sheets were not as good, and recent reviews suggested bed bugs. Of course, this was our two night stay (joy). My parents reported pain and bites.
 
We had a little concern over whether the bites were before the hotel or at the hotel. I bet on the bites being ordinary -- since bed bugs are known for aggressive swarming -- and aimed for shut eye. The front desk registered our issue and took no action. (No shade on the hotel staff here -- this is a frustration with management.)

Hoping for a better tomorrow clung to my sleep psyche. Perhaps the smoke would clear, or hover less tightly at the higher elevation. Had we come at the wrong time of year? Had our timing been poor? I rejected “yes” as an answer to these questions; there was a greater purpose still to be determined. The purpose of standing 8000 feet in the air and surveying around. 

Coming up soon: the gondola up.  

Day 3:  Joseph - *The Day* 

Haze billowing across Enterprise, hid the Wallowa Mountain behemoths. Air quality improved modestly. These were not ideal conditions to reach for acclaimed sights. 

Coming on a 7 hour road trip from Portland meant our goals could not be budged so easily. It was only another 13 minutes to enter the town of Joseph, giving us the hazy hills effect (captured in photo).  

Thus set the stage of *The Day*, our climax before returning westward. Before following some remnants of the Oregon Trail, not remembered by our tires.

A major scientific explanation for *The Day* comes about from an important phenomenon. It’s called pouring $200 into tickets for a gondola. Not just any one. The gondola to the top of Mt Howard, climbing 4000 feet in 15 minutes. Steepest in all of North America. 

Right before the loading zone, there was a smattering of log cabins and trees. Reminiscent of my time camping as a Boy Scout across the West and at Camp Arrah Wanna near Mount Hood. Lush in a way I had idly assumed to be specific to Western Oregon.

Even for this rational thinker, it was a little daunting. Just like James Bond, I would have to simply….trust Swiss engineering. They let us start a few minutes before their official open time of 9 AM. (Probably to stagger the gondola load.)

Being this high intimidated the nerves. Surreal steepness stayed in sight as we moved forward. Upon each tower (all 25), a gentle tremor. Trees sprang up quite far up the mountain.

Wallowa Lake became tiny during the climb upwards and upwards. Air thinned. Arriving at the top, a welcome sight. 

 
Pacific Northwest's highest restaurant awaited us, aptly named Summit Grill. We proceeded past, having eaten our fill at the hotel, and scoured the lookouts. One sign observed how this mountain's steepness and height made this climate akin to the Arctic Circle. Fortunately, today's weather landed around 60-70 degrees Fahrenheit, albeit breezy. Astonishingly pleasant to experience as hikers. 
 
Smoke could not climb to this reach, alleviating our apprehensions.
 
Butterflies broke out at the top of a staircase near our first viewpoint. Some white, some orange with black spots. They scurried swiftly past shutter speed. Perhaps like the wind whizzing by. 
 
Chipmunks crawled out into the sun, seeming to expect seeds from humans, and darted back into shadows occasionally. 

 
Around here, one can find the Royal Purple viewpoint. These peaks provided a spectacular perspective looking upon the gaping chasm. Truly, you had to be careful with no rail combined with a camera spirit. If there is a photo that summarizes our time, it is this one below. 
 
  
Wide areas all around at this height without any altitude sickness. We continued following the short, relatively easy trails. Stumbled upon the other overlooks whose names I knew much better at the time. 
 
We took the gondola down to the car. Ate some snacks -- lunch-adjacent enough to recharge us -- and returned upwards. By ride 3, heights proved no challenge. (Plus it helped justify the cost, since there was still a ride 4.) 
 
On "round 2", the goal was to simply take the trail going the opposite direction -- past the Summit Grill this time. I really wanted to see the Seven Devils, a range in Idaho. They should be visible. Nonetheless, we had an opportunity to cement our trip.
 
Wildflower season is remarkable in July with these hardy alpine-ish conditions. Ordinarily, this color outbreak is the recommended time to visit. There was much pink heather dotting our walks, for example. Lots of little plants favoring "staying alive" over being gigantic. Many such small stubby shrubs and little flowers containing a myriad of colors. Life forms that are only present here. 
 
 
Continuing along, we found more mesmerizing sights. Each step moved closer to a sweeping vista.
 
They called this the Sound of Music's meadow. By "They", it's actually me. A remarkable overlook onto surrounding mountains. I could not tell you the exact mountains found in this image, but they were still spectacular. 
 
 
Far below, the town of Joseph sat close to the lake and mountains. Indistinguishable without knowing your geography from this elevation. Somehow the purple visibility from here still caught my eye. 
 
 
Unfortunately, seeing into Idaho, Washington, and Montana was not to be. The skies were too stagnant to permit this view. With my older sister, I tried taking a steeper path arching towards the viewpoint. It was much harder than the fairly gentle ways on the mountain summit.
 
My phone chimed in with a "welcome to Mountain time!" message. This path should have shown the Seven Devils, and the Hells Canyon not a new timezone. Instead, it was surprisingly steep, pointing downwards to scarcely any visibility. I made the call that we should give up on this arduous, challenging trail. My sister and I began hastily ascending *before* my ten minute timer sounded. We headed back, though not before seeing some striking birds moving around. Knowing we had attempted this feat was enough to make this foolhardy attempt worthwhile. 
 
Our party of two converged with another party of two at the Summit Grill. Parents had decided to go on a mountain stroll as well, even seeing us on some parts of the Round 2 trek. (Considering the distance involved, pretty impressive!) I finished up  pumyrchased lemonade to keep my spirits up and headed down.
 
By ride 4, the gondola felt quite comfortable psychologically. I let the sights stream over me, rather than try to cram in last minute photos. (The temptation was there, trust me.) Even better: we could easily claim our money's worth now.  
 
  
 
We were not done yet with this area. It was afternoon, past 2 pm, but we sought *more*. First, the charming historic lodge, somehow not on the water. Lodge as nice just not on the level of the true last portion.
 
Wallowa Lake was *not* small on closer look. All the boats seemed smaller there. Small aircraft soared down, skimming the water repeatedly. Unusual behavior, huh? Turns out they were likely gathering water to fight fires. My grandfather had flown planes, so this stirred nostalgia in me. We spent some 20 minutes just watching. 
 
At this point, a bold decision was made near 3 pm. We elected to journey out onto the lake in a rented pedal boat (called a paddle boat); my parents pedaled much of the way, allowing my sister and I to take in the breeze. Feeling a touch cowardly, I put my phone in the car, and ceded picture-taking to my sister.
 
The rental place asked us to stay towards the edges of the lake, giving a wide berth to the landing planes. My mom's energy powered our trip for the most part. Towards the end of the hour, I attempted to pedal. The boat moved slowly, gradually broken up in direction. Eventually, my efforts placed the boat by the dock, just on time.  (On advice requested and granted.)

 
Before the town proper, we stopped by the Chief's grave, overlooking the lake. What a perfect spot to rest.  
 
We had made peace with the smoke, visited the mountains and the lake. Our final task was to simply walk around the town now. Two objectives remained for our climactic day: taking pictures and eating dinner. 
 
Touring the bronze statues felt remarkable. Joseph is a center of bronzework (though the museum was closed), giving us a great central attraction. Cougars, eagles, fish, other birds, chief Joseph, cowboys. A menagerie of remarkable sights. Back in 2000, the Main Street had been renovated, creating a delectable mountain town feeling. Along the route was also a beautiful boutique hotel we had considered as a place to stay. 
 


 
Embers was our dinner destination. They had the charming small yet well lit feeling of a town diner. A casual eatery with a good variety. Eastern Oregon might be a place for ranching and *red meat*. But I wanted to go in a different direction. Fish tacos for me. We had cause to wait patiently for food, with our long day. 
 
All the while, people were watching the World Cup final inside. Our server was a clear Spain fan (Yamal jersey) and chatted with us a little bit about sports. I complimented his shirt. Spain winning the World Cup as we ate and chatted was a warm feeling. Even though I'm not a sports person. 
 
Joseph was the perfect quaint town without obvious corporate franchises. Roads might be a little broken up, more in the charming way. There were the usual town elements, and a lovely Main Street. The wonder it conjures is incredible, especially when you visit the Wallowa Lake and connected mountains. Somehow, I still wished for a more obvious highlight to the trip.
 
Such a 'dilemma' did not prevent me from sleeping fairly soundly. (After all, no bed pests.) 
 
Waking up at 6 AM, witnessing peaks and summits, being paraded around on the lake, exploring the town. All of that contributed to a remarkable full little time period. Disproving the presence of bed bugs helped, though! I dozed off. 

Day 4: Joseph to Baker City
Gazing out upon Enterprise was wistful. I wanted to see more. Smoke and clouds blended, leaving faint protrusions overhead. Arrangements would now take us away from this place. Both the middling hotel and our prime destination. 
It was time to make the way back with one last night. 

 
*The Day* was behind us, our penciled-out awaited passage of time. We had reached our farthest eastern point. Our lodging was in Baker City to the southwest.

No looking back. Done and dusted.

…

… 
 
… 
 
Joseph's allure could not be resisted. A third visit to the town for a simple curiosity.
 
Three’s power paved the opportunity for Arrowhead Chocolates, a long-awaited trip. A remarkable sugar buzz emerged from joyous cocoa, liquid chocolate with tiny ‘pebbles’ at the bottom. My sister and I both got a truffle slice, mine a habanero-lime caramel chocolate. Habanero) was added as salt, seeding a gentle after-burn. This conveyed an outrageously well-layered mouth impression!
 
 
Though the skies cleared modestly, there was no picture perfect view of the Wallowas here in Joseph, final stopover. What did come across clearly, though: a third admiration of the bronze statues, complete with, yes, family photos. Interesting bees with unique yellow rings hovered by flowers. 
 
Here is Chief Joseph once more under modestly better skies. 
 

We set forth.

Past a stream of cows once more, dots along the pasture. 

 

This route led through a small historic town called Medical Springs, taking us off the 84 (the typical way going southwest for this section). Wallowa River, a gentle reminder of this area’s beauty, re-emerged.


Hells Canyon Scenic Byway, along this way, added a cosmic humor. Properly, the canyon was far away, and we could not even see into it from Mt. Howard (asides from a purple vagueness). Deciding to leave aside Hell helped us preserve our stamina for the remaining progress. 

A train whizzing by the rolling hills under a hefty coat of smog. Medical Springs, a small town nestled in these abundant knolls, gave us a stopover to switch drivers. (I ceded the wheel.) After two and a half hours in total, the next city was up ahead.

After Joseph and Enterprise, a grouping of 10,000 people felt like a true city. Baker City, named for someone named Baker not as much the profession, captured Eastern Oregon’s charm. Why did we come to this nestled-in spot? 

We have old neighbors, continued friends, living here. I had just helped their relative with preparing for a PhD defense! This opportunity came about because we had shared our plans.The Tars (totally a real name) had invited us for a dinner at their place. 

There was over an hour until hotel check-in time.

What else would one do but sight see? 

A famous haunt of apparitions first on the list. Grand Geiser Hotel marvelously captures the tourist spirit. Doesn't it simply stand out?  Legends of ghosts drew us onwards. Eerily enough, the hotel spurned us visitors even from a photo. Suspicious, spooky. Perhaps I came close to phoning up the Ghostbusters. In all seriousness, maybe the Geiser was a little too confident in its charm.


A wrinkle: Mondays seemed to bring this town to a quiet solitude. Many places were firmly shut, despite our wishes for a sit-down lunch. Warm haze pounded on us, giving me a nagging headache. Finally, there was a recess in Charley’s, an ice cream and deli place. A little unfortunate that lettuce health concerns abounded (recent occurrence), but the roast beef-cheddar sandwich still indubitably hit. 
 
(As for ice cream, tempting…..too early though. Had to save “carb storage space” for the family friends.) 

For a conservative town, Baker City clearly has a welcoming spirit. One remarkable sign stood out so much I had to capture it. To me, this is the high ideal, whether in far-back Oregon or in the City.

 
 
Impressive murals scattered themselves across the downtown area. Were it not for the heat and smoke, maybe we could have deciphered them. 
 

 
One more stop popped out. It was quite nearby. (With energy levels flagging, stopping at the hotel would have only halted the excursion.) 
 
Baker City’s Carnegie Mellon Library is historic. Rather than compete with the modern library, this space had an art gallery. Not as rustic a feeling as one might expect, though horses arose in a couple paintings. Basement, a humble pottery studio where teenagers learned fine arts. 
 


As I stumbled around, my mom noticed a peculiar sight behind the front desk. Engraved on the wall were a series of names. The Tars appeared, granting a picture perfect moment!  Enough excitement for now.

At the hotel, we finally checked in. Not enough time for that snooze; enough to decompress for a tiny bit. 

Allegedly at least. This place is two stories, several buildings, and no elevators. Our room was on the second floor in a newer (allegedly) building. These places were Standard price with no patio, though sheets were better. 

Some of the rollons stayed in the car. Musty hard to place smell pervaded our room, needing prompt action from the staff. Okay, sure, they sprayed air freshener. This should solve everything, right. Put a pin in this comment and recall it a little while down the page. 

No time to wonder about that -- we had friends to visit. 

Heading towards the Tars’ house, I secretly wished for the hazard mist to dissipate. Elkhorn Mountains, the governors of Baker City, were barely visible. Our call rolled past increasing street addresses until I pointed we had missed the house. (Pride of the "told you so" kind.)

My decade-prior visit immediately came back with the sights of the house. The Tars greeted us first with cheese and crackers and warm company. There was a lot to catch up on. My older sister had not seen them in a decade or two, so she took the stage. 

After this, we had a wide ranging discussion on international relations, the smoke, town rumors. Our short visit to downtown Baker City had somehow prepared us here. Mrs. Tar had actually been to Charley's recently for a birthday party, a really encouraging sign for me. The Grand Geiser Hotel is perhaps unshockingly motivated more by profit than involvement in the community. Apparently the owners are not especially beloved. Unfortunately, the smoke was a perennial topic too.

In Baker City, the smoke seems to come more in August rather than July. Low snowpack across Oregon had sadly made this inevitable earlier in the year. The Tars' house was built to accommodate sweeping views of outside. It is a great American space, now stifled a bit.  

Tracking AQI, as done by Mr. Tar with his own device, reflected the uncertainty literally in the air. These concerns worsen health and often pair with blazing destruction. Fires devastate the whole community, the whole state, the whole world. It went beyond my own irritated throat or headache. 

With that, dinner rolled around -- simple yet elegant. Our conversation took on a lighter cadence around now. Chicken baked rather than grilled on account of the weather. Sides of a corn salad, tomatoes and cheese. 


Sitting by the table, I noticed the sun coming down, illuminating new sights. Modestly peeked out of curiosity.

 A couple magpies (with blue coats and white outfits) hopped around, probing. Edmonton, Canada taught me that magpies are quite fascinating creatures, not unlike crows. And one other thing. The magpies in Eastern Oregon are short-tailed versus the lengthy-tailed ones of Alberta. Imagine knowing this from living in a few places.   

My sunset sight even inspired my mom to step outside for photos of her own. Rustic beauty readily poured out of the sky. Moments outside cemented the Baker City atmosphere before stepping back inside, retreating behind a window.

Our dear hosts surprised us with muffin-sized homemade cheesecakes with an impeccable sweet-savory mix. I must confess to devouring my item. My "carb storage space" went to good use here! 

Under these skies, there is a chance to see the mountains piercing their veils. A brilliant sunset rose, red gasping to come out against orange. Refreshing contrast threw the mountains into relief. Swallows that nested by the house flew around, including across my camera lens. (At the hotel that evening, my mom would remark I should enter the below photo in a contest). 

Warm, thoughtful conversation with food and company. Joseph's splendor paired well with this comforting evening in another corner. I wished to remember so many more details than are possible. One certainty arose: visiting with the Tars cemented Baker City as a lovely stopover.  

In retrospect, our pleasant evening sails faced stiff winds soon after. Ethereal, grand humor ensued. Take the pin out from a couple paragraphs ago now, if you will.

Once in the room again, a new scent ‘greeted’ us. Noxious fumes. At the time, the landscape's embers seemed the culprit. This was a dubious claim, even then. (Real culprit was, of course, tobacco.) Another round of attempted fragrance repair scarcely held the concerns back. Sleep still approached me all the same.

This one day, scarcely perfect, had given us the lovely opportunity to fortify relations. To immerse oneself in the swath of Oregon I scarcely knew. A couple disappointing hotels could not take that from me. Especially as we approached this final day.

Our accomplishments rode high, yet my mind demanded a special closure from the trip. Onto the last day….
 

Day 5: Westward to Home
Awoke with parched throats, unhappy with a different type of smoke.  Oh well, not as much an issue now that we were leaving.

After Mt. Howard, our plan progressed into lower elevations. Before the final pack-out, there was of course continental breakfast. Waffle made a favorable return after a couple days break. 

 

While eating, I inferred something: a couple staffers likely understood Hindi/Urdu. (Two highly related languages.) My mom, as a speaker herself, got the real lowdown on our room. Our non-smoking room? A long-time smoker had taken up residence there until right before. Not the most fun realization. At least we were heading out shortly. 
Before long, coastward for real this time.  

I had started to crave a slice of solitude. 

 ...A few extra stops before home awaited. You the reader already anticipated this fakeout, didn't you? 

Several hours to go. Take in the Eastern region before life would progress back to normal. Exiting Baker City, itself a mountain town, took us away from the Elkhorn range and onwards to the Blue Mountains.  This area just seemed to capture my interest. 

 

Smoke poured from the Anthony Fire west of Baker City. A hazy tint that had accompanied us. Oregon seemed to sear heat across the entire Northern half of the state. 

Deadman’s Pass made a quick return upon approaching Pendleton, the apparent gateway to home. On this round, the pass just provided a rest area. Waving goodbye to a sweeping shift in character and topography. 

Past there, we entered the Columbia River Gorge once more. A solid couple hours would be spent within the sturdy valley with an earth-carving river. 

The Dalles appeared first, at the rough half point of the Gorge. Yellow giant of the sky, the sun, reached into this riverside location, testing our heat tolerance. Air was heavy with smoke and greater humidity, not just hot.

We settled on...Burgerville (an Oregon chain) as meal of choice. Of course, the meal was burgers.  A selfish impulse spurred me to request a hazelnut chocolate milkshake; it charmingly crumbled in my mouth, giving a more regal feeling. Ordinarily, a milkshake would have felt more simply decadent! 

Three sights remained in this stretch: the nearby Rowena Crest, Skamania Lodge (a pleasant getaway in southern Washington), and Elowah Falls. A steep drive took us above to the Rowena Crest, with warm air feeling molten where haze and heat combined. Without wildflowers, we positioned ourselves against the river, as you see below. Snap! Our phone cameras claimed family photos next. 

 
 
Gorgeous contains the phrase 'gorge', which captures my feelings here. In this area, you cannot help but notice the winds whipping along the water. I came to a greater appreciation this mighty river powering Oregon, Washington, and British Columbia. 

 

Our penultimate stopover was Skamania Lodge, a visit requested by my mom. (Reminder: the most influential person on the trip.) To get there, you must cross the Bridge of the Gods -- a steel truss structure spanning Oregon and Washington -- and pay the few dollars toll. Head a few minutes down a Washington state road, and there is the lodge. We opted to eat fish and chips inside while admiring the sights...safe from the heat. 

 

One more place. The Elowah Falls trailhead proved tricky. Maps application insisted we were going the right way. Nope. Had to get to the other side of the road to attempt the trail. Mere inches before an ominous closure was the trailhead. 

My big sister and I stomped up the gravel. But it was too late. This duo's adventurer spirit was flagging. We conceded about 5 minutes in that the trip was coming to a close. Instead, it was picture time for us. 

 

Adrift smoke followed us westward. We recollected our thoughts and vibrations in the last hour in the car. 

Closing
Our four person party arrived around 5 pm at home. Our official weather station at the airport sizzled at an official 100 degrees Fahrenheit, our very first of the year. (Somehow.) Better than 103 degrees in the Dalles, at least. Solitude was not yet available, though. 

Nonexistent energy levels were summoned once more for a final task. We wanted and sought to be courteous to the fifth person who had stayed back for work. Unlike my usual procrastination, I deftly unloaded my roll-on and backpack, moving items upstairs. My trusted blue drawstring bag, with the white swoosh chipping off gradually, went with my backpack and clothes into the laundry room. 

Why did I pack many clothes and no laptop? Big sister's wishes. Wanting shock and awe. Seeing the Tars* again. Big sister's plans. Imagining a greater openness to my surroundings. 

Our visit to Joseph, and the Wallowas, shattered my normal routine. Hiking 8000 ft in the air, seeing smoke engulf some beautiful sights while creating others. Up at this spot, the town faded, taking a dreamlike quality. Aoi and Hinata (from the eternally charming series Yama no Susume) would surely approve of these types of sight. 

As a "good scientist/engineer", I feel an urge to explain the insights gained before concluding. 

 1) Sure wildfire smoke cannot be anticipated, but there's opportunities to find new beauty and appreciation. My shot of the mountains from Baker City on Day 4 was only possible *because* of the distorted sunset casting contrast. 

2) A 5 day trip can only cover so much. I anticipated more of Hells Canyon. Retrospectively, I also sought to see the contributions of Chinese migrants to the region. And so much more. Instead of diminishing my trip, though, the challenges injected many-faced colorations on a striking portrait.  

3) As of this writing, the wildfire season in Pacific Northwest has intensified. Spokane in Washington and Warm Springs Indigenous Reservation in Oregon were both evacuated. Heartrending damage is ongoing at both locations, to say the least of other places. The smoke is not just an inconvenience; it hurts our whole planet, and everyone on it. Visiting the Inland Northwest helped me appreciate the wider swath of this region. Seeing its beauty in parallel with plumes of despair. 

Pitfalls and soaring successes both appeared in this story. They give the tinge of authenticity to my travel, taking me beyond a simple tourist identity. Recently, my adventures have been through other mediums – reading Le Guin’s fantasy crafting across Earthsea, the grand stories across the fictional continent of Zemuria, hearing Agalloch’s pensive forest music.  This time, the tales are from my own perceptive encounters.

Before, my personal map appeared as mountains of errands, valleys of minute investigations, and rivers of 'job talk.' Waking by the Wallowas challenged my world's geography. In response, I nudged myself back towards a clear-eyed vision ahead.