Oregon Bliss

Our table

Stilts Vs Stilettos

Hot tubbin'

Another day, another bevvie.

The Hens

Where to begin?

Boxes shipped from Australia arrive. Unpack tent and sleeping bag, then re-pack in suitcase for wedding/camping trip. Spend 3 hours doing job application to run down to post box before 3am taxi ride to Edinburgh Airport. Printer refuses to print. Curse. Curse again. Cursing not fixing printer. Pack USB in order to print application in US to post back to UK Forrestry Commission. Curse Forrestry Commission for no online applications. 6am Flight to Amsterdam. Transfer to flight to Minneapolis (flying back over Edinburgh - bastards). Flight to Portland. Arrive in Portland 6pm 30 hours later. Hurried shower & change of clothes for Hens Night. Hens Night amazing - sushi, sake and champagne, followed by a bus fit with kegs and mirrorballs - we're driven around Portland - Lauren's favourite haunts (Rose Garden, College Lawns, Waterfront, Bars) as we dance and drink up a storm. Back to Miriam's for the after party. Fall into bed about 3am having been up for about 3 days. Sleep.

The next day is recovery and tour of Portland courtesy of Miriam's boyfriend Gabe and his mate Justin. Chinatown, Powells (the most amazing bookstore you've ever seen - a city block in size and three stories, all the books organised into colour coded categories, each containing second hand copies as well as collector editions. You could spend a week and never see everything. Spent an hour in the rare books section alone. Coveted everything.), Deschutes Brewery. Exhausted we crash that night, safe in the knowledge that the next week or so will be crazy crazy crazy.

We're picked up the next day by Liz, one of the bridesmaids, and driven up to Mt Hood for the wedding extravaganza. It begins with exclamations of delight at our fantastic villa - we share with the hilarious Johnny, Dan, Jessie and others besides, but since Stu and I arrive before them, we are told to choose the best room for ourselves, so we do! Walk in wardrobe (bigger than our bedroom in Musselburgh), huge ensuite, the biggest, most gloriously comfortable bed in which I've ever had the pleasure of reclining (though didn't spend much time there in the end).

Activities kick off with a massive picnic down by Salmon River with delicious food and kegs of locally brewed beer, G&Ts, boules, volleyball... Apparently I suck at volleyball. That night is the dessert soiree, complete with schmick dresses, amazing desserts, wine and dancing, always the dancing. Still feeling a little shattered from the last few nights, crash early in anticipation of the next day's festivities.

Kicks off with a massive brunch - my first ever waffle (weird). Then some down time in the hot tub (and a waffle-guilt enduced run), before getting all glammed for the ceremony. The ceremony itself is simply beautiful. It also includes a stirring acknowledgement of Lauren's dearly departed older brother Michael. Lauren is stunning, Jefe is adorable - gulpy/nervous (he leans in to kiss Lauren after she reads him a love letter and she has to step away from him and remind him "not yet"!). They wed, they kiss, there's music, and clapping and laughing. On to a seafood buffet the likes of which I've never seen. Crab, prawns, smoked salmon, lushness. The G&Ts flow (the first of many for me I must say). Then on to the reception - sumptuously decorated with Japanese floral arrangements and meticulously folded origami (cheers Alan). There's food, there's speeches (refreshingly unrehearsed and charmingly funny), there's Tequila (uh oh), and then there's (or so I'm later informed) a very befuddled Mez, who hitches up her skirt to dance a little too high and has to be informed by Stu that she's very nearly displaying her bum. Shit, that's quite embarrassing. Then the highlight - March 4th, Portland's answer to the marching band, complete with people on stilts, face painters and incredible music hits the party. After the reception breaks up in the early hours, Jessie and I decide to head out to the local. Everyone else is off to the hot tub, but we can't be persuaded. So we manage to convince a flagged down secuirty guy to drive us to the nearest bar. Unfortunately hicksville USA is a little scray and after the 3rd leer from a toothless gentleman of ill repute and indistinguishable age, I decide it's time to head back to the villa. We make the ongoing mistake of cracking open the rum. Finally it's 3am and we're kicked out of the hot tub to go back to the villa knowing that tomorrow is an early start to check out , re-pack and head off into the wide blue yonder for 3 days of camping. The camping is another story for another day, as I've had enough typing for now.