The Learning Curve: Train tracks to e-mails back

I haven’t been in too many train stations in my life, but I think there are few as pretty as Portland’s Union Station.

While I’d had a blast in Oregon, three days in this unique city had not been enough time. Yoga, hiking through waterfalls, exploring the downtown dining, dancing, and making new friends had certainly filled up my days. There was still so much I didn’t get a chance to see or do, but I was very happy with how I had spent the time. Plus I had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time I came to visit.

I sat on my suitcase admiring the vaulted marble ceilings and ornate wall clocks, watching the minute hand tick by, telling me my train was late. I sighed, resting my chin in the palm of my hand. I guess there were worse places I could be waiting for a ride.

A Port Townsend Treasure

I’ve been exploring the peninsula of Washington for a little over a week now. My initial assessment is that if you can handle the continual overcast skies and frigid cold, nature will aptly reward you for your tolerance.

And while I am enjoying my time here, I’ve been unsuccessfully searching for some small-town charm to enrapture me. Well, that is until today.

My aunt wanted to take me to the nearby town of Port Townsend to check out the shops along the water. As it would turn out, these three blocks would make up the entirety of downtown (shocking to this Vegas girl). I lazily moseyed past the storefronts, not feeling a deep need to investigate further. But then I saw a sign (insert Ace of Base lyrics here) and things changed,