Not much news to report here, but I feel compelled to pass on this morning’s sighting outside of Cafe Umbria. The Cafe is a hotspot for Portland’s Italian community: Portland’s Italian Consul holds court here, along with the waiter from our favorite Tuscan restaurant, soccer fans, bikers, and the like – there are bike magazines on the rack, jerseys on the wall – that kind of place. It’s one of the spots from our old neighborhood that I miss the most, and I still stop by fairly often.
Today is an odd and ends day: coffee with my friend Bruce, a trip to Kaiser to pick up my new eyeglasses, a stop at the dry cleaners to drop off my Pendleton to ready it for the coming tour, a trip to DMV to renew my driver’s license which will expire while we’re on tour. In the midst of that I found time to stop in at Cafe Umbria, enjoy another cup of coffee and an almond croissant, and stew again over which route we should take through the Dolomites – in particular, should we tackle iconic, awesome Stelvio Pass? We’re not getting any younger, so it’s now or never. We’ll see.
On leaving, my eye was caught by the brilliant glare off of this thing. Pretty gaudy, almost gauche, I thought. I decided to add a touch of class to the scene for a minute by bringing my nearly new New World Tourist up close to it. I would have leaned it against the car itself, but didn’t want to risk any gold paint rubbing off onto my own nice Black Diamond finish – or getting shot by some mafioso dashing out of the cafe with a tommy gun.