10 Things That Will Forever Haunt Me About Portland

(In the Best Way Possible)

Greetings from Bozeman, MT

Dear friend,

I’m writing to you from a sun-filled hotel room in Bozeman, Montana, on day three of my cross-country trek back to the East Coast. (If you missed it, here’s the post where I go into excruciating detail about where I’m headed and why.)

The past few weeks have been a blur of stress, not just the logistical chaos of packing up my life and arranging a cross-country move, but also the emotional heaviness of saying goodbye to Portland… all while still sharing a home with my ex.

And yet, through it all, I’ve felt proud of myself. Because even in the thick of the mess, I didn’t numb out. No weed, no alcohol, no sleeping pills, not even a damn cup of coffee. Every time an uncomfortable feeling showed up, my response was basically: “Hit me with your best shot, bitch.”

This is the first major life upheaval I’ve faced fully sober, and it feels huge. When I get stressed now, my first instinct isn’t to escape—it’s to stretch and get in touch with the sensations in my body. I even packed my yoga mat and blocks in the car, setting up in hotel rooms each night to move and breathe and feel it all.

In the thick of my final weeks, I kept looking toward this drive as a kind of salvation. I love long drives, new cities (Spokane and Bozeman, I adore you), and while I’m holding a lot of emotion, what I’m feeling most is untethered, powerful, and in awe of the beauty and possibility ahead.

All that to say: I wrote the post below when I was deep in the stress spiral, trying to process my feelings while still honoring what I loved most about Portland. It felt important to pause and focus on the good. So here’s that little love letter, from me to Portland, and now to you. Enjoy.

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Let me just start by saying: I am stressed. Not your garden-variety, “I can’t keep up with my to-do list” stressed—I mean full-body, jaw-locked, shoulders-in-my-ears, can’t-take-a-full-breath stressed. Turns out, suddenly realizing you're moving across the country, living with your ex for the final stretch, sorting through years of belongings, and being hit with big, messy feelings all at once will do that to a person. My butt is so clenched I could probably poop a diamond. My TMJ is in full flare. My body feels like it’s waving a giant red flag, demanding I pay attention.

But today, amidst all the packing tape, half-finished lists, and general existential dread, I want to pause. There’s so much I’ve loved about living in Portland, and I keep worrying that if I spend these final weeks in full-on survival mode, I won’t actually get the chance to celebrate this chapter and everything that made it special.

There are some things about this place that I know will haunt me in the best possible way. Some are small, oddly specific comforts. Some are landmarks. Some are just... food. (A running theme in my life, truly.) And one of them is—bizarrely—my health insurance, which probably tells you everything you need to know about how good this place was to me.

So instead of spinning out, I’ve decided to channel the chaos into something a little softer. A love letter, really. A roundup of all the big and small things I’ll miss most about this weird, wonderful city. Here’s to Portland, and to honoring the good parts even as I get ready to say goodbye.

1. My Healthcare Dream Team (Insurance, Dentist, Therapist, and One Very Good Dog)
I never thought I’d get emotionally attached to an entire healthcare setup, but here we are. Portland gave me the holy trifecta: the best health insurance I’ve ever had, a dentist so caring, gentle, and non-judgmental that I actually looked forward to my visits, and a therapist who helped me untangle so much of my mess. My insurance covered things like acupuncture and massage, aka actual preventative care, not just emergencies, which felt like the greatest gift.

Even the atmosphere around all of it made me feel held. My dentist’s office had a sweet little dog padding around, instantly making each appointment less stressful. And every week, I’d head to therapy sessions in a beautiful little craftsman surrounded by trees, just stepping inside felt like my nervous system could finally exhale. I’m not sure I’ll ever find a setup like this again, and I am grieving it accordingly.

Benji would come sit on my lap and soothe me as my teeth were being cleaned.

2. Friendly People
People in Portland are just... nice. The kind of friendly that feels genuine but never pushy. Someone always holds the door without making a big deal about it. Drivers actually stop to let you cross the street. Even the people ringing you up at the grocery store seem like they’re rooting for you. It’s a small, quiet kind of kindness, but it made a huge difference in my day-to-day life.

3. The Reign of the Light Jacket
Do I love rain? No. But what I do love is how Portland basically gives you eight months of prime light jacket weather. That perfect, crisp-but-not-freezing sweet spot where you can throw on a cute coat and actually show it off without hiding it under a giant puffer or worrying about frostbite. In New York, that window lasts maybe two weeks before you’re either sweating or fully encased in wool. Portland’s mild winters gave my favorite coats more mileage than they ever got back East, and I’m grateful for every extra wear.

4. The Incredible Friggin’ Parks
One of the absolute best things about living in Portland is how ridiculously good the parks are. No matter where you live, you’re probably not far from a sprawling, tree-filled park with wide open fields and towering evergreens that make you feel like you’ve stepped into another world. They’re not little patches of grass or playgrounds squeezed between buildings; they’re real parks. The kind where a simple walk can easily turn into an entire afternoon.

For me, the best park of all was Fernhill Park. I lived just a block away from it, a massive, hilly oasis with room to roam. If I close my eyes, I can still picture it in that soft, golden evening light. It’s where I walked Coco every day, through every season. It’s where I really bonded with her, where we both learned each other’s rhythms. Being that close to a place like that felt like such a gift, and it’s one of the things I’ll miss most.

5. Hat Yai
The fried chicken. The roti. The curry. Honestly, life is going to be divided into before and after Hat Yai. If anyone knows how to ship it across the country, please call me immediately.

6. The Berries
The berries here deserve a whole separate ode. Strawberries so sweet they taste fake, blackberries growing wild, and of course, the legendary marionberries. Leaving at the start of berry season feels borderline cruel.

7. My Favorite Cycling Route
Portland made me fall in love with cycling. My go-to route took me past the river, through tree-lined paths, and into stretches of pure, meditative quiet. It was one of my favorite ways to clear my head, and I’ll miss those peaceful rides more than I can say.

8. My Yoga Studio
You know when a place just gets it right? This studio was that for me. Perfect lighting, an energy that felt calm without trying too hard, and just enough sweat to feel like you’d exorcised some demons. Starting over with a new studio feels... daunting. Also: shoutout to Firelight Yoga…y’all are doing it right!

9. Sushirritos
I didn’t truly appreciate the brilliance of sushiritos until I moved to Portland. Sushi, but handheld, burrito-sized, and somehow engineered not to fall apart no matter how much they’re stuffed—honestly, genius. Now I’m wondering if they even exist in NYC, and if they do, whether they can live up to the high bar I’ve been spoiled with here. Either way, consider me a lifelong sushirrito convert. It’s one of those little innovations I’ll definitely be craving.

My personal favorite: the Spice Spice Baby from Let’s Roll PDX

10. McMenamins (The Whimsicraft Kingdom of the Pacific Northwest)
McMenamins isn’t just a restaurant chain—it’s a fever dream. Every location feels like you’ve stepped inside a slightly offbeat, vaguely haunted art installation. Think stained glass, secret hallways, cozy booths, and a general vibe of “a wizard lives here but won’t admit it.” No other place could quite replicate it.

McMenamin’s Kennedy School

So there you have it. My highly specific, deeply heartfelt list of things I will miss about Portland. Even though this city did not become my forever place, it gave me so much—healing, space, and some damn good Thai food. Now, it’s time for something new. But if you ever see me crying in the wild, just know it’s probably because I was thinking about an Oregon strawberry.

xo,
VC