Beaverton, OR 97006

Three weeks into this contract, my original AirBnB is done. I could extend, but the 50-minute walk to work is taking its toll, especially with the heavy wind and rains that are the gentle Oregon springtime :-)

Before I flew up here there were three apartments near Nike on Craigslist. One never responded. One made it clear that the share was open only to female roommates (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). And the last, by a comedy of errors, became available to me just as the AirBnB came to a close — after I postponed my initial viewing of the place to take a trip up north, and the two subsequent suitors dropped out in what seemed to be an agonizingly slow process of attrition.

Why did I bother? Because from bed to desk is about a 9-minute walk!

Are you ready for the grand tour? My place is in Elmonica Court, a collection of three-story buildings which house a veritable United Nations, with representatives from countries in Southeast Asia, Central America, and Africa. Oh, the languages I’ve heard!

That’s the living room on the left, the kitchen at center, and the wee porch with a grill to our right. It’s light and airy, with a bit of greenery visible through every window.

The bedroom’s en suite sink is both quirky and convenient, and the mirrored closet doors make the room look bigger than it is.

The bathroom is small but serviceable, and it has a tub, which seems a luxury as my Alameda digs have but a shower stall.

My roommate, Chris, is an indefatigably cheerful Nike engineer, with a huge grin on his face and a pep in his step. He’s all transitions, from work mode to his evening run to kitchen time. We’ve spent a couple of evenings chatting about things digital, and it reminds me of nothing more than the first few years in the dorms. A happy roommate FTW!

Oh, we also share the place with an Alexa (to which we haven’t added skills, yet) and a cable modem (which we use for the ‘net access; the TV remote controls sport a layer of dust).

Most of Beaverton, Oregon, is unredeemably suburban-to-rural, something quite discomfiting to urban me, but the tiny strip mall across the street offers some respite, especially as it boasts not one but two ethnic restaurants, one East African and the other Indian. There’s also a MAX (Metropolitan Area Express) light rail station a couple of minutes walk away, and a Costco on the other side of the block.

Häyät Somali Restaurant

My first night here becomes a late-night affair, and by the time I’m settled in (after work) the Indian place’s kitchen is closed, but Häyät‘s owner, Hussein, urges me to take a seat and says he’ll re-open his kitchen to me. What a nice welcome to the neighborhood.

Hussein’s tales of his trips, from the snowy mid-west to sunny San Diego, are the loving tales of a world traveler. The Somali sambusa have their own delightful flavor palette, similar to but very unlike Indian samosa. The milk tea bears a similar resemblance to Indian chai. Both are delicious.

The walk to and from Nike is almost over before it starts, which is a luxurious feeling. There are a few sights along the way, though.

Hey, thanks for visiting! I can hardly wait to see what’s next.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.