I haven’t written much lately. But don’t feel left out; there hasn’t been much to talk about. Until now. Today in school I saw a student poster advertising recycling. Instead of writing “recycling bins,” the student wrote “recycling bends.” Now, for a Michigander, “bend” sounds absolutely nothing like “bin.” Unless you have some sort of bad head-cold. But I was pretty sure the student was perfectly healthy. So I stared at the paper for a few seconds before figuring out the root of the spelling error. You see, in Oregon, some people, like people in Michigan, claim that they do not have an accent. But as I have observed in my travels, everyone has an accent. (And when I say “accent,” I say it with the most nasally “a” I can muster.)
So anyway, the Oregon accent: I noticed pretty quickly after getting here that not everyone says his or her “en” the proper way. For many people (in Southern Oregon at least), “end” is “ind” and “enter” is “inter.” Whenever I hear my Oregon-born housemate throw out a word with a heavy Oregon “en” accent, I point and shout and try to convince everyone that I hear it. So far, I’ve been only slightly successful in convincing Oregonians and foreigners alike that this subtle accent exists. Until today. I now have written proof that in the mind of an Oregon-raised high schooler, “bends” sounds like “bins.”
So why does this matter? Well, really, it doesn’t. Except I love languages, including accents and dialects in my own language. And it’s one of the things I love most about traveling and exploring new places.
I’ve been marveling at the Oregon accent since Roseburg, Day One, when I first grabbed lunch with my roommate at a localish pub called McMenamins. Our first ever phone conversation went something like this:
Her: Hey, do you want to grab lunch and talk about housing options?
Me: Yeah, that sounds good. Where should we eat? I just got to Roseburg, I’m terrified of where I’ve decided to live for the next 11 months, and I don’t know of any good restaurants.
Her: Well, I went to a good place yesterday, called McMINamins or something.
Me: Oh, that’s funny; I’m standing across from a restaurant called McMENamins right now. Do you think that’s the same place?
Her: Yeah, McMINamins. That’s the place.
Me: Right, you mean McMENamins. I think that’s how it’s pronounced.
Her: Yeah, okay, I’ll see you there soon.
Me: (Thinking in my head) Am I going crazy? Does no one know how to read here? It’s very clearly written McMENamins.
The funny thing is, my roommate is from Minnesota. I guess someone had already told her the right way to pronounce the restaurant’s name.
*Another note about McMen(in)amins. I said it was localish, because it is an Oregon chain that stays in Oregon. Oregonians love their local stuff, especially their micro-brews. I experienced this love last weekend when I volunteered at the Umpqua Brewfest, a fundraiser for the local watershed council (Beer: “It’s all about the water.”) For three and a half hours I poured yummy smelling beer to people and talked to a good range of people from the area. It was a blast, although after spending nine hours there (most of it spent sampling beer after my volunteer shift), I grew pretty discouraged about finding many more young friends from here, outside my AmeriCorps social circle. And I really, really wish I liked beer. As I mentioned before, I like the smell of it coming out of the tap when I pour it, and the first sip of a nice micro-brew is good, but taking every sip after the first is like pulling teeth. I’ll have to just appreciate the local brews from the sidelines, I guess, and stick to my cider.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Activities
Even though I have umpteen more hours of free time now that I’m not in college, I’ve been too busy to write. So what have I been doing with my free time in this grand place? I’ve been exploring the great Oregon wilderness in an attempt to escape the all-American small town boredom that is Roseburg.
Activity # 1: The Swimming Hole (aka Swiftwater)
Back when the weather was hot and dry every day (early September) my roommates and I went adventuring up towards the mountains. We found a great swimming hole on the North Umpqua River, and to my delight, the turquoise water was frigid and oh-so-refreshing. We spent a couple Saturdays jumping off rocks and cliffs into the river below, and watching crazier people jump off a 50-foot bridge.
Activity #2: Waterfalls
There are an insane amount of waterfalls here. I’ve hiked to three or four already, and each one has been more breathtaking than the last. We swam in a few, and I found some thimbleberries growing near some. No one believes me when I mention that thimbleberries exist. Maybe they have another name here? I can’t wait to see what the waterfalls look like in winter when the rivers rush with snow runoff and rain.
Activity #3: Hot Springs
I finally made it to some hot springs!!!!! The only springs I’ve experienced up until this point have been the cold puddles by the Petoskey State Park. But the springs in Oregon were something different entirely. They’re HOT. There’s one pool at the top, and it trickles down into four or five more pools all the way down a hill. Each pool is a little bit cooler as you get farther down and closer to the river. This spot was very Oregon Hippie, and my modest Midwest self had to pretend not to be shocked that some people don’t think a bathing suit is a necessary accessory when soaking in hot springs. Like the rivers, I can’t wait to go back in the winter (when there will be snow up there in the mountains.)
Activity #4: Portlandia
(I had to go to Portland for AmeriCorps training last week, and some of us spent a couple extra days there exploring.)
Okay, so Portland isn’t exactly the Great Outdoors, but at times I felt like I was observing a wild species as I strolled down its rainy streets. I am referring to the abundance of a certain breed of human, called “Hipster.” I vaguely remember discussing the Hipster’s identifying characteristics with family members this summer, and I wish I could show them Portland. I’m not sure there are any non-Hipsters in Portland. I couldn’t walk down the street without feeling bad that my clothes matched and my pants were not pegged, cutoff, or otherwise altered. There were also a lot of hairy men there. Overall, an interesting city, but probably not a place I’d choose to live. I guess I’m too mainstream.
Activity #5: The Zoo
Despite the lack of young people here, I’ve managed to go out a bit and check out the nightlife. We live down the street from a place that has free ping-pong and a jukebox that plays way too much heavy metal and country. (But I think I might get pretty good at ping pong if I keep frequenting that establishment). We also took a couple trips to the Zoo, Roseburg’s finest nightclub (unless you count the strip club—amateur night, anyone??) where we danced the night away and pretended that the people dancing around us were wholesome, upstanding citizens. (Maybe some of them are, but the Zoo doesn’t seem to attract Roseburg’s more cultured inhabitants.) Contrary to what you might think, this establishment does not house animals.
Of course, this isn't all I do. But I'm too tired to write more. The Zoo sapped all my energy. And my neck hurts. I think I need to tame my dance moves.
Activity # 1: The Swimming Hole (aka Swiftwater)
Back when the weather was hot and dry every day (early September) my roommates and I went adventuring up towards the mountains. We found a great swimming hole on the North Umpqua River, and to my delight, the turquoise water was frigid and oh-so-refreshing. We spent a couple Saturdays jumping off rocks and cliffs into the river below, and watching crazier people jump off a 50-foot bridge.
Activity #2: Waterfalls
There are an insane amount of waterfalls here. I’ve hiked to three or four already, and each one has been more breathtaking than the last. We swam in a few, and I found some thimbleberries growing near some. No one believes me when I mention that thimbleberries exist. Maybe they have another name here? I can’t wait to see what the waterfalls look like in winter when the rivers rush with snow runoff and rain.
Activity #3: Hot Springs
I finally made it to some hot springs!!!!! The only springs I’ve experienced up until this point have been the cold puddles by the Petoskey State Park. But the springs in Oregon were something different entirely. They’re HOT. There’s one pool at the top, and it trickles down into four or five more pools all the way down a hill. Each pool is a little bit cooler as you get farther down and closer to the river. This spot was very Oregon Hippie, and my modest Midwest self had to pretend not to be shocked that some people don’t think a bathing suit is a necessary accessory when soaking in hot springs. Like the rivers, I can’t wait to go back in the winter (when there will be snow up there in the mountains.)
Activity #4: Portlandia
(I had to go to Portland for AmeriCorps training last week, and some of us spent a couple extra days there exploring.)
Okay, so Portland isn’t exactly the Great Outdoors, but at times I felt like I was observing a wild species as I strolled down its rainy streets. I am referring to the abundance of a certain breed of human, called “Hipster.” I vaguely remember discussing the Hipster’s identifying characteristics with family members this summer, and I wish I could show them Portland. I’m not sure there are any non-Hipsters in Portland. I couldn’t walk down the street without feeling bad that my clothes matched and my pants were not pegged, cutoff, or otherwise altered. There were also a lot of hairy men there. Overall, an interesting city, but probably not a place I’d choose to live. I guess I’m too mainstream.
Activity #5: The Zoo
Despite the lack of young people here, I’ve managed to go out a bit and check out the nightlife. We live down the street from a place that has free ping-pong and a jukebox that plays way too much heavy metal and country. (But I think I might get pretty good at ping pong if I keep frequenting that establishment). We also took a couple trips to the Zoo, Roseburg’s finest nightclub (unless you count the strip club—amateur night, anyone??) where we danced the night away and pretended that the people dancing around us were wholesome, upstanding citizens. (Maybe some of them are, but the Zoo doesn’t seem to attract Roseburg’s more cultured inhabitants.) Contrary to what you might think, this establishment does not house animals.
Of course, this isn't all I do. But I'm too tired to write more. The Zoo sapped all my energy. And my neck hurts. I think I need to tame my dance moves.
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