Note: Non-Portlanders might want to listen to the theme from “Portlandia” while you read this post. Portlanders: This is your cringe warning. 

Stage 1: Disbelief

After spending most of our lives in Seattle, Arline and I moved to Portland in May. We had made the decision to move in February after a real estate agent told us that the best time to sell was in spring and if we didn’t sell this year, we might as well wait another year. Given the uncertain political and economic environment, we decided not to wait.

For the weeks after we moved, we were in disbelief. What had we done? Instead of walking our dog on the sidewalks of our placid North Seattle neighborhood, we walked her past tourists taking selfies in front of Powell’s City of Books, past cocktail bars and brew pubs, past the occasional tent. Laika peed on patches of fake grass installed around street trees. How had this happened? It couldn’t be permanent; we must be on vacation. 

One of the more surreal experiences was exchanging our blue-and-white license plates for ones with a green tree flanked by mountains. We were Oregonians now. Our cars said so.

Stage 2: Delight

Disbelief edged into delight as we got to spend day after day in Portland, not just a weekend. We tried restaurants we had always wanted to try. We ran into our friend Jennifer at her favorite coffee shop. We took new-to-us hikes in local parks. From our centrally located condo, we walked to a protest, to the pride parade, to the farmer’s market. One night, after eating pizza at The Turning Peel, Arline drove us back home and I put the “Portlandia” theme song on repeat in the car. (Are you listening to it now?)

Moving to a new city has reminded me of traveling abroad, how the unfamiliar sights and sounds drown out the chattering of my monkey mind and make me feel more alive, part of something larger than myself. It is exhilarating.

Stage 3: Anxiety

To be honest, I can’t really say I’ve ever gone through an anxious “stage.” Anxiety has been my constant companion in this life.

Still, she’s been accompanying me around these Portland streets more than usual. What if we’ve made a mistake? What are the unforeseen consequences of the move?

One thing we hadn’t thought of: a friend in Seattle had sudden gall bladder surgery and we weren’t able to hop in the car and bring her flowers; a family member is very sick, and we can’t see her as often as we would like. Still, we’ve been to Seattle three times already, and we have been able to see most of our loved ones recently. 

State income taxes are higher than we had expected. I don’t know why I didn’t run the numbers before we moved. But Arline reminds me: we’ve always voted in favor of a state income tax in Washington. The truth is we can afford to pay more progressive taxes. 

Some of my anxiety is less about moving to Portland and more about trying to decide when to retire. Because I teach remotely, I can still work at my Seattle college while living here. I run and re-run several financial calculators. I talk to our retirement advisor. And then I pour a glass of wine and watch the crows fly past our balcony. I am lucky to have options.

Stage 4: Acceptance

Almost three months into our move, it’s starting to feel real. Our evening walk with Laika to the patches of fake grass has become routine. Arline has made up a new budget; we are trying to eat out less and cook more at home. My monkey mind chatters, but I am determined to stop running financial calculators for the time being. And we just enjoyed another First Thursday of gallery hopping in our neighborhood.

Now, when we see Washington State license plates on a car moving uncertainly, we laugh and say: What are you doing here taking advantage of our lack of sales tax? Go back to where you came from, Washingtonians! And we drive around our new city, incognito, the windows up so locals won’t know we’re playing the theme from “Portlandia.”