Mosow and It's People.

Moving into Moscow has been quite an experience. Although I've only been here a little over a week, I feel as if I have been here for long time. Only now and then do I feel the awkwardness of the newcomer. Particularly when I am interacting with strangers here in this strange town. Morrison had it right, "people are strange when you're a stranger."
Yesterday morning, I was waiting at the shuttle stop for the Moscow Valley Transit free shuttle service, dressed up a bit for my first day of teaching, sweating in my button up blouse at the thought of standing before a room full of freshman, reading a novel for my nonfiction workshop class and catching a back draft of warm air off the wheaty hills. It was the first time in months that I dabbed a little bit of essential oil on my neck and wrists and the smell seemed overwhelming even though it was very faint. As I'm plowing through a memoir of childhood lived in Idaho, The Enders Hotel by Brandon Schrand (Coordinator of my program at UI) and waiting for my ride, this obnoxious yellow-jacket gets and starts taking interest in the book, or maybe it was my wrists, as if I was a freshly cracked cardboard bowl of fried chicken.
So I start doing my discrete 'leave me alone dance' which entails walking forward a few steps and moving my hands around while kindly asking the yellow-jacket to "Go find a flower or something." I have to do this trot up and down the gravel sidewalk a few times before the bee decides to go find some Peonies somewhere. Of course, I am afraid he has landed in the nest of hair on my head or in my vest so I am still paying close attention to the space around me and my clothes. So focused on being sure the bee is gone, that I don't notice a car has pulled up and stopped at the stop sign with the window rolled down.
"You ok?" the guy asks.
I am a bit startled because, in all honesty, I don't think that I am flailing over the yellow-jacket. Nothing that looks out of the ordinary as far as I am concerned but here is this guy, who seems to intuitively know that I am a bit distressed. I tell him it was a bee and he goes about his day.
Ok. Now that's just sweet. So onto today...
I had to stop into the local eye glass shop to get new pads put on my glasses. So, I park my bike outside the window, left unlocked with my bag in my basket and walk inside. The lady working has a slight limp and is obviously not getting around as well as she might like. I have class in fifteen minutes but am patient, happy to have a nice day to ride my bike to school. She takes care of everything efficiently, perfectly, charges me a few bucks for a new case and sends me on my way with a little friendly conversation and welcome to the city.
As I walk out the door, a woman passes by me and says "Great glasses! And a beautiful woman to go with them." Smiling, she keeps walking and says something to every person she passes on her way down the block. She's not crazy, no, she's happy actually. Happy in the way that Portland people used to be.
I'm not baggin' on the Portland folk because 99% of you reading this are likely of the Portland breed (as I am). But the whole reason I came running back from Seattle (besides Sept. 11th interrupting my sabbatical) was due to the friendly nature of the Portland horde. Seriously, what I loved (past tense) about Portland was the way people recognized each other. "Hello" or "Nice shirt!" or "I like your hair" or even something as impersonal as "Good day for a walk!" This is the whole reason I returned (and to go to school). And here I am, over 300 miles from Portland and I have found it again. A city that recognizes each other and I love it!
Is friendliness lost with the growth of a city? I'm curious. Or is it just the kind of community that a city creates? Maybe a kind of persona that a group of people collectively decide to embody? Whatever it is, I am grateful to be a part of this community. I feel as if all the doors opened on the journey to where I am and so far, nothing has indicated this decision wasn't the right one.