Oregon is not Portland.

Up until about eight months ago, I suffered from a misconception common among East-of-the-Mississippi folk: All of Oregon is The (capital T) Northwest (capital N).

Let's start by establishing what exactly The Northwest is, according to the Rest of America (also in capital letters):

• Liberal. Like so liberal. Like smoke legal weed in public, naked, while smashing a Starbucks window and protesting GMOs with your unschooled adopted child riding with you in your Prius-liberal. 
• Rainy. Like so rainy. Like wear galoshes to the mailbox and wave at the fish crossing the road-rainy. And green, not in the "Winona LaDuke" way (though that applies too), but rather in the "so many trees" way. And mountainous. 

Sure, these are stereotypes, but honestly, the Rest of America does nothing to dispel them. In fact, the Rest of America actively promotes these ideas about The Northwest. As a previous resident of The Rest of America, I believed these ideas. Plus, when I thought of Oregon in particular, I really only knew of two places: Portland and Eugene. In real, not-stereotyped life, the above descriptions are pretty apt for both cities. I mean hell, isn't Eugene home to the most self-proclaimed anarchists in the entire country? 

As I now know, Oregon is a lot more than Portland and Eugene. In fact, those cities are dots in a state that no one seems to realize is actually humongous.  Seriously, no one ever seems to openly acknowledge just how totally enormous Oregon is. According to Wikipedia, the most reliable research website ever, Oregon has an area of 98,381 square miles. It's the ninth largest state by area (out of 50, for you "slept through geography" or "not American" types). To put that into perspective, Oregon is over double the size of Ohio, and almost a dozen New Jerseys could fit inside its borders. Scientifically, that leaves a metric shit ton of space left over after Eugene and Portland fade from one's rear view mirror.

And do you know what that space is like?

It is not always liberal. In fact, there's a ton of highly conservative and libertarian folks hanging out in Oregon, and not just in the rural regions, either. It's interesting to think of libertarians living in such a highly taxed state, but sure enough, they do. The political landscape of Oregon is almost perfectly halfsies between conservatives and liberals. 

It is not always rainy. Sure, Portland gets some rain, but when I looked into actual numbers, fewer inches of rain fall on Portland than on our old Cleveland neighborhood. Moreover, a large portion of eastern Oregon is semi-arid or arid desert, and the southern portion of the state--where M. and I live--is sun-baked and fairly dry. This means that no matter how many breathtaking postcards you see of the lush, blindingly green Columbia River Gorge, there remain tens of thousands of Oregonian square miles filled with brown dirt and sizzled yellow "grass" type crap.

Silver Falls State Park, just southeast of Salem, Oregon. Photo (c) Vickie Maris

Pueblo Mountains in the desert of Southeastern Oregon. Photo (c) Jeremy Fox

I know this now, and I'm aware my loved ones and friends East of the Mississippi are still unaware. It's been very sweet being the recipient of their Pacific Northwest love, so it almost breaks my heart to tell them, "We actually...don't...really live in the Pacific Northwest." I mean, duh, we live in the Northwest when you look at a map, and we're within a few hours' driving distance of the Pacific Ocean, but like, we don't really live in the Pacific Northwest. It's not rainy, there aren't many Priuses on the road, no one is smashing through Starbucks' display window, there's a lot of people openly carrying handguns in the grocery store, and I haven't been able even to conceptualize the color "green" since April. 

And perhaps I am growing fond of my new home, because I find myself getting a little defensive when someone equates Portland with the entire state of Oregon.  No one ever claims that all of Ohio is just like, say, Cincinnati. It's just unfair. It's not representative of the whole.

On top of that, equating Portland with all of Oregon results in a contraction of distance: "Let me hook you up with my cousins in Portland," well-meaning friends will insist, and while I love them for thinking of our social lives, I also feel a little sad when I respond, "Well, Portland isn't exactly close by." But how could they know, unless they find themselves out this way? I certainly didn't.

So allow this post to stand as a public service announcement: For all its wonderful qualities and fame, Portland is not the official spokesman of the entire state of Oregon. It's not even the capital. It's not even sorta similar to most of the state. Unlike many places, Oregon is a nest of contradictions and vastly divergent lifestyles, cultures, outlooks, opinions, and even climates. I think, maybe, so far, that's what I like most about this state. I want to spread that fondness to everyone, even those who have yet to experience it for themselves.