Charlotte is for slowing down. Since getting here a few days ago I’ve mostly been sleeping and eating, which seems perfectly in line with this place. Not only because I’m staying with John and Stephanie, my comfortably worn-in friends, but also because the day I arrived it turned rainy and fall-chilly, which sent the whole city into hibernation mode. They teased that I brought Portland weather with me, and it certainly has felt like a warmer and slightly muggier version of the Pacific Northwest. Charlotte also has one of the densest urban canopy covers in the U.S., something the city maintains scrupulously and takes pride in. The green adds to the city’s sleepy rural flavor, and it’s kinship with the Cascades, a delightful change after the concrete slabs of the North. I traded garbage trucks and rowdy neighbors for cicadas and song birds.

The down time is welcome, an opportunity to contemplate the experiences of the last couple weeks and dream a little. The point of this sabbatical was to take time to breathe and look around, and coming East has been a great opportunity to find inspiration in other people and locales. I’m waking up again. Portland is an easy place to live for me, but it also feels insular, being largely homogenous in its mainstream culture (i.e. young, white and progressive). Some part of me has slowly fallen asleep these past seven years.

Charlotte is full of old money and new transplants. Like Portland, it’s been undergoing exponential population growth, forty people per day according to John. A lot of new money comes through the finance industry: Bank of America headquarters are here and many high-paying jobs are either in banks or companies that support banks. It’s also the home of NASCAR, complete with a museum, and racing and golfing are common past-times. We went thrifting at a Value Village and there were racks of used golf shoes.

There’s definitely a Southern feel to this place, even though a lot of New Englanders are retiring here for the low property taxes. It was a border state in the Civil War and one of the first cities to desegregate, but racism is still palpable here in a way that feels different than north of the Mason-Dixon line. I passed City Hall today and found a stone erected in 1977 to commemorate the “heroic deeds” of the Confederate soldiers.

Systemic racism is apparent in all the cities I’ve visited: there is always a part of town where mostly white folks live that is wealthier than the part of town where mostly black and brown folks live. In some places this is new gentrification and in some it is as old as the city. I don’t understand how anyone can think racism is dead in this country when I only have to look around to see otherwise. But, here in the old Confederacy history seems to rest heavier on everyone, whether it be the shame of one’s ancestors having owned slaves or the shame of one’s ancestors having been enslaved.

There’s a saying here that Charlotte is great to live in, but not to visit. Despite the influx of younger folks there isn’t anywhere near the same kind of foodie or music scenes as you find in Portland. A saleswoman once told Stephie and John that in this city, “People either have money or taste, but not both.” But, there are still some pearls to be found. The local brewing scene is steadily growing, NoDa brewery just down the road had their Hop, Drop ’N Roll awarded best American IPA in the world this year. And, last night we had some great Caribbean food at a restaurant called Pio Pio: rotisserie chicken, tostones with guacamole, maduros, salad, beans and rice, and homemade sangria with fresh apples on top.

We also stopped at the Common Market where John works. It is part deli, part corner store, and part bar with knick-knacks everywhere and a homey feel. They have a huge selection of beer and wine, both local and international, and you can pick anything to open on the spot.

The place was absolutely packed. We ended our party-hopping with Petra’s, which had a much more stylish, but still welcoming, vibe. There were two DJs, one spinning reggae inside and one Latin and Afrobeats on the patio. Folks were selling homemade African-inspired jewelry and mystical paintings, and the patrons were dressed-to-impress without being haughty. It was the cherry-on-top of our Charlotte nightlife sampling.