My nose pressed and bumped against the school bus window while my eyes grew wide as I took in my new urban metropolis. Frankly, it was terrifying. Cranky commuters cursed at their late bus, “city” kids jaywalked themselves to school, and angry drivers honked at us as we cut across the city. This must have been what my mom was talking about when she told stories of the danger of her old neighborhood in New York City. To me, the quaint and undoubtedly charming city of Portland, Maine felt like a different planet. It was my first day of third grade at a new school, and I was expected to navigate this megacity of 60,000 people?
To most people, except for maybe a third-grader, Portland is not an intimidating city. Most visitors come in the summer to appreciate the historic charm of the old brick mills and cobblestone streets, enjoy the views of the working waterfront, and eat at the plethora of restaurants that had a hand in naming Portland the 2018 “Restaurant City of the Year.” Tourist numbers have increased steadily over the past twenty years, as have permanent residents. These influxes have changed both the economic and physical landscape of the city, which I have been able to observe over the past decade.
As a 7-year-old, my exposure to Portland was very small. My private school was in the nicest and most expensive neighborhood, the West End. Its majestic homes and tree-lined streets were dotted with upscale specialty food shops and bistros. It was not until middle school that I explored other parts of the city. My friends and I enjoyed spending our weekends walking through unfamiliar neighborhoods and playing football in new parks. Over time, I began to formulate a more complete perspective of the city. I was able to understand the economics of the different neighborhoods and the different demographics of people who lived there. Riverton was home to many middle-aged suburban families, many restaurant workers lived in the Old Port, and the West End had many families who had lived in Portland over multiple generations. Just north of the city lay “the gold coast” neighborhoods of Falmouth, Cumberland, and Yarmouth.
Similar to many other cities, an influx in population and tourists increased the cost of living and pushed people out. Munjoy Hill, for example, used to be a neighborhood with many affordable housing options. Over the past decade, rent prices in Munjoy Hill have skyrocketed, apartment complexes have been developed, and homeless populations have risen. Now almost fully gentrified, Munjoy Hill is a desirable location for young people in Portland. The city struggles to keep up with the rising homeless population, who create tent cities until they get relocated again and again. Even the environment has struggled to keep up with the change. This winter the Old Port’s working waterfront flooded for the first time ever, destroying docks and lobster traps and flooding my favorite restaurant, Becky’s Diner.
With all change, there is the good and the bad. Any conversation with a local Mainer will likely begin with their reminiscing thoughts of a simpler Portland. They never fail to mention the greatness of $1 coffees and parking spots galore; if you meet one who has been around for even longer, they will tell you stories about the train that used to run down Commercial Street. Although the locals have nostalgic memories, most do not fail to recognize the impact of the growth. Fishermen have never seen seafood so high in demand, restaurant owners bask in their booked reservation lists, and small business owners continue to see record revenues.
I truly cannot imagine growing up in any city other than Portland. I have seen myself grow with the city, but after a decade of exploring I feel as though I have outgrown it. I still think back to my terrified but excited third-grade self and hope that my next city will make me feel that same thrill.
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