June 25, 2007
Home…I made it.
Duarte and I woke up early on Friday morning to drive from Chaves to Porto where I would depart for the United States at 6:00am. I leaned into Jenna’s crib where she was sleeping soundly and kissed her soft brown curls whispering goodbye for the next 12 days. Geninha emerged sleepily from her room to give me a hug. I tried to speak, but I couldn’t make the words form on my lips. There was just too much to say. We carried Marcos from his bed to the car. He said “I am so happy that I get to go to the airport with you.” I kissed him and he quickly fell asleep in his car seat.
Just as we had done on every other road trip around Portugal, Duarte and I eased into easy conversation. We passed the hour and a half drive to Porto remembering the last six months – laughing, questioning and seeking a greater meaning from it all. I was surprised when we arrived to the airport…I suddenly really understood that this time we would not be heading for Sagres or Alentejo or Lisbon or any other place in Portugal. The end of my stay had finally come for me. I was overwhelmed.
I said goodbye to Duarte and held him tight. We had grown as a couple during our stay in Portugal. It was hard to let go. Marcos was confused by my tears. He hugged me and kissed me and promised to be a good boy. I turned and walked away to begin my journey home.
From the airplane window I gazed down upon the beautiful land. It felt good to be so familiar with the country as to recognize places while we were flying over…remembering all the while. The flight was short and easy to Germany. There I would have a 3-hour layover. It was in Germany when culture shock first hit. All around me were stores and restaurants and tons of people from all over the world. I was taken aback by all of the hustle and bustle and I felt a compulsion to buy something…but I didn’t need anything. I ordered an espresso as I did 2 or 3 times a day in Portugal and the girl didn’t really know what to make of my order – she gave me half and half to accompany my espresso which was served in a paper cup??!! I felt as if I had traveled through time 100 years from where I had been living for the last 6 months.
The 7 1/2 hours from Germany to the US were difficult to endure. I sat next to a group of teenagers who had been traveling through Europe with some sort of program. Their comments were amusing… “I can’t wait to get back to French fries.” “I miss Face Book.” “I’ve missed so much…2 girls from my school got tattoos while I was away.” “Toilets in Europe are disgusting.” And on and on.
When I arrived, my ride was late. She had had car trouble on the way. I was so tired. It had been 32 hours since I had last slept. Finally, she did arrive and we talked about life in Europe through the duration of the 4-hour trip home. She too had lived abroad for a few months. We stopped at a highway rest stop along the way that had a few restaurants inside of it. I perused the greasy options and found that I just could not bring myself to eat fried chicken, french fries or any of the other chemically enhanced options available. Welcome back to America, I thought.
At midnight, we made it home. It bothered me how familiar everything felt. I didn’t want to ease back in to life here so quickly. I wanted to hold onto Portugal. I wanted it to stay fresh in my memory. At last I fell into my unmade bed and struggled with sleep for hours – waking for the day at 3:30am.
The first day home was the hardest. I called Quinta da Mata as soon as I awoke that first morning since it would have been 8:30am there with the time difference. As soon as I heard Geninha’s voice, I found that once again I was unable to speak as I choked on my tears. She hung up the phone thinking no one was there. I called back and tried again…only that time I managed to croak out my name. While she went to find Duarte, I listened to the sounds that had been the background noise of my life for the last 6 months. I could hear Dona Orlanda talking to Jenna. Jenna was talking her mysterious baby language. I heard the clank of silverware, Filinto’s happy, scratchy voice, the buzzer from the front door rang. My tears were overflowing then. I could see it all so clearly and yearned with every part of my being to be sitting there at the round kitchen table oblivious to what I would someday miss.
After the phone call, I went downstairs to explore our house. Friends had graciously left food and drinks for me in the kitchen. I laughed to myself as I was eating chips and salsa for breakfast thinking about what I would have be eating if I were in Portugal.
I somehow managed to get through the day – but it was hard. The re-entry to life was not so enjoyable without my family. I think if I had been with them, this would have been a lot easier.
Since then I have reintegrated myself into American culture by doing some things that I hadn’t, couldn’t or wouldn’t do while living abroad. I have mercilessly cleaned and reorganized our house, spent time with friends, gone for a nice long run, taken a spin on a mountain bike, shopped at Target, secured a cell phone, and declared war on the mice who have since moved in. My adjustment is slow, but I am doing okay. The time change still has me up each morning at 3:30am – which makes for some long days. I still can’t bring myself to look at pictures from my trip or remember any of it just yet…it is too raw.
Though I miss my family terribly, in a way it feels good that they are still there because it makes me feel that I am still there. I am still rooted there in an abstract way. I want Portugal to be a part of their soul and I want them to continue to know and love such a beautiful culture, such a beautiful family.
Tomorrow I return to work which feels like the ultimate jump back into real life. I will be glad for distraction but sad for the ending. And so, life is…
Monday, June 25, 2007
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Last day
June 21, 2007
To have had the opportunity to step away from everything familiar for 6-months has been an incredible privilege and without question, I have been thoroughly enriched from the experience. Today is my last day in Portugal.
Though I am sad to leave Portugal and our 6 months, I am ready to go home. Whether it is a matter of coping or if it is just time for change, we have been feeling restless, irritable and even a little bored. If we were to stay, we would need to make big changes in the way we have been living…less food, more distance from Duarte’s parents, a regular schedule, etc. The kids feel it too. They have been quite ornery lately.
And so, I will leave early tomorrow morning (3:30am) to return to the hustle of real life. I wish I could take my family with me. The loneliness I will no doubt be feeling without Duarte and the kids scares me. I already miss them.
Duarte’s family had a beautiful parting dinner for me last night. I don’t think I have ever enjoyed a meal as much as that one. The evening was festive as we ate outside on the patio listening to music. Dona Elena grilled sardines and chicken and steaks. There were lobsters and platters of shrimp. Fresh salad was served from the garden along with green beans. Susana and I ate two helpings of chocolate mousse for dessert even though there could not have been even the tiniest bit of room left in my stomach. Lipe brought a special wine and Filinto did too. We ate and laughed and danced and drank until it was time to go home.
We have indulged so much…but not too much… Eating food someone else has cooked every meal of every day, has been magnificent. Though I will leave 10 lbs heavier than when I arrived, I am also more fit than I have ever been. Exercising every day for hours at a time has been one of the more unexpected pleasures we have appreciated. Time…the most valuable gift of all. Time to play, talk, sleep, write, read, eat…there just isn’t enough of that in our American life. Months away has also allowed me to see my life differently. I hope to make some changes when I return. It is also nice to see American culture from a distance. I understand things about our culture better since living abroad.
6 months in Portugal comes to a close. The time has passed quickly. And now, with only a few more hours remaining and a beautiful afternoon waiting for me, I am going to go out and soak it all in.
“Te proxima”
Friday, June 15, 2007
Holding on to time
June 15, 2007
In my final days of being in Portugal, I feel an urgency to capture some of the many rare and wonderful moments that we have been experiencing. Through my writing, I want to bottle it up and keep the memories just as I would if I took a photo. Though it would be impossible to truly describe it all. The emotions are complex, the light is just right, the food carefully prepared, there is a sense of freedom, the smell of wild flowers fills the air, the feeling of impending endings… all of this sets the scene for my days as I face leaving for the United States.
Saturday: Duarte and I celebrated our 6th wedding anniversary. Our wedding took place at Quinta da Mata and it was the most fantastic event. On our anniversary we went out for dinner to a friend’s restaurant. He asked us what we wanted to order and Duarte replied “Well, we are just going to order food as an excuse to enjoy a really good bottle of wine.” The owner said “ahh…then I have just the thing. It’s not on the menu. Do you trust me?” We did and we enjoyed an earthy wine from the Dao region of Portugal. We toasted our 6 + years together and enjoyed a wonderful dinner.
Following our wine and meal, we met up with two of our favorite people Paulo and Patricia (Duarte’s best friend and his girlfriend). We had a fantastic evening in Chaves…walking through the narrow streets of the city center, watching models from a fashion show that had just ended parade through Chaves in their far too skimpy clothing, we drank caipirinhas’s (all of them included one ant) at the “Life café.” Talked and dreamed and planned until we could no longer keep our eyes open.
Sunday: Duarte and I went kayaking on the Tamega river. It was a mellow stretch of river abundant with wildlife. We saw herons and waterfowl and an old mill submerged in the river. Back at Quinta da Mata, we took Jenna for a tractor ride around the farm. We picked a huge basket full of ripe, red cherries. Duarte and Marcos went to see Mr. Bean at the local community center. Marcos loved it!
Monday: The sun was out and it was nearly 90 degrees. Nothing to do but float around the swimming pool to keep cool.
Tuesday: A beautiful day. The weather was crisp and cool. We drove around to the other side of the valley and rode our bikes through chestnut trees and incredibly green meadows. We rode easily for 3 hours and we only got lost once or twice.
Duarte and I went to Vila Real with Lipe and Susana for its annual saint celebration. We had a beautiful evening together sitting in an open café talking and laughing and enjoying fresh fish and a couple of bottles of excellent wine. Once again, these bottles were not on the menu.
Oh yeah, we purchased a few lottery tickets for the huge European lottery to be drawn on Friday night – over 27 million Euros. If we win, we’ll be moving back to Portugal! Duarte has big dreams of starting his own vineyard and producing high quality wine.
Wednesday: Rain, rain, rain. Duarte, Marcos and I went to get our haircuts with our “favorite” hairdresser “Pimpa.” Every time I leave her salon I am surprised at how muddled my requests turn out and my hair. There is much lost in translation and my hair never turns out to be what I expect. Oh well.
Thursday: A break in the rain allowed us to get out for a day of mountain biking. As always, our trek turned into a grand adventure. Duarte’s front tire went flat about 20 miles from our car. We did not have a replacement tube - which is astounding considering he has had about 10 flat tires since our arrival. I was sent to fetch the car. That didn’t turn out to be the best idea as I had no idea where I was, where I was going, nor did I have a cell phone to call for help. On my journey to the car I became disoriented and a little nervous. I ended up stopping at a village to ask directions (note: this was not an easy task for me.) I found a few construction workers who wanted nothing to do with me but after some coaxing finally allowed me to use their cell phone. Unfortunately, I never memorized Duarte’s cell phone number so I could only call Quinta da Mata (hence more Portuguese). I finally resolved to sit and wait. After too much time had passed, I found a nice man who patiently listened to me. He explained that my car should be only one mile up the road. How embarrassing. Just as I started for the car, Lipe came to pick me up. Lipe has rescued us more times than I want to remember from our crazy, epic rides.
Dinner at Quinta da Mata was so much fun. Lipe and Susana joined us along with Tia Ilinha. Tia Ilinha is a cousin of Filinto and she is a nun...a tiny, meek, old nun who regularly wears a habit. She brought toys for the kids. For Marcos she brought toy motorcycles that pull back and when released roll forward. Duarte tried tirelessly to teach "the nun" to make the motorcycle go. She never could figure it out. What ended up happening, however, was a huge motorcycle fiasco as Duarte, Lipe, Marcos, Filinto and the nun all raced and crashed their vehicles back and forth across the dinner table. I think Tia Ilinha had a blast.
Friday: While dropping Marcos off at school this morning, another little girl was being dropped off at the same time. She waited for Marcos and then took his hand and they walked into their little classroom together. Marcos didn't think much of the experience but it was revealing to me as I can see that Marcos has truly been accepted among his classmates.
I sit in the living room at Quinta da Mata writing this blog. I feel anxious….there is so much to do, so much more I want to experience. I will leave one week from today. My feelings are overwhelming. Tears fall easily. I am not ready to let it go. Our plan for the day (which will inevitably change) will be to drive out to Duarte’s uncle’s farm and spend the afternoon running and biking amidst the patchwork of cherry trees, vineyards, olive trees, peaches and almonds. I think this too will be a very good day.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Where are the Veggies? by Sid (guest writer)
May 11th – 20th Where’s are the Veggies? Guest blogger: Sid (the vegetarian boater)
First, much love to Duarte and the family for the first class amazing experience we had in Northern Portugal. I’ve studied abroad in Australia and New Zealand, traveled to Alaska for Fisheries biology, hitched hiked for 22 days in the Hawaiian Islands, spent time in the Bahamas for reef and shark scuba diving, skied in Jackson Hole, Stow, and upstate New York, all for seeking adventure. While all these trips were memorable, this trip to Portugal will always remain a favorite. There were elements of world class untapped whitewater, fine dining, historic castles, world heritage sites, an unexplainable paranormal phenomenon, getting absurdly lost, family love, and of course motocross, beer, and 6 guys in a 4wd loaded with kayaks with nothing to do but to seek adventure.
Besides the companionship and boating, a couple of things that I will remember are: First, I had heard Portugal might be hard for vegetarians. It was true, Portuguese love meat. I survived but only because Duarte and his family looked after my best interest. While I can say I never had a phenomenal vegetarian meal, there was no shortage of extravagant wine and cheese. In fact, there was so much good cheese that I know I raised my cholesterol levels quite a bit. Besides the cheese, I could almost always get a salad, cheese sandwich, boiled veggies, and Portugal’s famous veggie soup.
Northern Portugal still seems to be rooted in traditions and very much family oriented. When visiting restaurants, cafes, or small businesses, the shop owners would inevitably be there greeting, cooking, serving or anything else to ensure your visit to their shop was worthwhile. There were no big business chains, American tourists, or trash littered streets. Little villages away from everything are still very cozy, neatly maintained, and aesthetically pleasing to look at. We hardly saw any run down houses or businesses.
Another interesting thing I noticed was the social aspect of the people we met. It seemed like it was culturally insensitive to meet with someone for say five minutes and then take off. Every encounter seemed to take at least 30 minutes and usually involved a little shot of espresso coffee. It didn’t matter if you were late or going to be late, you still would chat over cigarettes, coffee, and some type of fresh food. There were so many times where we had this somewhat set time to do something but was inevitably delayed because of café and pastries. It was like rush, rush, rush to have time for socialization over café. It was great. Only after this, both of you would speed away like rally auto racers. The stress of business or the rat race didn’t seem to have nearly the same part in their lives as in our culture.
We boated for 6 out of the 8 days. The two days we missed were either due to lack of sleep or the shuttle rig had minor problems. Its hard to say what day was my favorite because they all could easily have been. Each day had a new twist. The first day, Saturday and Wade’s birthday, we boated on the classic Paiva river. With no sleep since Thursday night, we boated and partied with the local boating motocross group until the wee hours in the morning. Yeehaw for the ride home in Octavio’s vintage Land Rover ☺.
Sunday we picked up Craig, boated the Paiva again where he joined the Portuguese swim team.
Monday we boated the Cavado, steep creeking, big drops and big boofs, one of the (if not the) most scenic river gorge we had paddled to date. On the way back to Chaves, Trafford and I made a wrong turn, got lost, ended up in Braga, and had a huge adventure just trying to get back to Chaves as we didn’t know any Portuguese. Wednesday, we boated the Tamega where my boat and paddle tried to run the biggest rapid of the day without me. My paddle survived but my boat (with Craig’s video camera) was terribly stuck under an undercut rock with little chance of getting to it. That day, TJ joined the Portuguese swim team for his hero seal launch line into a house size bolder with pining rocks abounding. Due to an unfortunate sickness to Marcos (Duarte’s son), Duarte’s brother volunteered to take us to an incredible university party in Braga where Da Weasel rocked the party (approximate 20,000 people) until 4am. The party continued until 8am where unfortunately Trafford lip ran into the fists of two guys. Sadly we had to bid farewell to Craig who had to fly back home for work the next day. I bet that was an interesting flight, partying hard with friends until it was time to catch a taxi for the airport.
Wednesday was a recoup day with a nice long scenic drive back from Braga, stopping at Vidago, the small village where Lipe’s wife serves as the city planner. Later, we enjoyed a calm evening in Chaves drinking hot spring water in the center of town, enjoyed an assortment of fine teas at the Shiva bar, and soaked in the night lights of Chaves’s downtown historic architecture.
Thursday we recovered the boat I lost on the Tamega. Later we drove north into Spain and had a first descent of a series tight waterslides that dead ended into a 200 foot vertical waterfall. Later after the multiple runs, I was lost, again. We were supposed to run a lower section but when I hiked the ½ hour trek (mostly of which was done in bare feet because of the extremely steep smooth rock terrain and major concern of a bloat out in my flipflops) into the unknown gorge, there were no boats or friends to greet me. After the hike out, I found everyone at the vehicle laughing at me because they had changed their minds and I had taken the wrong trail down into the gorge. If I had taken the right trail, I would have spotted the group, avoiding the mix up. Later we had the most eventful and entertaining dinners, which were Spanish Tapas. We each ended up riding a coin operated horse (for children), ate the most unusual foods or should I say meats (excluding myself and Susanne), drinking firewater, taking home complimentary bottles of good wine and several beer glasses, and enjoying the owners absurd gestures and comments under the moon lit night.
Friday we boated the amazing stretch, soon to be dammed and under water, of the Tua in the Douro region. This region is famous for its wine production, widely recognized as one of the best regions in Portugal.
Saturday we had plans to take the playboats to the beach but fell through because of the shuttle rig’s brakes not functioning properly. Instead, Susanne and the children and Lipe’s wife Susanna joined us where we enjoyed the beach over beers. The ocean was producing 3 to 4 meter swells which we could only dream of surfing given that our boats were back at the house.
Saturday night we had an amazing seafood dinner highlighted by an evening at a collective artist discotec. The discotec was the 4th floor of a building in downtown Porto. Each room was designed by a different artist. Our favorite was outside in a triangle shaped courtyard under the stars, flowering plants hanging from the exterior walls with views into each of the different rooms with an outside bar specializing in Brazilian cocktails right beside us – Yum.
Sunday we all flew back to our homeland, exhausted but forever enriched with wonderful Portuguese memories. There are not enough words to express our gratitude to Duarte and his whole family for the invitation, hospitality, planning, and adventure that we were given.
What I miss.
June 6, 2007
We are heading back to Chaves from a beautiful week at the beach. I have two weeks remaining in Portugal. At this point, my feelings are mixed about my return to the United States. Leaving such a special place and such a rare and special time of our lives together will be difficult. Since I have met Duarte, sabbatical has been a part of our life plan. It has always been something out there waiting for us…the carrot before the horse. What will be next for us? We certainly can’t live without a dream of our next adventure. While we have been in Portugal, we have lived fully doing our best to fill our days with memories. We have taken time to re-group as a family and to question our reality. I am so thankful for the perspective we have all gained from being here. I hope that this new perspective is indeed helpful when we return to the US. I realize what a privilege these 6-months have been. I don’t think I have taken anything for granted. Through all of the wonder, however, I am looking forward to a few things that are a part of my own culture.
Driving. I’m tired of driving in Portugal. Portuguese drivers are known to be the most aggressive in all of Europe. When I do drive, I drive the huge landrover on roads and streets meant for tiny little European cars. It is a man’s world over here predominantly and women have very little respect – especially on the roads. Even Duarte chides me when I drive. I can’t wait to hop in my automatic Honda CRV and drive all by myself without worrying whether or not I am in the wrong lane or if I am going the correct speed limit or what to do in a roundabout.
Showers. Oh, for a stand up shower! I’ve become accustomed to bathing in a bathtub with the hand held shower attachment but admittedly I waste too much water as I’m not very efficient in washing and shaving and rinsing with only one hand.
My own pillow!! I am a pillow snob. I love my down pillow that I left at home. No longer will I sleep on the huge, overly plush pillow that has left a sore spot in my neck.
My own space. There really is no place like home – even when we are staying in a place that is in many ways better than home. I look forward to my room, our house, our back porch and all of my things.
Control. Friends, you can attest that I like control maybe a little too much. In the beginning of my stay here I had to shed a layer of myself as I reluctantly shed control as a part of my being. I simply cannot have it when I live here. On any given day at any given moment our plan will change without me having any notion of the change. For those who have visited, you know what I am talking about. If we start with plan A at the beginning of a day we are almost always at plan double Z by the end of the day. I have surrendered myself to this crazy lifestyle and to the fact that I truly do not know what is going on. Aghh… I look forward to reacquainting myself with control! I will be able to call a friend, drive my car, feed my children and fix problems.
Communication. Probably what I miss the most is my language. Though I can get by with my ragged Portuguese I can’t truly have a conversation. I miss talking and listening and expressing myself. Language is absolutely integral to truly living. Writing has helped me have a mode for expression but I long for time with friends and family where I can just talk.
Friends. Duarte and I have spent a lot of time together. This time has been beneficial for us but also wearing at times. I can’t wait to catch up with everyone upon our return. As there is much that has happened to us, there are also interesting things that have happened to them. And…Book Club!! I love book club nights.
Food. I am reluctant to say that I am looking forward to any food item in the US as Portugal puts our diet to shame. I eat four or five square meals a day here. Food is an art. The Portuguese have much pride in their cooking. Meals are an important part of daily life in Portugal. With that said, I do have a hankering for a bit of food diversity every once in a while. Because I don’t eat red meat or pork, my meals are always fish, shrimp or chicken. Vegetarian dishes simply are non-existent. I do not yearn for the frozen veggie burgers that are too often our main staple in the US. I do look forward to a thick burrito stuffed with beans, cheese, vegetables, rice, and whatever else. The mere difference in its essence is enough to make me salivate. India Pavilion is impossible not to miss.
Work. I haven’t decided for sure if I miss work or not. I haven’t actually had the pleasure of giving it up entirely to say for sure. Though I have been on a leave of absence, my job is far too complex to truly let go. I don’t miss the daily routine of it all and I dread the stress that accompanies my summers. It will be a cruel shock to go from this easy life to full on summer programming mode. However, in some odd way, it might feel good to go back to what I think I am good at and become a more productive member of society once again.
Chili!!! No, not the food! Our dog. She has been content with her accommodations these past 6-months as she has been staying with her best friend Bristol. She may not want to leave her “sister” to come back to us but we are ready to see her.
I love Portugal. I love our family and I love the way we have lived for all of these months. I think I am able to have such an appreciation because I know that it will have an end. In two weeks I will be home. I can’t imagine what it will feel like to transition back to such a different life – and on my own as my family will come 10 days after me. I am going to miss them…I haven’t been alone in a long time. In the meantime, I will do my best to enjoy each beautiful moment, every delicious meal, uncomfortable showers, my fluffy pillow, our dogless life, my scratchy language and the time with my family.
We are heading back to Chaves from a beautiful week at the beach. I have two weeks remaining in Portugal. At this point, my feelings are mixed about my return to the United States. Leaving such a special place and such a rare and special time of our lives together will be difficult. Since I have met Duarte, sabbatical has been a part of our life plan. It has always been something out there waiting for us…the carrot before the horse. What will be next for us? We certainly can’t live without a dream of our next adventure. While we have been in Portugal, we have lived fully doing our best to fill our days with memories. We have taken time to re-group as a family and to question our reality. I am so thankful for the perspective we have all gained from being here. I hope that this new perspective is indeed helpful when we return to the US. I realize what a privilege these 6-months have been. I don’t think I have taken anything for granted. Through all of the wonder, however, I am looking forward to a few things that are a part of my own culture.
Driving. I’m tired of driving in Portugal. Portuguese drivers are known to be the most aggressive in all of Europe. When I do drive, I drive the huge landrover on roads and streets meant for tiny little European cars. It is a man’s world over here predominantly and women have very little respect – especially on the roads. Even Duarte chides me when I drive. I can’t wait to hop in my automatic Honda CRV and drive all by myself without worrying whether or not I am in the wrong lane or if I am going the correct speed limit or what to do in a roundabout.
Showers. Oh, for a stand up shower! I’ve become accustomed to bathing in a bathtub with the hand held shower attachment but admittedly I waste too much water as I’m not very efficient in washing and shaving and rinsing with only one hand.
My own pillow!! I am a pillow snob. I love my down pillow that I left at home. No longer will I sleep on the huge, overly plush pillow that has left a sore spot in my neck.
My own space. There really is no place like home – even when we are staying in a place that is in many ways better than home. I look forward to my room, our house, our back porch and all of my things.
Control. Friends, you can attest that I like control maybe a little too much. In the beginning of my stay here I had to shed a layer of myself as I reluctantly shed control as a part of my being. I simply cannot have it when I live here. On any given day at any given moment our plan will change without me having any notion of the change. For those who have visited, you know what I am talking about. If we start with plan A at the beginning of a day we are almost always at plan double Z by the end of the day. I have surrendered myself to this crazy lifestyle and to the fact that I truly do not know what is going on. Aghh… I look forward to reacquainting myself with control! I will be able to call a friend, drive my car, feed my children and fix problems.
Communication. Probably what I miss the most is my language. Though I can get by with my ragged Portuguese I can’t truly have a conversation. I miss talking and listening and expressing myself. Language is absolutely integral to truly living. Writing has helped me have a mode for expression but I long for time with friends and family where I can just talk.
Friends. Duarte and I have spent a lot of time together. This time has been beneficial for us but also wearing at times. I can’t wait to catch up with everyone upon our return. As there is much that has happened to us, there are also interesting things that have happened to them. And…Book Club!! I love book club nights.
Food. I am reluctant to say that I am looking forward to any food item in the US as Portugal puts our diet to shame. I eat four or five square meals a day here. Food is an art. The Portuguese have much pride in their cooking. Meals are an important part of daily life in Portugal. With that said, I do have a hankering for a bit of food diversity every once in a while. Because I don’t eat red meat or pork, my meals are always fish, shrimp or chicken. Vegetarian dishes simply are non-existent. I do not yearn for the frozen veggie burgers that are too often our main staple in the US. I do look forward to a thick burrito stuffed with beans, cheese, vegetables, rice, and whatever else. The mere difference in its essence is enough to make me salivate. India Pavilion is impossible not to miss.
Work. I haven’t decided for sure if I miss work or not. I haven’t actually had the pleasure of giving it up entirely to say for sure. Though I have been on a leave of absence, my job is far too complex to truly let go. I don’t miss the daily routine of it all and I dread the stress that accompanies my summers. It will be a cruel shock to go from this easy life to full on summer programming mode. However, in some odd way, it might feel good to go back to what I think I am good at and become a more productive member of society once again.
Chili!!! No, not the food! Our dog. She has been content with her accommodations these past 6-months as she has been staying with her best friend Bristol. She may not want to leave her “sister” to come back to us but we are ready to see her.
I love Portugal. I love our family and I love the way we have lived for all of these months. I think I am able to have such an appreciation because I know that it will have an end. In two weeks I will be home. I can’t imagine what it will feel like to transition back to such a different life – and on my own as my family will come 10 days after me. I am going to miss them…I haven’t been alone in a long time. In the meantime, I will do my best to enjoy each beautiful moment, every delicious meal, uncomfortable showers, my fluffy pillow, our dogless life, my scratchy language and the time with my family.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Another week at the beach
June 4, 2007
As the days dwindle down to the final few, we choose to enjoy our experience as fully as possible. We are in a magnificent little beach town just south of Lisbon called “Villa Nova de Milfontes.” It is a picturesque village situated right on the coast. The buildings are all painted bright white. They have red roofs and the traditional window and door trims are painted blue or yellow. This is the coast of Alentejo. We will be staying here for 6 nights. Thanks to Duarte, our accommodations are once again perfect and a little plush…we are staying in a 2-bedroom apartment, complete with living room, full kitchen, a private patio and private parking. Such an apartment would be way beyond our means in the U.S. but in Portugal it is just right. Geninha is with us as she can’t bare the thought of being without her grandchildren for one second while they are in Portugal. We are having a good time.
There are beaches a plenty to choose from each morning. We have a selection of beaches on the river estuary that feeds into the ocean or oceanfront beaches with dramatic cliffs overlooking them. Many of the beaches lie below a large national park that stretches up and down the coast so the access is more challenging and there are few tourists. The river estuary is nice as it is only a ¼ of a mile from the ocean but the water is more calm and nice for the kids to play in. Oceanfront is excellent as the water has waves and is nice for the grown ups to play in. Duarte and I are equipped with surf kayaks, sea kayaks and a surfboard. Oh, life is so good. With a babysitter – Geninha – we are able to get out and play and the water temperature is just right.
Portugal isn’t overdone really in any way. Even with hordes of tourists along the coast, there is no mass production of anything. Franchises and chains are rare. Every restaurant is unique with its own personalized dishes and every bar has its own unique flare. I love this about Portugal. We enjoy long lunches in open cafes under umbrellas sipping sangria, eating olives (what else?) and eating whatever the speciality of the house is from grilled shrimp, fresh fish or snails cooked in a garlicy sauce. (Note: Jenna loves snails!) The kids nap in the afternoons tired from sun, sand and water. We either nap with them or get out for a run along the high cliffs overlooking the grand ocean or cruise the river in our kayaks. At night, we walk from our apartment to one of the local hot spots “budha bar” or “bar blue” (which actually aren’t so hot at this time of the year. It is still the low season for tourism. Wherever we go, we are sure to find a flurry of local color. Those living here are out and about as abundantly as the Portuguese and British tourists who are also here. This vila has 4000 residents in the winter. In August there will be 60,000 tourists visiting this beautiful place!
I had another surf lesson and felt quite validated when the instructor watched me ride the first wave and proclaimed that I didn’t need a lesson. He said that I needed to go buy a board and surf some more. Well…ok!! Marcos benefited from a surf lesson as well. He stood up with no trouble at all with the very first wave he caught. He made my day when he beamed up at the instructor after his ride and exclaimed “THAT was GREAT!!” The instructor asked if he wanted to do it again and he said “YEAH!” We have another surfer in the family.
I think we need to start playing the lottery and move to the beach
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
One Week
May 29, 2007
There is so much that happens in a week.
Monday: In Lisbon. I walked all over Lisbon on my own while Duarte spoke at a conference. We had an incredible Italian dinner overlooking the river.
Tuesday: On our way back to Chaves we stopped in Coimbra where Europe’s oldest university is still operating. We walked through a church that was almost 1000 years old. We enjoyed an amazing Indian restaurant (the first time since India Pavillion in State College way back in December). Got back to Chaves to find that the kids hadn’t missed us too much.
Wednesday: Out of the blue Jenna is talking!! She says “uh oh,” “mama,” “papa,” “hot,” “anda – which means come on,” “ja esta” (all done), ola (hi), “Hi,” “Lipe,” “sana,” “night night.” I ran for 1 hour and 15 minutes!! I saw a huge lizard along the river in Chaves. I thought it was a baby alligator but was informed that it was indeed a lizard. I’m not that excited to run along the river any longer. Lipe and Susana came over to Quinta da Mata for dinner. It was a great evening of family time.
Thursday: Went to Vila Real. Marcos and I walked across a high bridge while Duarte was at a meeting. Later, Marcos enjoyed his first taxi ride. I can’t remember what else we did that day. There is big drama at Quinta da Mata as they are trying to acquire a restaurant quickly… long story!
Friday: Big bike ride. Duarte said he was tired… let’s go easy. 3 ½ hours later we stopped in a small restaurant in a town called Aguas Frias. It was pouring down rain and we were beat. We had a lunch of bread, olives, homemade soup and a jar of wine – all totaling $3.00 for both of our meals! Sat outside –leaning against a shrine to the village saint - waiting for Lipe to pick us up. While waiting a lady pulled up in her car – oddly enough she was wearing a t-shirt with a giraffe print that said “Debrouillet.” Went out for pizza with Lipe, Susana, and Filinto.
Saturday: We went to Aveiro – a coastal college town - where many of Duarte’s college friends had gathered for a sport’s management conference. We ate these amazing hot, raw doughy deserts with chocolate in the middle… called “American Cookies.” I have no idea why. I ran for 1 hour and 15 minutes on the beach while watching kite surfer sail over the waves… It was beautiful. We drove home in the middle of the night.
Sunday: We watched a local village lead a procession in celebration of their village saint. Fireworks were shot off all day long. We took Marcos to another nearby village that has skateboard ramps. He’s getting pretty good at “trick biking.” You should see him on the half-pipe! An 8-year old boy befriended us while we were there and invited us to his mother’s restaurant for lunch. He sat with us while we ate and then followed us to the adjoining café where we drank coffee and had a dessert. Kids have a lot more freedom over here.
On our way home we saw some crazy event going on in the parking lot of the big grocery store in Chaves. There were all of these modified cars with grown men racing one by one around the parking lot. The race involved skidding three times around the light posts in the parking lot. It was so incredibly weird! Marcos loved it!
Susana’s parents had us to their mountain cabin for dinner. They grilled a chicken and potatoes right on the fire. Susana’s father served his homemade wine. We went up the mountain for a walk looking for wild mushrooms.
Monday: Funny day! Duarte’s boating buddies offered us to a day spa package at the local “Hot water spa” in Chaves. Portuguese people have enjoyed the spa and its healing waters for years and years – but always in a serious manner. Up until recently, only those people with a doctor’s prescription could utilize the services of the spa. The Portuguese people –probably because of their Catholic faith, like to bask in their misery or their ailments…they do not openly seek leisure – instead they need an excuse to pamper themselves…hence this spa designed for healing. There are 1-day packages all the way to 15-day packages. Health insurance covers the treatments.
Well, we had gift certificates and so we were treated to a whole day of services. The interior of the spa was much like that of a hospital. It was clean, bright, and sterile. After a quick medical assessment where the nurse asked if I was pregnant (due to my poochy stomach) we headed for our first treatment - a hot water bath – which literally was a very medical looking bathtub with hot and cold water shooting out from tiny jets inside the pool. Wearing a bathing suit, I sat down in the immense tub filled with warm water while a very buff lady wearing a sort- of nurse uniform came and sprayed my leg and arm muscles with a powerful hose inside the tub. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. It felt good – but it was too medical to truly be enjoyed. All I could think about were the old, ailing looking people that were waiting in the hallway before me. Who was in this tub before me? Next, I was led to a big box in the center of a small room. I had absolutely no idea what to expect. The lady told me to lay down – which I did. She closed my body inside a long box (kind of like a tanning booth) – while my head stuck out the end. I had an itch on my nose, but I couldn’t scratch it as my hands were encased inside the mysterious box. I’m not entirely sure what was going on inside the box – I wanted to look but, once again, I couldn’t move my hands. In the end warm water sprayed out in intervals. The final treatment was a massage- which I was looking forward to as I have some knowledge of how massages work. The massage room at least had some ambience. It was dimly lit and it smelled good –similar to massage rooms I’ve been to in the US. I tried not to pay too much attention to the strange assortment of music that was playing: Queen, Kenny G, and Sonny and Cher but admittedly, I was a little distracted. A very young, male masseuse who just happened to be a friend of Lipe’s was my masseuse. Great… As it turned out massages are a bit less modest in Portugal and I wasn’t wearing the nicest of undergarments. Because of the oddity of the entire experience and my deep embarassment, I succumbed to a huge case of the giggles so intensely during the massage, I nearly rolled off the table!
There is so much that happens in a week.
Monday: In Lisbon. I walked all over Lisbon on my own while Duarte spoke at a conference. We had an incredible Italian dinner overlooking the river.
Tuesday: On our way back to Chaves we stopped in Coimbra where Europe’s oldest university is still operating. We walked through a church that was almost 1000 years old. We enjoyed an amazing Indian restaurant (the first time since India Pavillion in State College way back in December). Got back to Chaves to find that the kids hadn’t missed us too much.
Wednesday: Out of the blue Jenna is talking!! She says “uh oh,” “mama,” “papa,” “hot,” “anda – which means come on,” “ja esta” (all done), ola (hi), “Hi,” “Lipe,” “sana,” “night night.” I ran for 1 hour and 15 minutes!! I saw a huge lizard along the river in Chaves. I thought it was a baby alligator but was informed that it was indeed a lizard. I’m not that excited to run along the river any longer. Lipe and Susana came over to Quinta da Mata for dinner. It was a great evening of family time.
Thursday: Went to Vila Real. Marcos and I walked across a high bridge while Duarte was at a meeting. Later, Marcos enjoyed his first taxi ride. I can’t remember what else we did that day. There is big drama at Quinta da Mata as they are trying to acquire a restaurant quickly… long story!
Friday: Big bike ride. Duarte said he was tired… let’s go easy. 3 ½ hours later we stopped in a small restaurant in a town called Aguas Frias. It was pouring down rain and we were beat. We had a lunch of bread, olives, homemade soup and a jar of wine – all totaling $3.00 for both of our meals! Sat outside –leaning against a shrine to the village saint - waiting for Lipe to pick us up. While waiting a lady pulled up in her car – oddly enough she was wearing a t-shirt with a giraffe print that said “Debrouillet.” Went out for pizza with Lipe, Susana, and Filinto.
Saturday: We went to Aveiro – a coastal college town - where many of Duarte’s college friends had gathered for a sport’s management conference. We ate these amazing hot, raw doughy deserts with chocolate in the middle… called “American Cookies.” I have no idea why. I ran for 1 hour and 15 minutes on the beach while watching kite surfer sail over the waves… It was beautiful. We drove home in the middle of the night.
Sunday: We watched a local village lead a procession in celebration of their village saint. Fireworks were shot off all day long. We took Marcos to another nearby village that has skateboard ramps. He’s getting pretty good at “trick biking.” You should see him on the half-pipe! An 8-year old boy befriended us while we were there and invited us to his mother’s restaurant for lunch. He sat with us while we ate and then followed us to the adjoining café where we drank coffee and had a dessert. Kids have a lot more freedom over here.
On our way home we saw some crazy event going on in the parking lot of the big grocery store in Chaves. There were all of these modified cars with grown men racing one by one around the parking lot. The race involved skidding three times around the light posts in the parking lot. It was so incredibly weird! Marcos loved it!
Susana’s parents had us to their mountain cabin for dinner. They grilled a chicken and potatoes right on the fire. Susana’s father served his homemade wine. We went up the mountain for a walk looking for wild mushrooms.
Monday: Funny day! Duarte’s boating buddies offered us to a day spa package at the local “Hot water spa” in Chaves. Portuguese people have enjoyed the spa and its healing waters for years and years – but always in a serious manner. Up until recently, only those people with a doctor’s prescription could utilize the services of the spa. The Portuguese people –probably because of their Catholic faith, like to bask in their misery or their ailments…they do not openly seek leisure – instead they need an excuse to pamper themselves…hence this spa designed for healing. There are 1-day packages all the way to 15-day packages. Health insurance covers the treatments.
Well, we had gift certificates and so we were treated to a whole day of services. The interior of the spa was much like that of a hospital. It was clean, bright, and sterile. After a quick medical assessment where the nurse asked if I was pregnant (due to my poochy stomach) we headed for our first treatment - a hot water bath – which literally was a very medical looking bathtub with hot and cold water shooting out from tiny jets inside the pool. Wearing a bathing suit, I sat down in the immense tub filled with warm water while a very buff lady wearing a sort- of nurse uniform came and sprayed my leg and arm muscles with a powerful hose inside the tub. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. It felt good – but it was too medical to truly be enjoyed. All I could think about were the old, ailing looking people that were waiting in the hallway before me. Who was in this tub before me? Next, I was led to a big box in the center of a small room. I had absolutely no idea what to expect. The lady told me to lay down – which I did. She closed my body inside a long box (kind of like a tanning booth) – while my head stuck out the end. I had an itch on my nose, but I couldn’t scratch it as my hands were encased inside the mysterious box. I’m not entirely sure what was going on inside the box – I wanted to look but, once again, I couldn’t move my hands. In the end warm water sprayed out in intervals. The final treatment was a massage- which I was looking forward to as I have some knowledge of how massages work. The massage room at least had some ambience. It was dimly lit and it smelled good –similar to massage rooms I’ve been to in the US. I tried not to pay too much attention to the strange assortment of music that was playing: Queen, Kenny G, and Sonny and Cher but admittedly, I was a little distracted. A very young, male masseuse who just happened to be a friend of Lipe’s was my masseuse. Great… As it turned out massages are a bit less modest in Portugal and I wasn’t wearing the nicest of undergarments. Because of the oddity of the entire experience and my deep embarassment, I succumbed to a huge case of the giggles so intensely during the massage, I nearly rolled off the table!
Those sheep again....
May 30, 2007
Those sheep…they make me crazy. I just love them so much. I am not meant to be a farm girl, that’s for sure. I am too sentimental.
So… at one point during our stay I wrote about the peaceful lives of the sheep who live at Quinta da Mata. Well, that was ignorant bliss. I suffer everyday because I care too much about them. Not long after my dreamy observation of the sheep, I walked into the barn where they sleep at night only to find eight of their skins with feet attached dangling from the rafters of the barn. They had been slaughtered and served at the lunch for a tourist group the day before. The surviving sheep could smell death in their barn and therefore they were too frightened to enter with the skins thoughtlessly hung above their heads in their cozy den. Duarte and I discussed this issue with Duarte’s father and he took the skins down. What was the point in leaving them there anyway?
I’ve watched these sheep so much that I think I can tell them apart. Since we have arrived here I have seen 10 sheep being born. I have watched those babies grow to be bigger sheep and the one thing that I observe with great admiration is the love the babies have for their mamas and the love the mamas have for their babies. The babies cry for their mamas when they can’t find them. Then the mama gives a “meeeh” and the baby runs to her with its wiggly tail. I love that. When they take naps, they snuggle up together. Their heads close to one another. During the birthing process, an older lamb will console its mother by licking her or lying close to her.
So, when I saw puddles of blood all about the farm a few weeks ago, I grew anxious. “Duarte ,what happened here? Did someone kill a sheep? If so, why is there blood on the driveway?” Well, as it turns out the dogs…the Quinta da Mata dogs went on a rampage during the night, as the sheep weren’t put away as they should have been. 10 sheep died that night including a pregnant mother. Well, the great slaughter of Quinta da Mata put me over the edge. I hate their dogs! I felt so sad, I didn’t know how to deal with my emotions. Senseless death…it happens even to animals. All of this took place just after the shootings in Virginia which were also so miserably senseless. How does one come to terms with such violence? Do we call it nature? Fate? and let it go? I just don’t know. I miss those sheep. I am sorry for those who died in Virginia. So, so sad.
The very morning of the great sheep massacre one of the survivors gave birth to twins…I secretly call the twins “lucky” and “hope” even though Duarte says you should never name farm animals. I can’t help myself.
Today a strange thing happened. We arrived in the evening from a day away from Quinta da Mata – just about the time that the sheep were heading to the barn for the night. As they approached the barn, I noticed that they were skittish and running restlessly. I walked up the hill to see what was going on and I noticed a young brown lamb among all of the white sheep. I thought it must have come from another heard mistakenly. The white sheep were fearful of the brown lamb it smelled differently than them and it looked different than them. The brown lamb was “meeehing” in fear and the white herd was running with fear all around the farm. In the midst of all of the crazy running and sheep fear, a mama gave birth to a baby lamb. She was still for a while but decided after some time to go running with her herd. That little baby – only a few hours old- was running to keep up with her. I had to step on the long placenta that was dragging from behind the mama sheep to help it fall out. Having been through childbirth myself, I know how trying the process is, I wanted to go to that mama and tell her to rest and to let her baby rest – but there was nothing I could do. They were out of my sight within minutes. Sheep are strong that’s for sure.
When Filinto arrived we learned that the brown lamb was a gift from another farmer as a way of saying thanks for letting him use his land for grazing. A lamb is a generous gift but nature is nature and animals don’t like what is different from them. I suspect that they think the brown lamb is a dog. Fortunately, that fear is probably keeping the brown lamb alive as the sheep are too fearful to hurt it.
I just found out that the brown lamb will soon be a meal. Damn!
So, how do farmers do it? They raise animals, they watch them grow, then they kill them and eat them. Are they used to the process? Have they learned to not grow attached? Are they intentionally not paying attention to the behavior of their animals? I don’t understand how any of this is possible. Am I just too sentimental? Has Disney tainted me with the personification of animals? I haven’t figured out farm life at all. I am glad I am not a farmer. But is it really better to not know what happens?
Those sheep…they make me crazy. I just love them so much. I am not meant to be a farm girl, that’s for sure. I am too sentimental.
So… at one point during our stay I wrote about the peaceful lives of the sheep who live at Quinta da Mata. Well, that was ignorant bliss. I suffer everyday because I care too much about them. Not long after my dreamy observation of the sheep, I walked into the barn where they sleep at night only to find eight of their skins with feet attached dangling from the rafters of the barn. They had been slaughtered and served at the lunch for a tourist group the day before. The surviving sheep could smell death in their barn and therefore they were too frightened to enter with the skins thoughtlessly hung above their heads in their cozy den. Duarte and I discussed this issue with Duarte’s father and he took the skins down. What was the point in leaving them there anyway?
I’ve watched these sheep so much that I think I can tell them apart. Since we have arrived here I have seen 10 sheep being born. I have watched those babies grow to be bigger sheep and the one thing that I observe with great admiration is the love the babies have for their mamas and the love the mamas have for their babies. The babies cry for their mamas when they can’t find them. Then the mama gives a “meeeh” and the baby runs to her with its wiggly tail. I love that. When they take naps, they snuggle up together. Their heads close to one another. During the birthing process, an older lamb will console its mother by licking her or lying close to her.
So, when I saw puddles of blood all about the farm a few weeks ago, I grew anxious. “Duarte ,what happened here? Did someone kill a sheep? If so, why is there blood on the driveway?” Well, as it turns out the dogs…the Quinta da Mata dogs went on a rampage during the night, as the sheep weren’t put away as they should have been. 10 sheep died that night including a pregnant mother. Well, the great slaughter of Quinta da Mata put me over the edge. I hate their dogs! I felt so sad, I didn’t know how to deal with my emotions. Senseless death…it happens even to animals. All of this took place just after the shootings in Virginia which were also so miserably senseless. How does one come to terms with such violence? Do we call it nature? Fate? and let it go? I just don’t know. I miss those sheep. I am sorry for those who died in Virginia. So, so sad.
The very morning of the great sheep massacre one of the survivors gave birth to twins…I secretly call the twins “lucky” and “hope” even though Duarte says you should never name farm animals. I can’t help myself.
Today a strange thing happened. We arrived in the evening from a day away from Quinta da Mata – just about the time that the sheep were heading to the barn for the night. As they approached the barn, I noticed that they were skittish and running restlessly. I walked up the hill to see what was going on and I noticed a young brown lamb among all of the white sheep. I thought it must have come from another heard mistakenly. The white sheep were fearful of the brown lamb it smelled differently than them and it looked different than them. The brown lamb was “meeehing” in fear and the white herd was running with fear all around the farm. In the midst of all of the crazy running and sheep fear, a mama gave birth to a baby lamb. She was still for a while but decided after some time to go running with her herd. That little baby – only a few hours old- was running to keep up with her. I had to step on the long placenta that was dragging from behind the mama sheep to help it fall out. Having been through childbirth myself, I know how trying the process is, I wanted to go to that mama and tell her to rest and to let her baby rest – but there was nothing I could do. They were out of my sight within minutes. Sheep are strong that’s for sure.
When Filinto arrived we learned that the brown lamb was a gift from another farmer as a way of saying thanks for letting him use his land for grazing. A lamb is a generous gift but nature is nature and animals don’t like what is different from them. I suspect that they think the brown lamb is a dog. Fortunately, that fear is probably keeping the brown lamb alive as the sheep are too fearful to hurt it.
I just found out that the brown lamb will soon be a meal. Damn!
So, how do farmers do it? They raise animals, they watch them grow, then they kill them and eat them. Are they used to the process? Have they learned to not grow attached? Are they intentionally not paying attention to the behavior of their animals? I don’t understand how any of this is possible. Am I just too sentimental? Has Disney tainted me with the personification of animals? I haven’t figured out farm life at all. I am glad I am not a farmer. But is it really better to not know what happens?
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Boating Week
Boating with my buddies. by: Duarte
May 25, 2007
When I lived in Lisbon (15 years ago) I owned a plastic boat and used it frequently to surf in the ocean. However, it wasn’t until I moved to Bowling Green, Ohio (of all places) that I learned to (Eskimo) roll and became addicted to white water. A year later I visited Portugal and had a disastrous descent of the Paiva river with Lipe and my long time adventure buddy Octavio Canhao. So, as I gradually accumulated white water experience in the US, I became increasingly fixated with spending some time with a hand full of hard core boating friends here in northern Portugal during the rainy season. Then, one wintery morning in State College’s Barnes & Noble I spotted a centerfold photo with what seemed to be the world’s most incredible triple waterfall – it was a photo of the main drop in Castro Laboreiro Creek, a creek located about 1.5 hrs of Quinta da Mata. That was it… I just had to make this dream come true.
Well… the dream just came true! ☺ My buddies, Craig, Sid, TJ, Traff, and Wade spent the second week of May here with us. We paddled great rivers, ate lots of meat, drank tons of wine, “abused on the motocross”, slept little, and danced and laughed like there was no tomorrow. In the process, here are some of the things I will remember:
• I dropped a kayak off the LR’s roof 10 min into the trip which made a dent on the back door;
• Wade, Traff, and TJ reluctantly tried roasted lamb on the way to Paiva river. Sid (the vegetarian) had his first (of many) Portuguese vegetable soups;
• The guys had an “Abelhinha” (fire-water and honey) shot at the tavern in the Paiva river take-out. The bottle was empty when I arrived;
• We had blood sausage as an appetizer, and shared a glass of home-made fire-water as digestive;
• We hung out with a bunch of fun, fun, fun Portuguese boaters until 4am at the put-in beach of the Paiva;
• Wade and I got up at 6am to pick-up Craig from the airport. The others got up at 11:00am… %$#@&#%$
• In a mountain village near the put-in for the Cavado river (inside Geres National Park), Craig stopped a pack of dogs from barking by flipping his left Chaco upside down (a Portuguese trick learned from my mom);
• At the Cavado take-out, we all agreed that we had just ran the most beautiful gorge of our paddling careers;
• At a T-intersection somewhere near Montalegre, Traff and Sid stopped their car to take a picture of the sunset and lost sight of the LR. They became hopelessly lost and ended up seeking help at a gas station in Braga (check out how far that is from Chaves in Google Earth and note: they were not able to speak a word of Portuguese). They bought a map, beer and chips and made it to Quinta da Mata by 1am;
• One of us (please don’t make me mention that it was Sid) left his kayak poorly parked on the bank while scouting a rapid in the Tamega river and it slid onto the water and drifted under a big rock and became hopelessly stuck. We had to leave it there and he had to swim and hike out of the gorge – the same trail Susanne and I had to use in January. Remember?
• Lipe took the guys partying haaaaard at a crazy university concert/party in Braga. At around 8am, still partying hard, Traff had a close encounter with a couple of bad boys jealous of his impeccable dance moves;
• We went back to the Tamega and found Sid’s boat one mile downstream. Yippie…it was a borrowed boat and it would have hurt to compensate its owner;
• We did the first descent of a set of tea cup drops just north of the border with Spain (see pic). Sid got lost again and we had to yell for him from across the border;
• We ate Tapas in Verin, Galicia. The best dishes were Pimientos al Padron and seared pig’s ear. Henrique, the owner/cook insisted that he’d prepare his best vegetarian dish for Sid. This vegetarian dish turned out to be squid;
• We ran the Tua – an amazing river gorge inside the Alto Douro Vinhateiro World Heritage Area condemned to be flooded due to a soon to be built hydroelectric dam;
• We all had a “little French girl” (Francesinha – a regional specialty sandwich) for lunch at the Povoa de Varzim beach and enjoyed a beer in Porto’s Ribeira.
Now we are all more or (in my case) less back into our normal lives but we will be meeting again soon to boat together. In July I am going to kick Traff’s butt on the Upper Yough Extreme race and in September we’re all meeting up at the Gauley river for a family fun and boating weekend. There has also been some talk about visiting Craig’s homeland – New Zealand some time in the near future. Oh boy… I wonder if they have good boating and good food there too! ☺
Family Time
Family Time
May 25, 2007
We have had tremendous travel experiences during our time in Portugal but I think the time that I value the most is our family time. The constant presence of family in our day-to-day routine has made a difference in our quality of life. The love Duarte’s parents have for our children is astounding. They truly cherish the time they spend with Marcos and Jenna and I know that Marcos and Jenna equally enjoy their time with their grandparents.
Yesterday Lipe and Susana came over to Quinta da Mata for dinner which they typically do once or twice a week. Duarte, the kids and I eat at Quinta da Mata nearly every meal, every day when we are in town. On our way to Quinta da Mata, we saw Filinto in the driveway watering his flowers. Seeing him, we stopped to say “Hi” and he called Marcos over to help him. Marcos readily hopped out of the car to join his grandfather. We parked the car and walked back with Jenna to where we dropped Marcos only to find Lipe and Susana had arrived. Lipe invited Marcos to help him drive the remainder of the way down the driveway. Marcos accepted and off they went happily honking to the front of the house. When Jenna saw Tia Susana she reached out for Susana to take her and would not come back to me even after I reached for her. Susana carried her all the way back to the house. It is wonderful to have family around to love our children and care for our children as we do. I never worry about the whereabouts of the kids when we are all together because someone has them and they are off enjoying something fun together.
Mornings are a special time for Duarte, Marcos, Jenna and I. Without a schedule to keep us moving, we have time to take it slow. There is time for cuddling in bed, playing games, and taking baths. Our mornings have a peaceful flow rather than a hurried, scurry to get out the door.
Duarte and I have had time to reconnect as a couple with the family’s help. Since we have had children, our relationship has changed in unexpected ways. Duarte and I met and became friends through paddling and backpacking. Those activities were the first to go with the arrival of Marcos. Now with guilt-free and cost-free help, we are able to play together again. We paddle, bike, hike, go out for meals, have long, uninterrupted conversations, we take off for full weekends, full days or even just into town for a coffee. We aren’t the only ones benefiting from family help. Marcos often asks if he can spend the day with his grandfather instead of going somewhere with us. There are nights when we go out for dinner and while we are out Geninha calls and begs us to leave the kids overnight so that we won’t disturb their sleep. It is hard to say “no.” In the morning when Duarte and I arrive to Quinta da Mata for breakfast, invariably Geninha looks tired. When we ask if Jenna had been up during the night she says “no.” She claims that Jenna is a little angel or a saint. She is so tired because she puts Jenna in bed with her and then stays awake watching her sleep throughout the night.
Jenna is quite spoiled with all of the love and attention she gets every moment of every day. She eats blended soups made especially for her each day. She plays and dances and sings and is always learning new things. Her grandmother is devoted to doting on every little need Jenna may possibly have. It is no wonder that Jenna is the happiest child on earth.
It took Marcos a long time to warm up to his grandmother. Marcos is by nature strongly opposed to eating. Food and Marcos are not friends. As you might imagine, this worried his grandmother as she believes that food is central to a person’s well-being. With time, they have grown to have affection for one another. Geninha has found a way to feed Marcos without him complaining too much and all is now well with that relationship.
The relationship that most touches my heart is that of Marcos and Filinto. They have a special bond and are truly very good friends. Filinto is patient, kind, funny and interesting to Marcos. Though he is often busy, he will take time to play with Marcos the way Marcos wants to play. I can see the love in Filinto’s eyes as he gazes upon his grandson. He is filled with stories about Marcos after we have left him in his care for longer periods of time. They are quite a pair.
“It takes a village to raise a child” so the saying goes… and I believe it. As parents who work and value free-time and who have friends and a relationship with one another, I think we cannot raise our children as well as we would like. With the help of family, we have all found a more balanced life and we are all happy. The end of our six months is coming fast and I am already worried about the affect of our “goodbye.” It’s hard to be content knowing that Jenna won’t remember her grandmother in 6 months when right now she is the center of her life. It will take time for Marcos to warm up to his grandparents the next time we see them. How much time? And what about Duarte and I? How long will it be before we can spend hours at a time together without worrying about how much we are spending on a babysitter or whether or not Marcos has eaten?
There is a toll to be paid for so much quality time. We will feel it in our hearts as we long for the nearness of loved ones. Undoubtedly, we will find a way to make it even in our hurried American life…I just hope the memories of this beautiful time will sustain us rather than feed the emptiness. We are all better for the experience we have had together – even if it is painful to face the ending. Perhaps these relationships will encourage even more visits with one another and longer visits.
I’m not ready to say goodbye just yet.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Slowing Down from a Slow Life
Slowing Down from Slow
May 17, 2007
There hasn’t been much to write about this week as I am here at Quinta da Mata with Duarte’s parents and the kids while Duarte is filling the days and nights entertaining his American kayaking buddies. They are having a great time but I rarely see them. My own activity has slowed even more. Spending the days here, I have time to play with the kids, read, write, take naps and exercise if I feel like it instead of collecting experiences as Duarte and I have been doing since our arrival. I am enjoying the more relaxed pace.
The weather has changed from cool to hot. The dry air and the strong rays from the sun seem to absorb all moisture. My skin is dry, the air is dry, the ground is parched and cracking. We need to avoid the afternoon heat so we seek the cool, cave-like interior of this grand house. On the patio, the kids splash in the baby pool and spray each other with water. They are entertained for long stretches of time with such idol play.
Bright red cherries weigh down the branches of the cherry trees that line the long driveway that leads to Quinta da Mata. We have been taking walks to eat the sweet fruit right off the trees. There are no chemicals used here. At this time of year the flowers are still flourishing around Quinta da Mata and the fruit from the varying fruit trees are at different stages of development. I think that the figs will soon be ready to eat and then the pears. The pear trees grow along side the swimming pool and drop fruit from their branches into the cool water allowing us a chilled snack while we play in the water.
Marcos has had some sort of stomach virus for a couple of days – so when he is feeling bad, he lies around and watches movies or sleeps. It is difficult to see him sick but he is very snuggly when he is needy. When he is feeling good, he is up and bounding around. He loves to play with Duarte’s friends at breakfast time. I think Marcos thinks he is big and cool like “the guys.”
Jenna is wild these days. Her personality is being revealed a little bit more each day. She is vain in that she is very proud of her appearance- showing everyone who walks by her shirt or her shoes and relishing in their responses. She is strong as she marches right out the back door of the house and walks with her sturdy little legs down a steep rocky road and then up another all the way to see the sheep…”meehing” as she goes. She makes sure that she gets everything Marcos gets. If he drinks a juice then she must have one too. She will go as far as to steel his cookies if she doesn’t get her own. Though Jenna doesn’t speak, there is little doubt what she wants and what she doesn’t want. I am surprised by the strength of her will.
There is a lot of hustle and bustle around Quinta da Mata as each weekend approaches. There are wedding receptions every Saturday and Sunday that start early in the afternoon and go into the wee early morning of the following day. Preparation for the weddings begins on Thursday with many employees coming and going. On the day of the wedding, there are large platters mounded with food that pass in and out the doors heading toward or from the garden where the big receptions take place. I love all of the activity. Though it is crazy to be in the middle of it all, I feel the energy of so many people doing what they need to be doing. Some people are carving incredible fruit structures, others arranging platters of appetizers, some waiting tables, strong men heaving suckling pigs into the giant wood fired ovens. Live music fills the air and there is of course the general festivity that accompanies all weddings. Duarte and I were married here and I always re-live that perfect day as I peer into the garden to see the beautiful party. Best of all, the abundance of food is always shared with us. We sit on the patio away from the wedding and the employees passing through like to spoil us by handing us a platter of shrimp or lobster, bottles of wine, indulgent cheeses and desserts. I love it.
There are so many ways to spend a day or to spend a week or to spend 6 months. I am content that I am living the way that I want to live while I am in Portugal. I don’t have any regrets. There are many visitors that come to stay at this Bed and Breakfast. I enjoy talking with them if they speak English. It seems that when people are on vacation, they take time to slow down and ponder their existence or to take advantage of the distance vacation brings to their lives as they consider why they are caught up in the incredible momentum of work and other responsibilities. It is interesting for me to hear that people from every culture feel squeezed of energy. Everyone feels that they work too hard and have too little time for themselves and their families. It’s a human condition – but Why? I’ve spent the last 5 months thinking about this and I don’t have any explanation or answers. The best that I can come up with at this time is to look for the good in each moment and savor the things that make you happy. There is not a perfect life but there is a good life and that can only be found when perfection is not sought. Sometimes there are only good moments and sometimes that’s enough.
May 17, 2007
There hasn’t been much to write about this week as I am here at Quinta da Mata with Duarte’s parents and the kids while Duarte is filling the days and nights entertaining his American kayaking buddies. They are having a great time but I rarely see them. My own activity has slowed even more. Spending the days here, I have time to play with the kids, read, write, take naps and exercise if I feel like it instead of collecting experiences as Duarte and I have been doing since our arrival. I am enjoying the more relaxed pace.
The weather has changed from cool to hot. The dry air and the strong rays from the sun seem to absorb all moisture. My skin is dry, the air is dry, the ground is parched and cracking. We need to avoid the afternoon heat so we seek the cool, cave-like interior of this grand house. On the patio, the kids splash in the baby pool and spray each other with water. They are entertained for long stretches of time with such idol play.
Bright red cherries weigh down the branches of the cherry trees that line the long driveway that leads to Quinta da Mata. We have been taking walks to eat the sweet fruit right off the trees. There are no chemicals used here. At this time of year the flowers are still flourishing around Quinta da Mata and the fruit from the varying fruit trees are at different stages of development. I think that the figs will soon be ready to eat and then the pears. The pear trees grow along side the swimming pool and drop fruit from their branches into the cool water allowing us a chilled snack while we play in the water.
Marcos has had some sort of stomach virus for a couple of days – so when he is feeling bad, he lies around and watches movies or sleeps. It is difficult to see him sick but he is very snuggly when he is needy. When he is feeling good, he is up and bounding around. He loves to play with Duarte’s friends at breakfast time. I think Marcos thinks he is big and cool like “the guys.”
Jenna is wild these days. Her personality is being revealed a little bit more each day. She is vain in that she is very proud of her appearance- showing everyone who walks by her shirt or her shoes and relishing in their responses. She is strong as she marches right out the back door of the house and walks with her sturdy little legs down a steep rocky road and then up another all the way to see the sheep…”meehing” as she goes. She makes sure that she gets everything Marcos gets. If he drinks a juice then she must have one too. She will go as far as to steel his cookies if she doesn’t get her own. Though Jenna doesn’t speak, there is little doubt what she wants and what she doesn’t want. I am surprised by the strength of her will.
There is a lot of hustle and bustle around Quinta da Mata as each weekend approaches. There are wedding receptions every Saturday and Sunday that start early in the afternoon and go into the wee early morning of the following day. Preparation for the weddings begins on Thursday with many employees coming and going. On the day of the wedding, there are large platters mounded with food that pass in and out the doors heading toward or from the garden where the big receptions take place. I love all of the activity. Though it is crazy to be in the middle of it all, I feel the energy of so many people doing what they need to be doing. Some people are carving incredible fruit structures, others arranging platters of appetizers, some waiting tables, strong men heaving suckling pigs into the giant wood fired ovens. Live music fills the air and there is of course the general festivity that accompanies all weddings. Duarte and I were married here and I always re-live that perfect day as I peer into the garden to see the beautiful party. Best of all, the abundance of food is always shared with us. We sit on the patio away from the wedding and the employees passing through like to spoil us by handing us a platter of shrimp or lobster, bottles of wine, indulgent cheeses and desserts. I love it.
There are so many ways to spend a day or to spend a week or to spend 6 months. I am content that I am living the way that I want to live while I am in Portugal. I don’t have any regrets. There are many visitors that come to stay at this Bed and Breakfast. I enjoy talking with them if they speak English. It seems that when people are on vacation, they take time to slow down and ponder their existence or to take advantage of the distance vacation brings to their lives as they consider why they are caught up in the incredible momentum of work and other responsibilities. It is interesting for me to hear that people from every culture feel squeezed of energy. Everyone feels that they work too hard and have too little time for themselves and their families. It’s a human condition – but Why? I’ve spent the last 5 months thinking about this and I don’t have any explanation or answers. The best that I can come up with at this time is to look for the good in each moment and savor the things that make you happy. There is not a perfect life but there is a good life and that can only be found when perfection is not sought. Sometimes there are only good moments and sometimes that’s enough.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Lisbon nights
May 10, 2007
Duarte had a birthday to celebrate so we decided to take off for a couple of days without Marcos and Jenna to the capitol of Portugal “Lisboa”. Lisbon is a huge city filled with fashion, energy, history, beauty, nightlife, shopping, technology, and much more. Leaving the slow paced lifestyle of Chaves for the lively Lisboa was a welcomed change. Duarte went to college in Lisbon and therefore knows the city well. He oriented us to some of the most charming and unique places off the beaten path.
Our first night was a unusual blend of pop culture, history and romance. Walking up the steep streets of Bairro Alto it was hard to escape the energy of the night. Small bars and café’s with their own jazzy or retro or disco themes have doors open onto the narrow streets. There was an eclectic mix of people out and about from hip college students to not so hip elderly German tourists. The sounds of those around us expressed a more worldly interaction with a wide array of accents and languages. Here and there were a few odd stores open late in the night selling unexpected items like eastpack backpacks or creative t-shirts, funky shoes… Gypsies walked up and down the streets and in and out of restaurants selling roses or blinking lights or watches or sunglasses.
Among all of this hustle and bustle we sought out a traditional Portuguese Fado restaurant. Fado music has a long history within the Portuguese culture. It is nostalgic music of longing for the past and hoping for the future. There is both sadness and a wistful cheer in the lyrics sung by strong male or female voices and accompanied by a 12-string guitar. These folkloric songs are rich with the passion and emotion of the Portuguese people who throughout their long, tumultuous existence have been proud explorers of the new world, nationalistic soldiers and people oppressed by a long-standing dictatorship. We found a tiny, candle-lit restaurant crammed with people. There were four different singers who would alternate singing after 3 songs. Each singer was interestingly unique and talented. The first was an older, blind man without a very special voice but his charisma was enchanting. The second was a tall, full figured, woman with a powerful voice that resonated off of the hand painted tile walls of the small restaurant. The third singer was a younger woman who seemed to have a grudge against life. Her voice was poignant and sharp. Her talent was her ability to make the lyrics of the songs really touch the listener. I could feel the words she sang. The fourth singer was the most unique in that she was the dishwasher who came from the kitchen to sing. She was a thick, motherly woman with kind eyes and a sweet voice. She dressed in the simple, checked dress of all maids and dishwashers in Portugal and wore slippers on her feet. Her performance though admirable was unpolished as she constantly cleared her throat between verses in the songs. This was Fado! We ate a delicious meal and shared a bottle of wine and every now and then caught each other’s eye across the table and whispered our marvel at how beautiful this experience was.
Our second night in Lisbon had its own magic. We met up with Duarte’s longest friend “Paulo” and his girlfriend “Patricia” who live in Lisbon. We met at their chic apartment overlooking the skyline of Lisbon. From their apartment, we walked to Duarte’s favorite restaurant in Lisbon called “Casa de Alentejo.” On our way we stopped at a small, city garden and gazed out at the buildings and river spread out beneath us. Paulo and Patricia are great for sharing really interesting conversation with and so it was easy for us to get side tracked here and there being philosophical or inquisitive about any given topic. We finally moved on from this beautiful garden only after a security guard found us and informed us that the garden had closed and been locked since our arrival. He was kind and jovially escorted us out when he realized we were really not intentionally being menaces.
Casa de Alentejo is a very special place. The large building which now forms the restaurant was originally a Moorish palace dating back many centuries. Inside the original tiles adorn the many rooms of the house that have become the rooms of the restaurant. This is a restaurant with tremendous ambience. Because it is so unusual the average tourist would have a hard time finding it and if they did I suspect that they wouldn’t know how to navigate through the strange building. We selected a table on the second floor that overlooked the open courtyard of the majestic house. We dove into a nice bottle of wine and ordered a few traditional dishes to share. Once again the chemistry of our friendship blended well and the conversation was enjoyably stimulating and engaging.
Following our late night dinner we headed for a traditional, after-dinner drink in Lisbon called “Ginjinha.” This shot of cherry liquor served with or without cherries is offered at a well-known, walk-up bar in the street. Small groups of friends leisurely stand about outside with their shot glasses enjoying the strong, sweet drink. Music filled the air as the street performers wisely entertained the indulging crowd.
At 1:00am we pondered the thought of ending the night but decided that one more stop would finish the night nicely. Patricia led us to a place where the sound of loud jazz was pouring from the dimly lit, below-ground bar. Concerned about the music deterring us from our conversation, we headed to the back of the bar where the music was a bit more muted. Patricia noticed a door in the back and went to explore. She found a huge garden behind the bar with a few tables and chairs – perfect for such a night. We enjoyed the warm night air and talked and talked until 2:30 in the morning. Nobody knew we were back there.
At last it was time to get to bed. We said our goodbyes standing outside of a taxi in the middle of Lisbon. As with every city, Lisbon has its own unique charm and character. We tapped into some of its magic during our time there. We can’t wait to get back to explore some more. Portugal truly is a wonderful country.
Duarte had a birthday to celebrate so we decided to take off for a couple of days without Marcos and Jenna to the capitol of Portugal “Lisboa”. Lisbon is a huge city filled with fashion, energy, history, beauty, nightlife, shopping, technology, and much more. Leaving the slow paced lifestyle of Chaves for the lively Lisboa was a welcomed change. Duarte went to college in Lisbon and therefore knows the city well. He oriented us to some of the most charming and unique places off the beaten path.
Our first night was a unusual blend of pop culture, history and romance. Walking up the steep streets of Bairro Alto it was hard to escape the energy of the night. Small bars and café’s with their own jazzy or retro or disco themes have doors open onto the narrow streets. There was an eclectic mix of people out and about from hip college students to not so hip elderly German tourists. The sounds of those around us expressed a more worldly interaction with a wide array of accents and languages. Here and there were a few odd stores open late in the night selling unexpected items like eastpack backpacks or creative t-shirts, funky shoes… Gypsies walked up and down the streets and in and out of restaurants selling roses or blinking lights or watches or sunglasses.
Among all of this hustle and bustle we sought out a traditional Portuguese Fado restaurant. Fado music has a long history within the Portuguese culture. It is nostalgic music of longing for the past and hoping for the future. There is both sadness and a wistful cheer in the lyrics sung by strong male or female voices and accompanied by a 12-string guitar. These folkloric songs are rich with the passion and emotion of the Portuguese people who throughout their long, tumultuous existence have been proud explorers of the new world, nationalistic soldiers and people oppressed by a long-standing dictatorship. We found a tiny, candle-lit restaurant crammed with people. There were four different singers who would alternate singing after 3 songs. Each singer was interestingly unique and talented. The first was an older, blind man without a very special voice but his charisma was enchanting. The second was a tall, full figured, woman with a powerful voice that resonated off of the hand painted tile walls of the small restaurant. The third singer was a younger woman who seemed to have a grudge against life. Her voice was poignant and sharp. Her talent was her ability to make the lyrics of the songs really touch the listener. I could feel the words she sang. The fourth singer was the most unique in that she was the dishwasher who came from the kitchen to sing. She was a thick, motherly woman with kind eyes and a sweet voice. She dressed in the simple, checked dress of all maids and dishwashers in Portugal and wore slippers on her feet. Her performance though admirable was unpolished as she constantly cleared her throat between verses in the songs. This was Fado! We ate a delicious meal and shared a bottle of wine and every now and then caught each other’s eye across the table and whispered our marvel at how beautiful this experience was.
Our second night in Lisbon had its own magic. We met up with Duarte’s longest friend “Paulo” and his girlfriend “Patricia” who live in Lisbon. We met at their chic apartment overlooking the skyline of Lisbon. From their apartment, we walked to Duarte’s favorite restaurant in Lisbon called “Casa de Alentejo.” On our way we stopped at a small, city garden and gazed out at the buildings and river spread out beneath us. Paulo and Patricia are great for sharing really interesting conversation with and so it was easy for us to get side tracked here and there being philosophical or inquisitive about any given topic. We finally moved on from this beautiful garden only after a security guard found us and informed us that the garden had closed and been locked since our arrival. He was kind and jovially escorted us out when he realized we were really not intentionally being menaces.
Casa de Alentejo is a very special place. The large building which now forms the restaurant was originally a Moorish palace dating back many centuries. Inside the original tiles adorn the many rooms of the house that have become the rooms of the restaurant. This is a restaurant with tremendous ambience. Because it is so unusual the average tourist would have a hard time finding it and if they did I suspect that they wouldn’t know how to navigate through the strange building. We selected a table on the second floor that overlooked the open courtyard of the majestic house. We dove into a nice bottle of wine and ordered a few traditional dishes to share. Once again the chemistry of our friendship blended well and the conversation was enjoyably stimulating and engaging.
Following our late night dinner we headed for a traditional, after-dinner drink in Lisbon called “Ginjinha.” This shot of cherry liquor served with or without cherries is offered at a well-known, walk-up bar in the street. Small groups of friends leisurely stand about outside with their shot glasses enjoying the strong, sweet drink. Music filled the air as the street performers wisely entertained the indulging crowd.
At 1:00am we pondered the thought of ending the night but decided that one more stop would finish the night nicely. Patricia led us to a place where the sound of loud jazz was pouring from the dimly lit, below-ground bar. Concerned about the music deterring us from our conversation, we headed to the back of the bar where the music was a bit more muted. Patricia noticed a door in the back and went to explore. She found a huge garden behind the bar with a few tables and chairs – perfect for such a night. We enjoyed the warm night air and talked and talked until 2:30 in the morning. Nobody knew we were back there.
At last it was time to get to bed. We said our goodbyes standing outside of a taxi in the middle of Lisbon. As with every city, Lisbon has its own unique charm and character. We tapped into some of its magic during our time there. We can’t wait to get back to explore some more. Portugal truly is a wonderful country.
Monday, May 7, 2007
Mother's Day
May 7, 2007
Mother’s Day in Portugal.
Mother’s day in Portugal is celebrated one week earlier than in the United States. I’m not sure of the reasoning for the date and why it is different here but I think the holiday itself has something to do with Mary…the mother of Jesus. Regardless, it was a beautiful day and my family had many unexpected, non-material gifts for me throughout the day.
Mother’s day began dreamily in the spare bedroom of our little house in Sao Lourenco. In fact, my day began quite a few hours later than it usually does as I was sequestered in the quietest space in the house where the cheerful singing of Jenna waking up and the more energetic Marcos barging into the room were safely on the bottom floor. I slept until 9:00am when Marcos finally came into the room to rouse me from my sleep. I was awakened with a hug, a kiss and a four year old’s determination to open the shades “to help me wake up.”
Considering the very comfortable lives we are living while in Portugal there aren’t many other ways to be spoiled. Duarte and I decided to indulge ourselves with a very long bike ride. Our longest ride yet was from Chaves to the next bigger village over called Vidago. Duarte and I have a tendency to get a little lost on these ventures so after climbing two, grueling mountains and scrambling through some thorny brush we made it to our destination three and a half hours later. My legs were screaming and I was happily yearning for a table full of food at Quinta da Mata to satiate my empty stomach.
Back at Quinta da Mata we had a wonderful meal waiting for us as I had hoped and two happy kids playing on the patio. I love such afternoons at Quinta da Mata. The whole family was there just hanging out enjoying good food, drink and conversation. The adults took turns playing with Marcos and Jenna. The patio has four big, granite walls to keep the kids from running off. They spent the entire afternoon kicking the soccer ball and pushing around their toy trucks and tractors.
Along with Lipe and Susana, we took Geninha (Duarte’s mother) out to dinner to one of Geninha’s favorite restaurants “Don Pinto”. The food was excellent as well as the wine. Marcos and Jenna have become friends since our arrival to Portugal. I am not sure if the reasoning is because Marcos has few kids his age to play with or if it is because Jenna is now bigger and more interactive. Regardless, they like each other and it is wonderful to watch from a mother’s point of view. In the restaurant (where people are much more tolerant of children than in the United States) Marcos and Jenna ran around and played and laughed. They seemed like brother and sister for the first time to me today.
After dinner we went to the “Termas” area of Chaves. The Termas area is actually the main reason the city of Chaves was created and in Roman times the city was actually named Aquae Flavius after the hot mineral water spring that bubbles up in the center of the city. This water is known to be healing water. There is a spa in Chaves that utilizes the water exclusively for those in need of healing – a doctor’s prescription is required for admission. Outside of the spa there is a hot water spring where most of the inhabitants of Chaves stop by frequently for a cup of the hot water after a meal. The water is said to aid digestion and heal all kinds of ailments and afflictions. We all went to the spring to have a cup of the sacred water and enjoy the last hours of the day together. The kids ran free while we sat upon the old granite steps and savored the warm night air and a hot cup of water.
After our hot, late night drink, we drove back to Quinta da Mata to drop off Geninha and Filinto. As we were preparing to pull away, Marcos rolled down his window and called his grandfather to the car. When Filinto came back over to the car, Marcos leaned out of the window and squeezed him so tight. There is much love between those two.
The day ended late when we carried two sleeping kids from our car under a sky full of stars. We tucked each of them into their cozy beds and kissed their sweet faces. My mother’s day was filled with glorious moments of love, adventure, family and a little bit of sentimentality. I am grasping tight to these beautiful days. They are some of the best I have ever had.
Mother’s Day in Portugal.
Mother’s day in Portugal is celebrated one week earlier than in the United States. I’m not sure of the reasoning for the date and why it is different here but I think the holiday itself has something to do with Mary…the mother of Jesus. Regardless, it was a beautiful day and my family had many unexpected, non-material gifts for me throughout the day.
Mother’s day began dreamily in the spare bedroom of our little house in Sao Lourenco. In fact, my day began quite a few hours later than it usually does as I was sequestered in the quietest space in the house where the cheerful singing of Jenna waking up and the more energetic Marcos barging into the room were safely on the bottom floor. I slept until 9:00am when Marcos finally came into the room to rouse me from my sleep. I was awakened with a hug, a kiss and a four year old’s determination to open the shades “to help me wake up.”
Considering the very comfortable lives we are living while in Portugal there aren’t many other ways to be spoiled. Duarte and I decided to indulge ourselves with a very long bike ride. Our longest ride yet was from Chaves to the next bigger village over called Vidago. Duarte and I have a tendency to get a little lost on these ventures so after climbing two, grueling mountains and scrambling through some thorny brush we made it to our destination three and a half hours later. My legs were screaming and I was happily yearning for a table full of food at Quinta da Mata to satiate my empty stomach.
Back at Quinta da Mata we had a wonderful meal waiting for us as I had hoped and two happy kids playing on the patio. I love such afternoons at Quinta da Mata. The whole family was there just hanging out enjoying good food, drink and conversation. The adults took turns playing with Marcos and Jenna. The patio has four big, granite walls to keep the kids from running off. They spent the entire afternoon kicking the soccer ball and pushing around their toy trucks and tractors.
Along with Lipe and Susana, we took Geninha (Duarte’s mother) out to dinner to one of Geninha’s favorite restaurants “Don Pinto”. The food was excellent as well as the wine. Marcos and Jenna have become friends since our arrival to Portugal. I am not sure if the reasoning is because Marcos has few kids his age to play with or if it is because Jenna is now bigger and more interactive. Regardless, they like each other and it is wonderful to watch from a mother’s point of view. In the restaurant (where people are much more tolerant of children than in the United States) Marcos and Jenna ran around and played and laughed. They seemed like brother and sister for the first time to me today.
After dinner we went to the “Termas” area of Chaves. The Termas area is actually the main reason the city of Chaves was created and in Roman times the city was actually named Aquae Flavius after the hot mineral water spring that bubbles up in the center of the city. This water is known to be healing water. There is a spa in Chaves that utilizes the water exclusively for those in need of healing – a doctor’s prescription is required for admission. Outside of the spa there is a hot water spring where most of the inhabitants of Chaves stop by frequently for a cup of the hot water after a meal. The water is said to aid digestion and heal all kinds of ailments and afflictions. We all went to the spring to have a cup of the sacred water and enjoy the last hours of the day together. The kids ran free while we sat upon the old granite steps and savored the warm night air and a hot cup of water.
After our hot, late night drink, we drove back to Quinta da Mata to drop off Geninha and Filinto. As we were preparing to pull away, Marcos rolled down his window and called his grandfather to the car. When Filinto came back over to the car, Marcos leaned out of the window and squeezed him so tight. There is much love between those two.
The day ended late when we carried two sleeping kids from our car under a sky full of stars. We tucked each of them into their cozy beds and kissed their sweet faces. My mother’s day was filled with glorious moments of love, adventure, family and a little bit of sentimentality. I am grasping tight to these beautiful days. They are some of the best I have ever had.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Mountain Biking with Emily
April 28, 2007
My friend Emily is visiting from State College along with her husband and two kids. It has been nice to have a close friend here to witness this incredible life and to share with bits of Portugal that we really love. Their arrival was refreshing for us all as it is nice to see familiar faces and hear about the life we left behind for 6 months.
In the eight days we have been together we have had some really special experiences including three beautiful days in Porto, long leisurely meals in beachside cafes, farm life at Quinta da Mata, a day at a lake in a national park and a day visiting Duarte’s uncle’s olive farm. Every day we have been able to separate ourselves from our kids for a short time to exercise and this separation has been nearly guilt-free as the kids are excited to play together. Emily and I had a memorable mountain bike ride one evening. As I think back to it, I realize that our two-hour ride was the perfect sampling of the life we are exposed to everyday here.
Emily and I hopped on our bikes around 6:00pm one evening. From the village where we live, we quickly started up a steep Roman road towards a network of trails which would ultimately lead to a castle overlooking the valley. The terrain was tricky and not easy to navigate as there were large rocks impeding our ascent up the steep passage. We both struggled up the uneven rocks and wondered how a Roman was able to travel on such difficult roads. At the top of the road Emily asked if I ever got lost on these back roads and I answered that I hadn’t yet – but we might today. A few more minutes of riding on the hard packed forest road we passed a shepherd and his large herd of sheep heading towards the village for the evening. In the small village, we saw kids playing soccer in the center where three roads merge. Another man was riding on his primitive wooded cart that was being pulled by a burro. Everyone we passed stopped what they were doing to watch us and all of them called out a jovial “Boa Tarde!” which means good evening. The village had a few long narrow gutters that crossed the road and were wet with the runoff from cleaning out the stable on one side of the street. I hopped over the urine and manure filled run-off knowingly. Emily rode right through it. Her legs were splattered with the murky liquid. We carried on.
It is common to see dogs running loose in Portugal. In fact, most dogs live outside all of the time. They like to chase cars and bark a lot and therefore they are sometimes intimidating to pass on a bicycle. I warned Emily in advance about these dogs and explained that the best technique for encouraging them to relax was to whistle to them. Emily replied nervously that she didn’t know how to whistle. Well, okay then…"stick with me". We did pass a few dogs along the way and they did run along with us for a little bit – and we faired just fine without whistling.
The ride up to the castle was a steady climb up. Remembering that Emily takes a spin class in State College – I called out to her the typical spin class jargon with encouragement to get to the top. She said “I don’t need to think about spin class while I’m here. This is where I want to be while I’m taking that class.” She was right. We were enjoying a beautiful ride out of doors, with amazing scenery, and fresh air. We arrived to the castle around 7:00pm. It was a bit windy at the top of the mountain. The vast valley spread out beneath us. It was a view well worth our effort. The time was getting late, so we decided to turn back. As soon as we turned our bikes in the direction of home the rain started. We were wearing only one layer – so we needed to get down quickly as the cool night air and the moisture from the rain were making us cold. Passing through the village once more we came upon a cow walking on its own down the street. I told Emily that I wasn’t sure of the etiquette to pass a cow and she said that she didn’t believe that there was etiquette to pass a cow. We passed cautiously. Emily noted the large horns atop of its head. I noted her udders - which in my mind meant a more docile animal. We were successful getting past the cow… hence, cow etiquette.
There were still some men wandering around the village as we passed through the second time. One of the men called out to us. I paused a little bit trying to make sense of what I thought I understood and I finally told Emily that I thought he said that we looked good from behind. I wasn’t totally sure of my translation and I told her that as well. Emily’s reply was perfect…”Well, I’m definitely not sure.” I think that pretty much sums up everything I translate over here.
The trip back home wasn’t as clear as it had been on the ride up. Roads were splitting off to the right here and there and I wasn’t sure which road would be the right one. I finally chose what I believed would lead us back to Quinta da Mata. We pedaled for a while and were both inspired by the beautiful mountain landscape bright with patterns of purple and yellow and white as the flowers were in full bloom. The air felt cool and fresh and the scent of the rain and the pines were soothing. Though it was getting late and admittedly we were a little bit lost, we took a moment to hop off of our bikes and smell the lavender that was growing alongside of the road. Throughout the ride down we had been talking about the lives we live in State College and being philosophical about how life could be lived more simply. And then…it seemed that it all made sense and for the moment all was right in our lives…we were enjoying a good adventure, sharing thoughts about life, seeing new places and stopping to smell the lavender. I guess sometimes it is as simple as taking a moment to slow down and enjoy the good things in life that are right in front of us.
Continuing towards home, we made a few more turns along the mountain road before I decided that we were not going in the right direction and called Duarte to come find us. Though Emily and I would have both enjoyed more time to explore on the bikes, it was late and we were cold and wet. Somehow, to our amazement, Duarte was able to deduce where we were by my descriptions of the vistas I could see from where we were riding. We rode down the steep slick trail until we came upon a major road where we briefly waited for Duarte to pick us up. We had made it! In two quick hours we saw and experienced many wonderful things within the back roads of Portugal. It was a great ride with a great friend. Such experiences become the memories that make the life we have lived so beautiful.
My friend Emily is visiting from State College along with her husband and two kids. It has been nice to have a close friend here to witness this incredible life and to share with bits of Portugal that we really love. Their arrival was refreshing for us all as it is nice to see familiar faces and hear about the life we left behind for 6 months.
In the eight days we have been together we have had some really special experiences including three beautiful days in Porto, long leisurely meals in beachside cafes, farm life at Quinta da Mata, a day at a lake in a national park and a day visiting Duarte’s uncle’s olive farm. Every day we have been able to separate ourselves from our kids for a short time to exercise and this separation has been nearly guilt-free as the kids are excited to play together. Emily and I had a memorable mountain bike ride one evening. As I think back to it, I realize that our two-hour ride was the perfect sampling of the life we are exposed to everyday here.
Emily and I hopped on our bikes around 6:00pm one evening. From the village where we live, we quickly started up a steep Roman road towards a network of trails which would ultimately lead to a castle overlooking the valley. The terrain was tricky and not easy to navigate as there were large rocks impeding our ascent up the steep passage. We both struggled up the uneven rocks and wondered how a Roman was able to travel on such difficult roads. At the top of the road Emily asked if I ever got lost on these back roads and I answered that I hadn’t yet – but we might today. A few more minutes of riding on the hard packed forest road we passed a shepherd and his large herd of sheep heading towards the village for the evening. In the small village, we saw kids playing soccer in the center where three roads merge. Another man was riding on his primitive wooded cart that was being pulled by a burro. Everyone we passed stopped what they were doing to watch us and all of them called out a jovial “Boa Tarde!” which means good evening. The village had a few long narrow gutters that crossed the road and were wet with the runoff from cleaning out the stable on one side of the street. I hopped over the urine and manure filled run-off knowingly. Emily rode right through it. Her legs were splattered with the murky liquid. We carried on.
It is common to see dogs running loose in Portugal. In fact, most dogs live outside all of the time. They like to chase cars and bark a lot and therefore they are sometimes intimidating to pass on a bicycle. I warned Emily in advance about these dogs and explained that the best technique for encouraging them to relax was to whistle to them. Emily replied nervously that she didn’t know how to whistle. Well, okay then…"stick with me". We did pass a few dogs along the way and they did run along with us for a little bit – and we faired just fine without whistling.
The ride up to the castle was a steady climb up. Remembering that Emily takes a spin class in State College – I called out to her the typical spin class jargon with encouragement to get to the top. She said “I don’t need to think about spin class while I’m here. This is where I want to be while I’m taking that class.” She was right. We were enjoying a beautiful ride out of doors, with amazing scenery, and fresh air. We arrived to the castle around 7:00pm. It was a bit windy at the top of the mountain. The vast valley spread out beneath us. It was a view well worth our effort. The time was getting late, so we decided to turn back. As soon as we turned our bikes in the direction of home the rain started. We were wearing only one layer – so we needed to get down quickly as the cool night air and the moisture from the rain were making us cold. Passing through the village once more we came upon a cow walking on its own down the street. I told Emily that I wasn’t sure of the etiquette to pass a cow and she said that she didn’t believe that there was etiquette to pass a cow. We passed cautiously. Emily noted the large horns atop of its head. I noted her udders - which in my mind meant a more docile animal. We were successful getting past the cow… hence, cow etiquette.
There were still some men wandering around the village as we passed through the second time. One of the men called out to us. I paused a little bit trying to make sense of what I thought I understood and I finally told Emily that I thought he said that we looked good from behind. I wasn’t totally sure of my translation and I told her that as well. Emily’s reply was perfect…”Well, I’m definitely not sure.” I think that pretty much sums up everything I translate over here.
The trip back home wasn’t as clear as it had been on the ride up. Roads were splitting off to the right here and there and I wasn’t sure which road would be the right one. I finally chose what I believed would lead us back to Quinta da Mata. We pedaled for a while and were both inspired by the beautiful mountain landscape bright with patterns of purple and yellow and white as the flowers were in full bloom. The air felt cool and fresh and the scent of the rain and the pines were soothing. Though it was getting late and admittedly we were a little bit lost, we took a moment to hop off of our bikes and smell the lavender that was growing alongside of the road. Throughout the ride down we had been talking about the lives we live in State College and being philosophical about how life could be lived more simply. And then…it seemed that it all made sense and for the moment all was right in our lives…we were enjoying a good adventure, sharing thoughts about life, seeing new places and stopping to smell the lavender. I guess sometimes it is as simple as taking a moment to slow down and enjoy the good things in life that are right in front of us.
Continuing towards home, we made a few more turns along the mountain road before I decided that we were not going in the right direction and called Duarte to come find us. Though Emily and I would have both enjoyed more time to explore on the bikes, it was late and we were cold and wet. Somehow, to our amazement, Duarte was able to deduce where we were by my descriptions of the vistas I could see from where we were riding. We rode down the steep slick trail until we came upon a major road where we briefly waited for Duarte to pick us up. We had made it! In two quick hours we saw and experienced many wonderful things within the back roads of Portugal. It was a great ride with a great friend. Such experiences become the memories that make the life we have lived so beautiful.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Morais Family update
Morais update….
April 23, 2007
It is nearing the end of April. We have been living in Portugal for four months now. In just four short months, we have experienced foggy winter days, turbulent moods, blissful travel, magnificent meals, much needed family time, hours for exercising, and much more. We have all grown and changed so much.
Marcos had a difficult time transitioning to life in Portugal. Though we all struggled in our own ways, Marcos’ feelings were the most evident through his anger and acting out. He had virtually no comprehension of the language in January. He would scream when he was left alone with his family that only speaks Portuguese. It made him crazy! Marcos is now a different little boy. I am so proud of him. Mostly to his grandfather’s credit, Marcos is close to fluent in Portuguese. He makes mistakes but he isn’t afraid to speak. He flips back and forth from English to Portuguese without skipping a beat. He adores his Portuguese family and looks forward to being left alone with them now. His grandparents couldn’t be happier as they are now able to know their grandson and all of the funny things that he can now share with them.
Marcos is outside playing much of the day. He knows his way around the farm and takes off to explore by bike or on foot by himself or with his grandfather – so different from what his American life would be if we were there now. He spent time teaching his American grandmother how to say certain words while she was visiting. Sometimes he would lose patience with her, however, when she didn’t get the pronunciation just right. It’s fun to be learning a language and a culture together with my four-year old son. We wonder out loud together and we teach each other and we laugh at things together… we are just trying to figure it all out.
Jenna is now 16 months old. She is and always has been the happiest member of our family. Her grandmother loves her and spoils her and helps create the best life for Jenna. Jenna is fed homemade soups – blended especially for her for lunch and dinner every day. She is bathed after every bowel movement. She plays outside and goes for walks and spends a lot of time watching the sheep. Jenna’s skin is golden brown, her hair wild and curly. She is the delight of her grandparents and to all of the maids in the house. Jenna knows both Portuguese and English. She doesn’t speak a word of either language – but understands everything. She sings all of the time. Though she doesn’t know the words, she knows the tune of four or five songs and will burst out with her “la la’s” at any given moment. Her singing is wonderful except at 2:00am – which does occasionally happen.
Duarte has the busiest life of us all. He works, plays, translates, drives, and provides experiences for visitors. He takes time to boat and to bike and to be there for his friends and family. He also has his brother here whom he adores and does his best to make time to spend with Lipe. Duarte is happy and grateful for this time to reconnect with his culture and with his family. It means so much to him to have his parents know his children and for me to know about the culture from which he comes.
I am content. I am happy. The bumpy roads I bounced along when we first arrived to Portugal have passed. There was a big turning point for me when one day I woke up and suddenly I understood the language. After months of just noise, I suddenly could hear the words. I can speak the words too. That has made an incredible difference.
I haven’t cooked a meal, cleaned a dish or a house or washed or folded a single piece of laundry in four months. I sit down to meals that are served to me and my cup is always full. My clothes are dried on the line in the hot Portuguese sun and then ironed and folded neatly. I can exercise for hours at a time on any given day. I love this way of life. I don’t know how I will transition back to the United States to the life where I try to maximize every second to be able to get it all done. Fortunately, I don’t need to worry about that for a little while yet.
Through our own individual trials and tribulations we have connected with each other as a family in a special way. We know each other well and have an intimate understanding of our family rhythm. It’s nice to have time together. This time has changed us and shaped us to become a healthier family. We have always loved each other – but its easier to love and laugh when time is being spent respecting one another and caring for one another in both good and bad times.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Friday the 13th
April 14, 2007
Since Portugal is predominantly a Catholic country, we have been a part of many Christian celebrations in the last six months. Yesterday was Friday the 13th and we took part in our first pagan celebration. Three cars full of friends and family traveled to the second highest mountain in Portugal to a village called Montalegre. Montalegre is located in the North of Portugal about 45 minutes from Chaves. It is known for having a history of sorcerers, spells and witchcraft. The town therefore celebrates Friday the 13th with an astounding event which begins at midnight.
We drove through dark mountain roads to Montalegre around 10:00pm on Friday night. Walking from our car through the narrow streets up towards the castle where the celebration was to take place, we all zipped up our jackets and turned up our collars as the high altitude brought a chill in the air. As we approached the castle, loud, eerie music boomed from the castle that loomed above. The castle was lit with barrels of fire, adorned with colorful banners and people in medieval costumes could be seen running along the edges. Seeing the castle like this made it easy to imagine the very same castle when it was inhabited hundreds of years ago. A loud voice called from a speaker within the castle inviting us in to watch a witch be held on trial for her evil spirit. There were easily 1000 people of all ages inside the great stonewalls at this late hour. The music though eerie was enchanting with the pulsating rhythm, the dancers on the walls moving to the beat and the fires burning all around us. The air was filled with smoke and the smell of kerosene. A witch was sentenced to death for her evil ways and then pushed off the high castle wall into the burning flames below. Though it was all a performance, it had credibility considering where we were. Next the ghost of the witch flew over our heads (held by a harness) in white flowing clothing. The lighting and the mystical music again played to our senses causing a chill to run up my spine. A priest in ancient robes said a prayer and they boiled firewater (the Portuguese version of moonshine) in a large caldron and then invited us all to sip the sweet concoction. The crowd pushed forward without order for a taste. The firewater was sweet and strong. The performance lasted only 30 minutes – but what an experience.
In addition to the excellent performance, the local restaurants all were a part of the celebration. Outside of the entrances to the restaurants were ladders leaning against the doorways causing people to pass under for bad luck. Inside, umbrellas were open and silverware was crossed. Drinks were served out of hornshaped mug.. People had come from all over to enjoy the festivities. In Portugal, it is typical to see many generations of families out enjoying a meal or an event together. I love the family aspect of this country.
We left Montalegre after the show and didn’t arrive to Chaves until the wee hours of the morning. I awoke the next day unsure of whether the night’s events truly had taken place. Given the strangeness of the whole event and the late hour, it felt more like a dream than reality
Since Portugal is predominantly a Catholic country, we have been a part of many Christian celebrations in the last six months. Yesterday was Friday the 13th and we took part in our first pagan celebration. Three cars full of friends and family traveled to the second highest mountain in Portugal to a village called Montalegre. Montalegre is located in the North of Portugal about 45 minutes from Chaves. It is known for having a history of sorcerers, spells and witchcraft. The town therefore celebrates Friday the 13th with an astounding event which begins at midnight.
We drove through dark mountain roads to Montalegre around 10:00pm on Friday night. Walking from our car through the narrow streets up towards the castle where the celebration was to take place, we all zipped up our jackets and turned up our collars as the high altitude brought a chill in the air. As we approached the castle, loud, eerie music boomed from the castle that loomed above. The castle was lit with barrels of fire, adorned with colorful banners and people in medieval costumes could be seen running along the edges. Seeing the castle like this made it easy to imagine the very same castle when it was inhabited hundreds of years ago. A loud voice called from a speaker within the castle inviting us in to watch a witch be held on trial for her evil spirit. There were easily 1000 people of all ages inside the great stonewalls at this late hour. The music though eerie was enchanting with the pulsating rhythm, the dancers on the walls moving to the beat and the fires burning all around us. The air was filled with smoke and the smell of kerosene. A witch was sentenced to death for her evil ways and then pushed off the high castle wall into the burning flames below. Though it was all a performance, it had credibility considering where we were. Next the ghost of the witch flew over our heads (held by a harness) in white flowing clothing. The lighting and the mystical music again played to our senses causing a chill to run up my spine. A priest in ancient robes said a prayer and they boiled firewater (the Portuguese version of moonshine) in a large caldron and then invited us all to sip the sweet concoction. The crowd pushed forward without order for a taste. The firewater was sweet and strong. The performance lasted only 30 minutes – but what an experience.
In addition to the excellent performance, the local restaurants all were a part of the celebration. Outside of the entrances to the restaurants were ladders leaning against the doorways causing people to pass under for bad luck. Inside, umbrellas were open and silverware was crossed. Drinks were served out of hornshaped mug.. People had come from all over to enjoy the festivities. In Portugal, it is typical to see many generations of families out enjoying a meal or an event together. I love the family aspect of this country.
We left Montalegre after the show and didn’t arrive to Chaves until the wee hours of the morning. I awoke the next day unsure of whether the night’s events truly had taken place. Given the strangeness of the whole event and the late hour, it felt more like a dream than reality
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Space Invaders
April 11, 2007
We drove to the moon today or at least that’s what it felt like. I am sitting in a small, cozy house in the highest village in Portugal on the mountain called Serra de Estrella. There is a bright orange fire crackling away in the corner of the small room in which I sit. The rain is falling down with big, wet heavy drops outside. Marcos and Duarte are curled up on pillows in front of me whispering….their talk before sleep. Jenna is sleeping soundly in the next room and my mom who is visiting is in her own room. It would seem strange to a local villager to look up at our window and see the glow of my computer as it seems that technology has no place here. It feels good to be comfortable, dry and warm as I sit to write and enjoy a quiet moment in this high mountain village.
I am constantly amazed by the magnificence of the differing landscapes of Portugal. From Sagres the southernmost point of Portugal with its high cliffs and beautiful surf, to Alentejo with its rolling hills, lazy inhabitants and wide landscapes dotted with cork and olive trees, the cities are cities with lots of hustle and bustle and now Serra de Estrella a high mountain with weathered villagers, goats and altitude. It is beautiful here but the terrain is different from anything I have seen before. The road up the mountain first passes through a relatively large city which seems to just barely hang on the edge of the mountain. Walking is only straight up or straight down. After the city, the road winds its way up the steep mountain with great vistas and precarious drop offs only inches away from the edge of the pavement. My mom had a hard time with the exposed drive – gripping the interior handles of the Land Rover with white knuckles. Duarte who was driving was exhilarated as we passed through the playground of his early outdoor experiences. He stretched his neck to point out the various places where he first learned to rock climb or ice climb or sea kayak or ski. The more he talked the quieter my mom became.
The glacial valley that descends the mountain has long green runoffs, waterfalls and large round boulders randomly dispersed as far as the eye can see. There aren’t any trees at this altitude. The only greenery is the sparse patches of moss or the low mountain shrubs. The large, granite boulders widely dispersed give the mountain and its valley a moonlike appearance. Traveling to the highest point on the mountain, we found snow to Marcos’ great delight. Having experienced his first winter without snow, it was apparent how much he missed snow play. He jumped out of the car in just his shirtsleeves ready to throw a snowball and make a snow angel. How odd it is to drive from warmth and greenery to the moon and find snow.
We are tourists in the small village where we are staying. We suddenly appear with our suitcases, cameras, brightly colored, high tech clothing and wallets. The villagers stare at us with the same fascination that we have as we watch the shepherds come in with their herds of sheep and goats. We are an oddity here. It’s impossible to imagine what life is like for those who live here. It is a cold and exposed existence with little comfort from the weather and land. The village is quite secluded and difficult to access. I wonder…How many of these people have ever been beyond the mountain? The expressions on some of their faces reveal contempt as they watch up pass through while they plow their fields by hand. How dare we venture to steel a look at their lives; to take a few pictures ...I believe they are thinking.. what frivolity to live for only a day here. We haven’t walked in their shoes at all. How many other tourists think that they have? There is a small tourism niche here that a few of the villagers have taken advantage of with stores filled with pottery, sheep skin lined slippers, stuffed animals, keychains and all of the other junk people seem to need or want.
This mountain and all of our travels throughout Portugal have showed me so many different ways of living and all of these ways are more simple and yet more difficult in some aspects than the life that I know in the United States. There are lessons to be taken back to my own chaotic lifestyle in State College. But I fear they are only lessons. Everyone is a product of their culture and like the sheep that are herded by the shepherds, we jump in and do our best to keep up with the others. I will rejoin my herd and follow the others and walk my path day in and day out. I’ll push to get ahead of some of the others but soon others will be ahead of me. What does it all mean? What is it all for? One could grow up in a quiet village on a high mountain in Portugal with nothing but sheep to look after day in and day out or one could live in the United States and quest for success, money, and fame. Whose life is better? And what does it matter anyway?
We drove to the moon today or at least that’s what it felt like. I am sitting in a small, cozy house in the highest village in Portugal on the mountain called Serra de Estrella. There is a bright orange fire crackling away in the corner of the small room in which I sit. The rain is falling down with big, wet heavy drops outside. Marcos and Duarte are curled up on pillows in front of me whispering….their talk before sleep. Jenna is sleeping soundly in the next room and my mom who is visiting is in her own room. It would seem strange to a local villager to look up at our window and see the glow of my computer as it seems that technology has no place here. It feels good to be comfortable, dry and warm as I sit to write and enjoy a quiet moment in this high mountain village.
I am constantly amazed by the magnificence of the differing landscapes of Portugal. From Sagres the southernmost point of Portugal with its high cliffs and beautiful surf, to Alentejo with its rolling hills, lazy inhabitants and wide landscapes dotted with cork and olive trees, the cities are cities with lots of hustle and bustle and now Serra de Estrella a high mountain with weathered villagers, goats and altitude. It is beautiful here but the terrain is different from anything I have seen before. The road up the mountain first passes through a relatively large city which seems to just barely hang on the edge of the mountain. Walking is only straight up or straight down. After the city, the road winds its way up the steep mountain with great vistas and precarious drop offs only inches away from the edge of the pavement. My mom had a hard time with the exposed drive – gripping the interior handles of the Land Rover with white knuckles. Duarte who was driving was exhilarated as we passed through the playground of his early outdoor experiences. He stretched his neck to point out the various places where he first learned to rock climb or ice climb or sea kayak or ski. The more he talked the quieter my mom became.
The glacial valley that descends the mountain has long green runoffs, waterfalls and large round boulders randomly dispersed as far as the eye can see. There aren’t any trees at this altitude. The only greenery is the sparse patches of moss or the low mountain shrubs. The large, granite boulders widely dispersed give the mountain and its valley a moonlike appearance. Traveling to the highest point on the mountain, we found snow to Marcos’ great delight. Having experienced his first winter without snow, it was apparent how much he missed snow play. He jumped out of the car in just his shirtsleeves ready to throw a snowball and make a snow angel. How odd it is to drive from warmth and greenery to the moon and find snow.
We are tourists in the small village where we are staying. We suddenly appear with our suitcases, cameras, brightly colored, high tech clothing and wallets. The villagers stare at us with the same fascination that we have as we watch the shepherds come in with their herds of sheep and goats. We are an oddity here. It’s impossible to imagine what life is like for those who live here. It is a cold and exposed existence with little comfort from the weather and land. The village is quite secluded and difficult to access. I wonder…How many of these people have ever been beyond the mountain? The expressions on some of their faces reveal contempt as they watch up pass through while they plow their fields by hand. How dare we venture to steel a look at their lives; to take a few pictures ...I believe they are thinking.. what frivolity to live for only a day here. We haven’t walked in their shoes at all. How many other tourists think that they have? There is a small tourism niche here that a few of the villagers have taken advantage of with stores filled with pottery, sheep skin lined slippers, stuffed animals, keychains and all of the other junk people seem to need or want.
This mountain and all of our travels throughout Portugal have showed me so many different ways of living and all of these ways are more simple and yet more difficult in some aspects than the life that I know in the United States. There are lessons to be taken back to my own chaotic lifestyle in State College. But I fear they are only lessons. Everyone is a product of their culture and like the sheep that are herded by the shepherds, we jump in and do our best to keep up with the others. I will rejoin my herd and follow the others and walk my path day in and day out. I’ll push to get ahead of some of the others but soon others will be ahead of me. What does it all mean? What is it all for? One could grow up in a quiet village on a high mountain in Portugal with nothing but sheep to look after day in and day out or one could live in the United States and quest for success, money, and fame. Whose life is better? And what does it matter anyway?
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Cabanas
March 27, 2007 - Cabanas
Life is so very good. We enjoyed five wonderful days in Sagres. Thursday turned out to be my best day of surfing. I rode the waves for 5 hours without stop under a clear blue sky in crystal clear water with long smooth waves. Saying goodbye to Rafeal, my surf instructor and his family on Friday afternoon after a morning of surfing felt like leaving old friends behind. The week of surf was incredible. I hope we will get back there someday.
From Sagres we traveled two hours east to a small fishing/tourism village called “Cabanas” which is also on the coast of Portugal where we met Duarte’s parents and some other family members. We enjoyed three very luxurious days there. The place where we stayed was amazing. Compared to the modest apartment we rented in Sagres for $22 dollars per night – we were living large. We had a beautiful suite situated on the ocean, complete with two bathrooms, a kitchen, and dining room. The resort included a heated swimming pool, a sauna, a hot tub, exercise equipment and more. Though such a place doesn’t typically fit our lifestyle or our budget, I must admit the plush way of living was pretty nice. The funny thing is that I have been there once before…it’s amazing to mark time as I remember my first visit there. Duarte and I were just beginning to get a bit more serious with our relationship. We were living in Clemson, SC and Duarte invited me to spend two weeks in Portugal. Not really sure where the relationship was going at that time, I was reluctant, but eventually agreed. After arriving to Lisbon from the United States, Duarte and I drove south to Cabanas. (His aunt and uncle have a timeshare there.) It seemed that we were so young and yet that was only 7 years ago. I was so impressed with this incredible place and all that we enjoyed during my first visit to this beautiful country. His “wooing” certainly was successful. The second visit was notably different with two kids running around the very same place where are relationship was just taking off.
The allure to Cabanas is really just sunshine and ocean. Two streets lined with small restaurants and a few shops are all there is to this little town. The fishing must be really good as there are lots of small wooden, hand painted boats that are tethered to the beach ready to go out early in the morning with their weathered owners for their daily catches. The fresh shrimp, crab and fish would be sold to local restaurants. Our meals in Cabanas were some of the best seafood meals I have ever eaten.
Running in Cabanas was wonderful as I found a dusty, unpaved road just past the main streets of Cabanas. The run could not have been more colorful had I been running in a fruit market. I passed peach trees, orange trees, lemon trees, fig trees, almond trees, olive trees, cactus’, and flowers of every color imaginable. The air smelled of orange blossoms and the road rambled along with nothing but beauty for miles and miles.
This trip had us living out of suitcases for 10 days. The kids are comfortable with our vagabond lifestyle. No longer did Jenna wake up wondering where she was at night. She was accepting of each new day and the different opportunities that she would be able to enjoy. Marcos loved it and finally became comfortable with change. I appreciate the time we have to explore the many treasures Portugal has to offer. With two and a half months remaining, I feel the urgency to grasp firmly to each incredible experience. There is so much more to see, do, feel… Viva Portugal!
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Surf Diaries
Sagres, Portugal – May 19, 2007
I am a beach girl – there is no doubt about it. I love the mountains and the mountains are where I live and work – but the beach is where my spirit soars. We are in Sagres, the southernmost point of Portugal and Europe. It was from here that the first explorers departed to discover the new world. High cliffs overlook the meeting of two great oceans – the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. Sagres is a surfing and windsurfing mecca for enthusiasts from around the world.
We are here to surf. Or rather, I am here to surf. A lifelong dream of mine is finally being fulfilled. Duarte surprised me on Christmas day with a certificate promising me one full week of surf lessons. Four hours a day to do something so incredibly self- serving. If it weren’t a gift I would never have even thought of such a luxury. This is one gift I wouldn’t return. As it turns out I will be having one week of private lessons with a Brazilian, English speaking instructor who has been surfing for 18 years. His name is Rafael.
Today I had my first lesson, I was so nervous, so anxious. Being a Florida girl, I have spent most of my life swimming only in warm water. If it is cold, I don’t go in. My greatest fear facing the week was getting into the cold water. Would I be able to go in? The day was uncharacteristically windy and the tide incredibly choppy. I wasn’t so sure. But dreams are dreams and there was no way I would let cold water stand in my way of a week of surf. My instructor fitted me with a nice wetsuit to keep me warm. Ahhh… already I was feeling more relaxed. Next we found a surfboard. Then we were off to the beach in the rusty old surf van of the International School of Surf.
At the praia de Tonel, high cliffs surrounded the choppy blue cove where I would have my first day of surfing. Though we were in a cove, there was not shelter from the violent wind. It was hard to open my eyes as the sand from the beach was blasting us with each gust. After thirty minutes of land instruction, Rafael and I headed for the ocean to give it a try. I entered the water with a rush of adrenaline. My breath was short with the cold water but the adrenaline kept me from really feeling the cold. The first nice wave came, I turned the board toward shore, paddled and I caught the very first wave I ever tried to surf! I was surfing!!! Okay, maybe it wasn’t pretty and I did fall pretty quickly but I did it. I was exhilarated. I played in the waves for about an hour practicing the motion of standing up over and over again. The current and the wind were so strong that it took all of the strength I had to get the board back out into the surf after catching each wave. After about 10 waves and one longer ride… I was pooped. It was a hard day. I am surprised by how physical surfing truly is.
Now as I anticipate tomorrow’s lesson, I hope that my aching muscles ease up so that I can enjoy tomorrow as fully as I did today. Man, I am tired. It would be nice if the wind would ease up as well.
Tuesday, May 20, 1997 – Surfing hurts.
Day two of surf lessons was brutal. I awoke this morning feeling surprisingly better than I expected to feel after a few hours of using muscles the day before that are not frequently used. Rafael picked me up in the surf van at 10:00am and off we went to scout the waves and the conditions. The wind was still blowing pretty hard but not nearly with the force as yesterday. The sun was shining and the temperatures were to get as high as 50 degrees today. I felt the day’s promise. We opted to return to the praia de Tonel once again. The conditions weren’t great but for learning they would be okay.
We entered the water right away. The wetsuit certainly kept me warmer than I would have been without it – but that water was COLD!! The North winds that had been blowing for two days now effectively cooled the ocean – much to my dismay. I managed to stand up on the first wave but I shivered all the way until I fell. Wave two turned out to be my best ride of the day. Not only did I stand up but I surfed it! What a rush! My confidence was soaring. The feeling of gliding and having control in the whitewater was fantastic. I couldn’t wait to catch the next one…and that is when my day took a turn. For the next hour, I was pounded by the washing machine-like waves coming in every direction. Because the cove is surrounded by high cliffs, the waves were being blown up against the high walls causing them to bounce off the walls and roll back sideways. At times there were waves coming from behind me, beside me and from in front of me. I took so many falls, so many attacks by unforgiving waves, I just couldn’t get it together. Wave after wave resulted in bruise after bruise, tweeked back, skinned feet. I really took a beating. I decided that I had had enough for the day when I could no longer feel my feet and I found that my lips were frozen in place. Rafael encouraged me to try one more wave which I did and it was a good one. I surfed that wave all the way to shore. I was too exhausted to appreciate my success and somehow willed my battered body to the place where my dry clothes waited along with a light snack. I survived the day – but just barely.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007 – A short but sweet day.
I awoke this morning thinking there would be no way I could get in the water and take a beating like I did yesterday. My body was screaming with pain. The temperature had dropped a few more degrees and the water was said to be even colder than yesterday. Argh. What had I gotten myself into? Why did I want to learn to surf anyway?
Rafael showed up at 10:00 as usual. We drove around and scouted the different beaches around Sagres and once again settled on Tonel. I willed myself into my wetsuit and reluctantly entered the water. Rafael opted not to go in today – the water would be too cold for him as he typically stands still in the water watching me and giving me feedback. And so, I was on my own. Fortunately the sea was calmer today and I was able to keep my footing as I pushed my surfboard through the waves to a point where I could start surfing. True to form, my first wave was a good one and I rode it all the way to land. I caught wave after wave doing my best to improve my stance and to gain control of the board. The ocean was much more kind to me today and I was grateful.
I was having a good day of surfing but I cut it short when the wind picked up and the ocean once again was rocking me as if I was a soft cloth is a big, sloshy washing machine. I figured I would quit while I was ahead. I realized that I am learning to surf in pretty extreme conditions – what would it be like with a calmer ocean and less wind?
Following the lesson, I entered our apartment with more steady legs to stand on, arms capable of holding my kids and enough energy to play for the remainder of the afternoon. Duarte bought Marcos a boogie board and Marcos was so excited. He couldn’t wait to show me his new “surfboard.” He exclaimed “I’m going to be a surfer just like Mama.”
Tomorrow is supposed to be a great day with less wind, warmer temperatures and smaller waves. That sounds good to me!
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