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!
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
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.
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