Feira

Feira

Wednesday morning is the day of Feira in Chaves. This is my favorite day of the week because of all of hustle and bustle going on in town. As I have mentioned before EVERYONE puts on their nice clothes and heads in to town to buy food, seeds, animals, plants, clothes, etc. Filinto, Marcos, Jenna and I decided to join the crowd.

We woke up early, enjoyed a grand breakfast as always and drove into Chaves among every make of vehicle known to man. Filinto first took us to the animal trading area – which I have learned to despise as I think the animals are not treated with care. We didn’t stay long as the kids eyes grew big and teary within minutes of being there. Before leaving, Filinto bought a handmade leather collar with a handmade metal bell for his ram whom Marcos named Oliver. It was awesome to watch the craftsman work.

I love the gypsy section of Feira. It’s a little sketchy, very loud and fascinating. I like bargaining and buying cheap socks and underwear. Filinto was visibly uncomfortable at this part of Feira as were the kids but we didn’t leave before I purchased 10 pairs of underwear and 10 pairs of socks for Marcos. We ran into lots of people Filinto knew while we were there. Over and over again we all had to endure wet, cheek kisses from bristly, mustached old women. Yuck.

As we were walking away from the gypsy market, I noticed a “sports” section of Feira with lots of Portuguese soccer jerseys. Marcos loves this kind of thing so we stopped. Filinto insisted that he wanted to buy Jenna a mini skirt that said “Portugal” on the back. I insisted that she would wear no such thing. If he wanted to buy her something it should be a soccer uniform. He reluctantly agreed though the gypsies weren’t so sure. They continued to insist on the skirt. “No!” I said – “a uniform”. Well, within moments Jenna was clad in an oversized white Jersey and shorts. And what Jenna has, Marcos must also have. The two of them were identical and so incredibly cute, I couldn’t keep myself from laughing. There were Portuguese women clucking over Jenna and trying to get her into the skirt – which of course, didn’t happen. Marcos and Jenna walked proudly through Feira in their matching uniforms. It was great!

Our last stop was in the rabbit, duck and chicken section. Filinto had it in his mind that he would buy a male and female rabbit for the kids. I was nervous about this as I overheard a phone conversation earlier from a client who was ordering a dinner of rabbit for his arrival next week. The kids, however, were delighted to have their bunnies. Immediately, they were named “Zach” and “Princess flower.” I mentioned to Marcos that they should probably be called “Lunch” and “Dinner” but Marcos firmly disagreed. The kids enjoyed the afternoon with their bunnies and then put them in a rabbit cage and they have been feeding them. So far the bunnies are still with us. We’ll see what happens when that client arrives next week.

I was anxious to see Duarte’s reaction to the kids in their soccer uniforms. It was perfect. Marcos and Jenna went running into where Duarte was working and proudly showed him their new clothes. Duarte’s jaw dropped and he declared “I cannot believe it” and then said “Where did you find jerseys that say “Portugalc?” Portugalc? I hadn’t noticed that… Sure enough- the gypsies messed up and now we have two complet uniforms with “Portugalc” printed widely across the back for everyone to see. The kids don’t mind though and the uniforms were a part of their imaginative adventures for the remainder of the day.

Alone?

Ahhh. A moment to myself - which rarely seems to happen while we are in Portugal. Our interaction with Duarte’s family is so intense that we are with them from morning until night. This isn’t necessarily bad but I do feel like I’m “on” all of the time. I feel like I don’t have a place just to be me. In the United States our lives are busy and full but there are segments of time when individually we can get away. Even when I am working I am on my own. I am an autonomous woman in the United States. Living in a different country and living with Duarte’s family leaves me feeling overly dependent. There is so much that I miss and so much that I just don’t know. Adapting to another culture is not easy at all. A simple drive alone to the grocery store is stressful for me as I don’t know what the traffic signs mean or I don’t know to weigh the bananas before I get to the check out line – and so I am always accompanied by someone. Duarte must interpret everything.

After 10 days away, we have returned to an arid Chaves. The kids are in bed and Duarte is out with Lipe. I’m enjoying the night air on the front step of our village house. The sky is bright with color as the sun sets and the heat from the day is radiating from the granite street and granite walls. There is a gentle breeze. Voices from nearby houses fill the air as all the doors and windows are open allowing the night air to cool their warm houses.

I sit with a glass of wine. I take a deep breath. I take time to appreciate this beautiful world full of life around me. I can’t help but note the collision of cultures as I sit here with my computer while those around me have just put their plow horses away for the night. There is no cable up here. No satellite tv, no internet. There is a village phone that is located in someone’s house in the center of Sao Lourenco. I’m certainly out of place here – but so grateful to be in this place because this moment is mine alone.

And I’m glad I made note of it because now I see headlights shining on the house in front of ours and I hear the Land Rover’s engine. And once again, I’m no longer alone.

Some differences

Vila Nova de Milfontes
May 31, 2009

We’ve been travelling for a week and a half now. First Madeira without the kids and now Vila Nova Milfontes for the last week. Vila Nova Milfontes is a small, oceanside village in the south of Portugal. It is known for really good surf, good fishing, and of course good sun bathing. There are many beaches to choose from on any given day. One can choose a remote beach hidden between high cliffs or wide open, white sand beaches with aquamarine waters. There are so many beaches that it is easy to escape a crowd and enjoy a whole sweep of beach all to ourselves.

It has been a calm and relaxing week full of sunshine, sand and water play. After a weekend away from our kids, in Madeira we’ve been enjoying Marcos and Jenna’s energy and full days of playing in the sand. We’ve travelled to a different beach with each day we have been here. We’ve eaten a great variety of meals for better of for worse. I look forward to not feeling full at any given moment. Lipe was with us until Friday. We’ve been with Geninha and Filinto the entire time. We’ve enjoyed our time together and their love and attention to our kids but I’m pretty sure we mutually agree that it’s time for some distance. We’ll head back to Chaves tomorrow. I need to be back in our space with our stuff and with our own pace.

Portugal becomes less and less and more and more a mystery every time I visit. I’m fascinated by the vast differences in our cultures. Some of the things I’ve been noticing:

Lots of public displays of affection. Teenagers, adults – any place, any time are going at it… passionate kisses, loving caresses, tender embraces. Love is in the air in Portugal. Duarte has always been very affectionate – especially in the early days of our relationship. Being American and being conservative about public displays of affection I have curbed his open affection over the years…. Now I realize it is a part of his upbringing. Even with family members, Portuguese family members hold hands, hug, kiss, play with each other’s hair, etc. This is very different from my affectionless upbringing. I love that our kids are learning about affection and open love. Why hide it?

Portuguese are always late.

Portuguese cannot say goodbye.

Fashion matters way too much – but the fashion is sooo ugly from my American viewpoint.

A good cup of espresso completes a meal.

Wine is a staple of this culture. It is served at lunch and dinner and it is good!

I can’t figure out the two kisses thing. Who do I give two kisses to? Whom do
I just shake hands? Greetings are terribly awkward.

Portuguese sleep late, eat late and go to bed late. I’ve been out until 2:00 a.m. on many occasions since we have arrived and honestly it seems early when we finally turn in! Just the other night, we purchased a used surfboard from a classified ad at 1:00a.m. It was the seller’s idea! We then went out for drinks afterwards.

Food is plentiful – to a fault. I’m tired of food. Really tired of food. We’ve been eating in restaurants since we left Chaves and I have an opinion about how the Portuguese eat. The quality of the food is always extraordinary. Food is simply prepared with olive oil, salt, garlic and piri piri and it is ALWAYS delicious and ALWAYS abundant. As much as I enjoy the incredible food, I’m tired of the waste. The portions are huge and could easily be split between two or three people. After eating a big meal, we leave enough food on the table to feed two or three people. Taking food with you is unheard of unless you are truly taking food to feed your dog. Even then, take away boxes are hard to come by. Portuguese do eat well but I’m so full I could be happy not eating for the next week.

Enough for now. My affectionate husband awaits with a bottle of port and dessert. Go figure. I had a cup of espresso only minutes ago and it is now 11:00pm. I’m still dizzy and uncomfortably full from our huge fish dinner accompanied by local wine. I’m dressed in my fashionless American clothes and am eager to get into my ugly comfy pajamas but who knows if we’ll be out later or not. I’d like to stop writing but feel I can’t or I might offend. So… two kisses or a hand shake or simply a “prazer” I don’t know……………………I don’t know! Boa Noite???!!

I've been duped

I’ve been duped. Madeira, Portugal
May 24, 2009


I'm sitting in an open cafe in Madeira, Portugal. It's a bustling Sunday morning and I'm listening to the clang of church bells and the sounds of tourists breakfasting at tables beside ours. Duarte, Lipe and I are visiting Madeira for a long weekend without the kids. It is an odd thing to suddenly be on vacation and to know so little about the place where I'm visiting. Lipe has set up the entire weekend and I'm along for the ride. So, when I heard we were going to a tropical island way out in the Atlantic ocean - “an island like Hawaii” Duarte and Lipe said, I packed my bathing suit, a paperback and some shorts. I was duped.

Yes, this is an island like Hawaii. It’s very tropical with many banana plantations, black stones, volcanic peaks and EVERYTHING is on an incline... up, up up or down, down, down. But this is not a place to lounge on the beach. There really aren’t any beaches as the island is so rocky and steep. This is an island where people come to hike. Hike! Who goes on vacation to hike? Imagine my surprise.

Yesterday, after a winding drive up, around and through the mountain, I found myself at the highest elevation on the island away from the warmth, sunshine and blue skies in cotton shorts and a synthetic t-shirt. It was about 40 degrees and we were up in the clouds - no sun to be seen. We hiked through lush forests with about 500 other tourists to some pretty incredible waterfalls. Though the scenery truly was remarkable - the tourists were a big turn off for me.

Our hunger was great after 5 hours of hiking and so we sought a nice meal. We drove to a fishing village and had dinner on an outdoor patio overlooking the ocean. We ate “caco” bread and I enjoyed a meal of swordfish with bananas and “ponchas” and “nikitas” to drink. The meal was perfectly satisfying and I anticipated the day being over until we got a phone call. A friend of LIpe’s invited us over for dinner! Lipe wasn’t truthful and told him we hadn’t eaten because he didn’t want to offend the friend. So the next thing I know, we were sitting down for another huge Portuguese meal. It is offensive to hosts in this culture to refuse anything and to not take second helpings. As I mounded up my plate, I cursed Lipe for his deception. We waddled out of their ocean-view apartment around 1:00am. - filled to the top with food and wine.

Today the plan is to hike once again. Apparently today’s hike will be “very exposed.” I’m concerned about this as yesterday’s hike did not have this demarcation and there were times when the path was only 2.5 feet wide with a drop off so steep, I could not see the ground below (guard rails are “not typical.”) Keeping up with these adventurous Portuguese men has proven to be more than I bargained for. I’ll let you know how I fare today. I’m certain there will be some stories to tell.

Later…

Yes, I have a story to tell, damn it. Thirty minutes into our hike today, I realized that my overwhelming sense of vertigo was not to allow me to complete the planned 3- hour hike. This hike consisted of a 3 feet wide path with a light wire “guard rail” on either side. This flimsy guardrail was all that stood between the hiker and depths too far below for me to glimpse or fathom. I promptly bailed on the boys and decided to try my luck driving on this ridiculously steep island. I don’t know what was more risky the hike or the drive.

Lipe compassionately insisted that the drive would be easy and that I could “just meet them at the other peak” where they were hiking. He said – “just get in the car, go left at the first intersection and then look for signs”. He also said that the drive would take an hour and a half. Have you ever jumped in a car turned left and then seen a sign that points to your destination when the destination is over an hour away? Once again, I realized, I had been duped.

Lipe has a Portuguese speaking GPS navigation system for driving. Thinking I was being so crafty, I tampered with her to find the British speaker named Anna. Anna (aka: Matilda, dad!) and I quickly became enemies. She is a know it all who will not divulge information when I need it, nor is she trustworthy and she doesn’t tell me when I am wrong. I hate Anna. It would be hard to go into precise detail of all that occurred during the 2 hours Anna and I were together. I will say that I circled a little village more than 14 times before I gave up and cried. Also, I drove up an incline so steep it would have been better to have used a ladder and when I was half way up this hill (in first gear) another car came down the opposite way and I had to BACK UP!!!! F$%& Anna!

I’m now on the balcony of our hotel room hoping the acid reflux I experienced during my outing will soon go away. I called Duarte and Lipe and told them they were on their own for getting home. I wonder if they will make it back today? I wonder if I care?

For now, I’ll drink my beer, look out at the ocean and be so grateful for a peaceful moment in this ridiculous “vacation.”

A Very Good Day

Tuesday, April 18, 2009
To stay up into the wee hours of a new day with loved ones and watch from our very own window the last bit of light fade from the sky is a rare and treasured occurrence. Lipe joined us after we put the kids to bed for a night of pondering the meaning of life while sipping aguardente and musing over the perfection of that exact moment in time.

And so the day began and further opened to even more incredible moments that I want to remember and savor.

Duarte and I escaped for a few hours on our mountain bikes. We explored the ancient landscape and looked out upon spring all around us. The hills were alive with birds singing and flowers blooming, water trickling and fresh green meadows as far as the eye could see. The fragrance of lavender filled the air as our pedals brushed the purple flowers along the old, gravel road.

Being true to our way of exploring, we found ourselves lost on an old path off a more well-traveled road. Instead of turning around, we pressed forward and carried our bikes to the top of the hill. From above we looked down upon a field of tall, green grass swaying with the breeze. Within the grass were pockets of white chamomile flowers. We rode down through the shoulder high grass. I laughed with the swimming feeling I was experiencing. The grass gently brushed my legs, my arms and my body and the air was filled with the calming scent of chamomile. I couldn’t tell where my tires were going and just held on with a bit of adrenaline pulsing through my body.

After a deliciously hearty lunch at Quinta da Mata, Geninha and I took Jenna shopping. Jenna likes clothes and she likes shoes and she liked just about everything in the store. Her adoring grandmother indulged her with whatever her little heart desired and we walked out of the store with an entirely new wardrobe for Jenna who is only three years old. She looked pretty good in her white sunglasses, soft cotton – “gypsy” dress and her pink Hello Kitty shoes.

Just before dinner we stood in the driveway in front of Quinta da Mata. The sheep had come in as they normally do towards the end of the day. Duarte and his father were talking and I was watching Marcos and Jenna wrestle in the grass. I looked up and noticed 6 young sheep frolicking up and down the hill. They looked like dogs as they chased each other with youthful vigor. It was incredible to watch the silly sheep play so carelessly while their boring elders scrambled to eat a few more bites of grass before going to bed.

After dinner, Filinto walked up the hill to put the sheep into the barn for the night. Marcos ran out after him and they walked hand in hand to the barn to accomplish their task. My heart filled with love for this incredible life our children get to live and experience.

Portugal reminds me to slow down and open my senses and enjoy a day and all of its gifts. Today I felt the love of my family, I smelled the fragrance of wildflowers, I was touched by long, soft grass swaying in the breeze, and the music of a thousand birds filled my ears. I lived this day well. And now I’ll descend our spiral staircase to our dark little bedroom and count the church bells until my eyes will no longer stay open. Ate mana.

A Better Place

April 17, 2009

Arriving in Portugal this time has felt extraordinarily different from the many other times we have arrived in Portugal. Walking into Quinta da Mata was like walking into my own home. It felt so familiar and pleasant. Instantly I felt the love of home and the smell of an old place and I knew there would be many good days ahead.

What has changed is me. Another year has passed with it trial and tribulations. Our every day battle for balance and peace is puzzling as we find it here so readily. Duarte and I are frequently at odds with one another at home, there are so many things to be done, and the kids have needs. In Portugal, all of this dissipates and we become very different people - Happier, more agreeable people.

Duarte and I are enjoying laughter and easy conversation. We hop on our bikes and travel over the varied landscape and talk and talk without any tension whatsoever. Marcos and Jenna are free and independent. Marcos KNOWS Quinta da Mata. He is the master of his own big world here. He can hike about the farm, pick cherries from the trees, catch big air on his own bicycle ramps and cuddle up in a chair with his dog “Bella.” Jenna finally seems old enough to be a kid here. She and her grandfather hike up to the chicken cages and gather warm eggs from the chickens. Her eyes twinkle from this experience. She is so happy.

My heart is full of love and peace and balance. Portugal is good for my soul. I’m very glad to be here.

2 days remaining

2 days remaining.
June 18, 2008

Two days remaining. Everyone feels the time as its passing grips our hearts. We arrived to the breakfast table this morning to find Geninha’s eyes red and swollen from crying. She watches Jenna closely – memorizing every detail of her precious granddaughter. Filinto has let work go to play soccer with Marcos or to take him for an ice cream or to play in the pool. Duarte also seems to be feeling the tugging of his heart strings. He will be leaving his mother, his father, his brother and his homeland. His eyes tear easily- which is unusual for me to see. And how can I not feel anything? I feel it all because my senses are more aware. I hurt for everyone. OUr kids are so happy here – we are all so happy here. We will be leaving much behind. This is a place full of love. How fortunate we are – but, oh, how it hurts to say goodbye.