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Have a Good Friday!

| Mairead

2018 1

(There’s a castle over the next hill)

It’s Good Friday today so I thought I might retell the week in the life of an Easter story…  

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(This is the view from the castle walls)
My Diary:
Sunday: Everyone loved me today, they think I’m the best so much so they were waving palm trees and singing to me.
Monday: Quiet day.
Tuesday: Think I’ll organise a party for the lads.
Wednesday: There’s a lot of work in a party, but I have the venue and the food sorted and Peter’s taking care of the wine.
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(Things got scary quick, I went up some stone steps and now I’m on a ledge)
Thursday: The party is going great! There was a bit of unpleasantness with that one person (you know who I mean) I thought he was a friend but he’s gone off somewhere now so all good. I feel so close to the lads, that’s why I wanted to take care of their feet.
Much later on Thursday night: I have a bad feeling about something, I need some air. I feel really lonely and I’m afraid and so tired. I have a weird sense something awful is about happen… Hey he’s back and he’s got a gang of angry-looking people with him. Where are the lads?
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(More steps but theses are safe)
Friday: No one likes me. Someone’s been making up stories about me and the Gardai are involved. It’s painful on so many levels. I feel ashamed. But at least my Mam is here, but she’s crying, this is probably not going to end well. It ends… badly. Something dies in me.
Saturday: Everything stops, I feel like I’m in limbo.
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(Old stone carving)
Sunday: Hey the sun is shining! Maybe things aren’t so bad. I met some of the lads on the road, we went for a meal – they realise I’ve changed. I got to help some other friends with their work and they don’t even seem to recognise me. Maybe it’s going to be alright. I think it’s time to leave this area, start a new job, maybe get a haircut? I’ll visit some of the lads to say goodbye and give them a little gift, maybe some tips I once found useful…
Hope this is a good Friday for you, Mairead.

Road Trip

| Mairead

2018 4 1

(There was an amazing sky last night)

We went driving around the countryside today. That wasn’t the plan but that’s what happened. We woke early and my plan was to go take pictures at the beach 2km down the road. Off we set at 9.30am and we were still driving at 10am. We missed the turn. We arrived at a golf resort, a very pretty gated community. We eventually did find the beach and I took the pictures and then we returned to the town with the castle, Alcacer do Sal.

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(The beach at Comporta)

We planned to stop at the free aire in the town but it was closed off, possibly for some festival or market for Easter. We had a coffee by the river to re-group. The coffee I like is an Americano but I have not (until today) known what it’s called in Portugal. I have managed to order it each time using hand gestures and knowing the word for water and milk (with extra nose wrinkling for no milk, thank you) The very happy cafe owner told me, without using any English, it’s called solo. I will need to road test this at another cafe but for now I think it’s correct.

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(The peaceful barragem)

We found a new place to go. A barragem. That means a dam, seemingly there are lots all over Portugal and they usually allow overnight camping. We drove for about 30 minutes from the town and then pulled off onto a narrow road and arrived at a place in the middle of nowhere, buzzing with camper vans. There was a cafe and even toilets. When Denis turned off the engine and I opened the door the sense of peace was huge. I went off to soak it up and take pictures and Denis started work. When I got back it turned out there was one thing missing… internet.

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(Pretty flowers at the barragem)

We said goodbye to the neighbours from the Netherlands who had great English (and German and Spanish and probably Dutch…) naturally. We’re in a new town, there’s a castle 20 minutes walk away and a cafe approximately 70 meters away. It’s not as peaceful here but it does have internet.

From Peaceful Portugal, Mairead.

Storks deliver babies, right?

| Mairead

2018 1

(A pair of storks)

We’ve moved closer to the sea. Haven’t seen the sea yet today but we are in a near-the-seaside town. There’s a lot of blue and white-painted walls and houses. I went on a fact-finding mission. Wandering along the streets gives you a certain amount of information about a place. Where the cafes are, the restaurants, the little grocery shops, the GNR (police), the craft market (yes, there’s a craft market here this week!)

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(Fresh water… not sea)

But it also brings up a lot of questions. This town is different and I’m not sure why… the road out-of-town in the direction of the seaside has blue and white gateposts. Was this town off-limits at some time in the past? There are quite a few stork nests in town. The storks always make their nests on the highest perch… like electricity pylons or factory chimneys. I was looking at one nest when I spotted another near a cross on the top of a building. I thought it might be a church or a house with a cross on top, but my way to it was blocked and each new road I thought might lead there was a dead-end. Why is the church hard to find?

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(Beautiful blossoms near the church)

Eventually, there was an open gate onto a sandy road and it seemed to be going in the right direction but the gate… maybe it’s private property? A dog may be preparing itself to take a bite from my nether regions. In the distance I saw the church door open, almost calling me forward. I risked the (potential) dog bite and walked on. It was a church. The door was open. I went in. It was cool. Looks just like the other churches. No questions here. No dogs either.

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(Splash of colour, cute up-cycled table from window)

After church I had a coffee and wrote in my journal. A car stopped on the corner. Another car came up behind it and beeped the horn. This is the first time I have noticed cars beeping at each other. I have noticed that they are very patient and accepting of a sudden parking decision and they just pull around the stopped vehicle. Not here, not today. The second car pulls up beside the first and a loud conversation with much gesticulating ensues. A third car coming in the opposite direction blocks the second car and joins the first two in beeping. A fourth car arrives and joins in, all cars move closer to each other. More beeping. Then silence. The first beeping car reverses and everyone goes on their way one at a time. A knocking sound makes me look up. A stork is clapping his beak, it sounds like one of those wooden clapping toys. It’s all go here.

Sigh, Mairead.

Free things… Free things…

| Mairead

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(Good girl, waiting for the lights to change. Safety… free✔)

Besides the idea that is gestating slowly in my belly (!) I had a previous great idea (no, Grahame, not the photographing people one, another one). It came to me before we left home and I want to share it with you now. It’s an ebook of our travels in Portugal. Basically the blog posts all together in one place. It will be a very simple ebook journal of our time in Portugal. There won’t be any pictures, mainly because I haven’t seen an ebook method that does pictures well. So it doesn’t seem worth the mega-byte size the ebook would become just to add pictures and display them badly. The blog will still be available and will continue to have the pictures and there will be links from the ebook.

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(A little parcel of tinned fish… not free✖)

Of course taking out the pictures will mean the text may not always flow so I’ll be editing the posts to fit this format and I’ll be fixing the typos. I’ll also be adding an introduction and some notes about how we live and travel in Ruby. It will take a little time to set it up after we get back, let me know now if you want to to get a copy when it’s ready. The ebook will be free in exchange for your email and if you are interested in making a donation to charity, that’d be a bonus, absolutely no pressure.

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(Looking out at the view… free✔)

Last year when we were in France we visited a few war memorials and it had an effect on me. (I wrote about it here)  Added to that it turned out to be a very bumpy crossing on the way home from the French trip. Denis slept through it as always but I was awake hearing every sound and roll and all I could think about was an email I had received the previous month from the charity, Medecins Sans Frontieres. It told the story of a baby called Christ born in a boat in the Mediterranean. I was in a huge ship. I was tucked up in a comfortable bed. I was safe… and I was scared. Baby Christ and his mother were on an overcrowded boat when he was born… kinda put things in perspective. (Tap here for a link to the Medicines Sans Frontiers site where you can donate or just read the story)

Anyways, since then I’ve been thinking of ways to support their work. Mairead.

Expectations and Surprises

| Mairead

2018 1 2

(You might see some smoke coming from the street half way down and off to the right… there’s a woman barbecuing fish outside her house)

I’ve been on walkabout in our new town today, inspired by another exercise from the Creativity Workshop… The one where I meet me (or to be exact me from a parallel dimension) in a piazza in Florence. I’m sitting there in Florence having a coffee while I write in my journal and along comes me. We have a great chat about the differences in our lives. There’s not many differences, actually, but there is one big difference. Love.

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(Can you see the cute metal steps into this grocery shop?)

Remember how I was telling you about my idea pregnancy? How I get these great ideas all the time and how I fall in love with them but ultimately I fall out of love with them? I think there are a few reasons why I fall out of love, one is fear. Fear of failure. Another is giant expectation. Giant expectation that everything will go well. And finally a huge reason I fall out of love with ideas is to do with money. Financial success. I think they are useless… unless they bring me money, when I already have enough money to survive.

2018 1

(This is a statue of Pedro Nunes, he’s a famous mathematician, google him. He was born here)

It turns out I was disrespecting my amateur status. The dictionary (well the apple dictionary) says amateur is a person who engages in a pursuit especially a sport on an unpaid basis. Or more cruelly, a person considered contemptibly inept at a particular activity. Fortunately, these are not the only definitions and last week at the workshop I got the definition that best suits me. The me that lives in this parallel dimension (note: anytime you think this is weird remind yourself, nothing weird is going on here…) An amateur is someone who does what they do for the love of it and not for financial gain. Me in the other dimension (note: you know what to do) has embraced this definition. She does what has to be done to bring in enough money to survive and then she nourishes the idea she loves. She still has fear but that does not stop her. She has dropped giant expectations and instead enjoys the giant excitement of surprises.

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(Ciara! Fred has a Fred in a parallel dimension sunning himself here in Portugal)

So this morning after breakfast (and after doing the jobs that have to be done) I went off to meet the other me at a cafe by the river. I brought my journal and I ordered a coffee. She’s a great listener. She understand me, she doesn’t judge me, and I think she might even like me. I wanted her to tell me what to do now, this minute, to move my latest idea along faster but she wouldn’t. She reminded me of the slow gestation period. So I got a bit irritated with her. She didn’t mind, she just looked at a seat two tables over. I followed her gaze.

2018 2

(Blue tiles, blue sky)

Right so, we have to jump back here. To the Interview exercise. You remember Virginia? From a couple of days ago? She of the great story? I know I haven’t told you her story and it’s not ready yet but I will tell you as soon as I can. For now you just have to remember that I was interviewing Virginia and the process of temporarily becoming Virginia had a huge (maybe even profound? no, too pretentious, remember expectations? huge is grand) impact on me. Well that’s kinda my latest idea. (Are you keeping up? Should I set up a help desk?) Can’t go into details about the idea as I’m honouring its gestation period. Suffice to say it involves interviewing people… Got it?

2018 4

(An open door…)

So there I am this morning following the gaze of me (from a parallel dimension) when I see a young man sitting at a table two over. I say, you can’t be serious! Me (from a parallel dimension) says absolutely nothing…

Me: I can not interview him!

Me (from a parallel dimension):  Still says nothing…

Me: What if he doesn’t speak English?

Me (from a parallel dimension): …silence

Me: What if he thinks I’m selling something?

Me (from a parallel dimension): …silence

Me:What if he thinks I want to be his friend?

Me (from a parallel dimension): …nothing

Me: What if he wants to be my friend?

Me (from a parallel dimension): …nada

Me: What if he expects something?

Me (from a parallel dimension): What if he doesn’t?

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(I love the way this door is shedding its skin)

I can hardly believe what happened next… I picked up my bag and phone, I got up and went over to the young man and after confirming that he did indeed speak English (he was bilingual! Portuguese and English! I’m not joking) I told him about my idea. He talked to me. He didn’t expect anything and he didn’t want to be my friend.

This is me enjoying the giant excitement of surprises. Mairead.

Thanks Mam, for Picking my Dad

| Mairead

2018 2

(Our bridge at Alcacer do Sal in the afternoon…)

It’s my Dad’s birthday today. He died on this day 16 yeas ago, but he’s alive in everything I do. For instance this week he was at the Creativity Workshop with me (again, nothing weird going on here…) From the moment it was time to lay down on the floor for the first exercise, he was getting involved.

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(…at sunset)

The exercise was so relaxing, we were to think about our grandmother, didn’t matter which one or even if it was our real grandmother. Then we went off to visit her under the sea (note: no, I did not get into a body of water) because it turned out I could breathe under water (note: no). I was considering my maternal grandmother, getting settled into meeting her again, but no my Dad says, look it’s my mother! So I met my paternal grandmother under the sea. She was delighted to see me. She wanted to hear my stories. She gave me a green pebble with swirling designs on it and sent me back to fight a dragon. As you do.

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(…at night)

I suppose it’s my own fault. We had to bring something from childhood with us to the workshop. In my group the other two people, Jodie and Mitch (waves) brought pictures of their well-loved teddy and rabbit from babyhood. Pictures, because they were travelling by plane and their toy was so precious that plane travel was too dangerous. That’s precious. I couldn’t think what to bring, I didn’t have a childhood toy. So I brought a picture of my Dad and me when I was nearly two, I’m standing on his hand. So I brought my Dad to the workshop.

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(My dad and me doing our party trick!)

I’ve known about my acrobatic gift for a long time and I’ve seen the photo many times in the last 50+ years. I’m almost up to the ceiling and I’m as cool as a cucumber. I have the cutest shoes and the worst type of check kilt. I’m adorable, can hardly keep my eyes off myself. It’s only when I shared it with Jodie and Mitch and they point out my Dad’s face that I see how he looks at me. He can’t take his eyes off me and he looks so happy.

Imagine our lives if we knew we inspired that reaction just by being ourselves. Mairead.

Beware of: Beware of Pickpockets!

| Mairead

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(Black and white and red and green Lisbon…)

It’s 4am. I’m awake. I think. This week has been like a dream, maybe I’m not awake…

Here’s what happened at the workshop (and here’s a link to the website: thecreativityworkshop.com) Shelley and Alejandro said some stuff and now I believe I can be a fairy princess… No, no, not can be, I believe I am a fairy princess.

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(Go left, that is unless…)

Here’s what happened… there was an exercise on the first day called the Interview. You had to pair up in your free time with another participant and interview them with the purpose of introducing them to the group the next day. So I’ve been to enough workshops to recognise this exercise but, there’s a twist. When you sat in front of the group the next day you were your partner. (Note: I forgot to ask my partner for permission before she left yesterday so I won’t be using her real name or her details but I hope you’ll still get the gist.)

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(Tiles in Colégio Militar, my metro station by the big scary bridge)

My partner’s name is Virginia (note: see previous note, her name is not Virginia…) So when I sat in front of the class I said My name is Virginia and I come from Wales, the one in America (note: no she doesn’t…) and then proceeded to tell a story about Virginia. As if I was Virginia. Right, I’m going to assume you’ve got the idea. The being-your-partner twist might seem like a small twist, it was not a small twist for me.

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(Mats in Sintra)

Anyways, going back to the day of the interview. Day 1 of the Workshop, the day I got lost and un-lost going to the workshop and also got lost and un-lost returning from the workshop: In order to interview Virginia (who was determined to get to know as much of Lisbon as she could in 5 days) we travelled to the other side of the city for lunch and a flea market, as you do. So I was perfectly placed for the getting lost part of this story. I got lost. (As an aside I almost met, but didn’t because she didn’t know my name yet and felt shy of calling out, Hey you from my workshop, Karen (from Canada, who never reads blogs) had also travelled with her friend all the way across Lisbon, coincidentally, to precisely, exactly the same spot I got lost in… are you getting this? I hope you’re hearing Twilight Zone music.)

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(Fountain in Sintra)

Moving along and returning to the point. Picture this, I am losing myself in the tiny crowded streets of Lisbon. I have a backpack the size of a small child on my back carrying everything I might need (except plasters, but that’s a different story.) Google still doesn’t know where I am and the only thought in my mind is, beware of pickpockets. (I need to jump aside here again, to say: Beware of thinking: “beware of pickpockets”!) So that when Karen saw me, she said I was moving in a determined fashion (she used other words but this is a mixed audience, no just joking, I can’t remember her exact phrase.) What she didn’t know was that I had lost my mind (… to thinking). The moment I found my bus to the campsite, I remembered Virginia. Oh my god, Virginia’s story is amazing. Followed by, I wonder if she knows it’s amazing? All the way home on the bus and later in the camper van I was preparing for my starring role as Virginia. Not in the, oh holy god how will I get up in front of all these people I’ve just met? No, instead, I could hardly wait to get up in front of everyone! I imagined how I would do it. I would persuade Virginia that we should volunteer to go first! Neither Virginia nor Mairead seem like the volunteer-to-go-first types. But they did volunteer to go first and they told their stories first.

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(Cheese wrapper from keep-in-touch dinner in Sintra)

I want to tell you Virginia’s story, but as I mentioned earlier I forgot to ask and it’s a bit personal, so I will have to change it a little… but I’m tired now, so I’ll tell you tomorrow… or the next day.

Night, night, Mairead.

The inevitable happened…

| Mairead

2018 4 1

(I’ve run out of photos in Lisboa, so here’s even more narrow roads from Ericeira)

Still having a great time at the workshop. Here’s more news about my travel experiences. I took the bus-metro combination again today so I was singing songs again and I’m getting louder. This isn’t a problem because I travel across the big white up in the sky bridge very slowly and most people have reached the other side while I am getting to the top of the steps. In other words there’s no one around.

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(Modern mosaic…)

It was raining at the time so when I got into the metro I took off my coat and stuffed it into my rucksack. When I was getting out I realised my ticket was in my coat in my rucksack so I took out my coat again. I was distracted and I forgot to close up my rucksack. Disaster, my purse and my phone were at on top. The inevitable happened…. I was standing by the door waiting for my stop when a young girl tapped my arm. I turned but didn’t understand what she said. She persisted and pointed behind me. I looked at the seat I had vacated but there was nothing there. She tried again using English: your bag is open.

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(This way…)

Oh… and it was open. I thanked her in English and Portuguese and we both smiled. When the doors opened I turned back to wave and she said, have a nice day. It was such a small thing but it felt really big. We had a moment of smiling again and I said, You, have an especially nice day!

The inevitable thing that happens… is kindness, Mairead.

Is this morning sickness?

| Mairead

2018 4

(I like this house in the middle of the city. It’s behind a big gate, I peeped in…)

I think I might be pregnant or I’m a gardener… it’s one or the other, I’m not sure.

2018 1

(Who lives at 55?)

When I write a blog post I just sit down and start dumping all the things that are in my head into the computer. Then I delete some things, add some things, change some things, mix up some things, until I’m happy enough with what I see and then I post it. I never expect the first dump of words that come out of my head to be the finished post. I have to let them come out, not criticise them, not mistrust them, not judge them, not shout at them, just allow them. Allow them to sit in the computer for a while before it’s time for the pruning. Only then will they get a chance to thrive. This week at the workshop I realised I am a gardener for my blog.

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(There’s a garden behind this door…)

Last night I couldn’t sleep (me either, Julie!) because I have a great idea and I don’t know what to do. If you know me or get me or even just read me you will know that I say the sentence I have this great idea, regularly. It’s one of my favourite sentences in the whole, entire world. It’s always closely followed by a bunch of my least favourite sentences in the whole entire world, That’s a terrible idea. But how will I do it? I can’t do it! Someone else has already done it! People will think I’m ____. What if I can’t do it? I hate this idea!

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(This is a wise owl’s house)

This morning (3am ish) I started to think that maybe I need to be a gardener for my ideas? The gestation period for the blog posts lasts a few hours and then it’s born, but the gestation period for an idea lasts much longer. I’ve heard, a good gardener honours the gestation period of his seeds. He does not prod at the seed. He does not start pruning as soon as the first teeny tiny leaf pops out of the seed. He does not expect every seed will survive. He does not warn each seeds that his entire reputation and the reputation of his family depends on them and they better perform well.

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(Lines, angles and branches)

I am gestating a seed of an idea. It might take a while. It might take months. But nothing is gong to happen unless I put the seed in fertile soil, on a sunny window and water it. Even then nothing might happen. But I love this idea so much I will trust it to do its best to grow. This reminds me of a quote the I love from the Talmud, Every blade of grass has an angel that bends over it and whispers, “Grow! Grow!” I will be the angel for my idea.

Turns out I’m not pregnant, I’m an angel, Mairead.