Son of Alcacér do Sal

(Statue of Pedro Nunes in Alcacér do Sal)

After Setúbal we moved to the town of Alcacér do Sal. We were here last year. You might remember it was the place I built up the courage to ask someone to tell me their story?

(Famous guy born here)

The weather was beautiful and we settled down in a parking space on the banks of the Sado river with views of the town. From the van I could see, across the river, the statue in the first picture above and remembered seeing it last time too but I couldn’t remember who it was.

(Bought the book)

When we were in Porto on the morning before our tour I spotted a pretty book shop. There’s lots of lovely book shops but what made this one so interesting was there was a book in English in the window. It was called A Very Short History of Portugal by A.H. De Oliveira Marques. I have wanted to know more about Portuguese history since first going to the town of Beja two years ago. At one of the old churches I met a lovely guide with very little English but loads of passion for the history of his town and country. So of course I bought the book.

(Night time in Alcacér do Sal)

Now I have learned something very interesting from this book. That is to, Read the Title. Read it a few times to be sure this is the book you want. I read the title and was immediately attracted by the fact it was in English. Then it said Short. In fact it said Very Short. Excellent. Unfortunately, it was missing one word. Simple.

(Cute narrow streets)

The history of Portugal is long because a lot happened since man arrived here more than 4000 years ago. The author of the book is a renowned historian, he has degrees from all over the world, he was a professor in Portugal and Germany and America and he died in 2007. He has a lot to say. Making it very short was probably really, really difficult for him and he never promised simple. I thought short meant simple. So I pushed it to the back of the craft cupboard to lessen my guilty for not reading it.

(And loads of steps)

Then I saw the Pedro Nunes statue and he was born in Alcacér do Sal, I wondered… I couldn’t find him in the book, he’d probably in the long version but I googled him and he invented something complicated for navigation. He was also a professor. What I did find in the book was Portugal in the 1500’s started getting into exploration and were really good at it. The king was interested and he provided the money to make it possible. They more than any one else proved through experience that the world was round. By 1640 things were going bad though, wars, fighting with neighbours, king issues. But for a short period of time Portugal was the smartest and richest country in the world.

Anyone interested in a barely used very short history of Portugal? Mairead.

(That’s Alcácer do Sal south east of Setúbal. Free parking by the river, public toilets nearby. There’s also a nice municipal campsite outside the town and a great tapas restaurant up the hill)

Expectations and Surprises

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(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.

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(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.

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(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?

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(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

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(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.