all is well

For the Love of Portugal

| Mairead

2018 13

(The cows have big horns here!)

Two years ago when we first came to Portugal we stayed in campsites whenever we could. This year we only stay when we really need electricity or a shower. Today we have arrived at a campsites we stayed in for ten days that first year. It’s nothing to write home about, as they say… but since I am writing home about it…  maybe it is? It seems like it’s been here forever. The electricity points aren’t as conveniently placed as they could be. The driving surface is very uneven. The toilet/shower/clothes washing (hand washing not machine!) block probably dates back to the seventies. The parking spaces are not marked so it’s hard to figure out where we should position ourselves and it’s on a slope.

2018 12

(Looks like wood but it’s some kind of rock)

So why do we love it? And we do love it. It reminds me of a book I used to read to my children (what should I call grown children?)… when they were children. It was called Awful Arabella by Bill Gillham and was illustrated by Margaret Chamberlain. I think I could possibly recite the whole book I read it so often but basically the story is of a little terror of a girl who came on a visit. She was very naughty but in the end in spite of all her naughtiness everyone was very unhappy when she left.

2018 14

(I love this tree out on it’s own in the field)

I think it’s the thing I love about Portugal. It’s ok with how it is and that’s really attractive. It changes slowly the things it can change but it accepts the rest and gets on with planting, weeding and watering vegetables and people. I know I’m simplifying an entire nation and making huge assumptions while being unable to read the newspapers or understand the television, but… it’s different here and I’m having such a lovely time making sense of it all.

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(Beautiful weathered door)

Each time we arrive in Portugal we’ve been travelling for days through two other countries, France and Spain. France is different to Ireland in so many ways and Spain is also so different to Ireland. Then we get to Portugal and it is very different to Spain and France! Even though it’s so very close in distance. But, and here’s the odd thing, it’s very like Ireland. Ok not the weather. Or the cost of living. Or the language. It’s something less tangible. Could it be that Ireland was joined onto Portugal in the ice age? Could this be why we are so disappointed by our weather?

Is anyone up for towing Ireland down here where it belongs? 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.

2018 5

(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.

2018 7

(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.

2018 8

(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!)

2018 2

(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?

2018 3

(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.

2018 4

(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.

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.

2018 6

(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.

2018 5

(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?

2018 5 1

(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.

Beware of: Beware of Pickpockets!

| Mairead

IMG 3348

(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.

IMG 3351

(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.

2018 3 1

(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!

2018 3 1

(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.

2018 1 1

(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.

The Portuguese Cafe God

| Mairead

2018 5

(Yesterday morning I had to cross this scary bridge, it goes over two dual carriageways! I sang Christmas songs to myself to stop me closing my eyes and lying down. I went back today to take pictures for you.. you’re welcome)

I am having a ball at my workshop! Can’t find a way to write about it yet because there are so many things to write. So what I do when I have too much choices I set boundaries… I’m only going to talk about getting to my workshop for today. Well I got there, that’s the best bit. I did get lost… and while I was lost the data on my phone wasn’t working so I couldn’t find myself…

2018 6

(It’s very high, trucks go under it))

That’s when I invoked one of the gods – the god of Portuguese cafes (note: not a real god). He lives behind the most unattractive of exteriors, so be prepared. If you see a beautiful or pretty or plastic perfect cafe – that’s not the place. Choose a cafe you think is closed or old and wrinkled or dark and uninviting. That’s where he lives. I found him when I couldn’t find myself.

2018 2

(Potentially a perfect home for the god of Portuguese cafes, unfortunately it’s not a cafe)

I had a choice. On one corner there was a shiny new lovely looking cafe. On the opposite corner there was an old and shabby cafe. The lady behind the counter was busy but eventually she spotted little lost me and gave me that pained quizzical look we all give to someone we don’t understand. I used to be afraid of that look, now I am in awe that someone is curious enough to wonder what it is I’m saying. I was saying big coffee and pastry. She worked it out.

2018 3

(When I got here I found myself)

Then I sat with my coffee and pastry at a table with god (note: do not be afraid there’s nothing weird going on here… probably) and I opened my detailed paper map. It’s a great map, I could see exactly where the workshop venue was which made me hopeful but I could not see where I was. I opened my phone, google didn’t know where I was either. God said (note:see previous note…) drink your coffee and eat your nata, it’s all going to be fine-ish. I drank my very good coffee and ate my very good nata.

2018 1

( I got lost on the way home too, but if I hadn’t I would have missed this: a street that seems too narrow to drive up… that have no fear)

I paid the lady as I was leaving and had an idea to ask her if she might un-lost me. She looked at my map, she looked at me, then she said some old magic words (she might have been invoking god too… or it could have just been Portuguese) and she pointed down the road. You know I’m still not sure if she knew where I was going but she pointed me in the right direction. She did. I found my way.

Kind stranger ✔ Mairead.

P.S. Denis says I need a disclaimer… DISCLAIMER. DISCLAIMER: please be advised that we take no responsibility for the result you get when following the choosing a cafe suggestion above…

To Lisbon by river…

| Mairead

2018 1 3

(Art in the park… looks like LEGO but made from plastic crates)

After the ruins we moved an hour further south to a small town called Villa Nova da Barquinha. It is right on the river Tagus. That’s the river that starts in Spain and runs out to the sea at Lisbon. When we arrived we parked as close to the river as we could. I did think, what a fast flowing river. It was definitely rushing past.

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(Another art piece, my favourite, stone columns with wire trees)

Also, the reviews in the parking app. mentioned that it was a quiet spot by a nice park and although it was beside a nice park, it wasn’t very quiet. Cars arrived constantly all afternoon and even thought it was raining most of the time, the occupants would hop out and go down to the edge of the water. Then they’d get back into their cars and drive off. By 6pm it was getting dark and the arrivals and departures had decreased.

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(Can you see the crime scene tape? The river was the suspect… That’s our parking space on the right)

Denis had just put on the burgers when a knock came to the door…. that’s unusual. A woman from the neighbouring (Belgian) camper was telling us that the police (who were just outside erecting crime scene tape…) had arrived to tell us all to move further away from the water for our safety. They (or maybe the water board) would be opening a dam tonight because of all the rain and there may be flooding!

2018 2 3

(Three meters deep here)

The cooking stopped and everything got fired into a cupboard (except for the frying pan, it was still hot so I held on to it) and we started moving away from the water. We moved about 200m up the road, me with the frying pan still in my hand directing the reversing. Denis returned to the cooking and I retrieved the things from the cupboard.

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(At least the ducks are happy)

Later that night I realised all the cars during the day were checking out the river, it’s probably not normally so high or so fast flowing. The cars continued to visit and so did the police but I fell asleep without too much trouble. But then at midnight… I’m awake, wide awake. Every sound is the sound of a river flooding and taking the van and us off to Lisbon… and not in a good way. I eventually got up and made myself a calming cup of Camomile tea while silently repeating that’s just a thought, that’s just a thought. Last time I looked it was 2am and then the alarm went off at seven.

While I’m feeling a little tetchy with the tiredness I am grateful we weren’t transported to Lisbon, Mairead.