The house special and a van full of whiskey…

March 3, 2016March 2, 2016 | Mairead

(Spotted this van near reception yesterday)

Whiskey Van

(The writing on the side…)

We are still in Luz near Lagos and it’s just starting to get warm enough to sit outside and write… wearing three layers, thick fleece, woolly socks, boots and sun hat! So this is what spring looks like… here. I’ve been getting weather reports from my Mam and twitter (two very good sources) and spring in Ireland seems a little different. We went to visit the southern edge of Europe on Saturday, the bit of Portugal that points south into the Atlantic Ocean. It was very windy and then rainy and then sunny, familiar. Familiar is nice.

(The tip of Portugal looks a bit like an open crab claw with Cabo de São Vicente (above) on one tip and Sagres on the other)

We met a lovely couple on the bus to Lagos last week who recommended a restaurant in the nearby village. You really don’t need recommendations as the food in Portugal has been really good, no matter where we go. This one wasn’t Portuguese but we thought we’d give it a try anyway.

(The landscape at Ponta de Sagres. Kinda like the Burren?)

There were lots of free tables when we got there but despite my very winning smile (normally..) the grumpy man behind the bar didn’t react to our arrival, so we picked a good spot, sat down and waited. We waited a long time during which the occupants of the only other table had taken out their iPod and started a 70’s sing-a-long. Maybe this was the wrong place?

(The lighthouse at the fort on Ponta de Sagres)

While we were considering our options the grumpy man arrived with menus saying, there’s a lovely Chicken Pie special. We spotted some interesting dishes on the menu and when he arrived back with drinks we asked about a few. Each special we asked about was off or finished or just for the summer season and then he mentioned the lovely Chicken Pie again… we looked at each other and there was a long pause…

(The beach at the peninsula behind the fort at Ponta de Sagres)

I gave in first, I’ll have the Chicken Pie, please. The grumpy man perked up slightly. Denis wasn’t ready to let go of an interesting steak and sausage thingy and tried again. To which grumpy man replied, ok but it’ll take a while, I have to defrost the sausage. Denis was torn but smart enough to say, no, sur’ I’ll have the special too, thanks. Grumpy man almost smiled. The Chicken Pie was very nice and by the end of the night we were humming along with Gloria Gaynor’s I will Survive.

We have a new rule: Portuguese Restaurants Only. Mairead.

Making peace with embarrassment

February 25, 2016February 24, 2016 | Mairead

(Palm tree trunk)

We’re still in Luz so I’m getting comfortable here, starting to feel right at home… which means some of my old habits are popping up. (By the way, I’m working away happily on my book so that’s probably why I keep thinking of habits and beliefs.)

(Lagos, old town)

So… one of my habits is, I see something I want to do but just before I do it, I think, “nooo, I would look stupid, much too embarrassing to do that!” Then afterwards when I don’t do it I feel a bit miserable for not doing it. A bit of a misery cycle. This habit is masking a couple of beliefs. The one that stops me doing the thing I want to do: What other people think of me is important and it needs to be positive. And the one that makes me feel miserable when I don’t do it: Trying new things is really good for my health. A bit of a self-judgemental cycle.

(Like blue sky)

At the same time I have returned to meditation, fifteen minutes every morning. And there’s something useful in the meditation practice that can help me untangle the misery and self-judgemental cycles. It’s about noticing whatever it is you’re feeling, just noticing, not thinking, just noticing… in your body. Not in your head, in your body. (Over emphasising might be a habit too?)

(Blue water, blue boat, blue jacket, blue hat)

So… I’m practicing meditation on my embarrassment. Each day (since Monday) I do one thing that I know would cause me to feel embarrassed and I notice what that’s like. In. My. Body. Monday morning I went to the outdoor gym! I had been looking at the equipment since last Wednesday when we arrived, thinking that looks like fun! Then the misery/self-judgemental cycle began, so I didn’t dare.

(Boat for sale…)

But on Monday morning I got into my baggy pants and approached the gym area. Slowly. Giving me time to notice the embarrassment and I noticed it… but it was a bit different. Too late to turn back I arrived at the area and there’s another camper doing gym things (and doing them really well) smiling and saying hello. Having a lot of embarrassing thoughts now but remembering just in time to NOTICE IN MY BODY I squeak out, Hi, which one of these is good for a beginner?

(Cobblestones)

She is really friendly, Dutch or German I think and delighted to point me towards a swing-swong kind of thing and I start swinging and it is fun. So much so that I try a stand-up-rowing machine thing next but that’s a bit harder. Just as I start to feel stupid and think this is too hard I remember to NOTICE IN MY BODY and I slow down and it’s ok. Feeling embarrassed is actually ok… the thing that’s upsetting is the thinking about being embarrassed, the thinking about the people watching, the thinking about the people who are good at this fun thing.

(Rocks and sea at Luz… doesn’t it look like Greystones? Or does everything remind us of Ireland?)

Sooo, I’m stand-up-rowing with a smile on my face and a hello for all the people walking by and my new Dutch or German friend says, the hardest thing is to stop yourself competing with other people, just do your best. Well, wasn’t that lovely? I feel quite emotional all of a sudden. I’m rowing away and I’m thinking this embarrassment thing isn’t so bad. Then a group of six toned Swedish women jog past and I wave and nearly fall off my stand-up-rowing machine.

There should be a health warning on these machines, Mairead.

Chicken Farming on the coast of Portugal

February 22, 2016 | Mairead

(Walking along the promenade, Lagos)

We have arrived in the south part of Portugal – the Algarve. We are about 2 km from a town called Luz and 6km from the city of Lagos (pronounced Laa Gosh.) The sun is back and today we cycled to the nearest beach in Luz. I feel very virtuous even though I had to walk the bit over the little hill… I had forgotten how great it felt to cycle. Yesterday we took the bus to Lagos and got lots of pictures. We found a very old walled town by the sea and a modern marina full of big boats.

(Lagos, old town)

We walked up and down the small streets, until we found a little cafe and settled down to writing postcards. Well, I was writing postcards, Denis was reading a book about Victoria and Albert (of Victoria and Albert museum, Queen Victoria, Albert Hall, fame…) He was really enjoying the book and every now and again he’d start chuckling…

(Lost of colour in Lagos)

To be honest it was a bit distracting, so I stopped writing to get curious about something that’s been on my mind – Failure. Or… how to consider the concept of failure in a different way. The phrase Fail… to Move On was in my head when I woke up yesterday morning. I think the easiest way to explain what I’m trying to say is with a little story….

(Love old doors, Lagos)

Once upon a time there was a young man, called, João (pronounced Jue/wan, Portuguese for John.) João had dreamed of being a chicken farmer since he was a boy. His dream had finally come true and he had enough money to purchase a small holding with chickens. He was working full-time as a builder but at the weekends he sold his chicken’s eggs at the market. He had plans to increase his holding and rent his neighbour’s field next door. Then the fox came with his extended family of foxes and most of the chickens were killed. The ones who survived were so traumatised that they stopped laying, got sick and died.

(Some boats at the marina in Lagos, for Dave)

João had no eggs to sell at the weekend markets and no chickens to take care of, he was heartbroken. His neighbour felt very sorry for him and invited him over for coffee one morning. They got chatting and the neighbour told João about his cousin, Sara (pronounced Serra) in the next town who had a chicken farm. Since her husband died she found it very hard to do all the work on her own. Maybe João would consider helping her? João said no he had enough of the chicken game, he was going to give up on his dream and settle down to normal life. The neighbour understood and said no harm done just though I’d ask. She’s very good-looking.

Saw this pretty thing as I was about to sit on it!)

João thought he’s misheard his neighbour so he said, Sorry? The neighbour explained that Sara, the chicken farmer, had been widowed young and was in fact, the same age as João. Also, she was a very good-looking woman. Oh. Right. João finished up his coffee, said thank you to the neighbour and set off for home. He sat in his kitchen late that night looking out at his empty chicken run. When he woke in the morning he had decided that there would be no harm in having a chat with the chicken farmer. If nothing else he’d have a look at her chickens, he missed looking at chickens.

(Choppy seas but warm air in Luz)

Fail… To Move On. What if failure stops us settling for less? Opening the way to move on to the real thing…. Mairead.