A Question of Collage

April 11, 2018April 11, 2018 | Mairead

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(Close close-up of Cherry (or Apple?) Blossom)

It’s been cold and wet here the last few days. Both of us are feeling less than 100% and the cracks are beginning to show! So I’ve returned to crafting and specifically to cutting and pasting but with scissors and magazine paper this time. Much more satisfying than the digital version! It is a bit messier, takes longer to dry and the glue might be dangerous in such a confined space, but otherwise, grand. (Note: just joking about the glue.)

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(The tools)

I thought while I’m doing a collage I might as well add some meditation and a little intention to it and it was a lovely experience. Chased away the grey clouds for a while. The thing about collage is that it introduces a whole different way of looking at things. When you start cutting images and words out of the magazine you have no idea what might turn up. Then it’s done and it has drawn out some of your own wisdom to answer the question you had when you started. I think it’s a great way to find out what you want when you don’t know what you want, if you know what I mean.

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(The result)

Fortunately, other people can’t read your collage, only you can because it comes from your unique wisdom and creativity. That means it’s possible to hang it up in full view and no one will know what your thinking!! Also, the resulting collage can be a very long answer that most people aren’t interested in reading about someone else anyway. It has been fun in the making and in the reading. I think I’ll do more of this.

And the sun is back, Mairead.

Crafting Sunday

April 8, 2018April 8, 2018 | Mairead

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(Surely no one would attempt to drive up this lane?)

Today is an indoor day. The rain came back so it’s become Crafting Sunday. I brought a cupboard full of craft materials from Ireland. Not a big cupboard by house standards but we could have fitted a small washing machine in there… Fortunately we don’t need a small washing machine because more and more of the supermarkets have laundry facilities. Lucky.

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(Love these balconies)

But the problem with bringing so much kit is I have to sort through it all to work out what I will make. That’s why Linda’s craft kit was so useful. It had enough but not too much. Too much of a good thing isn’t better… it’s clutter. The great thing about living in the camper is there’s no room for clutter. At home I’m always tempted to leave things hanging around until tomorrow or the next day or next week. After a month of that you can gather a lot of clutter. If we did that here there’d be no room to sleep or eat or cook… or drive away.

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(Walking through Serpa)

So I tidy after each activity. One thing that used to stop me even starting a craft session was that I’d never get it finished before it was time to tidy up. Today I really needed to make something. You know that feeling? The need for colour or paper or glue or scissors? Maybe it’s not being able to take pictures in the rain. Whatever it is I had to unpack the craft cupboard.

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(No idea)

I uncovered some supplies and worked away until it was time to go for a walk. Exercise is important, even in the rain. Then it was time for writing. Writing is important even when there’s glue on your fingers. And soon it’ll be time for dinner. Dinner is important… it just is. Anyway I got about an hour of play and I haven’t tidied it away yet but when I do I’ll have a kit of half-finished cards to work on next time and that will make it easier to get back to crafting even when there is very little time.

Happy Crafting Sunday, Mairead.

Are you feeling me?

April 7, 2018April 7, 2018 | Mairead

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(This feels sort of happy sad with spikes and magic)

The reason I first started taking pictures was because at a workshop once we had to pick something we’d do in the following year. I didn’t know what to pick. I’d seen a programme on television about six months previously where some famous photographer was giving tips on taking better photographs. There was one photograph of railings and their shadow that I was mesmerised by… I was in awe because I didn’t know it was possible to do that. To press a button and out comes magic.

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(This feels wonder curious)

When I had to pick something for that long ago workshop I remembered the magic. Funny enough Denis had a camera he wasn’t using so I started using it. I didn’t care about the switches and dials on the camera, I just wanted to find a railing and press the button that makes me feel magic.

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(This feels sparkly cuddly)

Of all the creative things I’ve done taking photographs is the easiest. It might be because I don’t care how many hundreds I have to take before I feel a magic one. Or it might be because it’s the one area in my life I don’t feel I have to be good. It’s just for me. Or it might be because I don’t even see the pictures.

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(This feels like love)

You would think that taking pictures is a visual thing. For me it’s not just visual. My favourite way of “seeing” the world is kinaesthetically, I mean, my favourite way of seeing the world is feeling the world. That’s why pictures make me feel magic. I’m not interested in seeing magic I want to feel it.

There’s been 2,130 photograph/feelings (so far) on this trip, Mairead.

Spending time with Vera…

April 6, 2018April 6, 2018 | Mairead

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(Notice the colour for the houses here is white and grey)

I hear there’s more bad weather on it’s way to you. So I won’t mention that it’s been a lovely day here and I’m outside as I write watching the sun go down. There may be rain here tomorrow, may be. Although I was in the tourist office today and the poster was saying that Serpa gets more than 3000 hours of sunshine a year… In one year? Every year? Yes. Yes. It’s going to be very hard to leave now.

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(Look an angel on top of the spire)

I had a great day in other ways too. You’ll remember the day I interviewed the young man about a week ago? Well since then I’ve been a little bit confused about what to do with my interviews. I keep forgetting they’re still gestating and I wake up in a cold sweat thinking I should be feeding them… if you know what I mean. So today I had a talk to myself and went back to meet the parallel universe me, she wasn’t free so I met someone else.

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(I like number 26)

I decided to fit in a few pictures of the castle first, then on my way back I spotted a shop called Serpa Lovers. I didn’t know what kind of shop it was but it looked very inviting so I went in. There was a lady behind the counter and all I can say is my Portuguese must be improving because after I said Ola (Hello) and Bom Dia (Good morning. Yes I know… it was afternoon!) she started talking to me in Portuguese. She reverted to English when she saw my face.

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(They love Serpa… and so do I)

Serpa Lovers is her shop and it supports local produce like the cheese, olive oil, wine, crafts, art and activities. (When I looked at the website there’s loads of other stuff, like music lessons, romantic dinners, hot air ballooning, walking tours, tile painting… Their website has an English translation) I had missed lunch and she said she could make me some tapas. Tapas is my new favourite word so… of course I had tapas. The local cheese had been calling to me for a couple of days now so that’s what I choose and it was lovely. Also, there was herbal tea, not tea bag herbs but dried-and-still-looks-like-herbs herbal tea. I didn’t know which one I wanted so the lady (later I discovered her name is Vera) let me smell all the herbal tea containers and I choose a mix of three, mint, verbena and anise. It was lovely.

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(I do love the weathered effect)

Then halfway through my sandwich her two sons arrived. How did I know who they were? Sometimes language doesn’t get in the way and you just understand. Not the details but the gist of a scenario. Anyway, somehow we got talking after they left, Vera and I. It turns out she and her husband and the boys used to live in Lisboa. I was thinking, “brave woman to move to a new town with young children” but she talked about the hectic lifestyle, the expensive private school and something being missing so I started to lean in for a story. I wasn’t recording but some words stuck in my head, “the children were growing up between the hours of 8am and 7pm and that’s when they were in school.”

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(Here’s Vera (on the left) she was smiling all the time not just in the photo! That’s her friend on the right (forgot to ask her friend’s name!) And that’s Serpa Lovers. Look at the cute lampshade!)

An opportunity came up here in this place, Serpa, to do interesting work and also to start a business, so they moved but first they asked their then ten-year-old son’s opinion. And he replied with a question, “will this mean we four will spend more time together?” And that’s when tears came to my eyes because that was such a beautiful, wise thing for a child to ask. Of course the answer was YES from the parents and YES from the wise old soul. And although they work very hard they do spend more time together because they now live in this beautiful town where life is lived at a slower pace. Their children spend less time being driven places or collected from places, they walk to friends houses, they walk to school. At the end of the story both of us had tears in our eyes and I’m welling up again now.

Imagine living in a world where the most important thing is your presence. Mairead.

Bubbles and Connection

April 2, 2018April 2, 2018 | Mairead

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(The tiles are like wrapping paper)

Yesterday I went off exploring the town on my own with my camera. I took some pictures. I sat under a tree. I took some more pictures. I sat in a square. I walked on. I stopped to take another picture. If you had gone out at the same time with the same camera on the same streets you would have taken different pictures. Even if you took pictures of the same things you would have focussed on a different section. Or you would have zoomed in or zoomed out.

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(More wrapping paper)

I’ve been thinking a lot about the different bubble of knowledge/experience/emphasis we each bring to whatever we do and wherever we go. My bubble is different to yours and each of our bubbles today are different to what they were yesterday. Going for a walk with my camera was the perfect change of scene to disrupt my thinking and disrupt my bubble.

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(Street name)

I was thinking that when we communicate with another human being we are communicating across bubbles, that can distort the communication even when we are speaking the same language. But then sometimes we connect with a person and it’s almost like we pushed an internal button that aligned our bubble with their bubble and we’re talking the same bubble language.

2018 5

(On top of a column)

Then at other times we are irritated by someone and it’s like we pushed a different button and now our bubble is fizzing and popping and no matter what they say it’s irritating. Recently I met someone who irritated me. My bubble fizzed and popped in a way that was distasteful… (I can’t believe I’m sharing this with you) I went on and on in my mind about how silly she was, how annoying, how childish. Then something about the word childish stopped everything.

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(See the fields and mountains in the distance)

It was me who being childish. The fizzing and popping had stopped. She reminded me of me! The same mean voice that criticises me was criticising her. I knew which side of the hostilities I wanted to be on. I pushed the internal button, my bubble aligned with hers. At first nothing changed, then she seemed nice and then I wanted to connect. Turned out we didn’t have much in common and we’ll probably never be friends but she taught me to notice my bubble fizzing and popping.

Morto, Mairead.

For the Love of Portugal

March 31, 2018March 31, 2018 | Mairead

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(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.

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(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.

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(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.