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  • Stockholm, Sweden

    Or as my friend David describes it: The Venice of the North

    Ten years ago, a friend of mine and I rented a car and drove from Oslo to Copenhagen. Having spent just one night in Stockholm, it seemed like the right time for a longer visit. The country has had relaxed COVID-19 restrictions from the beginning of the pandemic and since I am vaccinated and an expert at social distancing, I booked the trip hoping it would not be one of the ones to be cancelled (I’ve had 10 or more cancelled holidays since March 2020).

    The principle reason for this trip: I was invited to a gin tasting party in Vilamoura, Portugal shortly after moving to Faro. It was one of my first events as a retiree and I felt like a kid on his first day of school. If I am to be honest, it was a big trip to make just to taste some gin. But . . . there is a reason they say, “You never know what the day will bring.” At the end of the tasting I met a Swedish couple who had only moved to Portugal two weeks after me. Unlike the others at the tasting they were warm and welcoming; we became fast friends. They are the reason I visited Stockholm and Kälholmen island. I was invited over two years ago. The pandemic kept me away for awhile, but not forever.

    I scheduled a few days in Stockholm prior to taking the trip to their island paradise.

    During the first few days of my trip I was blessed with magnificent clear skies and temperate sunshine. One of the nice things about going to Sweden in the summer, is the almost springlike weather.

    Three Very Different Overnight Accomodations

    1. An airbnb in Östermalm — My small studio was in a beautiful neighborhood filled will parks, eateries, and waterways. It was about a 30 minute walk to the Old Town and other sights. It was billed as a writer’s studio because it was on the top floor and had a skylight and writing desk. It was everything I love about Airbnbs; quiet, away from tourists, and affordable. I did not meet the host — it was perfect.
    Listing image 7
    Writer’s Studio

    2. Källholmen Island — 2.5 hours from Stockholm by ferry. My friend’s cozy cottage; surrounded by water and nature, no running water and bathing in the Baltic Sea. The Swedes prefer and enjoy island living in the summer and Sweden has thousands of beautiful islands, small and large.

    My bathtub

    3. Blique by Nobis

    A bit fancier and a nice way to end my stay in Stockholm. Strange name perhaps, but this boutique hotel was far from strange. Beautifully designed, new, and a bit trendy. The bed was fantastic and that makes me very happy. Odd to have down comforters in August, but heck, it’s Sweden so I just opened the window. An excellent gym helped with some of the guilt from this trip. Breakfast was included and it was one of the best buffets I have experienced.

    Eating in Stockholm

    I was impressed with the restaurant options in Stockholm; every type of cuisine I love was available. The Algarve does not have a Korean restaurant, making Korean a must. There were many Korean restaurants in Stockholm, some right near my hotel. Even my hotel’s rooftop restaurant had Korean food on the menu. I thought about going out for Italian food, but Asian won out again. I also indulged in Thai and Vietnamese cuisine.

    Ulla Winbladh

    My new friends took me out for dinner at this beautiful, authentic Swedish restaurant, located in a beautiful park minutes from Stockholm’s center.

    “At Ulla Winbladh you can enjoy authentic Swedish food crafts in a historic environment. Here we serve home-cooked food as it should always be, that is: a purely mind-expanding experience.
    The inn Ulla Winbladh, whose name takes its inspiration from the national poet Bellman’s muse, is well known for its high-class Swedish food tradition. The inn in 1897 is something as unusual as a popular concept restaurant.

    The building in which Wärdshuset Ulla Winbladh is housed was originally built for the Stockholm Art and Industry Exhibition in 1897 by the architect Gustav Wickman. From the beginning, the facilities housed an ultra-modern steam bakery at the time and was then called Reinholds Ångbageri. Later, the business became a patisserie where, among other things, waffles with whipped cream and jam were served. When the patisserie was transformed into a restaurant in the mid-50s, the name was changed to Wärdshuset Ulla Winbladh. The name comes from Bellman’s most famous mistress and muse who in reality was named Maria Kristina Källström. In the 18th century, it was common to go out and have fun at Djurgården, something that Bellman and his girlfriends often indulged in. 

    In 1992, the restaurateur, cookbook author and food columnist Nils Emil Ahlin took over the inn and created the Ulla Winbladh we know today. Since 2004, Wärdshuset Ulla Winbladh has been owned by Stockholms Restauranger & Wärdshus, which works to manage the Swedish food heritage. The ambition is to nurture and develop the atmosphere and history that the inn in 1897 holds and of course – the Swedish taste traditions.

    Guide Michelin has now presented which restaurants in the Nordic region will receive the world’s most prestigious restaurant award this year. At the press conference, the 2020 Michelin stars and recipients of the Bib Gourmand award were announced. The latter award – Bib Gourmand – indicates a restaurant that serves “well-cooked food at a reasonable price”. We humbly thank you for keeping our Bib for the thirteenth year in a row! Last year, Ulla WI nbladh broke a record as the restaurant in Sweden that kept its Bib Gourmand for the longest period.” Restaurant website

    This dining experience was a real treat. The outdoor eating area made for a very pleasant evening. The crayfish, cheese pie, and creamy chanterelle mushrooms were highlights.

    Museum

    Millesgarden Sculpture Park is located outside the city. Milles’ home and studios are on the grounds and you get to tour the house and gardens. The restaurant on site was terrific. You get a spectacular view of Stockholm from the gardens.

    “Personally Milles loved and wished to evoke at Millesgarden the gardens of Italy’s Mediterranean coast. In the newly-built loggia, the Little Studio designed by Evert Milles, Carl commissioned a fresco painting of the bay of Naples with acan­thus and cactus in the foreground and olive and wheat being farmed in the distance.”

    There were many fantastic parks in and around Stockholm, making walking for hours a pleasure.

    Transportation in and Around the City

    I took a taxi into the city after landing; it was about 65 Euros and at midnight, worth every penny. Travel weary and punchy, there were no Ubers available. A train goes into and out of the center for about 12 Euros; that’s how I returned to the airport — it’s about a 40 minute ride.

    Stockholm has a very clean and efficient subway and light rail system. I used my ATM to buy tickets and frankly, didn’t even look at the cost of a ride. I believe it’s under four euros; not cheap, but it gets you there quickly. I did not use the bus or tram system, but I noticed the buses were all new. I was told that there is only one tram line left in the city. I did use Uber a few times and found it to be pretty quick and reasonable.

    One Unexpected Memory

    My friend David lived and studied in Stockholm many years ago. He met a gay couple while he was there and they have stayed in touch. David suggested that I meet them and doing so was one of the highlights of my trip. Claes and Nils have been together for over 30 years (I think that’s correct). We enjoyed a couple of excellent meals together and I got see their lovely home. They were warm, gracious and gave me hope for finding lasting love.

    Overall Impressions

    First and foremost, Sweden is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been — in or outside of the city. Almost everyone speaks English. The Swedes are warm and welcoming. I hope no one minds that I add that they are also very attractive. The closer you get to the city centre, the more diversity you see. There is no shortage of culture and attractions. The architecture is breathtaking and unique. The Swedes have a talent for design; you see that everywhere, in everything. Whether it’s old and stately or modern and sleek, it’s easy to get lost in the beauty of it all. I was struck by how much green there is everywhere; nature takes a front seat and has not been overlooked or forgotten. Sweden has embraced technology; therefore, using cash is impossible in most places. This is not the case in Portugal and took some getting used to. I’m sure the world is headed in this direction. I understand that germs and bacteria are abundant on cash.

    You’re not really supposed to like ABBA in Sweden. It’s nerdy.
    — Izabella Scorupco

    Marriage is not common in Sweden.
    — Eva Gabrielsson

    COVID-19 and Travel

    I’m not going to spend a great deal of time writing about the pandemic in Sweden and traveling there from Portugal. I will say two things: First, I did not see a lot of mask wearing and there was no mandate to do so, and second, because it is an EU country, the only restriction for travel was that you had to be either vaccinated or tested. I was pleasantly surprised with both.

    Future Travel

    Lyon, France in mid-September

    London for theatre in October

    The Eastern Algarve in November

    Christmas in Faro with friends

    Hong Kong, Cambodia, Vietnam, Thailand, and Singapore in January ’22 (includes a cruise) — my flight has already been cancelled making this trip a big maybe (my second attempt)

    Cuba February ’22

    Toulouse, France April ’22

    Basel, Switzerland June ’22

    Colorado, USA September ’22

    Northern Europe Norwegian Line Cruise October ’22

    If Paco’s caretaker allows me to go, there will be additional travel in between.

    Travel Quotes Those who wander are lost J.R.R. Tolkien Quote #travelquotes #inspiration

  • Too Righteous?

    Or Just Righteous Enough?

    Oxford’s definition of righteous

    adjective

    1. morally right or justifiable. “feelings of righteous indignation about pay and conditions”

    Just as soon as I read “feelings” in the definition, I thought, well, no one can argue with my feelings. But can they? Lately, I’m feeling an abundance of feelings about so many things. I feel like I’m in righteous overdrive. Is it the divided world we live in or am I an angry old man?

    Things I Have Felt Righteous About (I typed a list yesterday and it disappeared. Now I’m forced to consider what counts):

    • Politics (lies and misinformation)
    • Selfish behavior
    • Boasting
    • Dishonesty in relationships
    • Smoking around non-smokers without asking if it’s okay
    • Recycling (people who act like it’s way too difficult to separate their trash)
    • Climate change deniers
    • Racism deniers
    • People who do not/will not listen
    • Lazy people
    • Thieves
    • Friends, family, and/or strangers who take me for granted. The number of people who think they’re entitled to whatever is astounding. You forget to say thank you the first time you’re forgiven; after that, you’re on your own.
    • People who use religion to explain away their bias or hate
    • Price gouging
    • Laws or rules that make no sense or serve no purpose
    • People who fight socialism who do not even knowing the meaning of the concept
    • People who see others in pain and turn the other way
    • Haters
    • Nasty Karens
    • Cheaters
    • Abusers of all kinds

    I’m going to stop there because I’m getting fired up.

    Using That Energy

    The simple truth is this: if you have anger, rage, resentment, fury, it has to go somewhere or it ends up sitting in your internal organs and festering. Should it go unchecked, it will fester to the point of severe damage. The best thing you can do for yourself is to channel that anger toward something positive. For me, writing is my outlet, my escape valve. When the pressure builds, I write. The other method is to exercise patience; patience takes a lot of energy. If your deliberate in your practice of patience, that energy will become something fruitful and thought provoking.

    Case in point: I get angry with a sibling who calls me on a regular basis and talks and talks and talks, but doesn’t bother to ask how I’m doing. I let that steam build this week and I was going to let this family member have it. A piece of my mind was appropriate and there would be no holding back. (This individual does not read my blog, but I still feel compelled to keep his or her name to myself — family will know).

    The phone rings and it’s the culprit. I listen. I seeth and I wait for the right moment to pounce.

    I’m about to unleash the kraken and my sibling says, “What’s happening with you these days.”

    If that lesson is not convincing enough to keep me from jumping the gun, coming out with my fists clenched and my chin out, I don’t know what is. Patience Christopher, patience.

    Whether this individual listened to my reply . . . well, that’s a whole other matter. The other life lesson is this: we humans are only capable of so much change. The higher your expectations, the greater the likelihood of disappointment. Baby steps are all we can hope for.

    What Do Others’ Think?

    Like most, I pay way too much attention to social media. Whenever I’m feeling particularly righteous about something happening in the public arena (i.e., politics), I notice a post gets a lot less attention than say, a cute picture of my dog Paco. Or perhaps, people notice my outrage and agree with me; however, they made a vow to stay away from politics on social media and they’re sticking to it. That sort of gets under my skin. Waiting for a big election to come around is not the time to protest. Right now is the time to counter the false narrative.

    The other side of it of course is that I am preaching to the choir: the people in my life who are my tribe . . . the people in my life that I respect and admire because they agree with me. In truth, there are a few people in my orbit who are on the fence; these people are not 100% one way or the other. These uncertain few are my audience when I go off on a rant. I know of two people in my close circle of friends who have come over to my side. It is for this reason that I will not stop putting the facts out there and presenting a raional, truthful, common sense perspective; in my opinion.

    “There is only one way to avoid criticism: do nothing, say nothing, and be nothing.”

    – Aristotle

    My new cell phone has a “fun” feature when taking a selfie. This is how I might have looked on a typical Saturday morning had I been a member of the opposite sex (is that okay to say?). My sisters would have been jealous, no doubt.

  • Getting Unstuck

    Stuck in a Rut Without an Oar

    My coffee’s cold

    Shoes are tight

    New movies suck

    I’m up all night

    




    




    

    The phone never rings
    




    Text, text, text
    




    No more flings
    




    Next, next, next
    

    




    




    




    In the middle of a forest
    




    Can’t see through the trees
    




    Virus has me crazy
    




    My dog has fleas
    




    




    




    Somethin’s gotta give
    




    Belt is outta loops
    




    This ain’t no way to live
    




    Don’t wanna join no groups
    




    




    




    Walkin’ all day
    




    Workin’ it out
    




    Don’t know how to pray
    




    Got a permanent pout
    




    




    




    Stop Your Whining 
    




    There is only one way out of this rut. No, that’s not true, in fact, there are many ways out of this rut. I’m cheering myself up, bear with me.
    




    The pandemic is/was tough on everyone.  Being a unique situation, we all use different survival skills to navigate through it. During two extended lockdowns, I developed a routine that kept me fairly sane and allowed me the space I needed to be somewhat productive.
    




    Developing a routine is good for productivity and bad for creativity. I’ll compare it to a machine that makes widgets. At the end of production every widget is the same; there is no variation in size or design. That’s not what I’m looking for in my life, my creative outlets need to happen willy nilly — when the spirit moves me so to speak. This is the polar opposite of routine. 
    




    I’ve been working hard to break away from all of the unnecessary routine in my life. Changing things up, cancelling my plans at the last moment (not plans with others, personal plans). This seems to work well for me. I give myself an internal high five when I can accomplish it. Ironically, it’s just another daily task; however, one worth considering.
    




    Note:  Paco’s daily walks have to be at or about the same time of the day, everyday. His internal clock is fairly precise and if I don’t make a move for his leash, he torments me with his eyes and intensity. This is one routine I cannot change. Another is coffee in the morning and many of you will relate to that one.
    




    




    Precious Time
    




    Time. Once it passes, that’s it, it’s gone, can’t get it back. At times, time seems to almost evaporate into the ether. It seemed that way during the pandemic. I assume it was routine that caused this distorted perception of time. I found this disturbing; as if someone tore a chapter out of my book and I cannot rewrite the pages.
    




    The best way for me to deal with this, is to be more present going forward. I’ve been mixing it up, churning it around, and trying my best to make every moment count.
    




    




    Putting it All Out There
    




    A friend recently commented that she was impressed with how I was able to, “. . . put it all out there.” Being who I am, I contemplated the thoughts behind the comment. Was she in fact saying, “You overshare” or “Do we really need to know all that?” I’m hoping she shared what she shared with the best of intentions, that is, that my candor was refreshing, unique, or brave. I may never know for sure. What I do know, is that sharing my reality helps me to keep things in perspective. 
    




    




    Travel Helps to Change Things Up
    




    One of the many reasons I love travel, it that my daily life changes dramatically when I travel. There was a time when I would try to have the same schedule:  up early, exercise, language lesson, answer emails, etc. No more of that nonsense when I’m on the road. The last few trips did not include gym time. Instead I took lengthy walks or cut out exercise altogether. I’ve discovered that giving my body a few days off is actually a good thing. In fact, I think your body is not the only part of you that benefits from the break — I believe your mind also responds favorably. I cannot quantify positives, but I can feel it and that’s what counts.
    




    




    Cutting A Former Partner Out
    




    I have a former partner who was in my life in a significant way for a long time. When our relationship ended, we agreed to remain friends. If you can take the best parts of a relationship and savor them, that’s a good thing right? Grown up, mature even. After a while I realized that I was the only one of the two of us, reaching out. That speaks volumes about the other person and what they think of me and/or us. I have decided to cut them out of my life. I found seeing his life laid out in front of me on Facebook and Instagram, hurtful. Removing the thing that brings you pain is mature as well, yes? What do you think?
    




    It’s interesting to know that he will never see this and that he might not even realize that ties have been severed; oh well. I think that says it all.
    




    26 Inspirational Walking Away Quotes to Make It Easier - EnkiQuotes
    


	
    
		
    
							
    
					
    
												
    
							
													
    
												
    
							
							
							
							
							
							
							
														
						
    
					
    
				
    
								
    
	
    
	



    

    
			
    
		
    
		
	
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    Don’t Let Your Dreams Die
    
			
    

    At times, hope is all we have
    




    Photo by Dapo Abideen on Pexels.com
    




    I often think of that carnival game where you throw a hardball at these furry little pop-ups and hopefully, slam them down. Get ’em to stay down and you win a prize. At times, I feel as if those furry guys are a metaphor for my life. I imagine a place or a goal, and shit happens, giving it the big kibosh. COVID-19, climate change, politics, life; it can all leave you feeling completely defeated.
    




    




    




    




    Human beings are resilient and born to persevere. Still, how many times can you be beaten down before you give up? It always looks easier for other people.  And sometimes, you have the passion and wherewithal, but others are hell bent on convincing you that it ain’t gonna happen. How do you navigate all that?
    




    




    When It Looks Easy It Probably Isn’t 
    




    Because we’re human, it would be difficult not to compare our own lives with others. Your neighbor tells you that he’s taking his family to their lake house and you think, why don’t I have a lake house?
    




    I had a friend who was always boasting about what he could afford to buy. He had no problem spending $500 on a meal and he flew first class every time he travelled. I won’t lie, I was jealous. He crashed and burned; I learned that he was losing his home and his car because he was spending money he didn’t have. Things are not always as they seem, as they say.
    




    




    What to Say to People Who Try to Squash Your Dreams
    




    • I’m aware of all of the obstacles that could get in my way, however, I’m committed to giving it a try.
    • Will you help me make it happen?
    • I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you, but it’s important to me that I give it a go.
    • Fuck off why don’t you!
    




    




    Put Your Dreams in Writing
    




    I love the saying, “If you can see it, you can have it.” You can only manifest something if you truly want it and believe it’s possible. If you have a dream, and I hope you do, make it real by putting your words down on paper or . . . tell others about it — that makes it more real as well.
    




    I’m going to practice what I preach by putting my own dreams in writing:
    




    • I want to wake up in a home that is mine, right on a river, a lake, or an ocean. I want to see nothing but water.
    • I want to pay for a child’s college education.
    • I would like to spend zero time thinking about what others think.
    • I would like to soon be what I think is my ideal healthy weight (about 180 pounds).
    • I would like to fall head over heels in love again.
    




    I think my main point — sometimes it takes me awhile to get there, is that you cannot allow all the noise and naysayers to stop you from believing anything is possible.
    




    




    Just finished the Naomi Osaka tennis player’s documentary (miniseries on Netflix). I cannot begin to imagine what this woman will accomplish in her lifetime. I’m blown away by her determination and grace.
    




    




    Travel
    




    Back to Vila Real de Santo Antonio tomorrow for a few days. This place may become my home away from home. The Pousada is exceptional and I need to return.
    




    Stockholm is looking pretty solid for late August. Lyon in September, London in October, Asia in January, Cuba in February, Toulouse  in April, and Basel Switzerland in June. There will be stops in between, however, the planning will cease until this virus calms down a bit. Many of these trips had been scheduled and were postponed.
    




    


	
    
		
    
							
    
					
    
												
    
							
													
    
												
    
							
							
							
							
							
							
							
														
						
    
					
    
				
    
								
    
	
    
	



    Don’t Stop Believin’
    




    Journey
    




    Just a small town girl
    Livin’ in a lonely world
    She took the midnight train goin’ anywhere
    Just a city boy
    Born and raised in South Detroit
    He took the midnight train goin’ anywhereA singer in a smokey room
    The smell of wine and cheap perfume
    For a smile they can share the night
    It goes on and on, and on, and onStrangers, waitin’
    Up and down the boulevard
    Their shadows
    Searchin’ in the night
    Streetlights, people
    Livin’ just to find emotion
    Hidin’ somewhere in the nightWorkin’ hard to get my fill
    Everybody wants a thrill
    Payin’ anything to roll the dice
    Just one more time
    Some will win
    Some will lose
    Some were born to sing the blues
    Oh, the movie never ends
    It goes on and on, and on, and onStrangers waitin’
    Up and down the boulevard
    Their shadows
    Searchin’ in the night
    Streetlights, people
    Livin’ just to find emotion
    Hidin’ somewhere in the nightDon’t stop believin’
    Hold on to that feelin’
    Streetlight, people
    Don’t stop, believin’
    Hold on
    Streetlights, peopleDon’t stop believin’
    Hold on to that feelin’
    Streetlight, people
    




    Source: Musixmatch
    




    Songwriters: Neal Schon / Steve Perry / Jonathan Cain
    

    
			
    
		
    
		
	
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    Trapped and Terrified in A Lift
    
			
    

    What would you do?
    




    Old Elevator Buttons Against Wooden Panels Inside A Vintage Elevator
    This might be too modern a depiction of the elevator I was stuck in
    




    I have to set the scene for you; although this happened 46 years ago, the experience is as fresh in my mind as it was the day it happened. I apology in advance for downplaying the fear I experienced then and continues to resonate. This is the first time I am retelling this story.
    




                       ______________________________________________________________________________________
    




    Like many teenagers in Brooklyn, I worked at a grocery store. It was a good job for a 16 year old; it taught me many lessons about life I might not have learned otherwise. Little did I know, that on one particular brutally hot summer day, I would learn a lesson of survival. 
    




    Delivering groceries to neighborhood people was hard work, but when I laid on the charm and kept my clients happy, I could do pretty well financially. My earnings paid for room and board, clothing, and my education — we paid our own way in my house as soon as we were able. I either hustled or listened to my mother piss and moan about poverty and what it was like to raise seven kids on her own. She had a point.
    




    My siblings would argue this self-assessment, but I recollect that I was a fairly happy-go-lucky teenager — especially when I was flush with cash. Tips were a good way for me to make money because I could hide a lot of it from my mother. I figure she was a waitress and practiced similar deception. That late morning in August, I was rode my delivery bike about two streets east to an old building I had visited often; truth be told, every building was old in Ditmas Park. When you’re sixteen and you think you know it all, old and rundown is not cool. I took the elevator to the 8th floor and dropped off the groceries; after awhile, you spend your time thinking about everything else than what you’re actually doing; I believe she was a regular customer, a detail that’s fuzzy.
    




    I recall it was so humid, my clothing was soaked through and I was lethargic from the heat. I entered the noisy old elevator; you know, the ones that go clunk, clunk, clunk when they move. I pressed the button for the first floor. The door slammed closed and the elevator descended a few feet and stopped abruptly. I did what any human would do, I pressed all the buttons, I pressed them over and over again, thinking somehow, my persistence would restart the lift. There was an alarm button, a rather loud alarm I might add, but it felt like I was screaming help in a padded prison cell and no one was listening.
    




    Thinking, this can’t be happening, doesn’t make it go away — this was a living nightmare. I took a deep breath and felt like I might cry. Perhaps my brain knew that crying would use up too much of my water supply, instead I stomped my feet and banged the walls. Clearly, there was no one anywhere near this piece of shit machinery. I sat down on the dirty elevator floor hoping an escape plan would come. I’m pretty sure I was close to panicking by this point. I’ve never been fond of small spaces; this elevator was tiny. In addition to that foul odors easily make me nauseous. This particular building had a gag inducing stench.  I screamed “help” as loud as I could. I screamed repeatedly hoping someone in the building would come to my rescue. Could it be possible that the entire building was empty? And where was the lady I just delivered groceries to? I had watched way too much Twilight Zone for my own good. In my mind one of two things was going to happen:  the elevator was either going to crash to the ground or I would die of heat exhaustion; neither would be a good way to go.
    




    A good chunk of time passed before I starting screaming again. I was convinced my co-workers would miss me and someone was being sent to check what had happened. I would alternate between stomping and screaming and bargaining with God — whom I don’t believe exists by the way. Funny how that happens when you’re in a life threatening situation. You go through this, if you really do exist please help me — I’ll do anything, I promise, dialog in your head. 
    




    Dripping wet, long past the point of heat exhaustion, seeing double through pools of sweat, no voice, no help, and no hope; I recall at a certain point I began to enter the acceptance phase of my own impending death. At some point, I made the decision that being horizontal might save me some energy. The elevator floor was dirty and sticky, but I’m not sure it mattered much at that moment. Flat on the ground and feeling defeated, I believe I closed my eyes for a few minutes, the silence was deafening and my heartbeat was finally slowing a bit. I glanced at the ceiling and noticed an exhaust fan that wasn’t moving. Next to the fan was a panel. It was too high up for me, but offered new hope. I stood up in order to assess the situation and realized that I might be able to step onto the side rail and push on the panel. Desperation fuels hope — there were not many other options to choose from.
    




    I jumped up with one foot on the rail and was able to touch the top of the elevator car. After a number of tries, I was  dislodged the panel; quite relieved that it was not bolted down. I was able to eventually pop the panel off and push it over to the side, allowing me to see that I was only feet away from the elevator doors on the floor above the car. 
    




    It might have been more than an hour or perhaps only minutes; at this point I was pretty delirious. I faintly heard someone walking on the floor above and I shouted for help. The man walked up to the doors and called down to me. 
    




    “Is someone in there?” 
    




    I sunk down to the ground and responded with tremendous relief. Yes, I’m here, please help me get out.
    




    “It’s the super, I’m going to shut the elevator down and start it back up.”
    




    I don’t think I answered him. I may have thought it was in my head.
    




    An eternity passed and the lift gave a jolt. It started moving but only about four feet. At this point the car was partially on the fifth floor. 
    




    “Give me a minute, I think I can pry the doors open.”
    




    The super pushed the doors open and I could see him; I could breathe again. I expressed my gratitude and I told him I’d been there a long time. He apologized, his thick Spanish accent, more a part of my consciousness than earlier. He said something about being out of the building all morning. He asked for my hand, hauled me up, and I quickly crawled out onto the fifth floor. I don’t think either of us was thinking about the danger of what we were doing at the time. He could see I was dripping wet and he asked me if I wanted some water.
    




    Please, I said and leaned my body against the wall.
    




    He told me that his apartment was in the basement. He asked me if I could walk down the steps and I told him that I could. When we got down to the first floor he asked me to wait while he went to get some water. I thought he was kind. He returned with a tall glass and I drank the water in one gulp. I thanked him and left.
    




    When I got back to the grocery store, I realized I had been gone three hours. None of my co-workers seemed to notice that I’d been missing. I walked over to Bob, the owner of the store, and found words almost impossible. He asked me where I’d been and I shared what had happened. He shrugged and told me he was glad I made it out of the lift. I thought he was matter-of-fact about the whole thing, but how could he know what I’d been through.
    




                 _______________________________________________________________________________________________
    




    Years later I was watching the news and there was a story about a woman who was on an elevator in a Manhattan hi-rise. The elevator stopped a few feet below the floor she had entered on. The elevator door and the door to the floor opened, she panicked and hoisted herself up. As she was crawling out of the elevator, it started back up and cut her in half. When the door opened to some people who had called the lift, they saw the severed lower half of her body. The news only showed the bloody car, but it didn’t take much imagination to see the gruesome scene in your mind’s eye. Apparently, there was some sort of glitch in the system that caused the lift to malfunction. I believe they have put new measures in place to ensure an elevator car could never move if any of the floor doors are even partially opened. 
    




    I will never shake the image of that woman’s severed torso and what her final moments must have been like. I’ve also thought about my own situation and how I was fortunate to get out of the lift I was trapped in. I should have asked the super to call the fire department; I wasn’t thinking. The events that took place that day in my 16th year, taught me a great deal about who I am and how fortunate I have been. I treat elevators with great respect and carry water with me whenever possible; you never know when you might need it.
    




    I still wonder where all the residents of that building were that day? Why didn’t the woman I had just delivered groceries to, hear me? And why didn’t my co-workers notice how long I’d been gone? 
    




                        ____________________________________________________________________________
    




    

    Hot dogs are one of my favorite foods and until recently I was convinced that a good, natural casing frankfurter, did not exist in Portugal. I was happily wrong — they sell them frozen at IKEA and I’m good now. 
    

    


	
    
		
    
							
    
					
    
												
    
							
													
    
												
    
							
							
							
							
							
							
							
														
						
    
					
    
				
    
								
    
	
    
	



     
    

    
			
    
		
    
		
	
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    Vila Real de Santo António
    
			
    

    A gem on the southernmost border of Portugal and Spain
    




    




    




    




    Please keep in mind, my travelogues are more about sharing highlights than telling you what not to do.
    




    I have happily lived in the Algarve for 3 1/2 years now. I have only visited Vila Real de Santo António once and that was for a quick walk through the centre. I have passed through this little town several times on my way to Spain and I have spent time in neighboring towns. So why did I finally come to this town for an extended stay?
    




    I had recently booked an Airbnb for three days and consequently had the opportunity to see the place I had booked. I don’t want to share specifics because it wouldn’t be fair to the owner of the Airbnb; he did not know I would be stopping by. I will only tell you two things:  first I think the dude is a raging alcoholic, and second, he smoked like it was crack. There were ashtrays everywhere and the place reeked of smoke. I cancelled my reservation as soon as I got home.  I also convinced Airbnb to refund the service fee — something they rarely do. 
    




    I opened Booking.com looking at the same dates and the Pousada Vila Real de Santo António popped up on my screen and so, I took a closer look. I viewed the photos and decided this place might be to my liking. Swimming pool on the first level and another on the roof. 
    




    Pousada Vila Real de Santo António (website photos)
    




    




    




    




    Beautifully appointed, friendly, a great location and the price was right. I even received an email that I could upgrade to a bigger room for a reasonable fee. I have always wanted to stay in a Portuguese Pousada and this was my chance. I have two terraces and one of the best mattresses I have ever slept on. Breakfast is included and it’s excellent. I was able to get fresh coffee in the early morning hours; something I much appreciate. Fabulous property. I think I’ll join their Guest Club for offers and tempting benefits. I should note their website is very nicely done (not all hotels pay attention to their site).
    




    “The Pousadas of Portugal Group is an exclusive chain of 34 historical hotels many of which are considered to be amongst the top hotels in Portugal and are the very embodiment of the best that Portugal has to offer. Many Pousada hotels were formerly monasteries, palaces, convents and castles and have been beautifully converted to offer luxurious, elegant hotel accommodation, often in superb locations. These unique hotels are located throughout mainland Portugal and the Azores in either historical cities such as Evora, a world heritage site, or in rural areas of outstanding natural beauty or interest such as Geres National Park.”
    




    




    Dining
    




    Di. Vino  — my FB review
    




    A fabulous eatery. I have to be honest, I chose this restaurant because I liked the owners reply to a reviewer. Among many excellent reviews, one diner was not a happy fella, but I liked the way the owner dealt with him. What I found was a quaint, authentic, executed with love, spot on the river with beautiful artwork and lovely jazz. The husband and wife team who own this gem have created a winning dining experience that will delight your senses.
    




    I had an all shellfish night, clams and then shrimp. Fresh, simple and delicioso!
    




    




    Green Buddha
    




    Good food, good service, and a side street location. Looking forward to returning to try some of their other dishes.
    




    Excellent Pad Thai
    




    Pousada Restaurant
    




    

    The Pousada had a beautiful restaurant with a mediterranean inspired menu. A wood fired oven (rare in Portugal), made choosing dinner at the Pousada a no brainer and I was not disappointed. There were lots of other offerings and a many cocktail and wine selections.
    

    




    




    Gelato
    




    Dedé Gelataria Italiana Artigianale 
    




    The pistachio gelato (my favorite) left me wanting more . . . and more.
    




    




    Bistro – Bar Latté
    




    A beautiful and inviting bar with delicious eclectic bar food (including British fish & chips that I didn’t get to try — too full).
    




    




    




    




    Shopping
    




    The entire centre of Vila Real is closed to traffic. There are many touristy shops you’ll want to pass up, but then every so often you’ll see a unique boutique shop worth visiting. There is also loads of shopping on the Spanish side (Ayamonte). I got this beautiful bowl for four euros (perfect for a small salad or ramen):
    




    




    Amusements
    




    There is a casino just a couple of miles away in Monte Gordo. I did go once to make a small donation. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
    




    There are two museums and I saw an ad for a show (in Portuguese) that was recently staged here. It was competing rap artists — I missed it by three days.
    




    Just look across the river and you will see Spain. You can take an inexpensive ferry ride to Ayamonte or drive across the bridge that links the two countries. It’s a real treat. A one hour time difference (keep this in mind when you look at the ferry schedule) and paella. A completely different culture only minutes away.
    




    




    Travel To and From
    




    I took the train which was just over 10 Euros round trip from Faro. It’s an old rail system, but it works. You can, of course, also drive there. Another option is the bus from Faro which takes about 90 minutes; for me, not as comfortable as the train.
    




    




    




    




    




    There was an evening market in the square in front of the hotel on my second night. I assume it’s a summertime, Tuesday evening thing. An exhibition on “sardine” artwork was delightful.
    




    Let me end by saying that I could easily live here.
    




    




    Upcoming Travel
    




    Stockholm coming up in a few weeks. They’ve got COVID-19 under control; looks promising. Lyon, France in September and London for theatre in October. I’m waiting to book November and December, but I’m looking at all of my options. I love these direct flights to different parts of Europe from Faro. I want to see what this virus will do to winter travel. I’ll be in five Asian countries in January ’22 and Cuba in February. Both of these trips were rescheduled due to COVID-19. 
    


	
    
		
    
							
    
					
    
												
    
							
													
    
												
    
							
							
							
							
							
							
							
														
						
    
					
    
				
    
								
    
	
    
	
    
			
    
		
    
		
	
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    When Did We Become So Sensitive?
    
			
    

    Or Am I Just Jaded?
    




    




    




    I was raised in a home where you said what you had to say; you got it off your chest and then you let it go. By the time I got to kindergarten, I learned that the rest of the world didn’t operate that way.
    




    Along the way, I received lots of reactions to my “Brooklyn” bravado. I had to hide my sexuality, therefore, it was  act tough and survive or whimper and be bullied. I developed a thick skin and a look that said, be real with me or get out of my face. 
    




    And then this happened . . .
    




    I was a candidate for a really great position on campus at the University of South Carolina. It was my second year of a two-year Master’s degree program and I had spent the first year validating my candidacy for a coveted position. At the end of my second semester, I met with the director of the Living & Learning Program and discussed my future. I remember a smirk on his face I didn’t appreciate. He told me that there had been a couple of complaints about my direct nature — an interesting way to put it. He further went on to tell me he had observed it himself. What he said in not so many words:
    




    I appreciate that you’re from New York and that New Yorkers are known for speaking their mind. It’s not how we conduct ourselves in the south. We tend to start with some small talk and then we sugar coat our words a bit. That’s how we succeed in getting what we want. You might want to consider changing your communication style while you’re in South Carolina; maybe tone it down a bit (source is now deceased, 1983). I guess I might have been reliving this horror in the middle of the night last night, because I also recalled that he said that I was a “primadonna.”  At the time, I didn’t even know what that meant.
    




    To say that I was devastated is a gross understatement. I spent the next two months questioning everything about the way in which I conducted myself. I cried a lot, I was angry, I hated that creep, and I went from deciding I would change everything about myself to being determined I would stay true to who I am.
    




    At the end of a long and tortured summer, the director called me into his office; I almost refused to take the meeting, but I knew he had a lot of influence at the University. He asked me if I’d thought about what he’d said in May. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I was tormented by his feedback. I responded:
    




    I thought about what you said and I agree with some of it. I went on to tell him that I could be a bit less crass and a bit more tactful. I also stared him straight in his eyes and told him that I liked my own sincerity and direct approach; bullshit was not my style and being all nice nice without feeling it, wasn’t ever going to happen.
    




    He listened with what seemed like an open mind. I asked him if there was anything else and he said,
    




    “The position is yours if you want it. There are a lot of people on campus who are rooting for you, don’t let them down.”
    




    He shared his own reservations and I sat there acting all smug and self-satisfied. I wanted that job more than anything and I was determined to prove him wrong.
    




    So what is the point of my telling you this tale of woe? There are a few reasons actually:
    




    1. His words stuck with me more than any others that I have heard in my life. I didn’t like him, but I respected him and I came to believe he was sincerely trying to teach me something.
    2. In many ways he was right. I was overly confident and way too direct. 
    3. Had he not shared his observations with me, I may never have been told that I needed to lower the volume. I still resent his harsh and hurtful approach, however, he managed to get me thinking about how I communicate with people and that is never a bad thing.
    




    I have mentored several young people throughout my career. I have been in the position to share my thoughts about character flaws I thought could be altered or corrected. I am thoughtful about the way in which I phrase my criticism or feedback. I can always tell when I may have pushed too hard or said too much. I recall how much I learned from my critic and I accept the anger directed toward me. My own saboteur reminds me that I am vulnerable and imperfect.
    




    




    And Another Thing . . .
    




    My neighbor has decided to make his condo an Airbnb; it’s his place, I guess it’s his business. Personally, I think it’s an ugly dump and I’m not sure why anyone would rent it. It’s probably cheap, so it’s attracting young party people. 
    




    Yesterday, my new, not-so-friendly Airbnb neighbors were getting on the elevator to go to the beach and I introduced myself:
    




    “Hi, I’m Chris, if you need anything please knock.”
    




    They looked at me like deer in headlights and I very gently said:
    




    “Do me a favor, when you close your door, please do it slowly. When your door slams my apartment shakes.” 
    




    Seriously, it sounds like a bomb has hit the building when the wind is strong.
    




    You would have thought I was asking them to go to bed earlier. The look I got was of utter disgust and resentment. I promise you, I was pleasant.
    




    What I said to them was not even criticism mind you. Would a big ugly sign outside my door asking for consideration be better?
    




    




    Things I Keep In Mind When Offering Criticism/Feedback 
    




    • Will I ever see this person again?
    • Will my words make a difference?
    • How am I being impacted by their approach or style?
    • What words can I use to make a difference?
    • Am I being honest or mean?
    • Do I really know better?
    • Is my honesty a way to sabotage a relationship?
    • Will they hear me?
    • Are they open to feedback?
    • Why am I doing it?
    




    I know that I don’t know anything about most things, but I sure do know a little about some things. Keeping my opinion to myself isn’t easy, so listen up:
    




    Men of Portugal (you know who you are), stop dousing yourself with buckets of cheap cologne, you stink and you’re making me sick!  People, when you’re in line at the supermarket you need to stay in line; continuing to shop and expecting to keep your place in line, isn’t cool. And to the young men who own motorbikes in my neighborhood:  I know that having a small penis makes life difficult; however, taking your muffler off of your motorcycle or moped won’t make that little penis any larger. You’re just making people angry and the girls don’t think it’s cool. Spend more time on your hair, it’s quieter. And I’m sorry to judge, but young gay men are not driving their loud motorbikes all around Faro.
    




    Note:  I’m just guessing about penis size. 
    




    When people are not willing to speak out for fear of repercussion or alienation, they become angry, resentful, and complacent. Keep this in mind when someone around you is feeling stifled or worse, gagged.
    




    honesty quotes we are franker towards others ourselves friedrich nietzsche wisdom
    




    Travel:  Time on the Spanish/Portuguese border in a Pousada next week; they can’t cancel that on me. I’m pretty sure I’ll get to go on my trip to Stockholm in August. And maybe even a booked trip to Lyon, France in September. I don’t count on travel anymore, I just have to wait and see.
    




    POUSADAS DE PORTUGAL
    




    Castles, Palaces, Monasteries, Halls of kings and Rooms of Queens… The Pestana Pousadas de Portugal offers the ultimate immersive Portuguese experience in some of the country’s most historical and iconic properties.
    




    




    




    Note:  Check out Wanda Sykes who is hosting for Jimmy Kimmel this week.  She’s doing some kick ass truth tellin’.
    




    


    


	
    
		
    
							
    
					
    
												
    
							
													
    
												
    
							
							
							
							
							
							
							
														
						
    
					
    
				
    
								
    
	
    
	



    




    

    
			
    
		
    
		
	
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    Frustration Around the Things I Cannot Control
    
			
    

    Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com
    




    I’ve always despised angry old men; therefore, becoming one of them is not an option. I’ll start with something positive and then launch into my tirade:
    




    Something positive.
    




    I live in Portugal where they take recycling seriously.  There are bins no more than 100 feet from nearly every residential building in my city. Organic trash for composting is stored beautifully underground in very convenient locations. Still, time and time again I see people dumping huge bags of plastic, glass bottles, and non-organic trash, in said compost bins. It makes me angry, it makes me sick, and it makes me sad. It makes me wonder about the integrity of human beings.
    




    Many of my fellow humans don’t seem to care. It’s perplexing to say the least. How can you care about your children and grandchildren or just about anything, and not care about the environment? How can you fight for human rights, black lives, immigration rights, and/or equality, and not consider the threat to our planet?  
    




    These questions are confounding to me much of the time. It takes so little effort to sort out your trash, throw cigarette cartons in the wastebasket, clean up after your dog, but so many contribute to the problem rather than help solve it. My guess is that I have anywhere from 20 to 30 years left on this magnificent planet. Yes, it’s a reminder that the natural order of things dictates a life cycle and the planet is part of that cycle; however, we are hastening the death of planet earth by thousands of years. 
    




    While I’m pissing and moaning, I’d like to also mention the strain we humans are putting on our very expensive and extremely unstable healthcare system. I’m not saying that I have never put anything unnatural or life threatening in my body; I’m only human after all. But we all know that those with an apparent death wish are making it very difficult for the rest of us. Doctors and hospitals were under tremendous strain pre-COVID-19; if we keep it up, only the wealthy will get treatment (true in many countries). Cigarette smoking, excessive alcohol, pill popping to cover-up emotional and physical pain, etc. The rest of us will suffer from health issues and regret when we cannot afford to see a doctor; soulda, coulda, woulda will not offer any consolation. 
    




    Accountability is one of many annoyances that haunts me day and night. Why do white collar criminals get away with little or no jail time? How and why do the rich literally get away with murder? 
    




    This building collapse in Miami . . . who, if anyone, will pay the price of so many deaths?
    




    I am dealing with a personal situation concerning accountability; it gets my goat more than just about anything.
    




    




    Restraint
    




    Holding back on making a list here.  Proving to you that I am growing up. Perspective is essential to success.
    




    




    Acceptance
    




    I know who I am. I know what I am. I know that I am a control freak (this took a while to own). I have come to terms with accepting the things I cannot change. They say some people become more accepting as they grow older, I may be an exception.
    




    Caring Too Much Sayings and Quotes ~ Best Quotes and Sayings
    




    Travel
    




    Travel has become close to impossible. I have a short trip planned for the Spanish border, 45 minutes away, and I’m not sure it will happen. Toulouse cancelled, Bristol cancelled, mediterranean cruise cancelled. Everytime I book a trip I brace myself for that almost certain email telling me that COVID-19 has prompted restrictions; home seems to be the only destination I can count on.
    




    I’m scheduled to go to Stockholm next month. Since Sweden has never really closed, that may actually happen. Still, my guess is that Portugal will enforce a quarantine rule upon my return. I guess we’ll see. 
    




    I am resigned to any and all possibilities — I don’t consider complacency a good thing right now. The resistance to vaccinate is frustrating and puzzling. The same people who bellyache about restrictions, are the ones who refuse to be vaccinated. I want to shake some sense into these stubborn resisters.
    




    The EU has agreed to a digital vaccine certificate for travel outside of one’s country and for use in order to go to certain concerts and/or sporting events. I have quite easily acquired my certificate and for that I am grateful.
    


	
    
		
    
							
    
					
    
												
    
							
													
    
												
    
							
							
							
							
							
							
							
														
						
    
					
    
				
    
								
    
	
    
	



    

    
			
    
		
    
		
	
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    It’s Still Not Okay to Be Gay
    
			
    

    Gay Pride Month Thoughts
    




    Photo by Marcelo Chagas on Pexels.com
    




    I’m sitting with friends having a light brunch and some bozo at the table says, “I’m not sure why Paul has to hide his sexuality, it’s so much easier to be out these days.” I sit on my hands and hold my tongue in a vice grip. People have this habit of wanting to brush over the truth to create their own sugar coated reality. The plain truth is that it is not so easy to be out of the closet in 2021. True there are pockets of the world where being gay is celebrated and respected; however, even in those places, it is complicated and uneven.
    




    First, it’s important to note that being open about your homosexuality is against the law in certain parts of the world. You’d better hide it if you live in Brunei, Yemen, Somalia, or Iran. Death or imprisonment can be an almost certain deterrent. Come out to what I ask you? And if you don’t believe Americans are affected by what happens outside of the U.S. (and in some states), you are sadly mistaken.
    




    “Same-sex sexual activity is a crime in 70 countries. Some of them, including six nations that are members of the United Nations, impose the death penalty. Another five make such punishment technically possible, even though it is rarely enforced. In 26 other countries, the maximum penalty is prison with terms varying anywhere from a few years to life imprisonment.” Hristina Byrnes  |  24/7 Wall Street, 2021.
    




    Hence, the reason I hold my tongue. It’s nice to know I can marry a man in Portugal, but the reality that my gay brothers and sisters in so many other places, cannot, makes it difficult for me to celebrate. That guy screaming at my at 7:00 a.m. after Biden was elected, doesn’t help either.
    




    “Why the fuck do you people need a parade anyway? Nobody cares.”
    




    This vengeful serpent has many heads. When I go to a family wedding and family members are whispering about my sexuality, I can be out, I can be proud, I can even be partnered, but there is no way that I can say that I am content — nobody wants to be judged  . . .  least of all by my Christian aunties. Has it made me stronger? No doubt, I love being different, defiant, and getting all the attention has its appeal; however, I’d choose blending in with the wallpaper any day of the week. 
    




    Having cousin Ann say, “Aren’t you sick of hearing about gay rights?” That will never be okay.
    




    We freer gays stand on the shoulders of individuals who have fought for basic rights for decades. I applaud and appreciate their efforts, but it isn’t over; it isn’t over by a mile. It was only months ago that transgender individuals were being told they could no longer serve in the military. And just because we have a new president and human rights and freedoms are being restored, does not guarantee one’s ability to serve in the future. 
    




    [I stopped writing yesterday; the anger and frustration were palpable. I needed perspective. I’m afraid it didn’t come.]
    




    I’ve come to terms with who I am. I don’t apologize to anyone for it. I am no longer lamenting about what could have been:  children, grandchildren, a 50th wedding anniversary. Coming to terms with the kicking and screaming that went on in my brain for decades, feels good. But I can’t help thinking about the kids everywhere who are tormented by their own questioning demons; when will they be relieved of their pain. As long as there are teens offing themselves because their being “fill-in-the-blank” does not fit into the “right” box, I cannot sit at the table and agree that coming out is easier.
    




    




    “Shantay you stay.”
    




    Rupaul
    




    




    70 Hate Quotes & Sayings About Hating People for No Reason
    


	
    
		
    
							
    
					
    
												
    
							
													
    
												
    
							
							
							
							
							
							
							
														
						
    
					
    
				
    
								
    
	
    
	
    
			
    
		
    
		
	
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    Who’s in Your Head?
    
			
    

    Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com
    




    Let’s face it, we all have demons. Mine always choose the worst time to enter my consciousness:  sometime around 2:00 to 4:00 a.m. Between having to get up to pee numerous times and these visitors, I get out of bed exhausted. These are people that were either a part of my past or live among the present. The frequent visitors are those I did not have closure with. Death, a major blow up, or fear that any sort of interaction would make things worse, keeps these demons around.
    




    Whether in dreams, semi-consciousness, and/or periods of being fully awake, these wandering spirits, cause much consternation. 
    




    




    The Main Reasons These Nighttime Visits Occur
    




    Therapists I have engaged throughout my life have told me that these visits are normal and a healthy way of coping. What they really mean to say is that approaching someone you’re angry with wielding a knife, is not good. Your mind is a complex organ where your thoughts are not always easily explained. Many of my conflicts play out in my dreams. Usually not a pleasant or productive dream, for the most part, it’s usually more of the same.
    




    




    How These Conversations Usually Go
    




    So you’re back?
    




    I didn’t choose to be here.
    




    Then why are you here?
    




    You summoned me stupid.
    




    Here’s the thing, I don’t remember asking you to be here and I’d rather you just disappear. I hate how you treated me all those years, but there is nothing I can do about it now.
    




    Oh geez, let it go. I was an egotistical maniac and I treated everyone that way; you need to move on.
    




    But you fucked-up my head. I have all sorts of anger bubbling up because of you. I alienate relationships, hide out for long periods of time, shut down, and sometimes blame others for my own bad behavior. 
    




    That’s not on me. Whatever I did, I did it because I thought it was right at the time. You can’t blame me because you kept it all in and never confronted me. And don’t make excuses like:  “I couldn’t find the right time” or “You would never have listened,” it’s all nonsense. I’ve been your scapegoat for too many years. I’m tired of repeating myself — you are your own worst enemy.
    




    That makes me feel so much better. Now get out and don’t come back.
    




    [Cold sweats and a sleepless night are almost a certainty. Alcohol and other substances only makes things worse and pushes thoughts down temporarily.]
    




    




    Recognize the endless loop of outrageous verbiage? It’s exhausting.
    




    




    




    




    Getting Rid of the Demons for Good
    




    As if getting rid of them is even remotely possible (the cynic in me).
    




    I have found that there are very few ways to purge these demons. 
    




    1. Closure — confronting the individual and either receiving an apology (unlikely) or sorting it out.
    2. Working it out in therapy. A good therapist will engage you in role play. Here you have an opportunity to say what is on your mind and purge your thoughts. You must be fully committed to the process.
    3. Meditation
    4. Time — hopefully, a long period of time will help you to eventually let it go.
    




    Holding on to resentment or anger is never good. It does awful damage to your psyche and your internal organs. The quicker you can work it out, the healthier you will be. I’ve been working on this for years and I can only report a slight improvement. It’s something to strive toward.
    




    




    




    Travel
    




    COVID-19 strikes again and Lyon and Bristol are not happening . . . now. Instead I am booking a shared cottage on the Island of Farol. I’ll get there by ferry from Faro in about 30 minutes. I booked it for July and I’m fairly certain it won’t be cancelled. This should be a unique experience that I will be excited to tell you about.
    




    Ilha do Farol: The Complete Guide to …algarvetips.com (Farol below):
    




    




    Stockholm in August and Lyon (rescheduled) in September.
    




    




    80 Moving on quotes and Moving forward quotes