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  • Finding the Right Balance/When Loneliness Strikes/An Act of Kindness

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    Hard to imagine doing anything these days without feeling some guilt. An overwhelming number of articles, television shows, religious authorities, relatives and so on, telling us what’s good for us; who knows what’s best anymore. Truth be known, most of us know what’s good for us. We don’t need a know-it-all “expert” to share their opinion on how to live. Lately, I find myself almost offended by every Tom, Dick or Harry who tries to influence my next thought.

    And it’s not just experts weighing-in. Social media are awash with opinionated people who get angry when you challenge their opinion; I’m not making this about politics mind you; I’m talking about every day thoughts, opinions or advice. It’s terrific that people are willing to share their good fortune or experiences, but one needs to accept that not everyone cares or wants to know. As a blogger, I think about this every day. I’m fully aware that a reader can skip over a line, disagree with a thought, or challenge an opinion. In fact, I welcome it. Like anything else, there are appropriate boundaries and we’re all guilty of occasionally crossing them. The art of discourse is a lost art and I for one would like to champion its return.

    You have to find a balance between what you listen to, who you listen to, and listening to the voice within.

     

    Loneliness

    As trite as it sounds, I enjoy my own company. I’ve always secretly been critical of people who claim to be lonely — I just didn’t relate. Truth is, I woke up at 5:00 a.m. this morning feeling very much alone. The difference is that the Atlantic Ocean lies between me and all the people I love. I didn’t imagine this move would be any different than any I have made in the past, but yes, it is far from the same. When you can’t just jump in your car and see someone in a few short hours, that’s a huge difference. The feeling didn’t last long mind you. I thought about a number of friends and family members who will be visiting soon and I felt better. I also thought about how I take those I care about for granted and of course, I now have a better understanding of what it’s like to be alone.

    Lots of lessons here and many ways to cope. Revealing these thoughts to you is a first step. When friends and family told me that I was brave to make a move like this, I shrugged it off. I still don’t consider it brave, but now I know what they meant. So the next step is to search for meaning. I have been trying to protect myself from feeling love, empathy and sorrow. If I live in the moment and fully experience these feelings, what will they teach me and am I ready to learn?

    Here’s what I know:

    1. Loneliness is temporary.
    2. There is truth and meaning in the exploration of our feelings.
    3. Strangers can help fill a void.
    4. Memories are powerful.
    5. Loss of any kind hurts.
    6. Accepting your truth is to be fully aware of who you are.
    7. You may not always like what you learn, but you have to forgive and embrace.
    8. You have to put yourself out there.
    9. Be prepared for change.
    10. Books can be delicious company.

    Prologue:

    I wrote this piece a few hours ago and decided that a cloudy, muggy day is a great day for the mercado (market). I walked in and the first face I saw was Myriam’s. I met Myriam my first week in Faro. She was born in Venuzuala, but she has lived in the States and still has family there. In fact, she just returned from visiting her daughter in Miami. Myriam lives about 30 miles away in Tavira and she has not been in Portugal very long. She manages a Brazilian owned coffee shop in the Mercado — great coffee by the way. Her warmth and smile were what I needed today, but what she shared with me, I needed even more:

    Myriam asked me how I am adjusting to life here in Portugal and I told her what I was feeling this morning. She said, “I want you to read what I posted on Facebook this morning.” Reception is bad at the mercado and we both just about gave up on logging onto to Facebook and then this appeared on her home page:

    La soledad espeligrosa y muy adictiva. Una vez que te das cuenta de cuánta paz hay en ella, no querrás lidiar con las personas.

    – – Paulo Coelho (click for wikipedia biography)

     

    Translation:

    Lonliness is very addictive. Once you realize how much peace there is in it, you will not want to deal with people.

    Me:  Enough said.

     

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    Friday on the beach with a good book and the sound of the ocean.

     

    When you’re looking for reasons to be grateful and there it is, staring you right in the face:

    As is to be expected . . . I’ve been second guessing my move to Portugal. I don’t mean that I lie awake at night regretting my move or wondering, “What did I do?” What I mean is that this is still very new (10 weeks) and I sometimes ponder if this huge change was the right thing to do. I think it’s perfectly natural to wonder and then this happened:

    I bought a piece of artwork that needs framing and I asked a friend here if he knew of a frame shop. Funny thing here in the Algarve, when you type “frame shop nearby” into Google, it only lists a select few options. I’m not sure I understand why, but perhaps that will be another blog. Of course Pedro knew of a place, Pedro always knows. He didn’t know the name of the shop, but he pulled out a map and pointed to where it was. The smart thing to do would have been to take a picture of the map; however, I am not a Millennial (not by a long stretch) and so I often forget that I have that option — there is a probably an app that will link the map location with the type of shop and tell you the name of the shop, but alas, I wouldn’t know how to find that app.

    I did, however, set out to find the frame shop. I got the general vicinity right (I could feel it) but after 15 minutes of going back and forth on the same three streets I finally gave up and went into a hair salon to ask for directions. The owner knew instantly that I was not a customer (stop laughing, it’s not that funny). I asked her if she spoke English and like most Portuguese people, she responded, “A little.” I joke about this because most people hear will respond that way and then speak beautiful English. I’m not yet at a place in my studies where I can even attempt to have a conversation in Portuguese. I asked her if she knew where the frame shop was and she seemed disappointed. Then she shouted to someone in the back room of the shop. A young woman stepped out and asked me what I was looking for. I told her and she said, “Come with me.” At this point I thought we’d step outside and she would point toward the shop. That is not what happened, instead, she crossed the street (I followed close behind sort of amazed) and then she crossed a second street (I was baffled), then she turned left and then right and there we stood in front of the frame shop.

    As I said, earlier, I have been daydreaming about life back in the States; however, today I realized that I am home. I’m not sure I could be living in a friendlier, more welcoming place. A small act of kindness was all I needed for a lot of reassurance.

    As my friend John always tells me, “Palms up to the universe.”

  • Dreaming Sweet Dreams

    I am a dreamer. I don’t mean:  that I dream about being rich, that I dream about being a movie star, that I dream about having my own island, or that I dream about world peace; although it would be nice to have. What I mean is that lately, I dream colorful, wild, and memorable dreams. I cannot recall another time in my life when this was true. However, admittedly, when you get older, most of it becomes a blur.

    When things change in your life, hopefully for the better, it’s difficult not to theorize about the cause of those changes. In some ways, that’s the fun part. It keeps things in perspective and helps one to feel more grateful for the good things. As I get older, appreciating the truly good things in life, has taken on new meaning.

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    My theory is that this move overseas has been a fairly significant factor in the many changes I am experiencing; dreaming more is obviously just one change. It is my understanding that there are many factors that affect our sleep patterns. When we have things weighing on our minds, this will impact our dreams; your sleep will be fitful and not as deep. The other factor I am aware of is alcohol. When you drink heavily, the alcohol will affect your sleep and you will not dream as much. Therefore, these three factors:  the move, less drinking, and less on my mind; have contributed to more frequent dreams and better sleep overall. I like this Huffington Post piece on dreaming and sleep quality, www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/11/30/dreams-sleep-quality_n_8513908.html?guccounter=1.

    I’ve been fortunate when it comes to the quality of my dreams. I’ve only had three or four nightmares throughout my entire life. They were bad dreams and I’m pleased that there have only been a few. My dreams tend to be very pleasant and they often offer little life lessons — that’s if I pay attention. I frequently play out conversations, that for some reason, I cannot have in my waking life. I tell people what is on my mind and wake up feeling better; lighter. It doesn’t always work; however, it is more often than not, a better way to deal with conflict. I’ve discovered that most people prefer to avoid conflict. I worked for a woman in New York that I could not share my concerns with. Conflict avoidance was her MO and I learned other ways to survive. I would often have a dream where I got my point across and then realized later, that all I really needed was to vent — dreaming provided a means to that end. We drag our baggage through life; dreams can be a positive way of getting rid of baggage.

    When I can, I write down my dream and then use a dream interpretation (this one can be useful) app or website to figure out what the dream might have meant. Through my dreams, I have learned a great deal about the kinds of things my mind is processing. I recently had a dream where I was free-falling and learned that it probably had a lot to do with my move overseas and letting go of negative aspects of the past. When life is happening all around you, you’re not always in touch with your feelings or why you’re responding to people and things a certain way; your dreams can help you to better understand your moods.

    A piece on dream interpretation from Very Well Mind might enjoy. Have a great week.

     

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    A gin tasting at Cafe del Arte in Vilamoura on Monday.  Five excellent and very different gins to taste. Pacing myself was a challenge. An Uber home was a good plan.
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    These are not the little necks I have eaten my whole life. They are smaller clams and are full of flavor. Chef Carla at Carla’s Curve in Mexilhoeria Grande serves them up with a big small and the most distinctive laugh in the Algarve.
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    From my B&B (Casa Risa) window in Mexilhoeria Grande. A relaxing weekend by the pool with a good book and excellent eats.

     

    If you’re looking for a good film on Netflix, Sunday’s Illness is outstanding.  In Spanish and French with English subtitles, it is cinema at its best:  great acting, beautiful cinematography, haunting music, and poignant themes. I cannot get several of the scenes out of my head and that’s a good thing.

  • The Air Travel Battle Within

     

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    Photo by Anugrah Lohiya on Pexels.com

    I have been struggling with something for years and I’m afraid a recent situation has caused my concern to come to a head. My issue is air travel. No doubt many share my uneasiness and much has been written on the topic. Here’s my take:

    Air travel sucks big time! Unless of course you have a private jet and “people” to handle the details of your travel. I’m not in that category of flyers and I doubt I will ever be. I had an incident a few days ago at Edinburgh airport that still has me in cold sweats. A flight delay of over an hour led to an unfortunate domino effect with my connecting flight and had I not advocated for myself, I would have either had to spend the night in either Cardiff or Lisbon. Eight hours sitting at the airport was gruesome and disturbing, but an overnight at some airport hotel would have been more than I could bear on Sunday. It’s happened before and it’s never a pleasant experience.  What troubled me most was the airline’s handling of the problem. Their first solution was to put me on three flights which would get me home sometime after midnight — this was being negotiated at 1:00 p.m. I was fairly certain that with three flights pending, a delay or cancellation was almost a guarantee.

    I asked about a direct flight I knew was scheduled later Sunday afternoon. “Oh no, that’s not possible,” I was told. When I questioned the denial of my request, I was told that the airline going direct was, “not a partner airline.” The one great thing about being a New Yorker is that you are taught to never accept an initial “no” response. I gently pressed and was told that I had a good case because my handler was having some trouble getting me on the Lisbon to Faro leg. A tiny corner of my brain was hopeful. There were at least 10 people behind me on the customer service line. Several of these troubled individuals even made their way to the counter to beg for assistance. When I heard some of the issues being presented I thought that my own issue was rather insignificant. I even allowed one woman to remain at the counter so that her problem could be resolved before mine (I knew I was not going anywhere, anytime soon). She was traveling to Australia; she somehow misplaced her boarding pass, and was being sent to several different help desks for a new one. This particular help desk did not have a printer and sadly, this distraught and panicked air traveler missed her flight. She had a family of four waiting for her arrival and I could not shake her justifiable despair.

    I forgot to mention that my help desk person was mild-mannered and persistent. She asked me to stand in front of her so that no one else would interrupt. She was put on hold with my airline (I won’t mention the name until this is resolved) for a very long 10 minutes. She was able to get the airline to “sort of” commit to a refund of my ticket. She went ahead and booked me on the Ryanair direct flight. Some of you may read this and wonder if Ryanair got me home. To be fair, Ryanair has become a more efficient, friendlier (I may be pushing it) airline. I was grateful despite the fact that my flight was seven hours away. It was direct and there were five or six nice bars at the airport. I knew that I was about to have a real martini in a real martini glass — still haven’t found one in Faro.

    A really great thing happened at the bar I chose to visit. I had been having major iPhone issues over the past week and I asked my neighbor if he knew how to force close an app. My Waze app was doing flips on me and I couldn’t erase it. He tried to help and we both failed; however, he asked me if my screen had been replaced recently. I said that I had replaced it a few weeks back. He asked me if I had gone to an iphone store and I laughed because that store doesn’t exist in Faro. I told him about this Chinese repair shop near my apartment and he said, “I hate to tell you this but you got a bad screen.” If I’m going to be truthful, I thought his diagnosis was wrong. Turns out he was right. They replaced my screen with a new and improved screen and all is well in iphoneland . . . for now. My airport angel strikes again! Kenneth took my mind off of the delay for 90 minutes and now I have a London acquaintance.

    Anyway, I digress. This kind of delay can cause more anxiety than a fourth cup of coffee and I am once again questioning air travel. After all, I can take a train or drive to several other countries and I can walk to my own local paradise. There are obvious advantages to remaining closer to home:  save money, eat healthier, less stressful, do not have to leave Giorgio with a dog sitter, explore local sights you may not see otherwise, and countless others. Still, my hunger to see and experience as much of the world as possible while I have the energy and the means, is not an easy urge to resist.

    Prior to opening my laptop to write, I researched the airfare for Sicily. I also have not been able to shake the idea of an African Safari. That should tell you the should tell you the clear winner of this battle.

     

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    Last night’s sunset from the back patio of my apartment. I should probably have opened the window before I took the shot. Two glasses of Sangria in, I really wasn’t thinking straight.

  • Exploring Edinburgh and Other Random Bits

    One of the many reasons I moved to Portugal was to be closer to the rest of Europe so that I could travel more easily from country to country; and that includes countries on the African continent. I will get to Edinburgh in this piece, I promise.

    My first country outside of Portugal to visit was Scotland. It’s was only a three-day trip because Giorgio is still getting acquainted with his new home and I don’t want him traumatized further by not having me around.

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    Perhaps I’m over thinking Giorgio’s state-of-mind

    The great thing about living in Faro is that you have easy access to every form of transportation and getting around is inexpensive. I had to drop Giorgio off by his sitter and I was cutting it close for time, so I took an Uber to the airport — less than ten Euros. I’m here on a temporary residence visa until my SEF (the immigration office) appointment in August, so of I was somewhat unsure of the complexities of travel from one Euro country to another. The border patrol asked questions about my visa status; however when I shared that I had an August appointment they believed me. When I arrived home last night when I told the border patrol officer I had moved to Faro, he actually said, “Good that you got away from Mr. Trump; smart fella.” It was almost midnight and I was spent from a day of travel, but I said to him, “How could you have known that one was of my reasons for leaving the States?” It was a wonderful welcome home.

    I am not going to make this a travelogue about Edinburgh, but I have included a few photograhs and I will say this:  if you’re looking to travel to a city filled with history, incredible architecture, welcoming people, great restaurants, fantastic museums (mostly free), great transportation, many Airbnb options, and the desire to have hassle-free fun, Edinburgh is the place to go. Old Town, where I stayed, reminded me of the East Village in New York; filled with ethnic restaurants, young people and grit. I cannot say a negative thing about this Scottish treasure. If you would like more details about anything I am sharing, please write.

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    This was a Japanese restaurant in the Edinburgh airport where your food passes by you on a conveyor belt. I had never seen anything like it. The dishes were  color coded according to the price. It was fast, delicious and what I thought was a brilliant concept (especially in an airport).
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    This not-so-attractive bridge in the city centre was a good spot for a photo. The wall was a bit high for good pictures of the city, but if you leaned over, you got to see some great sights. I got the hat for four pounds at a thrift shop; it still at the original price tag on it.
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    The Scotland Royal Museum is always free, open seven days a week and had some beautiful exhibits. This was a fashion exhibit — loved it.
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    I walked into this sweet little coffee shop and the owner was being very playful bantering back and forth me with about what I’d been up to the night before. I didn’t expect it t all and really enjoyed his company. It truly felt like you were visiting an old friends home and his latte was perfection. If I lived in Edinburgh I’d return to The Coffee Mill.
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    I discovered this grave on a guided tour. If you ever want a quick overview of a city, do a guided tour as soon after you arrive as possible, then you get to see where you want to spend your time. This is the grave of Grayfriar’s dog Bobby. When Grayfriar died in 1872, Bobby went to where he was buried and refused to leave his grave site. Although stray dogs without a license were normally put down, Bobby was so loved by the locals, a license was purchased for him and a dog house was constructed so that he could remain near the grave. He lived to be 16 years old and was loved by all in the neighborhood. Today there is a statue of Bobby and a pub named after him next to the cemetery. I’m hoping that all of this story is true. A tombstone erected where Bobby was buried and visitors lay fetching sticks at his grave.  If you don’t love this story, we are no longer friends.
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    The Edinburgh Castle (click for more info), dates back to the 1100s and has so much fascinating history, I could not pretend to do it justice — go see it.
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    These little stairways and courtyards exist everywhere and one is more interesting than the other. You just have to walk and discover.
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    The Royal Mile is commercial, but closed to traffic, filled with happy people and historical sights. It takes you right to the base of the castle.

     

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    I climbed “close” to the top of Arthur’s Seat for a truly magnificent view of Edinburgh. Admittedly, it wa quite the workout, but I’ll bever regret the sweat and time it took it do it. I also got to meet a lost jugger. I helped her find her way and she was great company climbing down. Random strangers can make your day. This video may give you a glimpse of this spectacular vista.
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    The view of Arthur’s Seat from my Airbnb. I had no intention of climbing to the top, but it beckoned me and I could not refuse the invitation.

    I’ll wrap up by telling you that choosing Edinburgh was not a long, thought out decision. I knew that a getaway would be good for me and it was just that. I came back with a true appreciation of the new home I have chosen. As I passed my new neighborhoods in Faro, I marveled at its history and beauty. Edinburgh and Faro look and feel nothing alike, but isn’t that the beauty of the planet we inhabit.

    On another note:

    The piece below was purchased quite a few weeks ago. I haven’t mentioned it because I was waiting for it to be hung in my bedroom and then I was going to snap a shot of it and show it off. I’ve been searching for a tile tradesperson willing to hang it on my wall (the way I want it to be hung). I’m closer to finding “that” person. What I love about this piece is that the original artist made one of the figures ambiguous. When I first looked at it I thought for certain it was two women. The truth is that it doesn’t really matter and that is preciously what I love about it. I love the posters from the early 20th century; I especially love this one. I probably should have made sure the tiles were straight before I photographed it — you can see why I love it.

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    16 Tiles, painted and then fired; original poster circa 1920. I met the artist and was thrilled to discuss where and I how I intended to hang the tiles. From a ceramic shop in Olhão. I promised her I’d send a photo of where it will live. Artists care a great deal about how their work is displayed and why shouldn’t they.

    Lastly, we lost one of my favorite celebrity food personalities this week. Anthony Bourdain was a complicated person; he was candid, intelligent, creative and paved the way for so many. I had the good fortune to meet him and work with him at The French Culinary Institute. He was a gentlemen and truly enjoyed mentoring students. He will be missed by many.

     

     

     

     

     

  • Strange Not to be Chasing the Next Opening

    The culinary scene in the United States has been pretentious and ever-changing for many years; however, the last 20 years has been explosive; not only in the States, but all over the world. While working at the French Culinary Institute in New York City, I felt obligated to stay on top of the restaurant industry; knowing everything I could possibly know about the latest and greatest chefs and places to dine. Everyone in my work circle was an expert. If you were unaware of the last Michelin star winners or had no idea who was nominated for a James Beard Award, you were considered unambitious and not very highly regarded by your peers and superiors.

    When I moved to Maine and started a restaurant consulting business, nothing changed for me. In fact, it was only amplified a notch or two. Portland has a very competitive culinary scene, and boasts the second highest number of restaurants, per capita, in the country; second only to San Francisco. I’m certain there are other cities in the States that would dispute these numbers. The number of monthly openings and closings in the restaurant business was staggering for a small city. This known fact, kept writers and critics scrambling for the next scoop. I did not like how pretentious and cut throat it felt. Some writers thrive in that environment and others, like me, are repulsed by it.

    I made a decision to leave all of that toxicity behind when I moved to Portugal. Faro has a good many terrific restaurants and some of them are exceptional, but for the most part, what you find here is delicious, fresh and reasonable. Perhaps because I spent so many years eating at the best restaurants in the world, all I want now, is good, honest food.

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    This is a simple mozzarella, tomato, basil, and olive oil dish from L’Osteria in Faro. I could have done without the bread sticks, but the chef used them to hold the layers together — oh well.

    Faro restaurants are easy to like. There are many traditional Portuguese eateries everywhere. I’m finding the food fresh, inexpensive, and delicious. There is nothing fancy about it. It’s more about traditional cooking and eating with friends. Lots of thin paper napkins, but I assume this is meant to keep the cost down.

    I have tried several restaurants in Lisbon, Sintra and more than a dozen in Faro and so far, I have not paid more than I thought I should for a meal. I did splurge, more than once, at a seafood restaurant in Lisbon in the Chiado district. Sea Me had the most beautiful local shrimp I had ever seen and they were not cheap — still, less than you would pay for lobster in the U.S. I’d do again in a minute.

    There have been a few disappointments:

    • I have not been crazy about the beef. With the exception of a steak I had at a small restaurant in Tavira a few weeks ago. It was Brazilian and the meat was tender and flavorful. I also had lunch at a gaucho style restaurant at the mall here in Faro and that beef was pretty tasty. Must be the hormones they inject in the cattle back home.
    • They tend to serve french fries with many of the dishes. You can often ask for boiled potatoes and these are delicious and better for you. I drizzle them with olive oil, and a little salt and pepper.
    • They often have dishes they call soup and they arrive without broth. Still not sure what that’s about.
    • Why do I have to ask for no carrots in my salad wherever I go. I had the same problem when I lived in North Carolina and South Carolina. Just not my thing.
    • Meat is often pulverized (flattened out). I assume this is done to tenderize it, but again, I prefer they not beat it to death (you know what I mean).

    Wine in the U.S. is often marked-up way up. Wine lists in the States are more complicated than my college economics class. What I find here are beautiful Portuguese wines that are very reasonable and delicious. I can order a nice bottle for under 10 euros and bring home what I don’t drink. In the supermarket, I can buy good everyday whites and reds for three or four euros. Nothing like the repulsive two buck chuck you could once buy at Trader Joe’s. And cocktails at restaurants and bars are also priced well. The café at the base of my buildings serves cocktails for a little over two euros.

    I’ll save my critique of the pastry in Portugal for another post. I still have a lot of research to do.

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    My favorite shrimp in Portugal are very large and very red. I cooked some a few weeks ago and turned a white cloth napkin, pink. Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

     

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    Stuffed squid, frites, salad, and a beer a few hours before dental surgery. I discovered this place while walking around my still newish neighborhood. The entire meal with chocolate cake for dessert was eight euros. I’m still shaking my head.

     

    Edinburgh, Scotland on Friday . . . stay tuned. Reservation at Angels With Bagpipes in Old Town.

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  • When in Portugal . . .

    How a Change in Routine, Can Lead to Greater Self-awareness

    Yesterday I misplaced my wallet and today I spilled a cup of coffee; careless and frustrating. These are the things that happen when your daily routine changes and you’re not paying attention. There is danger in trying to recreate your old life in a new environment. It’s like trying to put up a tent when the wind is blowing at 50 mph; it just doesn’t work.

    Portugal is a beautiful country with wonderful people, but it is not the United States. It’s land boundaries have not changed since the 13th century (Portugal has a fascinating history); that’s a lot of time to establish yourself. Still, in many ways, it feels like a young country.  I’m sure that has a great deal to do with independence, the European Union, difficult economic times, sharing the Iberian Peninsula with Spain, its size, and a host of other considerations.  It is the country I chose to reside in and now it is time embrace its riches.

    I have noticed some things about the Portuguese culture that I love and admire (these are generalizations I’m willing to defend):

    • People are extremely quiet in restaurants. A crowded restaurant in the States is loud; very loud. It almost appears as if people are trying to be louder than the next table. The Portuguese people are aware of the volume of their voices and they are very considerate. I’ve also noticed that background music is just that, it’s in the background. Eating in restaurants is very pleasant.
    • Your neighbors are very private and do not try to get in your business. This was something I loved about New York City; however, I did not find it to be true in Maine, North Carolina or South Carolina.
    • Public festivals are very calm, clean and the people are happy to be there.
    • I have been noticing that older people (70 and up) are out and about and that many of them are impeccably dressed. Women wearing skirts and jackets and men in sports coats and often wearing a tie. Lots of smart hats and interesting walking sticks. I guess that I’m paying more attention to the older population as I approach 60 (rapidly).
    • People still use cash!
    • Patience seems to run rampant here.
    • Items are well-priced. I have not seen any price gouging; I don’t think the Portuguese would tolerate it.
    • Whenever you ask, “Fala Inglês? the Portuguese reply, “A little bit,” and then they often speak beautiful English and they are extremely helpful. Very gracious people.
    • The streets are clean wherever I go.
    • I was never exposed to Portuguese olive oil in the States; there are many varieties and it is as good here as it is in Italy and Spain.

    The point is, I am adjusting to my new surroundings and I am falling in love with Faro. I have had to abandon some of my old practices and ways of thinking. If you would have asked me a year ago, I would have told you that I was going to spend the rest of my life in Maine. Funny how life is, you never, ever know where it’s going to take you. Still, we live our lives as if we know what the future will bring — strange that. I have a better understanding of what was meant (click for more info) by the old adage, “When in Rome, do as the Roman’s do.”

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    A food festival in Faro at a beautiful public park. I was struck by how calm it was despite the many people. The food was local, delicious and cheap! Note the tile on the ground — it’s everywhere!
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    Beautiful architecture throughout Faro. I would have loved to have seen it in its heyday.

     

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    Beautiful and quiet beach in Almancil. A bit of a walk to get there, but very much worth the effort. It’s a short bike and train ride away (20 minutes).

     

    A day in the beautiful town of Loulé, where there is a whole lot more worth experiencing than IKEA and an outlet mall.

     

     

  • Giving Up My Car

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    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

    My love affair with the bicycle goes back to my paper boy days in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. I was ten years old and I went to my dad and asked him for a bicycle. My dad had nine children and he was a blue-collar worker, so asking for anything made me feel guilty and ungrateful. This was different, I told him that I had applied for a paper route and I needed a bike to deliver newspapers in South Brooklyn. My dad had a very surprised look on his face; wondering if I could rise before the sun and handle the elements. Looking back I realize just how much faith he had in me.

    I got a shiny new red bike with a big basket in the front for my papers and I started earning my own allowance. I held onto that bike for a few years, but clearly it was worse for the ware and by the time I was a teenager, it was time for a new bicycle. My sister Debbie and I ended up at a bingo hall one Saturday night. I can’t tell you how we were allowed to gamble at ages 14 and 15, but we were and we did. I managed to win the big jackpot of the evening: a whopping $75 and with my winnings, I bought my sister and I used bikes. Mine was a yellow Schwinn with a white seat and my sisters; well I don’t recall. That Schwinn took me to Coney Island, our neighborhood bowling ally, the community pool, and on really hot days, for a bag lunch under the Verrazzano Bridge — that had to be the coolest spot in all of Brooklyn.

    That bike was stolen a couple of years later and I was so angry about the theft I refused to purchase another bike. I guess I realized that this personal protest was not hurting anyone but myself, so I decided to upgrade to a really nice blue ten speed. I don’t recall much about this bike except that my tire got caught in a trolley track and I went down hard. In fact, looking back I have had three or four bad bicycle accidents throughout my life. Still, bicycles have been a means for me to do great things and see so many interesting places.

    I did the Boston to New York AIDS Ride three years in a row and was able to help a great cause and meet new friends. I did a week-long bike ride through Provence I will never forget. Biking through Tuscany was fantastic and the list of places goes in. Despite the aforementioned serious accidents, I am committed to riding for as long as I possibly can. In order to stay healthy in the Algarve and reduce my carbon footprint, I have decided not to get a car and to do more cycling and walking. Buying a used bicycle has not been easy in Faro. I ended up buying a mountain bike last week, only to hear from the owner of a bicycle I really wanted the next day. A bike rental shop in Tavira was selling 10 gently used bikes and the style and price were exactly what I wanted. I decided to buy one of these used bikes and sell the one I had just purchased. I must have had good karma last week because the owner of the bike agreed to deliver the bike to my apartment and when he arrived he said, “I brought you a new one.” Honestly, brand spankin’ new, right out of the box, and I got myself quite a deal (see photo below).

    I’ve learned my lesson, albeit the hard way, and I have purchased a good helmet. I’m excited to see Faro and the Algarve by bicycle. I’ve already mapped out a route to the beach and the cinema, and I’m certain I’ll be using it for trips to the mercado.

    Not having a vehicle is sometimes frustrating:  waiting for trains, complicated transfers, the loss of spontaneity, the freedom of mobility and the joy of a stick shift. If I’m going to be honest with myself, I love having a car and I love driving a car. However, this is a time in my life where being practical and smart, takes precedence over convenience. Truthfully, I can and will survive without a car. Waiting for the train will teach me patience; I can plan trips to IKEA and the mall; walking and riding has far greater health benefits; and the money I save on gas, insurance, and maintenance will help take me to places far more exotic than the grocery store — a short walk or ride from my apartment.

    Riding in a foreign country is a bit scary, but fear can get in the way of true adventure and I won’t allow this to happen.

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    The mountain bike I purchased for 70 euros and then sold two days later for sixty euros — not a very lucrative proposition.
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    My new Orbit. The right price, the right height, the right color, perfect handlebars for an old guy, fenders, kickstand, a light in the front, a cool bell, and a rack above the back tire. I’m good to go!
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    Photo by Tookapic on Pexels.com
    man holding tree enjoying the view mountain
    Photo by Daniel Frank on Pexels.com

  • Living Abroad and My Truth

    Counting My Blessings

    I cannot imagine what it must have been like to live overseas 20 or more years ago.  Staying in touch with loved ones back home must have been very expensive and difficult. Facebook, Instagram, Whatsapp, and other forms of social media have made communicating and keeping up with friends fairly easy. Meeting friends through expat sites and Meetup groups is also a terrific and easy way to connect.

    When you’ve been around the block a few times, you become more discerning. Picking and choosing who I spend my time with and how I spend my time has been of greater importance since moving abroad. It’s easy to regress back to my old ways; I have to remind myself that “my truth” is ultimately all that matters. As your truth should be all that matters to you. I needed a constant reminder, so a few years ago I stopped into a tattoo shop in Soho (Manhattan) and asked for this:

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    Forearm tatoo — TRUTH (Chinese)

     

     

    Faro’s first Gay Pride, Saturday, May 19, 2018. Proud to be a part of it.

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    I fell in love with this piece last week. It was hanging on the wall at Carla’s Curve in Mexilhoeria Grande.  I know it’s for sale; I am determined to make it mine . . . stay tuned.

    The decision to relocate abroad was an opportunity to take stock of how I was living my life; the food I am eating, the amount of alcohol I am drinking, and how I am spending my time. The mind, body and spirit; holistic approach to living, seems like a better way to live in the present and think about the future. A philosophy that would be difficult to argue; especially in my own mind. What role does social media play in my life?

    I love social media. I enjoy keeping up with friends near and far, I enjoy the posted photos, I like how upbeat most of the postings are, and I even enjoy the occasional not-so-positive back and forth disagreements. That being said, I think some people take it a bit too far. I have learned rather than getting all pissy about it, I have several options:

    1. I can just quickly skim through postings and ignore the stuff that doesn’t speak to me.
    2. I can follow certain people on Facebook. This is different from unfriending, which I have also done on occasion. I have to admit that it is a very empowering exercise.
    3. I can stay away from social media for a few days and take a breather.
    4. I can counter with overwhelmingly positive posts and impart guilt on others.
    5. I can include my thoughts in my very subjective, highly personal blog.

     

    Quick Note

    That news I was waiting for finally came and it was unfavorable; no worries, not health related.  One of the great benefits of getting older is the letting go part. When you’ve experienced many disappointments, it’s a lot easier to just accept outcomes. Moving on.

     

    Eating and Drinking Out

    I found a wonderful coffee shop in the Faro Mercado Municipal. Most of her coffees come from Brazil; in fact I believe the owner is Brazilian. I’m enjoying learning a little bit more about her and her shop each time I stop by. There is nothing better than doing a little fish and fresh vegetable shopping and then spending time at her counter sipping a cortado. I have been waiting for my bean grinder to be released from Customs and I’m pleased to say I was able to have my coffee beans from home, ground here. More on this place to come (click for Mercado info).

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    A cortado is a Spanish-origin general term for a beverage consisting of espresso mixed with a roughly equal amount of warm milk to reduce the acidity (Wikipedia)

     

    One of the things I have always loved about Europe is that you can visit a small town and find fantastic food prepared by creative chefs. Carla’s Curve (A Curva) in Mexihoeria Grande is just that kind of place. Carla came out of the kitchen to describe what she had purchased  that day and how she intended to prepare it. I did not take pictures of the food because sometimes I feel that it’s better to just be in the moment and fully enjoy everything that comes your way. Carla’s clams were prepared in olive oil with white wine, garlic and parsley and they were so fresh the simple ingredients did not over power the clams; incredible. Then I had beef ribs in a delicious barbecue sauce. I have not been very impressed with the beef since I arrived here, so I was anxious to try Carla’s ribs . . . they were tender and flavorful. People all around me were expressing their satisfaction and raving about Carla; she’s a warm, animated individual. It was a truly wonderful local dining experience and I cannot wait to return. The restaurant is literally located on a huge curve as you meander down the hill. The next time I will take pictures of the food.

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    Carla, owner and chef at A Curva in Mexihoeria Grande in the Algarve.

  • Far Away From American Politics

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    Student Protest on Avenida 5 de Outubro, Faro. There were hundreds marching on Monday afternoon.

    I thought I would leave the U.S. and stick my head in the sand — well that’s not happening.

    BBC World news is a great source of global news for this expat. On one hand what is happening back home is extremely important to me, on the other hand I don’t appreciate news outlets like MSNBC or CNN because they focus almost exclusively on American leadership.  The United State’s influence on the world is vast and substantial; however, there are other governments, economies, climate changes and so on, making news. Covering Donald J. Trump all day, every day, is fueling the divide all over the world and an hour with Stormy Daniels is just one hour too much.

    There are a few other reasons I enjoy BBC world:  The commentators don’t usually get into pissing matches — they tend to listen to one another and remain professional. I love the way they cover weather all over the world; sometimes pointing out even the most remote locations. And the graphics are phenomenal. It also feels less political; this may be because everything seems over-the-top political in the States these days. The humor feels authentic and the British accent is easy on the ears. Admittedly, the countdown for the Royal wedding is slightly annoying.

    The point I’m making is that cultural differences usually show up in the media. I can’t say much about Portugal’s news networks because I’m not yet at a point with the language where I can comfortably watch the news. It is however, my intention to watch the news here in Portugal sometime in the near future and it is actually a good way to learn Portuguese. From the little I have seen here, soccer dominates. The following are some of my observations based on “real life” situations:

    I have been meeting Portuguese natives nearly every day and none of them ask me why I moved to Portugal. It was the first question anyone I met in Maine five years ago, would ask me, “Why Maine?” It almost made me feel that now matter how I answered the question, I’d be offensive or say the wrong thing. I remember deciding just to say that I was ready to leave New York (my sense from living in Maine was that many did not appreciate New Yorkers). The Portuguese don’t really seem to care why I came here, they’re just glad I did. I never get the sense that I am not welcome here. There may be some expats, however, that would disagree.

    I have read comments on expat Facebook sites about government workers who are dealing with visa applications. There have been numerous comments having to do with resentment toward foreigners. Individuals stating that they are being treated poorly in government offices. I cannot say I have had this experience personally, but I can say, like most governments, there seems to be a great deal of red tape — I’m not sure that’s related in any way, to expats.

     

    Photos:  The town of Tavira, about 30 miles east of Faro not too far from the Spanish border, artists, bars, and a great place to walk, pop. 25,000

     

    I recorded his video for a media company in the U.S. It’s rough around the edges and I sound like Kermit the frog, but I’m including it for those of you I haven’t met and for my American family members who believe I have been taken hostage:

     

    Keep the comments coming; they are much appreciated.

  • This Will Take Some Time and Patience

     

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    The view from the Hotel Faro, my favorite watering hole

    Whoever said, “Don’t sweat the small stuff,” did not live in Portugal. I knew some things would be different and in fact, I looked forward to change. In truth, I haven’t even been here three weeks and I hesitate to start complaining, but heck, it’s my nature to piss and moan so why wait.

    I purposely decided not to purchase a vehicle for several reasons:  1) I wanted to reduce my carbon footprint, 2) I was hoping I’d get more exercise by walking, and finally, 3) I figured I could save a little money (more in the bank for food). I’ve spent quite a bit of time studying the Faro bus schedule. It’s complicated, convoluted and I have no idea where buses end up in the city. There are at least 10 different bus lines very close to my building, but I can’t figure out how to get from A to B. So I decided to go to the mall Saturday. The schedule clearly said that the number 5 goes to Forum every 30 minutes on Saturday. I took my time and meandered over to the bus stop; there I sat for over an hour. You guessed it, no bus. The good news is that Uber is cheap and a car arrived in minutes to whisk me off to the mall.

    Intervalo is intermission in Portuguese and if you love film, be prepared. I recall now that this same thing did happen to me in Spain a number of years ago, but frankly, I wasn’t expecting it and I was startled. I was watching a dumb American film at the mall last week and the film stopped mid-scene for an “interval.” Although it is clearly a minor issue, I have several problems with it:

    1. If you’re going to have an intermission, why do it in the middle of a scene?
    2. Part of the excitement of a film is anticipating what is coming next and I’d rather not have interruptions. Holding it in because the film is that good, is a good thing. It’s two hours and easy to prepare for, no?
    3. Because I had time to kill, I felt compelled to purchase a snack and although candy at the movies is a lot less expensive in Portugal (1.25 Euros or $1.55 for a pack of M & Ms), I don’t need the calories.
    4. I’d rather not be thinking, “I like the way we do it in the States better.”

    I guess I needed the comfort of an American film as part of my adjustment to a new home abroad. It worked, I felt better, and I don’t see it happening again anytime soon.

    The good people of Portugal do not pick up their dog’s poop! I’m serious, I have to look down everywhere I go. After living in Maine where you rarely see poop on the ground, this has been difficult to deal with. Poop bags are on every other lamp-post and they still don’t pick it up. What makes this insane is that the Portuguese recycle everything. There is a bin for just about every kind of trash and people are psychotic about sorting it, but they leave the dog shit right there on the sidewalk. If it kills me I’m going to be THAT guy that calls out every pet owner in Faro who doesn’t pick up their dog’s poop.

    Gyms don’t open until 9:00 a.m. and they’re closed on weekends; now how silly is that? People here do not workout before work. Back home, gyms were full by 6:00 a.m., and how can they be closed on weekends? Isn’t that when you catch up on workouts you may have missed during the week? Perhaps it’s when you extend your workout a bit? I’m a big believer is providing employees a good quality of life, but as far as I’m concerned, if choose to be employed in a gym, you should expect to work weekends; sort of like restaurants and grocery stores.

    Shocked, stunned, bewildered, and frustrated, that I have not received a single piece of Portuguese mail in my mailbox. I’m getting packages from Amazon and even a couple of forwarded pieces of mail from the U.S.; however, no Portuguese mail. Perhaps the post office knows I can’t read the mail anyway. My bank here will not allow me to change my U.S. address until I show them an official piece of mail with my new Portugal address. Considering I have owned my condo for over four months, it doesn’t seem likely to happen anytime soon. I never thought I’d say this, but I miss my AARP junk mail. And by the way, I don’t have a U.S. address Mr. Banker.

    So what I am about to share is very embarrassing:  my attorney contacted me and said, “Have you checked your mailbox?”

    I was extremely insulted and fired back, “Yes I checked my mailbox.”

    I was shown my mailbox on move-in day and used my key and the mailbox opened. I thought, “Good the key works,” and I have been checking the mailbox everyday since; as I shared earlier, no mail. Last night I met the head of the condo association in the lobby.

    She said, “I  will put all this in your mailbox,” and looked to her right. I thought that was odd because my mailbox was on the left. Well, today I went to the mailbox she sort of turned to and alas, it was my mailbox. I have been checking the wrong mailbox for three weeks. How my key worked on another person’s mailbox, I haven’t a clue. Further, how is it that my neighbor has not gotten any mail? So now you know what it might be like living overseas.

    My quest to find San Marzano tomatoes has begun. I started cooking with these delicious Italian canned tomatoes over 25 years ago after taking a cooking class with Grace Balducci in New York City. They’ve been readily available to me throughout the years — that is until I moved to Portugal. It doesn’t make sense being that I am so much closer to Italy than I have ever been. I’m sure it has something to do with Italian migration to the United States and other countries. I know that I am fussy about ingredients, but if I have to take a train to Italy to find my tomatoes, then that’s what I’ll do. If you’re reading this and you know a place in or around Faro (75 kilometer radius) that sells these tomatoes, I’d be happy to end my search. Better yet, it’s a good excuse to travel to Italy soon.

    There are no Walmart stores in Portugal, however, we do have Chinese discount stores. You can expect to find just about anything other than food (save for American candy) at these stores and they are everywhere — like Rite Aid in the U.S.. You have to be a discerning shopper, because no doubt, some products will fall apart before you take them out of your shopping bag. If I’m going to be honest, most products I have purchased at these stores are a great value. For example aluminum foil:  most of it is crap no matter where you buy it — the brand I always purchased in the States is not available here — our local grocery store has a decent size roll for a little over four euros. Four euros is a lot of cash for foil and that’s why a one euro roll of foil at the Chinese dime store works for me. I double it up and still save money. And this is how I spend my time.

    Martinis are hands down my favorite cocktail. It’s the combination of the amount of alcohol, the three olive garnish (considered a snack), and the classic martini glass it’s served in. I’ve been ordering martinis since it was legal for me to imbibe. Well, it’s a bit of a problem in my new home country. The Portuguese drink an aperitif bottled by Martini, Martini is a brand of Italian vermouth, named after the Martini & Rossi Distilleria Nazionale di Spirito di Vino, in Turin.  I ordered a Martini straight up on two occasions and I was served this vermouth chilled — not what I wanted. I have found a couple of places that serve it just the way I like it; however, I’m still looking for a bar with the glassware I prefer. These are the things in life that truly matter and I am not above bringing my own glass to a bar.

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    Pictured: the perfect martini!

    Finally, life in Portugal has far exceeded all of my expectations. I will probably mention this often, but the people are welcoming and wonderful, the weather would be hard to beat and the food is in some ways, almost too good. I love knowing the differences one experiences when living somewhere abroad; hence my reason for sharing.

     

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    The shrimp here are really THAT BIG

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    Photos:

    1. Sitting on the roof deck of Hotel Faro in the marina (Old Town). It has become my favorite watering hole.
    2.  The view from the bus stop outside my apartment — Avenida 5 de Outubro. Strangely there is a good deal of exotic vegetation on this avenue, but you don’t see any of it in this photo. Palm trees, succulents, etc.
    3. The back of a ceramic tile shop in Olhao. I met the ceramic artist after purchasing a tile wall piece I’m excited to have plastered to one of my walls. I’ll post a photo when it’s done.
    4. Shrimp and octopus right out of the Algarve Atlantic (click for Chefe Branco). Dinner with Brenda Athanus; I need to go back soon
    5. Caprese salad at L’Osteria, an Italian restaurant way too close to home.
    6. The foliage outside my building that I referred to in #2.

    I know that last week I wrote that I might have some exciting news . . . It’s getting closer. Patience please. Your feedback has been much appreciated; keep it coming.