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When Everything You Think or Feel Seems Trivial

The World’s Gone to Hell in a Handbasket (until now, I thought it was “henbasket”)

We all know about survivor’s guilt, something tragic happens to the other person and you’re guilt-ridden because it wasn’t you. This feeling can be debilitating and emotionally draining. Empathy is so strong for some of us, it prevents us from experiencing the joy we all deserve to feel.

What We See and Hear

Social media, television news, written media; 99% of it is negative and sensational. I’m not saying much of it isn’t true, but we all all know it is designed to spark interest, keep you riveted, and tap into your compassion for other human beings. What it also does is create a feeling of guilt and remorse. The heaviness we feel is created by this dark cloud of gloom and doom. It’s spiraling out of control and each of us has a responsibility to take back control. The alternative is far from desirable.

How We Process the World Around Us

When you look at news bites, it’s easy to see where racism, elitism, and nationalism lives. The amount of air time spent on Gaza versus a devastating flood in Kenya. The media is tapping into our darkest prejudices. It’s almost as if they’re telling us how to feel. I fight this internal battle daily: why do I care more about one tragedy over another? Why do I send money to some causes and ignore others? How do I change these deeply rooted biases?

It’s easy for me to understand my personal empathy toward gay youth or victims of domestic violence; when you have experienced it yourself, you hope that no one else will ever have to. However, we know that starvation is real even though you personally have never gone hungry for more than a few hours; we know that watching another human being die at the hands of a terrorist has to leave a person psychologically and emotionally damaged for life, and we know that a person seeking refuge in a place where every moment of one’s life is not spent worrying about personal safety, food security, and life-threatening illness, is valid and real; well most of us know. Where does concern for oneself end and compassion for others begin? I have a really hard time with the Kardashians deciding on a $300 pair of flip flops while children starve only miles away in Mexico. Is that anger a justification for my own complacency? There is no easy answer to these morality questions; however, we do have a responsibility to humanity and ourselves to at least try and make sense of it all.

Navigating the Future

I had to sleep on this one . . . for more than one night I’m afraid.

When I first heard friends saying, “I no longer watch the news,” it made me angry. I thought, how can you be so detached from the world around you? But now I understand why so many people feel this way. Putting aside disinformation, bias, unreliable sources, religious influence, polarization, etc. It is way too easy to be blanketed in negativity.

One of the things that travel accomplishes is the ability to see things for yourself. People throughout the world seek peace, harmony, and personal freedom. Governments, for the most part, have a different agenda; usually involving money and power. I don’t understand what motivates world leaders and I never will. I am not alone in my thoughts about this matter and what is happening all over the world is not new.

There is only one person you can truly protect and that is yourself. I have chosen to reside in a country where social democracy is the model for its citizenry. Although not perfect, it is more in line with my moral compass. If I’m going to be honest, I’m not sure perfect can ever exist where there are human beings. What empowers me is agency over my own life and the decisions I make.

Horrible atrocities will continue to take place around me each and every day. I am and will always be deeply affected by cruelty and unkindness. The best that I can do is to remain informed, be deliberate in my choices, give when I can give — when and where I can make a difference, and be kind to myself and others.

“What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.“

Jane Goodall

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Future Travel

Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway, July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Florida, Portland, Maine, Maryland, and North Carolina. I know you may not see it, but this is a much lighter travel schedule than the past.

My Current State of Mind

I’ve been fighting a cold for the past week. It’s been 10 years since my last cold and I had forgotten how debilitating a cold can be. Unfortunately, health issues can mess with the mind and take you to dark places: death, heartache, pain, and almost always, the worst case scenario. I texted a neighbor to tell her that if I didn’t respond to a message after 10 hours, that she should key in. Dramatic or real? My worst fear is imagining Paco without food and water and having to defecate indoors.

The good news is that I am recovering. It’s easy to wallow in self-pity and try to wash away the suffering of others by bathing in substances that quell emotional discomfort. The purpose of this blog is to remind myself that tomorrow will be better than today; celebrating that change is where my focus should be. I cannot make the Israeli Palestine problem go away, but I can live my life with hope and joy, adding to a positive collective consciousness. I can experience the gift of life without beating myself up for being alive. As we remember the greatness of Rosaylnn Carter, the example she and Jimmy set of focusing on providing shelter with Habitat for Humanity, helps one to see that the donation of time, money and commitment toward a single cause can change the world. We need to also remember that before you give oxygen to the person beside you, you have to breathe in some for yourself — you can only help fix someone or something that is broken, when you yourself are repaired.

The holiday season is challenging for me; mostly anxiety linked to socializing. I want to be with others, but I cherish my alone time. I don’t think extroverts appreciate what introverts might be feeling. I’ve learned to set boundaries and be assertive. Still, there are just too many parties, dinners, and cocktails with friends for my comfort. I love the spirit of the season and the hope that it brings.

Please forgive any grammatical or typographical errors. Rereading my work is difficult for me. Thank you.

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The Benefits of Staying Put

Travel Weary and Fat

I took this photo atop a volcanic island in Ha Long Bay, Vietnam. My thoughts while Jane and I enjoyed this magnificent view: this is why I travel . . . I can’t wait to go home . . . when do we eat?

This was going to be a blog outlining my impressions of Asia, but I’ve changed my mind. Not because I didn’t enjoy my trip or that Asia didn’t leave an impression, it most certainly did. However, aside from travel to Cuba a couple of years ago that nearly did me in, my travels to Dubai and four Asian countries took more out of me physically than I care to admit. This blog is about the benefits of staying home.

Before you castrate me for whining about travel to exotic places, allow me to acknowledge that what I have is a first world problem. I am fully aware that many people cannot afford to travel anywhere, let alone across the world. This moral dilemma is an internal personal struggle that I grapple with on a regular basis. Trust me, no amount of charitable donations rectifies the problem.

Why I Have Always Felt the Need to Travel

When I was a little boy, my father took a trip back to his birthplace in Puglia, Italy. I remember begging him to take me with him. Dad was a blue collar working man with eight other children; I wasn’t going anywhere. When he returned from Italy, he painted a picture I thought about for years and years. It was decades before I was able to visit Italy to see it for myself. That travel bug has been alive and well inside of me; forever causing conflict in my heart and mind. Yes, I want to travel and yes, I want to be home.

Why I Want to Be Home

I have become a spoiled brat in my old age. I like what I like; removing myself from my comfort zone is anxiety producing. Cramming this 6 ft., 200 lb. body into an economy seat is no picnic. Two hours is uncomfortable, however, tolerable. Four to twelve hours is nearly impossible. By the time I reach my destination, I am achy, irritable, and suffering from permanent physical damage. I cannot help but ask myself why I do it.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the body has a short memory. That feeling of being lost on the outskirts of Istanbul with no Wifi, the exhaustion of 24 hours without sleep and multiple delays, paying $18 for a bad sandwich at the airport, having one of the wheels of your new suitcase break-off on the first day of a three week trip, starting a cruise with no luggage, waiting on a 90 minute passport control line when your flight leaves in 45 minutes. I’m not jaded, these are all facts.

Weighing the Pros and Cons

Random thoughts: these days, many of the people I love and enjoy spending time with, live elsewhere. I love food from places other than where I live. I have a very difficult time being away from Paco for so long. I need change constantly. I may be addicted to Hotels.com.

“Returning to my dreams was like returning to home after a long time of being away – everything was exactly the same as you left it, except infinitely better.”
― Aishabella Sheikh, Entwined

Returning Home from Hong Kong a Few Days Ago

The reason for my collapse when I walked through my apartment door in Faro:

A twenty minute walk through massively crowded streets to the train that links Hong Kong Central to the airport. Soaked in sweat, searching for a ticket machine that did not take debit or credit cards. Six hours at the airport waiting for the first leg of a three legged flight. Waiting for zone F to board the plane. Sitting on an empty plane for two hours in Bangkok while staff disinfected the area around me. Muscles cramping in the air for another eight hours. Wait hours to make a connection in Dubai. Make your way to the gate in an airport shopping mall the size of Wisconsin. Throw down a $23 cocktail. Wait until they announce zone F. Board an eight hour flight to LIsbon. Wait for what seems like forever to leave the plane. Pray for a short line at passport control. Wait in line for the 14th time. Take a train to the bus station. Search your bag for the phone you are certain you left at the airport in Dubai. Find your phone and nearly shit your pants. A jet lagged search for your Flix bus in Lisbon. Be told you’re not on the bus driver’s list even though you have a digital ticket. Wait off to the side until he sorts it out. Sit on a packed bus next to sixteen people all on speaker phone simultaneously. Too much cologne on scruffy men, horrible music piped into static filled speakers, vile food odors everywhere, three babies crying in unison, pull over a bus filled with 43 people so one guy can pee, finally reach Faro 32 hours later. Having Paco greet me at my door and thinking, I am never leaving home again . . . until the next time.

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Future Travel

Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway, July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Portland, Maine, Maryland, North Carolina and perhaps the west coast. I’ve done the east coast by train and bus in the past; this may be the best way to travel more comfortably.

My Current State of Mind

The best thing about being away from home for a long period of time, is coming home. Seeing Paco, sleeping in my own bed, returning to a reasonable amount of eating and drinking; all equate to bliss. Too much of a good thing is just that. I want the comforts of my little nest, in my little city, and on my own terms.

“I regarded home as a place I left behind in order to come back to it afterward.”
― Ernest Hemingway

Blogging

I blog for two reasons: first, and most importantly, to share aspects of my life that help reveal who I am, where I think I may be going, and where I want to be (psychologically and emotionally). Secondly, I enjoy writing more than just about anything. It is an opportunity to express myself and purge the clatter in my head.

Complaining is one of my favorite pastimes, but you should know, I am happier than I have ever been. Thank you for joining me on this magnificent journey.

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Taught to Keep it All Inside

Topic revisited with revisions October 2023

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My mother told her children that we had it better than most. She said that we should appreciate what we had because it could be far worse. We were not permitted to discuss our lives with outsiders under any circumstances. I didn’t realize why until I learned that other children were raised with love, encouragement, and hope for the future; we had very little of any of that. The love we got at home was twisted and divisive. Coming out was the least of my worries.

You hear a lot about people “coming out” these days. There are many incredible stories; each unique and compelling. I’m looking forward to a time when these stories are all in the distant past. I fear wide acceptance of differences is a far off reality.

My story was this: I hid my sexual orientation and acted straight, married a woman, kept it from the boss, had an awakening, told my sister first; she told me she already knew (as did everyone in my family), and so it goes. What you don’t hear is that when you’re gay, you don’t come out once, you come out again and again . . . and again.

Allow me to explain: I’m at a fundraiser sitting at a table with eight strangers. They have no idea who I am, where I am from, and what I do for a living — let alone know about my sexual orientation. We all make small talk to be polite. If I brought a female friend, she was automatically my wife. I am not being critical mind you, it’s a reasonable assumption. So one of the first comments is, “So how long have you two been together?” or “Do you have any children?” I’m wondering whether or not to tell the truth. If I stay silent or play along with the charade, am I doing a disservice to all gays and lesbians? We fought long and hard to be out and proud; if I stay silent, I am complicit.

When I am open and honest with people, I sometimes get these reactions:

“You don’t look gay.”

“I had no idea.”

“But you act so straight!” (Having worked so hard at acting straight in my teens and 20’s, this is my personal favorite.)

“If you were married to a woman, you must be bisexual.”

“Are you the man or the woman in a relationship?”

“Your lucky you are gay, because all gays are smart and creative.”

“There is this scripture from the Old Testament you need to hear.”

I have learned over the years that people can say some fairly stupid and insensitive things without intentionally meaning to offend (but they often do offend). I either nervously chuckle or ignore their words. Either reaction is not very honest, is it? What I would like to say is, “Now that you’ve made your bias clear, tell me what you really think about gay people?” And then go on to tell them what I think.

Let’s put it out there, have some dialogue. But, I don’t say what I’m thinking, I keep my mouth shut, remain silent and hope that the moment passes quickly. I do this because it’s what I was taught to do since I was old enough to comprehend life lessons. Adults teach children to keep the truth inside:

  • to spare the hurt feelings of others
  • to keep them out of trouble
  • to keep them safe
  • to keep children from sharing the truth about their parent’s lives (i.e., what happens in this family, stays with this family)
  • it’s the “norm;” that’s how we’ve always done it

I hid the truth until I was 28 years old; up until that point I worked hard to hide who I was from myself and everyone else.

Being honest, telling the truth, telling the whole truth, speaking your mind, sharing secrets, whistle blowing, and so on. They’re not the same things are they? Everyone seems to define “truth” differently these days. So when someone tells you that they are telling the truth, what exactly does that mean?

I should note that there have been times when I have spoken my truth and suffered the consequences.

The Truth Can be Painful and Consequences Can be Real

Having made a conscious effort to be honest has been fairly difficult at times. People say that they want to hear the truth when in fact, they cannot handle the truth. I acknowledge that my truth may not be someone else’s truth — for example, politics:  I may believe that our previous administration was corrupt and dangerous and others might believe that it was the best leadership we’ve had in a long time. This is a difficult debate because one will argue the facts which are fairly skewed these days, depending on the reporting. This kind of truth aside, deciding to share the truth with someone can put both parties in a difficult position. The truth can do irreparable damage and that is something you may have to live with. I don’t believe examples are necessary since most people have experienced what I am referring to.

Many of us make a conscious decision to keep the truth to ourselves in order to keep the peace.  The problem with this decision is that individuals who need to be told they have an alcohol problem, or that they are being psychologically abused or that their severe weight problem is killing them, will continue to talk themselves into a lie. I have a friend who told me that her doctor told her that it is better for her to smoke cigarettes because if she quits she might have a nervous breakdown. She’s told herself this lie so many times, she actually believes that it’s true.

Conventional wisdom tells you to hold your truth close to the chest; share it with only a select few that you truly trust, otherwise, you make yourself vulnerable — open to criticism. People will think you’re weak or flawed. I’m done with conventional wisdom. Do what feels right and either suffer the consequences or discover who your allies are; who is here to support you, love you, elevate you.

Coming to Terms with the Truth you Tell Yourself

A few years ago I found myself in a toxic work environment. Telling ourselves we are no longer happy at work, I believe it is one of the most essential truths we may have to tell ourselves. It’s very easy to become comfortable and feel safe in a toxic environment; after all, it’s all you know and the alternative might be too frightening to face.

Once you are able and willing to be honest with yourself about your career or work environment, change needs to happen and the old adage that “change is good” will prove true once again.

There are many truths we keep from ourselves:  failing health, toxic relationships, financial ruin, alcohol or drug abuse, missed opportunities, why having an affair is hurting many people, etc. Facing any and all of these life issues can be challenging; however, failure to do so will only mean future problems that could very well end up being insurmountable.

My Future and How I Intend to Deal with Truth

One of my reasons for moving overseas was to find truth. Life for me was becoming mundane and way too comfortable; I was choosing the path of least resistance nearly every time. I’m not referring to seeking the truth about our existence, what I’m trying to find is my own truth:  who am I, what am I looking for, and how do I find it?

I am aware that these are big questions and finding the answers is a lifelong journey. I believe the answers lie in self-reflection, self-assessment and shaking things up. Looking in the mirror can be difficult. If you look hard enough, you might see the truth. So many are reluctant to look because they’re afraid of what they might find. I’m not so much afraid as I am concerned. I’m concerned that I will not be able to change what I don’t like. For example, I learned a while back that I can be unfairly critical. I can hold people to a standard that is unrealistic and unfair. I don’t like this one bit. The question is, can I change it? I’m not sure that I can, but I have made a commitment to try.

Other lies I tell myself:

  • One more cocktail won’t hurt you
  • You can leave your bicycle helmet home this one time
  • It’s better not to put yourself out there because men are all slime buckets
  • Trump will definitely go to jail
  • You don’t have to cover your head from the sun today
  • You can eat whatever you want and work it off at the gym
  • You will know a bad person when you meet them

Being open about these lies is a good first step; it’s time to face them. My friends and family tell me I’m too hard on myself. I believe it’s an easy out — I don’t want to face my shit so I’d prefer you didn’t face yours. I’ll have none of that:  “the truth shall set me free” (to paraphrase the bible and that may be a first for me).

Future Travel

Asia land & sea is finally happening this week, Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Portland, Maine, Maryland, North Carolina and perhaps the west coast.

Current State-of Mind

Two eye opening things happened this week; different, but thought provoking nonetheless. I took Paco out to a local café for a home cooked lunch. I discovered that if I get there early I can avoid smokers and high school kids. When I think about this today, I honestly feel like a bitter aging man — a sad state-of-being. I had a simple, but delicious lunch; as I finished, the students started pouring in. I could feel my entire body tense-up making leaving my best option. I was at the register paying the check. I reached into my pocket and my cash was gone. Before I could panic and a teenager tapped my shoulder. I turned around ready to mouth off and he handed me my money, which I guess had fallen out of my pocket. I immediately felt terrible for judging this sub-population of individuals. With one small gesture, my faith in the youth of Portugal was restored. It was a gentle reminder to shy away from jumping to unfair conclusions about my neighborhood tennagers. I need constant reminders.

The second situation happened here in my home with a contractor working on my floors. I had a vision for how my refinished wood floors would turn out. As the work progressed I realized what I wanted was not going to happen. I had to take a deep breath and accept a different reality — a reality I have discovered I am thrilled with. I truly need to be more open to curve balls which could be brilliant opportunities.

Please forgive any and all typographical and grammatical errors.

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A Letter to My 80 Year Old Self

Updated October 2023

This letter needed revising — you live and learn don’t you?

Dear Christopher,

2040 is not far away and I’m certain the world will have changed; just wondering how much? Technology (AI), war, cancer, viruses, politics, and climate change will undoubtedly be factors. The big questions seem silly to ask, but curiosity has gotten the better of me. What is the weather like? How many mutations of Coronavirus have been discovered? Is Ivanka Trump president? Do three individuals possess 95% of the world’s wealth? Who in your orbit is still around? How is your health and do people reach out to see how you are?

There are of course things I’m certain remain true. Those certainties that have stood the test of time: the fear of God and blind faith, every man or woman for his or her self (greed), stupidity, denial, illness, love, and Cher. Self-destruction of humankind seems inevitable; however, I can’t help wondering if that’s how you’ll go.

The planet has always gone through stages of birth, death, and re-birth; that is a constant. The big question on my mind is what lessons have been learned? Knowing that society’s changes are often temporary and uneven, I cannot help wondering how the billions of earth’s inhabitants are experiencing their current reality. How many billions are there by the way? As usual, I digress.

Allow me to explain my reason for writing. As a pragmatic cynic, I never had much faith in my fellow humans. I watched too many of my neighbors place plastic in the organic bin (one symbolic example) . It wasn’t that I wondered if they cared, it was more that I knew they didn’t. Unfortunately, that’s what age does to you — you’ve seen too much to hold onto senseless hope. Yes, there are rare exceptions to the rule. There are moments when you think that people have changed. But, as we know, history repeats itself and humankind makes more missteps than progress. Isn’t that what being human is? Anger, holding onto it, feeling it, conveying it; has always been an issue, I sincerely hope you are less angry.

You were always one to defend ignorance, therefore, I’m certain you’re spending more time defending and less time explaining. But are you mostly happy? Or maybe you’ve been around long enough now to realize that happiness is relative.

Knowing that you are a dreamer, there are some other things I have been wondering about: for instance, do you continue to care about what others think? I suspect you do. That was an elusive lesson no matter how much you tried to detach; proving that imprinting early on is almost impossible to alter. I’m hopeful that the effects of gossip and idle chatter have softened you over time. As your taste buds only get stronger as you get older, I’m hopeful that this consistent pleasure remains intact. I can’t help imagining that the walks have gotten longer and your bedtime earlier. The quiet of the morning hours become more of a comfort, as the messages from loved ones are more than likely, less frequent. I’m certain you expect less and long for even less.

Do you continue to allow people to hurt you? You’ve worked on letting go your entire life; knowing the toll emotional pain can take. How far have you retreated into your protective shell or perhaps you have learned to recognize that when people are hurting, they sometimes lash out at others to ease their own pain or hide their insecurity. “It’s not about you,” has been your most difficult life lesson.

What I hope for more than anything else, is that you have found peace. The ability to laugh at absurdity; find comfort in your tears. Also, that loss has somehow passed you by or that time has only taken those who were prepared to let go. I know that you often think fondly of Ashley, Giorgio, and Paco. The pets who taught you more about life and love than most of the humans you encountered.

If there is anything I can help you with as you get closer to death, let it be this: time is your most precious possession. Cherish time, forget regret, love yourself first, dance when you feel like dancing, sing anywhere you like, love without fear, embrace your authentic self, if the play sucks, walk out, do not give away time to those who do not deserve it and spend time with those who do. And for once in your life, do not allow guilt to control your heart and/or mind. Lastly, I hope you are celebrating that you’ve made it this far.

With hope, love and arrogance,

Your younger self

__________________________________________

I know this letter seems negative, but I read it differently. For me it says better days are ahead and lessons learned have softened the landing. I’ve experienced enough of life to know that you have to celebrate the highs and ride out the lows.

Future Travel

Asia land & sea, end of October/November, Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Portland, Maine, Maryland, North Carolina and maybe the west coast.

Current State-of Mind

I spent a few days in Spain this week. One of my car tires blew out in a posh neighborhood outside of the city. I wasn’t in a hurry to get to a restaurant I had planned to go to, so I attempted to fix the problem on the side of the road. I’d never even heard of this green slime solution that supposedly seals the tire, allows you to fill it with a pump provided, and in theory, gets you to a car repair business. As I mentioned earlier, this is all conjecture. It doesn’t work if you have a blowout. I’m just glad I was in a populated place not far from my hotel. I was able to leave the car where the mishap occurred and walk back to my hotel. The next day my insurance rep told me to make sure to be with my vehicle by 9:00 a.m. He did mention that roadside service in Spain was slow; alas over three hours later a tow truck arrived. I have never had a vehicle of mine break down close to home. Perhaps this is why I opted to go vehicle-free for my first five years in Portugal. Cars can be a royal pain in the caboose.

I have to at least mention one highlight: I was in Spain on a Monday when most restaurants are closed. I ventured out on a walk hoping to find a place with decent food. I managed to locate a little tapas café where I saw locals drinking, but not eating. I think it’s safe to say that Spaniards do day drinking better than most other cultures (Portugal is not far behind). I walked in and this very pleasant middle-aged woman asked me in English, if I wanted a beer. I guess it’s obvious that I am American. I said yes, of course. I asked for a menu and she instead described what she could whip-up for me. She made me delicious potato croquettes as an appetizer and then I had braised beef in a savory brown sauce over frites. I paired the last dish with a Rioja. I left with a smile and a full belly. This is why I love to travel.

This is Maria. She asked me to take her to New York; it wasn’t right away, she waited until I was leaving. I certainly couldn’t fault her for trying!

Please forgive any and all typographical and grammatical errors.

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I May Be Boring . . .

But You’re Freakin’ Crazy

Before I get to the meaty part of this week’s blog, I wanted to report that I sometimes run the chosen topic by a select group of friends or one particular friend, to get their reaction(s). Today, several people told me that they didn’t understand why I consider myself to be boring. If I’m going to be honest, I think these people who happen to love me, are being kind and/or overly protective. I decided that if this is how I currently perceive myself, then it is my truth.

To be clear, I don’t believe I was always boring, but in fact, I’m very happy to be in my current state of dull, uninteresting, sometimes even anti-social being.

The Dilemma

Lately, I’ve been struggling with whether or not I want to be included in people’s plans. Being that I’m human, of course I’d like to be considered; however, on the other hand, as an introvert, being home in my drama-free, comfortable, quiet place is also desirable and appealing.

Stimulating conversation with intelligent people is quite nice. I learn things from others I may not have known otherwise . . . where to purchase things, restaurants I should consider, extraordinary wines to sample, opinions that make sense; the list is endless.

Why a Delightful Lifestyle for Me, May be Boring to You

I have a jazz club a few streets away from me. They have a Sunday program at a very civilized time slot, 6:00 p.m. I do not ever make plans with friends to go to the Club because I like keeping it open ended. On Sunday afternoon, I check-in with myself and if I’m up for a change of scenery and a bit of music, I walk down to the Club and enjoy the music for as long (or short) as I like. I love the freedom in that.

Lately, I’ve been feeling the same way about short trips away. It’s not that I do not want to be with friends, it’s that I love spontaneity — the ability to pack a bag at the last minute; not many of the people I know would join me (or can join me).

So What Does Boring Look Like

Is old age the cause or just knowing yourself better? You’re not old you say? Well hell, I’m certainly not young. I can ride the train for half price in Portugal.

You already know that I love the quiet hours between 4:15 and 7:00 a.m. It has become my time for refueling and sublime peace — the phone never rings, the park across the street from my apartment is empty (and safe); Paco loves running in the open grassy field, that first cup of coffee is liquid gold, and a few chocolate biscuits or crunchy granola and Greek yogurt, drizzled with amber Portuguese honey, all adds up to my own private nirvana. Is that boring? I suspect some would rather die than welcome the world at that hour; coffee or no coffee. Fortunately, we are not all the same.

Fast forward to dusk, a glass of red and the setting sun out on my terrace. The students who trample on my daylight hours are all gone. The trees in front of my building are filtering the last light of day, the Ria Formosa is glistening diamonds, and a movie is cued-up signaling my eyelids to droop, as I drift in and out of slumber. Boring or contentment? There is a huge difference between being boring and being bored; however, it should be noted that neither is deadly. I have covered the morning and night hours, what happens in between?

I leave the middle part of the day for socializing, knowing that being a hermit is bad for my psychological and emotional well-being. I need interaction with other humans in order to be able to savor the other parts of the day. People keep me centered and nourished; people make me laugh, question my humanity, force me to keep a calendar, and people will be there for me if and when I cannot make it on my own. People in my life are just as important as food and water and Paco and a comfy bed to sleep in. But people need to be reminded of their place now and then, so consider this your reminder. And thank you for being my people.

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I’ll not complain about your boring life, if you just leave me to mine.

— Elton John

I think I live such a boring life. But I can’t imagine any other kind of life, so I guess it’s the life I want.

— John Baldessari

Future Travel

Quick few days in Seville, Spain, Asia land & sea, end of October/November, Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Portland, Maine, Maryland, North Carolina and maybe the west coast.

Travel definitely shakes up the routine, allowing me to eat dinner later, visit evening music venues, and sleep a little later in the morning. To be completely honest, sometimes I order in, prop myself up in my hotel’s comfy bed, and just enjoy a night without plans. The nice thing about traveling with a friend is the guilt they place on me — forcing me to experience the city or town I spent all of that time and money traveling to.

Current State-of Mind

I need to come to terms with the anger I feel about mufflerless motorbikes zipping around Faro. Paco jumps every time one of these bikes loudly races past my building. I can deal with so many city sounds, but this insanely loud, teenage boy ego prompted unnecessary noise, truly gets under my skin. I’m trying to think of an equivalent norm from my teen years . . . maybe gangs or souped up sports cars? I don’t recall any of it being as obnoxiously loud. Old man syndrome perhaps.

The invasive sounds I can tolerate: airplanes flying overhead, buses lowering themselves so that the elderly and disabled can board, ambulance and police vehicle sirens sounding so that cars can scoot over, children laughing, hedge trimmers, and dogs talking to one another as they pass on the sidewalk.

I’m trying so hard to tolerate the chaos and appreciate the silence. This ol’ boring guy just wants to find a way to navigate life without drama and/or the need to self-medicate.

Please forgive any and all typographical and grammatical errors.

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Do You Think You’re Better Than Anyone Else?

Do People Know When They Are Being Fake?

I chose this photo because I immediately judged the subject; Look at me, look at me, I’m different, I’m beautiful.” In truth, he (if this person identifies as a he), is probably just making a buck modeling and what’s wrong with that — this is my internal dialog around tolerance and acceptance.

A Recent Observation

I took a long walk to a trendy restaurant in Basel, Switzerland last week. I have to say, I definitely dig hipster food. Young up and coming chefs trying to stand out in a crowded field are showing up these days. Their food can be fresh, delicious, and creative; I want to eat it whenever I can. The clientele these chefs are attracting, can be horrible people — by horrible, I mean fake . . . pretentious . . . showy . . . ugly.

I observed a group in this restaurant in Basel and it got me thinking.

What I Witness All Around Me

I love the city of Faro for many reasons, but mostly I love it because it is a working class city that doesn’t pretend to me something else. For the most part, people live in modest homes and drive small, inexpensive cars. Buildings are not ostentatious and grander than they need to be. If you like places that boast garish, way too massive homes, more power to you — live there, play there, stay there.

Whether it’s where you went to university, where you live, the hotel where you stayed in Paris, your child’s accomplishments, etc., shut up about it and let people learn of those things from either asking you or from others who might boast for you.

Perhaps it was my upbringing; having been born into poverty and a city in decay, I don’t appreciate excess. It seems to me that a big chunk of humanity is biting off more than they can chew. At some point, the world will implode. Or perhaps climate change will wipe the slate clean.

Ask me about my travels, I’m happy to tell you about the two-star hotels I stay in.

The Best Thing About Being Retired

I do not have to impress anyone in order to make a buck. I cannot count the number of times in my career when I had to smile when I could vomit or listen to someone spewing nonsense when all I wanted to do was flee. Work socials, conventions, visitors to campus; so many insecure or narcissistic nobodies trying to be somebody. There were a few authentic and modest individuals I truly enjoyed being around, but there were more ego inflated buffoons who were legends in their own minds — celebrity chefs come to mind. Inflated egos are difficult to navigate.

Tolerating Fake People

We are surrounded by individuals who for one reason or another need validation by boasting about what they have or relying on people to tell them how incredible their lives appear to be. Social media has accentuated this in a perverse way.

Here are some ways to deal with these individuals:

  • Avoid them by going nowhere near where they might be
  • Buffer yourself by having a friend who doesn’t seem to mind them, sit right next to them
  • Say something like, “Oh I wish I had time to pay attention to such things, or I drove into that neighborhood once, but I was profiled by the police and escorted out.”
  • Stay quiet until you can no longer control yourself and then tell them to fuck off
  • Lead by example
  • Do what’s best for you and ignore the rest
  • Just be better

Do People Know What They Sound Like?

Humans have this uncanny habit of believing something to be true just because it’s been said a number of times; even if it’s an internal voice and even if it’s false.

I often wonder, while I’m listening, if people have any clue about how pretentious and ridiculous they sound? I wish I could say something right while they’re doing it. I believe that some of the people I know will read this blog and think, “I know people who brag about everything; it’s disgusting.”

I know that I have been focusing on what is real and true a lot lately. Why? The death of siblings, living on a budget (I hopefully have a few good years left and I’ll need groceries right up until the end — I worked in the education sector, not hedge fund management), having friends that are so ill they cannot leave their homes, aging, self-reflection, empathy, our current political landscape — it’s a combination of all of these living realities. Maybe pissing and moaning makes me feel better. I never want to feel superior; however, I do want to feel good, safe, and hopeful.

It’s a good time to remind myself that I am no better than anyone else. That includes you. I know that when I’m dead, no one will care about the car I drove or the size of my condominium — these things will not have defined or informed my life or character.

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Future Travel

Asia land & sea, end of October/November, Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Portland, Maine, Maryland, North Carolina and maybe the west coast.

Trust me, it’s all done on a budget; no business class or Four Seasons. I should note that travel is a big part of my blog, therefore, I do not consider this section of my blog boasting. Let me know if you believe it is — always interesting to get your perspective.

Current State-of Mind

I have to admit that sometimes I’m pissy and I don’t know why. The weather is great, I’m seeing good friends, I’m eating well, sleeping well, my health is good, Paco is healthy; it’s all good, but I’m still pissy. Not all the time; it comes and goes and I refuse to take a pill in order to hide or mask it. Instead I just walk around trying to manage it.

Pissy defined: negative attitude, short tempered, difficult to please.

Maybe it’s the high school students revving their motorcycles on my street? Maybe it’s my ginger beer price going up 50% from one week to the next (I hate how business owners are profiting from inflation)? Could it be the dog shit I stepped in yesterday? Perhaps it’s friends who seem completely self-absorbed? Yes, it’s all of the above that is making me pissy.

Remembering Dianne Feinstein, who lived an exemplary life and served us well. Rest in peace Dianne.

Please forgive any and all typographical and grammatical errors. I hate proofreading and I often get crazy with commas.

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Missing in Italy

A personal story I posted several years ago — many of my readers have not read about this nightmare from my past. Sometimes I shake my head wondering: did this really happen?

Alma graduation photograph from their website (not ICA class)

I’ve waited for quite awhile to tell this story. It’s a rather sensitive matter, therefore, I will use fictitious names to protect those involved. There are people in this story who were supportive, sympathetic, and brave and then there are the rest. I should start by saying that the entire matter was surreal. As I went through the motions and experienced it, I felt as though I was on the set of a film shoot; none of it seemed real, and all of it bizarre. What I know for certain, is that it happened and it changed me.

Searching for a Needle in an Italian Haystack

It was an ordinary day at The International Culinary Center (ICC) in New York City when I received the call. At the time, I was School Director and Dean of Student Affairs. The year was the early 2000s. I had worked with others to create an Italian cooking training program in Italy. Students would start their training at ICC and then travel to Alma in Colorno, Italy for the final six weeks of their training. I had traveled to Colorno (by way of Milan) several times. Our relationship with the staff in Italy was solid and the student experience was exceptional. I was proud to be a part of a very unique cooking school experience. Most of the students were in the 20s and 30s; very mature and focused.

We did several rotations a year and enrollment was better than expected. I was the administrator-in-charge of the program; however, there were over ten faculty and staff members doing the real work of executing the experience. The cost of the complete course was close to $50,000 and because half of it was overseas, there were many moving parts. My father was born in Italy; in many ways, it felt as if I had come full-circle in my Italian heritage. While I worked with others to create the program, I learned a lot about regional Italian cooking, its rich history, and I got to try every dish taught. In addition, I was a proud judge during finals in Italy, on several occasions.

Francesca (her real name) was my contact person at Alma. What we were about to experience created a bond and lifelong friendship born out of a terrifying situation. Francesca’s call about one of our students in Italy, continues to make me anxious all these years later. There are deeply felt emotions that are never lost and never leave us.

“Chris, I need to tell you something, but I don’t want you to worry too much.”

My body tensed and I stayed quiet and I listened.

“One of your ICA (at that time we called the program Italian Culinary Academy) students has disappeared.”

Francesca was not an alarmist and she took care of nearly any incident on the Alma campus, so I knew this was serious. Sal was gone for two days and no one had heard from him. His passport and toothbrush were still in his room and there appeared to be no foul play. Administrators at both schools agreed that he had probably met a girl and he was with her on a sun drenched beach. Sal’s friends and classmates didn’t believe that was the case and this caused great concern. Apparently, there were witnesses to an argument outside of a bar the night before he’d gone missing; in fact, the last time Sal was seen. The argument was between Sal and several locals. Some students speculated that the argument was over a Russian girl from the bar, but no one was certain. Francesca and I agreed that Sal’s parents should be informed. She was also going to call the Colorno carabinieri (local police).

I quickly booked a flight to Milan, packed a small bag, and headed for JFK. Alma had a car pick me up in Milan and I attempted to rest my eyes and calm my brain on the 2.5 hour drive to Colorno. It had been 16 hours since hearing from Francesca and by this time, I imagined all sorts of horrible scenarios. Growing up in Brooklyn during the 60s and 70s made me tough, street smart, and terribly jaded. Film and murder mysteries didn’t help.

Riccardo (head of the school, also his real name) and Francesca met me at the school when I arrived. There was no news from Sal and everyone was thinking the worst. Sal’s parents were on their way from the States and Francesca was arranging their accommodations. Jet lag was helping make a bad situation untenable; my thoughts toggling between despair about what might have happened to Sal and dread concerning meeting his parents. A living nightmare and nowhere to hide.

Francesca drove me to the police station for a conversation regarding next steps. I sat with several carabinieri officers asking every question I could think of. Francesca was interpreting for me and I could tell she was exhausted and worried. The carabinieri would not confirm or deny a street argument or that there might have been a Russian girl involved.

After hours at the police station and talking with students, I headed for my hotel room to close my eyes. Francesca agreed to contact me with any news.

There was one particular bar not far from the school that was popular with the American students attending Alma. Colorno is a very small town and everyone knows everyone. There were rumors among the students a number of Russian woman were available for hire and that Sal might have owed money to one of the handlers of these woman. Administrators at Alma seemed genuinely surprised to hear that prostitution was taking place under their noses. My mind took me to dark place; imagining Sal buried six feet underground somewhere outside of Colorno.

Sal’s parents arrived the evening of my first day, however, they did not show up on campus until the following morning. By then, I had slept a few hours and I was more prepared to meet with them. Alma was very sympathetic to their anxiety and did everything possible to make them comfortable. Looking back, I was actually quite surprised by their calm and decorum. They too spent time with the local police. They also took several students close to Sal for lunch and tried to better understand where he might be.

At some point at the end of our first full day, we all met to discuss what we might do next — parents intentionally left out. Alma seemed reluctant to contact the press, for fear the school’s reputation might be harmed. I believe we were secretly hoping Sal would turn up on campus behaving as if he’d done nothing wrong.

As time passed, the street argument became more of a factor; all involved were called in and questioned by the police. The carabinieri were convinced that there was no there, there. I started to feel as if there might be a cover-up and Sal’s parents were skeptical as well. Although his parents and I were in communication throughout the day during early days of the incident, I felt fairly distant from them; detached. They were understandably frustrated, tired, and concerned.

On the fourth day, none of us believed Sal would just reappear. If he had run away with a girl or decided to bail from the program, he would have taken his passport at the very least. We were all fairly certain foul play of some sort had taken place. The Italian state police were brought in after Alma’s administration began to feel as if the local police were not doing enough. Word got out to the press and just about every local and regional news outlet was covering the disappearance. When word got out that an American student was missing and there was speculation that the Russian mafia might have been involved, a search party was dispatched and the rivers and lakes in the area were dredged. I silently hoped Sal would call us to say that he’d see the reports of his disappearance and wanted to let us know that he was fine and that he was sorry for all of the trouble he’d caused. That didn’t happen, but all I had was hope.

I wasn’t sleeping very well and couldn’t help thinking that this would probably be the last class studying at Alma. One incident, completely unrelated to the cooking experience could threaten the viability of a program we worked on for two years. The pubic relations machine at both schools was working hard to highlight how positive the Alma experience was and that this was an unfortunate one-off situation. Sal’s parents were angry that the Italian police and government were not doing more to locate their son; we were mindful that they alone could potentially raise enough concern to shut us down.

His parents decided that a trip to the American Embassy in Milan might help get the Italian government to take this more seriously. I regretfully volunteered to drive them to the embassy. They sat together in the back seat; Sal’s father consoling his mother most of the way to Milan. Over two hours in a vehicle with someone crying hysterically is not easy for the person at the wheel. I didn’t say much for fear of saying the wrong thing. I tried my best to be supportive and reassuring. I didn’t think the people at the embassy would help, but it wasn’t my son who was missing.

When we got to the embassy it was a well-guarded fortress. I dropped them off as close as I could get to the entrance and parked the car. Just as I arrived they were being escorted in. The guards told me that only the parents would be allowed. I called for Sal’s father and he walked over and apologized. He knew that I would be staying in Milan that night and flying back to the States the next morning. It had been a full week since Sal had gone missing and there was nothing more I could do in Italy. Sal’s father agreed to call me if they needed anything and we said our goodbyes. I felt very sorry for Sal’s parents and I was exhausted.

I recall making a call to Gary (real name), ICA’s president, that afternoon and becoming emotional on the phone. The fear of learning that a dead body was found was becoming more and more real. Gary, as always, was extremely supportive and grateful. He and the rest of the staff at ICC were hoping for the best. He asked me to remain calm and to get home safely. The administration at Alma was also very supportive and assured me that they would do everything possible to find Sal. I flew back to the States the next morning.

Time passed and still no word from Sal. His parents stayed in Italy for a couple of weeks and then returned home when hope of finding him had diminished. They became angry, resentful, and blamed both schools for gross negligence. They claimed that we had placed their son in an unsafe environment. Sal’s brother publicly posted a scathing letter, claiming the school was completely negligent. Threats of a lawsuit were being bandied about. The students in Italy had gone on with their studies hoping to complete the program. I had all but given up hope.

Graduation at Alma was scheduled a few weeks out; I knew it would be best for be to return and attend. When I arrived on campus, the students, whom I had stayed in contact with, greeted me warmly. They all assured me that the ICC was not to blame for Sal’s disappearance. We all wondered if this great mystery would ever be solved. I met with the local and state police for an update — there was none. Still much speculation that there was foul play, however, the guilty party or parties, had not revealed themselves. I returned to New York having lost quite a few pounds and feeling like I’d let a lot of people down.

Thanksgiving came and went. Each day brought less talk of Sal’s whereabouts. My emotions had gone from remorse to sadness to anger; acceptance was not within reach. Then, out of nowhere, shorty before Christmas, a call from Francesca in Italy, Sal had been located. He had joined the French Foreign Legion. Apparently, when you join, you leave behind the material world and those you once cared about; some join to escape their lives. Sal somehow managed to slip a note with his parents telephone Number to an Asian guy who was leaving the Legion and had agreed to make a call. It was the best Christmas gift of my life.

There are several takeaways from this life event that are forever etched in my brain. First, Sal’s family never apologized for their treatment of the two schools. They blamed us for Sal’s disappearance for months and when he turned up, not one of them came forward to acknowledge they were unfair and had hurt several good people. Lastly, when Sal left the French Foreign Legion he did not contact me to explain himself, apologize or thank me or the ICC for trying to find him. Oddly, I didn’t care. It bothered others at the school and it made several people in my life angry, but I had something far more important to me, I had peace-of-mind and Christmas that unfortunate year.

Disclaimer: This incident occurred over ten years ago, therefore, I cannot swear by every detail outlined in my accounting of the story. Due to the seriousness of the situation and my own personal involvement, I can only vouch for my own recollection of what took place.

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Future Travel

Asia land & sea, end of October/November, Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025; it’s about time I visit the birthplace of my father.

Current State-of Mind

Just back from Basel, Switzerland. Three days were perfect. It’s a beautiful city, offering magnificent architecture, excellent museums and galleries, good eating options, easy to navigate transportation and only 2.5 hours by air from Faro. Transport from the airport to the city center by shuttle bus in 20 minutes (leaves airport every 10 minutes). Be prepared to spend some money, Switzerland is pricey. If you go, Steinenschanze Stadthotel was excellent and affordable. If you spend more time there, the city borders France for other travel options. Several other countries are close by.

I seldom return from vacations feeling rested and rejuvenated; Basel was a perfect city getaway.

Please forgive any grammatical or typographical errors. No AI software used in the creation of this blog.

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Truth, Lies, & Gossip

Trust Issues? Me? Nah. How about you?

I suspect most, if not all, adults have trust issues. Human beings can be deceptive and deceitful; uplifting topic no? Unfortunately, gossip and minding other people’s business are also some of our glorious and not-so-attractive traits.

The “who cares what people say” attitude is admirable; however, not my truth. Therefore, the best I can do is find a way to navigate the current landscape. By the way, I’m as guilty as the next guy when it comes to telling white lies; however, 9 out of 10 times, it’s either to save someone’s feelings or avoid unnecessary conflict.

Short Story

I recently received a text from an individual who said he was coming to the Algarve for a short visit. He was wondering if he could stay with me for a few days. A couple of details factored into my reply: first, this was a friend of a friend I had spent five minutes with in New York, and second, I didn’t like him — you know one of those slick willies who tries to get you to invest in shit you have no business getting involved with. I told him I’d be away for a few weeks during the time of his visit. I gathered that he got the message because I didn’t hear back. This was a lie I didn’t mind telling.

It would be so much better to just outright say what we think, but it’s not the way our culture works; we thrive in a sea of lies.

What We Say to One Another

Have you ever told someone you had to get off the phone because you had an important call you had to take or make? Have you ever told a party host you had to leave because you had an early flight (your flight was at 3:00 p.m. the next day, for some people that’s early)? What about I can’t travel with you to Greece because I spent all of my discretionary income last month? I imagine these are lies we have all told at one point or another in our lives. These lies keep us from hurting feelings. Most of us know when it’s happening and just accept it as common practice. Then there is the knife in the back distortion of the truth or partial truth.

What I am talking about is deception among friends; the telling of untruths specifically meant to damage an individual’s reputation or standing. I’m going to use an example that cannot be traced back to one of my friends:

I’m sitting at lunch with Mary and she tells me that she heard that Mark is having an affair with Lilly; all mutual friends. My first response should be, “I don’t want to hear about it.” But because I’m human, my interest peaked. You know about this kind of gossip, it’s the worst. Is it based on speculation? Is someone jealous? Has someone been scorned and seeks revenge? There are so many different reasons people start these kinds of rumors. In truth, it’s unfair to everyone involved. If it’s a fact and someone is being deceived, that’s different. There are discreet and appropriate ways to handle these indiscretions, gossip or whispering behind one’s back, is not one of them.

For me there are two red flags when someone is about to share something inappropriate with me: 1) I’m telling you this because I care about you, and 2) it’s for your own good. You see a person once a week and she never asks you a single question about how you’re doing or where you’ve been, but then she cares so much about you, really?

This is a big one: We all know people who spend a great deal of time talking about mutual friends and acquaintances who are not present. Did you hear about so and so; I can’t believe he did that to her; she couldn’t possibly have that much money just sitting around; I’m sure they did it to look better than everyone else . . . call it gossip, talking behind someone’s back, spite talk . . . whatever it is, it makes you wonder what that person says about you when you’re not around.

I recently confronted an acquaintance about what she was saying when a friend was not in the room. Her reply was clever, but dubious: “Sally and I had it out on Thursday and told her I’d be asking around to verify her story; there is no other way to find out if what she was telling me was true.” If that isn’t a load of bullshit. At the very least, this person knows that I’m onto her. These days, I don’t spend a whole lot of time worrying about what individuals say when I’m not around; it’s out of my control and I trust people to consider the source. Your time and energy is better spent on positive and productive matters.

When I was married, 24 years old and working at a university on Long Island, there were three different rumors going around about older women I was sleeping with. I thought that was pretty funny considering I was spending so much energy hiding my sexual orientation.

What We Say to Others

What do you say to those you care about? Often, it’s what you don’t say:

  • You look really tired
  • Why isn’t Gary working yet?
  • You’ve been sick for a long time
  • Did Emma invite you to her birthday dinner?
  • Why did you buy that house?

Obviously questions you might ask that would make people defensive, seldom leading to open lines of communication.

Here are some things you might say to gain trust and respect:

  • Yesterday you told me you were feeling a bit down, how are you today? Do you want to talk about it?
  • If you don’t mind I’d rather you didn’t speak about Mark, he’s a good friend and I don’t want to betray our trust or tarnish our friendship.
  • Tell me about that restaurant ordeal; was it difficult to be at the table?
  • I’ve been noticing that you’re quiet lately; I just want to make sure you’re okay.
  • I just want you to know I’m here.

A friend recently said, “There is something I’d like to share with you, but you should know I’m not looking for answers or advice.” I heard her loud and clear and I respected her honesty.

Navigating the Absence of Trust

In my mind there are limited options for interacting with individuals you do not trust. You can work on building trust. This takes time and investment, but it could be worth the payoff. I think it’s important to go with your gut; if after a while you’re not feeling it, you should probably walk away or distance yourself — not so easy if it’s your sister-in-law or boss.

Then there are those who have earned your trust only to have it all collapse after a devastating incident. A good friend who sleeps with your husband, a sister who steals cash from your wallet, a friend who tells everyone something you shared in strictest confidence . . . difficult to regain trust after betrayal.

The last one I’ll mention is the one I struggle with most: You have someone in your life who says and does all the right things, but it’s all surface stuff. You crave substance, but it’s just not there. You constantly wonder if this person is hiding something or questions your discretion. You ask questions; however, the answers just don’t come. It’s a conundrum because you’re fully invested. This may be one of those times where you may need to examine your own life. Are you trustworthy; are you asking the right questions? Objectivity is difficult when self-examination is warranted. In cases like this, I engage with someone I trust; they will usually provide some solid advice or help me with the right questions. But once again, in the end walking away may be your best option.

A thought: I have recently discovered that a great deal of the anxiety I have related to this trust issue, is self-generated. In short, drama that I have either initiated or created. It’s so much healthier to step back and let things be. Stirring the pot or looking for problems that do not exist is unhealthy and unnecessary. Time to trust yourself and let life play out as it inevitably will. Forgive yourself Christopher.

For those of you who may be feeling guilty (ha) because you occasionally partake in small-time gossip: relax, we’re all (okay most of us) a little guilty of it. When people spread lies or damaging, unsubstantiated gossip, now that’s a different story (see aforementioned example).

“Trust takes many years to build, few seconds to break, and forever to repair.” ~ Invajy

Holding Onto Those You Can Trust

You know the expression, “I have your back?” When you discover that you have a family member or friend that always has your back, nurture that relationship; these kinds of friends are hard to come by.

A thought: Today’s political landscape makes candid conversation and trust very difficult. There are times when I can put politics aside; however, if it’s about personal freedom/rights, race, guns, sexuality, etc., all bets are off.

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Future Travel

Basel, Switzerland coming up soon, Asia land & sea, end of October/November, Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025; it’s about time I visit the birthplace of my father.

Current State-of Mind

Super excited about Switzerland after two months of staying away from travel. Keeping it special and occasional, is the way to enjoy time away (for me). Other than that, body issues related to aging; sucks to get old, but as they say, “It’s better than the alternative.”

“You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you don’t trust enough.” ~ Frank Crane

Please forgive any grammatical or typographical errors. No AI software used in the creation of this blog.

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You Never Truly Leave Your Home Country

I’m headed for trouble with this blog. It’s my candor, it’s too much for some people. One of the benefits of aging is that you (some) get to a place where you no longer concern yourself with what others think. This piece is about my mindset before I left the United States, once I arrived in Portugal, and the kinds of issues related to the United States that are currently swirling around my little head. Again, a reminder that I write about my own experience and POV. I am reminded how important it is to keep all things in perspective.

The Tipping Point

Summing up my reasons for leaving the U.S. in one paragraph will be challenging, but for your sake, I will make it happen. I had been thinking about making Europe my home for many years. I thought I would be much older when I’d make it happen, but the election of Donald Trump (I was and still am miffed and angry). The housing market (sellers market) in Brooklyn, made it possible sooner than later. New Yorkers who pay attention were/are very familiar with Donald Trump and his failed business dealings. He was all bluster and bravado and I can’t stomach him. Getting out was one way of coping. It obviously did not solve the problem, but at the very least, I was doing something about it. Portugal is the first country you come to going east and there you have it. I figured I’d be flying back and forth and I wanted the shortest amount of time in the air. At the time, it was the number one place to retire in the world and I figured that was good enough for me.

My father was born in Italy, therefore, I had an early orientation to the European lifestyle and I wanted that in my later years. Europeans value their leisure time and overall, take better care of one another. I had this opinion when I lived in the U.S. and that belief is even stronger after living in Portugal for almost six years. This is not to say that Portugal doesn’t have its problems; no place in the world is perfect. Earlier blogs map out my ongoing disappointments.

Arrival, Challenges & Stability

Early days: It hasn’t always been easy. When I first arrived in Portugal, the thought of having a big ocean between me and the people I cared about, made me feel very much alone. I did not know a single person in Portugal and the language was challenging. I did all of the complicated paperwork myself, rather than hire an attorney like so many others do. The challenge helped me gain a sense of accomplishment and I saved boat loads of money. My dog Giorgio was by my side and that made it much more bearable. I also felt secure knowing that I could always go back to the U.S. if life in Portugal became too difficult.

I quickly learned that not knowing how to speak Portuguese was not going to be a problem. I arrived with a vocabulary of about 100 words, making it easier to order food and exchange niceties. The learning of the language has been a slow and steady process; I am quite enjoying the progress I’ve made and I have many friends here who are helping me with this challenge. Certain words are elusive and the Portuguese speak quickly.

Having most of Europe at my doorstep has been one of the nicest surprises since my arrival. My hometown airport is a hub for several budget airlines that fly direct to many European cities. The short trips I take to various places in France, Spain, Germany, Italy, Switzerland, the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, the Scandinavian countries, have been a delight in so many different ways. Although I have learned to pace myself and be more thoughtful about smarter, more practical travel. Things like when to travel, traveling lighter, Airbnb versus hotel, how to eat out on a budget, how long I can stand to be away from Paco (my pet), etc.

With Asia closer, I will finally be on my way next month. Visiting the Far East has been a lifelong dream and if I’m to be honest, I still don’t believe it’s real. Many expats who retired here take advantage of travel — there is lots of comparing of notes and personal recommendations. I enjoy solo traveling, whereas many of my peers refuse to go it alone. For me it’s not bravery, as an introvert, alone time is required.

What People Share

Being in expat groups has been enlightening. Some people expect their new country to adapt to their personal needs, others fully embrace the cultural and procedural differences, and still others seem hell bent on creating a smaller version of what they had in the United States.

I never wanted, expected or needed Portugal to change to suit my needs. There are things that frustrate me about living here, however, that’s to be expected and would have been the case no matter where I landed.

Expats are constantly looking for products from back home; many that they cannot find in Portugal. I have found, for the most part, European products are better and less expensive. Granted, there is the occasional product from the U.S. that cannot be beat. I often see Dunkin Donuts at my supermarket and at times, I cannot resist — it’s a little taste of home and an indulgence I can occasionally afford (not financially, but weight wise). I try my best to stay away from McDonald’s and Pizza Hut, with more and more of these American food chains opening every day. Reminders of home are a double edged sword.

Why I Say You Never Truly leave

Your past is so much a part of who you are: shared experiences, family, the way you were raised; it all informs your orientation to life. You can either retain fond memories of your past or spend time longing to repeat it or get it back. For me, life is about new experiences and creating new memories. I don’t find myself looking back much these days. Instead, I enjoy each day as it unfolds and I wonder what the future has in store for me. I’ve spent a great deal of time regretting decisions I made in the past — what I have learned is that one’s inability to change the past, makes moving on more practical and overall, healthier.

I will never give up my American passport; I love knowing that I can always go home if I choose to do so — permanently or temporarily. Several of my friends here feel differently about the United States. Some appear to be done with the U.S. and prefer not to return there mentally or physically if possible. For me it’s home; I’m fairly certain it will always be home.

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Future Travel

Basel, Switzerland coming up soon, Asia land & sea, end of October/November, Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025; it’s about time I visit the birthplace of my father.

Current State-of Mind

I’m in a great place emotionally and psychologically. Time in a country that is not my own, has helped me to thoroughly examine who I am and what I want from life. I’ve come to terms with not knowing what the future will bring; in fact, I embrace that reality and welcome whatever comes my way. I am of course grateful for Paco and my beautiful surroundings. Gratitude is the single most important life lesson that I have learned on this journey overseas.

I have also learned that I cannot run away from Donald Trump and Trumpism; the best I can do is remain informed, keep news watching to a minimum, and hope for the best. I often remind myself that Obama was elected for two terms — if someone had told me when I was 20 years old that the United States would have a black president, I would have thought they were mad. Knowing that anything is possible, makes everything possible.

I started from Brooklyn, New York and that will always be home. In many ways, it’s more of a feeling than a place; it’s a big piece of my heart and mind. Brooklynites tend to be loyal to their city; most see it as being a part of their soul. Admittedly, it is a very special place. I love returning to Brooklyn; it’s more worldly and sophisticated these days.

Please forgive any grammatical or typographical errors. Artificial intelligence (AI) not used in the creation of this content.

Posted on by CP · 2 Comments

Righteous Rants Get You Nowhere

A Periodic Reminder (to myself)

This blog is not meant for anyone else but me. I’m making notes for future reference. Righteous behavior, righteous thoughts, righteous finger pointing; all harmful to one’s health and well-being. I figure if I consider it and write about it, it might someday actually stick. I’m taking bets, anyone interested?

righteous*

adjective

*morally right or justifiable.”feelings of righteous indignation about pay and conditions” Oxford Languages

If you think that someone behaves or lives in a way that is morally good, you can say that they are righteous. People sometimes use righteousness to express their disapproval when they think someone is only behaving in this way so that others will admire or support them. Collins COBUILD

Example: One morning this week, I was walking Paco and a man and his unleashed dog were walking toward us. I politely asked him if he would leash his dog (there are signs everywhere in the park). We are not in a controlled environment and Paco is not always friendly when dogs run up to greet him. The man told me his dog was friendly and I replied, “My dog is not always friendly.” He ignored me and kept his dog off-leash. I had to keep myself from chasing and threatening him. Paco has never bitten another dog, but when aggression begins, it can go in several unwanted directions. Herein lies the problem:

This guy doesn’t give a rat’s ass about Paco or his reaction. His dog weighed a good 80 pounds more than my 8 pound pooch. So he’s probably annoyed with me for about 10 seconds as he continues to defy the law and my wishes. I, on the other hand, carried the anger around for hours, days even. So who is right and who is wrong and does it matter in the long run?

How Do You Know When You’re Being/Feeling/Thinking in a Righteous Way?

Oh this will be a fun list to create:

  • When your blood instantly starts to boil
  • When you can’t see straight
  • When you write an angry text, press send and immediately regret it
  • When a friend calls and tells you to take down a post
  • When punching your pillow gives you no satisfaction or even breaking a dish against the wall
  • When you keep thinking, “But I’m right, doesn’t that count for something?”
  • When you start screaming while driving your car because you think no one can hear you
  • When you are wide awake at 3:00 a.m. thinking about something someone said to you three days earlier
  • When you find yourself spending more and more time alone
  • When something that happened 10 or 20 years ago is still occupying your thoughts

What Can You Do About it?

This question is more difficult for me than it might be for others; I am mighty righteous. I’ve had a lot of practice when it comes to dealing with righteous thoughts and actions. The following are some of the things I’ve done — a combination of successful and unsuccessful coping mechanisms:

  • Take a step back, breathe, and wait
  • Ask an objective party to evaluate your scenario and advise you
  • Let it go and keep it gone
  • Do some research on the topic and then act to address the problem
  • Escape. Leave the house. Leave town. Get away from your everyday life.
  • Read
  • Meditate
  • Find a positive way to relay your thoughts. For example: a friend of mine carries extra poop bags and when she sees someone leaving their dog poop, she walks over and hands them a bag. She usually adds, “I thought you might need this or did you forget this?” Brilliant.
  • Therapy or life coach (both have helped me navigate through life)
  • Think through the pros and cons of acting on your rage
  • Journal entries where you purge the anger and live it on the page (or blog)
  • Sometimes you just have to tell someone to go f*^k themselves

I do believe personal freedom is important and right; however, when people infringe on my freedom or space, that sets me off.

Finding Your North Star (your center)

The absolute best thing you can ever do is make peace with whatever or whomever is causing you to feel anxious and/or angry. It may mean apologizing even if you’re right. I don’t want to be “that guy.” You know that guy, the one who climbs onto his or her soap box so often everyone stops listening. I used to follow a couple of liberals on social media. I thought they had some great things to say about our current state of affairs. Things quickly changed when they went too far left and you know what happens, people stop listening; I stop listening.

My List

The kinds of things I get all righteous about on a daily basis:

  • People trying to sell you on religion
  • Motorcyclists revving up there engines and/or riding without a muffler
  • People who do not pick-up their dog poop
  • People who refuse to recycle
  • People who try to overtake you in traffic or bully their way to the front of the line
  • People who try to top you when your sharing something (i.e., my accident was worse than yours or my illness is worse)
  • Individuals who cheat and then try to justify it
  • People who lie to your face and know that they are lying
  • People who underpay their workers or cheat them out of their pay
  • People who block traffic by double parking
  • People who throw trash on the ground
  • People who complain about the government and do not vote
  • People who vote for candidates just because someone in their family (or a friend) tells them to
  • People who hate on others because whatever it is someone else is doing goes against their religion or personal values
  • People who accept invitations for parties/dinners/events, but never reciprocate
  • People who refuse to communicate because they cannot tolerate any level of conflict
  • Individuals who always think that we should laugh at their stupid, inappropriate jokes
  • Individuals who for one reason or another, think they are better than anyone else

I could keep going, but it’s making me anxious. This should help you understand why I live alone.

Side Note: I have always been jealous of individuals who seem completely unaffected by an injustice they may have witnessed or experienced. I wonder if they are so healthy that they can clear their minds of any thoughts related to what they experienced or if they can sort it out quickly and move on. Either way it is admirable, but not usually the way things go for me. Two questions loom large: 1) Are they telling the truth about their response? and 2) Is it healthy to be unaffected?

My theme song from La Cage aux Folles: I am What I Am

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zreTvtpTeoU Gloria Gaynor

At this point in my life I don’t see that POV changing: righteous, stubborn, obstinate, cranky, opinionated, emotional, critical, and big hearted. I’m not defending who I am; just stating a fact. Then of course there is the nature vs. nurture question — that’s for another day.

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Future Travel

Basel, Switzerland in September, Asia land & sea, end of October/November, Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025.

Current State-of Mind

Milder weather has arrived to the Algarve. My spirits are lifted when the air has a slight chill and a cool breeze is blowing — perhaps even some rain in the near future. I’m sure you can always ascertain from my very telling blogs, that I’m going through some sort of existential crisis. Jotting down my thoughts and tumultuous feelings, helps me to sort it out — I highly recommend it as a tool for peace-of-mind. Either writing or moderate drinking, both work.

I’d love to hear from you on this topic. Please forgive any grammatical or typographical errors.