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Three Friends, Three Cities, Three Very Different Experiences

Friendships are a true gift, but they aren’t always easy and they should never be taken for granted. As with all relationships, you have to nurture them. I have three male friends I have known for a combined total of close to 100 years. These men are different in many ways; they do not know one another; I love all three for different reasons. When I spend time with each of them, I have a totally different experience.

I spoke with them separately about spending some bro time together; in two cases without their female spouses. They all three agreed to see me for quality time we may not have shared otherwise. All three have agreed to my public blog. My goal is to illustrate in words and pictures, how each person in our lives provides us with something unique and necessary — as necessary as the air we breathe.

No Two Friendships are Alike

I learned early in life, that friendship cannot be easily explained. A person may appear one day as if placed down by a divine hand and the next thing you know, you are the best of friends. What makes this connection different? Everything. Trust, security, loyalty, companionship, confidant, active listener, great dining partner, a shoulder to cry on, understanding, a history, strength, support, and so on. My friendships with these three men consist of all of the above and more. I thank them for sticking with me and by me; I congratulate myself for doing the work necessary to cultivate good friendships. I have other men and women in my life that I love and adore, but I limited this piece to Adam, David, and Don because they are the three I planned various parts of this trip with.

Men

All three are exceptional men. I have never had more than a friendship with any of them. They have seen me through the best of times and the worst of times; I hope they feel the same way about me, I’m fairly certain they do. What I think makes this situation somewhat unique is several things: first, only one of them is gay, but our sexual orientation is not what binds us; second, the three only know of one another through me, and lastly, they each provide support and love in very different ways. I know how fortunate I am; however, laying it out helps me to understand why the work we put into relationships is worth the effort. I’m a firm believer that most of us take way too much for granted (including me).

I believe that most people would agree that men are vastly different from women in many ways. I’m being cautious here as to not offend either sex. For the purpose of this piece, I’d like to note my observations (not absolutes):

  • Men leave a great deal unsaid.
  • Men are a bit uneasy when discussing how they feel.
  • Men are fairly competitive with one another.
  • Men believe they are physically stronger than women, but there are times I would have to disagree.
  • When men are into a sports event, very few things can/do distract them.
  • Straight men are stubborn about asking for directions when lost.
  • Gay men are particularly nostalgic.
  • Gay men and straight men usually enjoy very different types of music.
  • When a straight man is forced to be with someone or do something they’d rather not do, you will live to regret it in one way or another.
  • Gay men talk about being gay, straight men do not talk about being straight.
  • Men, gay or straight, prefer to be behind the wheel, as opposed to sitting in the passenger seat.
  • I have never heard a straight man utter the words, “thread count.”
  • Gay men tend to care more about fabric, wall color, and furniture.
  • Straight men do not moisturize.

Don’t beat me up over my impressions and experiences.

Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
—Robert Jordan

All over the world when you test men and women for facial cue recognition, women test…better. It’s a negotiation tool.
—Michael Gurian

Adam

Adam and Toronto were my first stop. I didn’t really give Adam a city choice; I was trying out a new direct flight from Faro to Toronto. I had only been to Toronto once and I have always wanted to return. I proposed a few days with me in Toronto and Adam said yes. I wasn’t surprised, we’ve been close friends for a long time.

I met Adam at the James Beard House in New York City in the 90s. We sat next to one another at a table of foodies; Adam was by far the foodiest. When he talks about food and wine his eyes sparkle and he becomes charmingly animated. I knew I could learn a lot from him. I invited him to L’Ecole at the French Culinary Institute and we became fast friends. He eventually asked me to be his Best Man. His wife is one of my favorite people and his children are two of the finest humans I know. Adam considers me part of his family and I am thrilled to have that distinguished place in his life. He is smart, worldly, empathetic, and he accepts me for who I am.

Adam is a planner. Being like minded about researching a place before you travel there is something we delight in. He sent me a long list of possible eateries and told me that each of them was negotiable save one. There was a restaurant he decided was a must and getting in during our time in Toronto was going to be challenging. I must confess that I never doubted his abilities for even a nano of a second. He got us in. Knowing it was a bit more than I would usually spend on a meal, he offered to treat. Adam is one of my most generous friends.

Rather than name specific places we visited or talk about dishes we ate, I’d rather share the dynamics of my relationship with this very special man.

I feel fortunate because not all straight men can get close to gay men. We all know why these limitations and challenges exist; therefore, I will spare you the psychology of all that. I will also point out that I am not easy to be friends with. I am demanding; I can be selfish; I often run my mouth endlessly and expect you to listen to every word I say; I can be controlling, fussy, and I sometimes lack empathy. So when someone (Adam) decides despite all of those obstacles and challenges, they still desire my company, I’m game.

Adam is a practicing Jew. I have had the pleasure of Passover meals with him and his family. I also attended his daughters Bar mitzvah (Bar mitzvah and bat mitzvah refer to the Jewish coming of age ritual. The plural is b’nei mitzvah for both boys and mixed gender groups, or b’not mitzvah for girls. Wikipedia). Sharing Adams faith with him is something he may not know is very special for me. Although, I am not Jewish, I love how strong his faith is and how happy it makes him. In some way it probably shapes my trust in him as a human.

We share a love of food, art, theatre, travel, making memories, and life itself. If I’m going to be honest, I wasn’t sure about my friendship with Adam at first. God knows he was persistent and laser focused on forming a friendship. I’m pleased that neither of us gave up. Adam is a mensch.

Adam’s advice is always thoughtful and sound. I picked his brain a lot this trip. Someone I have known and loved for many years passed while I was in Toronto with Adam. The support and love he showed me as I grieved was much appreciated and a tribute to the friend and man he is.

I might also add that his wife is very special to me. It is not always the case that you love a friend’s partner; both Adam’s wife and Don’s wife give their husbands the space to be with me.

David

David and I met while sharing a house in The Pines on Fire Island. We ended up with bedrooms on the same floor with a shared bedroom inbetween. There were something like 11 other men involved in the share. David wasn’t anything like any of them. David was easy to talk with and real. Early on in our friendship we went for long walks on Fire Island and shared some of what frustrated us about our boyfriends at the time.

We participated in the share for several summers and spend time together during the other three seasons. We shared a very close friendship with a third man from the house who eventually died of complications from AIDS. David helped take care of Roger at the end of his life (he’s a saint) and always kept me in the loop. He called me shortly before Roger died to let me know it was time to say goodbye to him.

In many ways, David has taught me how to a gay man. It was David who instructed me on how to party safely. He accompanied me to many club events; he always made sure I was enjoying myself and made it home safely.

In addition to the many things we love doing together, we have one thing that we are polar opposites about; David loves opera and I hate it. He always had very expensive seats to the Met and once, I’m still not sure why, I accompanied him to see an opera. Once was more than enough. I love how passionate he is about opera, music, theatre and art. I asked in if he ever dreamed about being someone else or doing something else and he told me that he would have loved to have been a famous opera singer. You think you know someone.

David is a magnificent and talented artist. Several of his pieces have been shown in prestigious galleries and institutes. He is humble and creates in order to move people in some way — not in order to get rich from the sale of his work. He is a weaver; not shocking that the loom in his studio was larger than the bed I slept in. He is also painting these days. He’s his worst critic, but no doubt, he is good at everything he does.

Everything David owns in his beautiful apartment has been carefully curated. His taste is impeccable. I cannot say this about everyone I love, but David is someone whose home I could live in comfortably. It is surrounded by beautiful things; however, it remains cozy and comfortable. Oh and he is a wonderful cook; especially his Swedish dishes which come from several years of living and studying weaving there. He speaks Swedish too. I’m so pleased to have stayed with him. Now I can picture him in his studio. Now I can say that I have been to the homes of all three of these friends; they are all magnificent in different ways.

My conversations with David are usually very intense. We share just about everything and we share without judgment. As with most friendships, being friends doesn’t mean we are the same people. We are passionate about different things. What I think is unique about us, compared to Adam and Don, is our own stories of fighting to be ourselves as gay men. Our stories are different and similar, but they are ours to share with one another. Our conversations on these trip were no different. However, this time we talked more about quality of life, future plans, and end of life.

David visited me in Portugal and trusted me to plan his time with me. Except for insisting we spend no more than three hours in a car at a time, I did the same with him. He took me to Hanging Lake, Glenwood Springs, Maroon Bells, Aspen, and several excellent restaurants. I won’t lie, one of the hikes was quick challenging, but I have no regrets and I will remember the experience forever. He also threw a party for me and allowed me to invites other friends who live in Denver. I was also able to meet people in his life I have not met in the past.

Don

I’ve known Don longer than my other two friends; we were roommates at The University of North Carolina at Charlotte (44 years ago). Don is a very successful architect. When we were roommates he promised to design an underground house for me. While in Detroit, I asked him if he is still committed to design that house for me and he said he is. That’s all I needed to hear.

We chose Detroit because of its rich architecture and outstanding restaurants. Neither Don nor the reason for meeting there were disappointments. The city has rebounded from despair to beauty and culture at every turn — we were impressed. Cranbrook House & Gardens were a real trip. We took a side trip to Ann Arbor which was also fruitful.

Don was my best man when I married 40 years ago. He arrived at the church missing a sock and someone else from my wedding party had to run to a store to buy him socks. This is probably one of the things I love about Don. He is about as easy going as a human can be. I checked this fact with him on this trip:

Don, have we ever had words?

No, I’m pretty sure we haven’t.

That’s pretty crazy considering how difficult I can be.

No Chris, you’re easy.

___________________________________________________________

Me easy? Perhaps Don makes it easy?

Don and I have long periods of silence when we are together, no matter where we might be. The silence is about respect and comfort. There is no concern about what might be unsaid. When Don says he wants to see a building, I want to see that building. When I say I want to eat Italian, Don is fine with Italian. The ease of our choices is delightful.

I learned something shocking about Don on this trip: he has never been to a nightclub. This blows me away on so many levels. He believes in God and doesn’t shove religion down my throat. He speaks fondly and respectfully of his incredible wife and two amazing daughters. I listen with awe and delight, having been in his life for all of the milestones and disappointments.

I cannot say that I got closer to these three men on this trip, because I’m not sure we can be any closer. I feel privileged and blessed to have had the time to be with them and I’m pleased that they made the time to be with me. True friendship is a gift that keeps on giving and these three friendships are more than I could ever hope for.

The three cities we spent time in matched our personalities in a way. Toronto is intelligent as is Adam. Denver is filled with natural beauty and light, not unlike David. Detroit offered a rich history; Don as my oldest friend knows a whole lot about that.

I realized on this trip that all three men love to walk, love to eat, love film, love to talk, love their friends and family, love to read, and truly love life. These are the things that bind us together.

An Old Friend I Haven’t Seen

I met Gina over 15 years ago at an accreditation conference. We hit it off instantly and we’ve never lost touch. I had breakfast with her and in Denver. It was as if no time at all had gone by.

Future Travel

My three times cancelled cruise (COVID) to northern Europe is coming up in just a week. I’m sad about just getting home to see and spend time with Paco and then having to leave him again. I know he loves his sitter, but I like to think he’d prefer to have me at home. When I return from the cruise I intend to stay put for a few weeks. The timing of the cruise is not ideal, however, there is nothing I can do to change NCL dates.

Lyon, France with friends in November and a few trips planned for 2023.

My Paco (right) and his best friend Petucha, while I was away

Disclaimer:

I apologize for spelling or grammar mistakes. I’m not in the mood to reread this blog.

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Why Being “Right” Can Be So Wrong

Ego versus Humility

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Can You Hear Me?

Abandoning a full-time career has provided for more time to sit around in groups and shoot the breeze. Sometimes, rather than contribute, I observe. What I hear, stirs up all sorts of thoughts and emotions. First and foremost, I fall back on a belief I might be running into the ground: people do not listen to one another. Everybody has something to say and few among us listen.

It’s true, make a conscious effort to observe what is happening around you today. I guarantee what you hear will disgust you. People talk over one another, disregard major points being made, ignore emotions and cries for help, and generally exhibit rude behavior. There are exceptions of course. I have a friend who will look directly into your eyes and actively listen. It’s incredibly effective. He always makes you feel as if he is taking in every word and processing what you are sharing. There will be a pensive pause and then a brief and thoughtful response. It’s the most incredible virtue.

I have observed him interacting with others and I have noticed that some individuals do not acknowledge his excellent active listening skills. These people are so wrapped up in their own need to spew bullshit, that they take no notice of the curtesy that has been extended to them. I’m sure there have been numerous studies done to help determine why people have a need to be heard and/or speak. I think it boils down to a few basic principles:

  1. Human beings rightly or wrongly believe that others care deeply about what they have to say. We have a strong need to be thought of as a person of authority.
  2. We all believe that we are actually listening, even when we’re not. Try telling someone that they haven’t heard you.
  3. We are afraid of silence. I’ll never understand the fear of silence. Have you ever observed an older couple in a restaurant sitting across from one another eating and neither one of them is speaking? It’s not that they have nothing to say to one another; in fact, they are more than likely just enjoying one another’s company and the silence. Many words are often spoken in silence; a look, a squeeze of the hand, a tender stroke on the cheek.

I’m not a psychologist or an authority on communication. What I know, I know from observation and reading. How often have you heard someone pose a question to a group, where an answer might not be readily available or known? You will rarely hear people say, “I don’t know.” Instead, more often than not, individuals will make up facts or distort the truth. This need to appear to know the answer is stronger than a desire to be truthful. Why is it so difficult to say, “That’s something I need to learn more about,” or “I don’t know.”

I absolutely love asking Alexa (Echo by Amazon). She (it) doesn’t always know the answer, but when she does, it’s extremely gratifying.

Being Right

It’s natural to want to be right. When you’re in a group and everyone wants to be right, that’s a problem. Or when you have one person who always wants to be right, that’s also a problem. I know someone like this and he makes me crazy. I need to explore what this says about me.

Exercises You Might Like

Give the individual you are speaking to two minutes (more or less) to speak; tell them that you will not speak until their finished. When you are done responding, reverse roles. Do note use a timer because it can be distracting — approximate the time. The point is to not interrupt and allow your partner to complete a thought.

Listen and then speak: tell yourself to listen carefully and not to speak until you know the person whom is speaking is finished.

Ask a question and listen to the answer: whether or not you know the individual well doesn’t matter. There is always more to learn about someone. See what happens when you ask a question and silently listen to the response. During the lockdown a friend and I spoke daily. We made a commitment to ask one another three questions a day. It was an incredible exercise. I have known this friend for over 25 years, but I came to realize that I did not truly know her.

Ask for feedback: ask the person you are having a conversation with if they felt heard. “Did I listen to what you had to say today? Did it feel different than it has in the past? Could it have been better for you?” When you become a better listener, your partner will also improve.

Ask for what you need: we seldom if ever ask our partners to listen attentively. “John, I know you usually listen to what I have to say, but I’m asking you to focus on my words today. What I have to say is important and I’d like you to listen more carefully.” This request, repeated now and then, will remind your partner that you need to be heard. The other person will respect you for being clear. Always return the favor.

Provide positive reinforcement: “Wow Annie, I really felt like you were listening to me just then. Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

Admitting You’re Wrong

I think that when you realize you were or are wrong, the best thing to do is say so. People will be extremely understanding and they will more than likely tell you so. Telling someone something is legal when it’s actually not, doesn’t count.

A Good Read:

I Might Be Wrong by Björn Natthiko Lindebald

Travel

A weekend in São Bras de Alportel with friends this coming weekend, Milan and Genoa early September, Toronto, Denver, & Detroit, mid-September, Northern European cruise in October, Lyon in November; followed by a few other trips in the not-so-distant future.

Summer is almost over, I sure hope you’re enjoying it. I just finished a complete renovation of my bedroom. If you want a lift, spruce up a room or your entire home.

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I Am Not What I Own

A Gentle Reminder . . . to Myself

“Hush Christopher! You’re not supposed to talk about your money.” It’s funny how in certain cultures, money is not discussed, yet in others, it is flaunted. I was raised in an environment where it was not appropriate to talk about what one paid for things. Mind you, I was raised in poverty. I recall teachers in school telling us that there are certain things one didn’t share. You were never supposed to make your peers uncomfortable — boasting about what you have and reminding others about what they didn’t have. Looking back, I believe this was a good life lesson. Something tells me Brooklyn has changed since the 60s and that they’re no longer teaching these values.

I’m getting to my point . . . I live in a place where lots of expats (immigrants) come to retire, play mah jongg and/or poker. The people I’m surrounded by are not poor, but for the most part, they are also not rich. These are people stretching their hard earned dollars. Travel, good food, concerts, and time with friends, is their currency. I rarely hear much boasting; it seems to be more about sharing experiences. What is nice about this, is that you can get some good ideas and learn from other people. So long as we listen to one another — a lost art indeed.

Every once-in-a-while, someone says something about a house they’re buying or something they ordered online. I hear a hint of bragging and it makes me cringe, but the truth is we all do it. I try to stop myself when my thoughts head in that direction, but sometimes it feels good to hear someone ooh and ah. For example, I was sharing a recent memory of a Michelin star lunch I had in Porto. I was treated, so I’m not sure it counts. I was describing the setting and the dishes and I could tell, a couple at my table was taking mental notes. I know it wasn’t a vacation in the Maldives or the purchase of a beach house; however, I was eating up the envy. Isn’t that a form of bragging?

I recently spent some time with friends from South Wales. They casually asked me how much I paid for my condo. I shared the amount with them, but I was somewhat surprised that they asked the question. I told them that although I told them what I paid, in my world it was not something you usually divulged. They were miffed by my words. First, it was their impression that Americans loved to discuss their wealth and second, they said that people in Wales talk about what they paid for a house without giving it a second thought.

How One Might Respond to Boasting

There is the gentle, innocent bragging and then there is the Donald Trump, over-the-top variety. Which one might you think I despise? There are a number of ways to deal with it when it is directed at you or when you are a part of a larger group listening, as all collectively cringe.

Here are some responses to the obnoxious kind we have all been forced to endure:

“I didn’t realize you could afford something that expensive.”

“Wasn’t that watch popular in the 80s?”

“Can you leave it to me in your will please?”

“Can you save this for the next time, I’m buying a Ferrari today and I’m afraid I have an appointment with the dealer.”

“Show me that diamond again, I didn’t see it the first time.”

Bragging about children, grandchildren, or pets shouldn’t count; except of course, when a person goes on and on until you get to the point where you’d like to knock the phone out of their hands.

Am I being unkind? Sorry, I don’t think so.

What I Have that I Consider Priceless (happy to boast about this):

  • Family who love me despite my shortcomings
  • Friends who make me laugh when I’m down and who are there for me when I need them most. In other words, friends who are chosen family.
  • Paco, my furry friend and companion
  • A love of art, words, nature and the undiscovered
  • Good health
  • The ability to reason and rationalize
  • A home in a country where social democracy is embraced and practiced
  • My father’s passion for food and cooking
  • My mother’s sense of humor (and legs)
  • Fearlessness
  • Optimism
  • Authenticity
  • A seeker of truth and justice

Not an exhaustive list, but you get the point. How can anything material this world could offer me, trump this list? I implore you to take inventory of what truly matters.

I consider “know it alls” to be right up there with people who boast. Wouldn’t it be great if we could sometimes just say, “Would you please just shut up!”

When You Might Be Misunderstood

I recently posted the purchase of a friends painting on Facebook. Some might see that as boasting. “Look at him bragging about buying art.” In truth, I did it to promote my friend’s work. I wanted others to see her talent and visit her studio; in my mind, that’s not boasting, it’s supporting a friend. I’m not ashamed of my behavior; I’m proud to know talented people.

Travel

I’m currently exploring the Loire Valley. It’s too hot to walk around, but Pornic on the coast starting Saturday will offer milder weather and even a thunderstorm (my favorite). Milan and Genoa in early September; Toronto, Denver, and Detroit coming up mid-September (the best time to travel). Cruising to northern Europe in October, and then a number of shorter trips to the end of the year. This isn’t boasting by the way. If I said I was was staying in a suite on the cruise, that would be boasting. I always travel on the cheap.

I probably won’t dedicate a blog to Nantes and Pornic (where I am now). I’m enjoying being away from home. For me, writing about a place can be distracting. Feel free to ask questions if you have any. France is one of my favorite countries and sometimes being here feels like an extension of home.

Photo by Gabriela Palai on Pexels.com
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If it Were My Last 24 Hours on Earth

“No one here gets out alive.” — Jim Morrison

Reblog Nov. 2019 (with additions)

Not to worry, not checking out anytime soon, just reminding myself how fragile life can be. The last thing I want to do is hurt anyone; therefore, I think it’s best for me to respond in the abstract and not name names.What if you knew that you were going to die and you had 24 hours or less left to live? Would you want to be surrounded by those you love? Would you run away and hide from everyone? Would you tell people you cared about? Would you share things you have been holding back? Would you look back at memories? Would you end your life sooner in order to control the situation?These are the kinds of questions I ask myself when considering just how finite life is.  And by the way, the questions come up occasionally, not every day. There are statistics that guide us when we consider our lifespan. There are formulas based on how long your parents lived. Then there are calculations based on lifestyle. Genetics sometimes come into play. However, an accident may make all of those theories insignificant and irrelevant.I had a pretty bad accident a couple of years ago that made me question life, death, and how I feel about both. Up until the accident I was fairly certain that I would grow old and cranky. If I’m going to be honest, I have to say I’m well on my way.I attended a dinner party a few days ago and raised my blog topic for this week. It’s interesting to hear what people have to say in a relaxed social setting. I don’t usually share my own thoughts until after I’ve heard from others. As with any difficult subject, some people prefer to avoid the matter altogether and this time was no different. One of the things I love about people is how very unique we all are. It’s for this reason that I try my best not to judge. Our prospective can be polar opposite based on things like upbringing, religious beliefs, the truth we hold on to, and so forth. I would be untruthful if I didn’t admit to feeling strongly about my own beliefs; the power of personal conviction is essential for many reasons. Keeping that in mind, I don’t claim to be right, but I do think that what I am espousing is true for me; sometimes, that’s all that truly matters.I posed the question to a small group of people sitting at the table after lunch:If you knew you had 24 hours or less to live, what would you do? The answers I got were interesting and understandable:”I wouldn’t change anything; I’d want it to be a normal day.””I wouldn’t tell anyone because all they would do is cry and pity me.””I would be with a very small group of people I love very much.””I wouldn’t do very much because I would want time to slow down. When you do a lot of things, time speeds up.””I might consider ending my life sooner — when I decided it should end.””I would have a couple of conversations I have been avoiding.””Why, do you know something I don’t know?”The thing is, do we truly know how we would behave until we are actually in a particular life altering situation? I could easily say I wouldn’t tell anyone that I was going to die, but in truth, if I knew it was the end and I became extremely emotional or scared, I might need to tell or want to tell someone.What follows are some thoughts on why we live our lives as if there is no expiration date:I love this poignant comic included in Brian Lee’s piece on living life as if we’re never going to die at Lifehack. Check out www.zenpencils.com.

  • We are complex creatures with hopes, fears, frailties and misgivings. Our highly developed brains allow us to tuck away thoughts and focus on things that make us feel good; I should note that some of us are better at this than others. We often behave as if our daily actions do not have consequences for the future. Vices and health related toxins are often imbibed or eaten without concern for longevity. It’s a curious human occurrence considering that most of us would like to grow old. So what drives us to recklessness? It’s as if there is a little switch in our brains that we choose to turn off when desire overpowers restraint.It is no accident that the precise timing of our death is unknown. Imagine the chaos and emotional instability that would ensue. I think that animals have a better sense of death and what it means than we do and, therefore, have better dying coping skills. I’ve been with several dogs at the end of their lives and the sense of peace and acceptance I felt from these animals was both life affirming and beautiful. We live and we die and that is the true miracle of life.As I consider complicated mechanisms for denial and delusion, it once again brings me to how I might deal with knowing when my own demise is just around the corner. Here are some thoughts that come to mind (not necessarily in order of importance):

    1. There is no doubt in my mind that I would want to truly enjoy the wonders of the earth. The sunrise and sunset continue to amaze me and I take both in as often as possible. The smell of flowers and the feel of earth between my fingers, gives me great pleasure. I can only imagine that knowing these wonders would no longer be accessible would heighten my desire to experience them.The people in my life who have shown me love and devotion would be on my mind at the end; I would hope that these cherished few would be nearby. I would want to let them know how much I love and appreciate them. I still do not know that I would share the inevitability of my passing. We all know that we should be showing our love and appreciation often, not waiting until we are sick or dying.I have loved food since I could smell my dad’s pizza in the oven when I was a wee toddler. My relationship with good food has never waivered and I hope I remain true to my passion until the day I die. I have been reading research about taste buds and how our sense of taste diminishes with age. I refuse to believe that this applies to me. My father and aunts and uncles on my father’s side, all enjoyed savory dishes well into their 80s. If I knew that my death was near, I would want to devour my favorite foods:  shellfish, pasta and cake and a nice red of course. I know that knowing it was almost over would probably have an effect on my appetite; however, knowing how I sometimes eat and drink to feel better, I imagine I’d be hungry and thirsty. A very expensive armagnac would be a must have. Being present and cherishing every moment of what life I have left, would likely be my mode of thinking and feeling. I have never feared death, therefore, I’m fairly certain I would be at peace with it.I would want to be comfortable; the right temperature, the right place, and the right people around me. I would probably want to be on a good dose of xanax.

    2. I have had many people in my life pass:  my grandparents (three before I was even born), my parents, several siblings, close friends, teachers, co-workers and acquaintances. My mother’s brother died of a massive heart attack in his 50’s; how could I not consider the possibility of dying at anytime? Personally, I don’t find this morbid or sad.

    3. Long ago I decided that if I had a fatal illness, I would travel (if I could) to a place where you could choose to die with dignity. If this were to happen, I would have an opportunity to decide how I would spend my final hours; all of this provides great comfort. I am not obsessed with dying, I am focused on living and making sure my quality of life is the best it can be.

      The purpose of this blog is twofold. First, it is my hope that it will get you thinking about how you live your daily life; what are your priorities and do you consider and cherish the people and things that bring you the greatest happiness. Second, it is my belief that we as individuals have the power to change the course and direction of our lives. I felt stuck, misguided and unhappy in Maine. It wasn’t so much the place or the people, but an environment that was too comfortable and unchallenging. I moved to Europe in order to reboot, recharge, and start afresh. It’s not right for everyone, but it has taught me more about myself than I anticipated. Self-discovery and change can be as exciting as a new relationship; driving gleefully into the future with renewed hopes and dreams. Fear is what usually holds us back. Fear of the unknown, fear of failure, fear of death. Put all of your fears aside and go for it. The unknown can be a wonderful and rewarding future. Focus on the image of a door opening to a paradise you never imagined existed; more often than not, we have the ability to manifest our dreams. I choose to manifest those dreams while I am still alive.

Travel Update

Going to Nantes, France Wednesday. There is a heatwave in this part of the world and the Airbnb I booked way back is not air conditioned. The owner claims it stays cool in the apartment, but I’m not convinced. I have booked a hotel room just in case. Pornic will be cooler (second half of trip) by the time I arrive there, so I think I’ll be okay. Fact is I don’t sleep well in extreme temperatures.

More travel after this trip — my next blog will include an update.

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Navigating Feelings

“Feelings that come back, are feelings that never left.”

— anonymous

I got feelings, you got feelings, we all got feelings . . . truth right; poetic even? Lately I feel like I’m feeling too much; too much is wrong with the world and I have the feeling that it isn’t going to get any better anytime soon. I’m wondering how to remain positive when everything around me is falling apart.

Is it okay to laugh when there is so much to cry about? Is failure to turn on the news or “like” your friends’ posts on Facebook, the same as living with your head in the sand? I’m not sure out of sight, out of mind is such a bad thing these days. It seems like self-preservation is the only tool that has any usefulness and my toolbox is half-empty, said the optimist.

Everybody wants to give you advice on how to make the best of it; why you should be grateful; remind you of all of the abundance in your life, but what if you’re just not feeling it? Are you the problem or the solution? For me, the answer is neither. I am neither complicit or the cure; what I am is human. Human beings feel and sometimes deeply.

My capacity to temper, hide, and/or come to terms with my feelings, has been one of the greatest challenges of my life. Empathy is good; however, when feeling the pain of others weighs you down to the point of stagnation, it’s time to reassess. Time to find a way to shut it down, switch it off, cover it up, and walk away. Don’t ask if it’s right or just, remind yourself that there are limits and that you are no good to yourself or anyone else when you have gone beyond those limits and you can no longer yank yourself out of bed.

Me First and the Face of Deception

We all know people who appear perfect. How does she do it? Why does he have all the luck? Who does she think she is and why can’t I be more like her?

You don’t have to go deeper than just below the surface to see that trouble and pain are being hidden, with the hope of never being discovered. That knowledge alone should help us to be more forgiving, but we’re not. We beat each other up and judge as if we ourselves have cornered the market on perfection. The moment we accept that we are all broken, is when we can accept our own flaws.

Why is it So Hard?

Beating yourself up is so much worse than you might realize. It has lasting effects on the psyche and makes you appear weak in the eyes of others. Dark, dark blog this week.

Two Steps Forward and One Step Back

As I become more aware of my feelings and the reason I experience negative feelings, I have to learn to accept that there are setbacks — times when I do not handle my feelings as well as I would have hoped. It is at these times when I realize patience, forgiveness, and learning from your mistakes are essential for future success.

My Next Move

I have no next move. I will continue to monitor my feelings, knowing that I will never stop feeling and I can do little to control these feelings.

Feeling by Bnxn & Ladipoe (partial lyrics)

Ain’t nobody Realer
Touch down got a couple gees for the dealer
Gang signs out the window my killer
Life getting sweeter no use water dilute my Ribena

So we toast to the good life
Every minute to the full cos I could die
Pull up open doors then it’s suicide yeah
16 bad woop and they all by the poolside

I like the way I’m feeling now
No come use your Reggae spoil my blues and rhythm now
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
I like the way I’m feeling now
Omo e get small thing weh dey stress me but right now I’m chilling now
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
I like the way I’m feeling now
No come use your Reggae spoil my blues and rhythm now
No no oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
I like the way I’m feeling now
Omo e get small thing weh dey stress me but right now I’m chilling now
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Travel Plans

I travel to discover new places, revisit places that make me feel good, and to recharge the worn out batteries. And of course, to be with friends and family.

Alvor, Portugal, end of July, Nantes and Pornic in mid-August, São Brás de Alportel, Portugal end of August,Toronto, Denver, and Detroit in mid-September, Northern Europe NCL cruise in early October, with some time in London for West End Theatre, Lyon in late November and I’ve decided to stay put in Portugal for Christmas ’22. Florida to be with friends March ’23. Asian cruise on Celebrity November ’23. This cruise has been postponed three times.

“Travel far enough to find yourself.”

— Unknown

Here’s Paco teaching me how to relax:

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What I Don’t Miss About My Youth

Not sure of my age here, but clearly younger than I am now.

I used the above photo for two reasons: first I was partying like the devil that night (on Fire Island for a few days), and second, when I look back, I have no desire to return to that time. Naive, blind to the truth and too easily influenced by others. No regrets, just looking forward to the future. I have some control over my future and no control over my past.

Lamenting About What Once Was

It’s so easy to look back and glamorize your past. “I was so much happier then; I was thinner when I ran marathons; there were no signs of age; nothing hurt when I was 20; my problems were small; I had potential partners; the drugs were good and the nights were wild.” You get the picture.

Today, I’m focusing on what I don’t miss. Just a reminder that there is a reason the past is the past, and furthermore, what makes the future so attractive.

What I Don’t Miss

When you’re young and stupid, you make mistakes you can never erase. Enumerating my mistakes would be a waste of time and would bore you to tears. Let’s just say that I did things I’m not proud of and I doubt I am alone in this feeling. Fortunately for me, I lived to tell my story. Being one of the lucky ones who survived is not something I take for granted. At some point I pondered that I could either continue down that rabbit hole of destruction or crawl out of the hole and make a life I could be proud of. The latter was the better choice.

Good Riddance

There are a number of things about being young that I do not miss:

Most importantly for the sake of survival and peace of mind, I do not miss being insecure. If there is one message I can send to the youth it is this: Be true to yourself, embrace your body type, know that you are enough, and forgive yourself. Therapy, failure, and friends who love me dearly, have helped me to become a more secure person.

I do not miss lying to myself and others about my sexuality. I need not say more.

The constant fretting about all the shit I didn’t have … or need.

I spent a bit too much time caring about what people thought of me or anything else. This has been a difficult one to shake, but I confess lately, it’s been easier.

Along the same lines, I wasted far too much time being with people who either only cared about themselves or who cared little about me.

There were battles not worth fighting; I fought some way too hard and lost a little bit of me in the process.

Who among us hasn’t spent way too much time feeling sorry for ourselves?

There was always a voice in my head telling me that I shouldn’t be spending time having fun — I needed to be serious and work hard and focus on the future. Most of it was nonsense. That voice has thankfully been snuffed out.

I don’t miss countless hours in the classroom listening to some professor who knew very little about very little. Not always the case, but often the case.

Working for a narcissistic power monger stole years of my life. No one is to blame but me. I don’t miss her or that time of my life.

I have spent too much time on my skin; a delicate coating that has protected me and caused me way too much stress. I’ve mostly shed that burden.

I, for the most part, do not miss my manic, bipolar, sadly broken mother.

Being terrible at sports and beating myself up for it. Marathon running took care of that.

Friends and colleagues (people I thought were friends) who either actively tried to take me down or whose gossip was divisive and hurtful. Not bitter, just glad it’s over.

This process of growing older and looking back can truly help to put things in perspective. Now is the best time of my life. Now I know my truth. Now I know the significance of pain and healing. Now I know and embrace who I am. I understand time and I am grateful for whatever time I have left. Treat me with love, kindness and respect, and I will return the same in spades.

My Previous Blog and the Relocation Dilemma

Thank you for all of the comments and feedback; really good stuff to ponder. I am ravenously pursuing an idea; stay tuned.

Upcoming Travel

Hoping my trip to France in August sticks, but if it does not, it does not. More time with Paco and the Algarve coast.

Older, wiser, more confident and looking forward to whatever comes my way.
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Being Happy With What You Have

Or Why Are You One Upping Me?

The older I get, the less I understand rivalries. Why are some people so hung up on believing they are better than or have more than someone else? That’s all it is by the way, is a belief. Abundance is an accumulation of material things, yes, but true abundance is about love, joy, family, friends, experiences, memories — these are the things that fill us up; make us whole. All the other things are just that, things. Stuff that makes you happy for a nano of a minute.

Yet, when we are in a social setting, we sit around boasting and comparing what we have accumulated. And it’s not just about things either. I don’t have to give examples, because clearly you know what I’m talking about and we’re all guilty of it on some level, at some point in our lives.

Getting Rid of Shit

When I decided to leave the United States, one of the many positive outcomes was getting rid of all of the crap I had accumulated over the years. I made a commitment to only take along what was important and necessary. I was able to reduce 59 years of stuff, to three suitcases. The challenge for me was to keep myself from doing it all over again. Could I show restraint at all the new shops I would discover in Europe?

My Plan

What I set out to accomplish was fairly simple . . . only buy things you need. Simple but rather broad. “Need” is difficult to define. Take for example a stylish red chair I recently purchased. Do I need that red chair? Of course the answer is no. However, that red chair has several purposes: 1) a valet for my clothes in my bedroom, 2) a place to sit to put on my shoes, 3) an extra chair for an additional dinner guest, etc. So in fact, I need that chair, but did I need a fancy 350 Euro chair? Could I have just purchased a 10 Euro folding chair?

Mind Games

We talk ourselves into many things on a daily basis. If I do that, then this or if I eat that chocolate cake, I’ll skip lunch or workout twice as hard at the gym. We are masters of deception, but it’s how we humans keep from giving up.

I admitted defeat a long time ago. What I tell myself now serves as a compromise and a guideline. Absolutes no longer apply and that’s a good thing. If you set up roadblocks and restrictions for yourself, you are bound to fail and end up beating yourself up. Who doesn’t do this?

The End of the Day

When all is said and done, you have one person to answer to: yourself. Therefore, if you brag about what you have or buy an expensive car just to impress others, it’s your own reflection that you have to face. If you can look at yourself in the mirror and not judge yourself harshly, well then, good for you. I’m learning life’s lessons the hard way. My intuition tells me that there are only two things that I have that might impress others: integrity and authenticity; everything else is just a shiny object without real meaning.

So when people around me are one upping one another and working hard at being something they are not, I am trying my best to focus on their intentions and my own path going forward. Are they so broken that your opinion of their Rolex matters? If that’s the case, it’s more sad then annoying.

Working hard at being perfect is exhausting. First I have to convince myself that I am enough, then I won’t need to tell you, you will see for yourself.

Upcoming Travel

My trip to Milan to see friends was cancelled by EasyJet. I pouted for five minutes and then rescheduled. The pandemic helped me to realize just how flexible and resilient I can be. Instead, I’ll stay close to home and spend a few days at the beach. Maybe (who knows these days). Nantes/Pornic in August. Toronto, Denver and Detroit in September and Northern Europe in October.

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The Sweet Sound of Children’s Voices

A poem illustrating my state of mind

Guns kill, children giggle and hide
Bullets wound, children inspire
Rounds of ammunition in their still growing ears
Laughter, hope and lives shattered

How dare we righteously protect the right to own a gun
Disregard souls alive with innocence
How dare we ignore the pain of the unimaginable
Powerful gun owners; sanctimonious and pious

Do you hear the children's voices
Do you hear their cries of pain
Are you so broken that you cannot hear them
Can your head rest so easily on their tiny coffins

Stop and listen to the silence
What you cannot hear is a life cut short
If numbness and the absence of empathy prevail
We will weep tears of blood forevermore

Gun laws, politics and righteous indignation:
Gun lobbyists, bought politicians and second amendment rights demonstrators; all evil forces at work as we mourn innocent lives lost. I am so angry at humankind; I wretch and squeeze my fists with rage. Tell me what to do and I will do it.

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Adjusting to a New Body and A Different Mindset

Not me, but he gets it

One of the difficult facts one must face when you grow older: we live in a world shaped and dominated by the young. I’m not mad about this, it’s just a fact. It’s difficult to shield your eyes from beautiful young people everywhere. It’s a reminder of two things: 1) you’re not young anymore, and 2) you’re not young anymore. I was never the “turn heads” stud I secretly wanted to be. I was average looking with decent pecs. I accepted this fact knowing that if I added a bit of charm and a big sincere smile, I could probably nab a beau or two in my lifetime. And I did.

Now if someone looks my way, it’s usually just to make sure I’m still breathing. I jest of course, but the plain truth is, my number in years is rising while my chest, chin, and buttocks, are falling. I can either accept it or call it quits — I think the former is the best option. So what does that mean?

I’ve written about aging before. The older you get, the more you think about it. How can you not think about it?

Truth & Acceptance

Reality sucks. Coming to terms with loss is never easy. Losing one’s youth is no exception. We troubled old folk, go through the stages of grief, and I seem to be stuck on #6. I’ve been working through these feelings for a long time.

The 7 stages of grief (according to Google and who knows better than Google?)

  1. Shock and denial. This is a state of disbelief and numbed feelings.
  2. Pain and guilt. …
  3. Anger and bargaining. …
  4. Depression. …
  5. The upward turn. …
  6. Reconstruction and working through…
  7. Acceptance and hope.

Some of the Awful Things an Aging Body Experiences (I’ve been spared a few on the following list):

  • leakage (I refuse to describe this)
  • arthritis
  • teeth issues (rotting, staining, infection, loss, Periodontitis, etc.)
  • tendonitis
  • prostate enlargement and cancer
  • bunions
  • interrupted sleep
  • skin cancer
  • diabetes
  • reflux
  • excessive and uncontrollable gas
  • back pain
  • fungus in hard to reach places
  • memory loss

Okay, I’ll stop. It’s way too disturbing to continue.

Some Ridiculous Affirmations and Mind Games that Work

Some of these I have done and continue to do in order to feel better and cope:

  • The gym makes me feel like I’m doing something about slowing the process.
  • Stretching for about 10 minutes helps loosen me up and alleviates some of the arthritis pain.
  • I “try” to keep my weight now — a lifelong struggle.
  • I tell myself that my body is just a vessel.
  • I compensate for certain body issues by covering those parts with clothing (i.e., longer t-shirts, higher waisted pants). I’m not ready for a man bra, but I’m getting there.
  • I still get an occasional pimple, therefore, I must still be adolescent, no?
  • I tell myself I never liked sports anyway.
  • Meditation
  • I daydream about the past and then let it go (for that moment)
  • I blog. Sometimes (like now), it makes me feel worse.

Can’t Reverse the Process So You Might As Well Make the Best of it

There are a few things that happen as you grow older that are truly wonderful and worth noting. Not that any young person will read this and think, “Oh wow, can’t wait for that to happen.”

  • There is a lot of crap you no longer care about. For example, caring about what people think. If you no longer have to worry about job security or a place at your brother-in-law’s Easter table, what certain people say or think becomes insignificant and that feels really good.
  • If sweat pants feel good on you, you can live in them.
  • Paying off your own college loan debt is no longer worrisome.
  • The closer you get to dying, the less you worry about it. Not speaking for everyone here. As the years go on and you experience more and more death, you realize how inevitable it is. You also start to feel your years physically and think at some point I’m going to want to rest . . . eternally.
  • Your lifelong friends will pretty much accept any stupid thing that comes out of your mouth and you, them.
  • I have read that your taste buds lose their ability to distinguish between certain levels of taste and that this causes a suppressed appetite (not so far, I’m waiting).
  • If I want to go to bed at 9:00 a.m., no one can stop me.
  • Thankfully, most older folks are not tethered to their cell phones. I say most because I know a few who are.

I’m struggling with coming up with this list. I feel like I’m reaching.

You’re Only As Old As You Feel — Research Says So

I’m waiting for some magic pill that turns you into a twenty-something year old for 24 hours. You can stay awake, feel no pain, wear form-fitting attire, dance the night away, attract others with similar desires, and wake-up without regrets.

Two Things to add to the last blog post publishing:

  1. You can no longer fly to Toulouse on an EasyJet direct flight from Faro. I’m not sure why or if they’ll ever bring back the route. It’s a hard pill to swallow. Instead, I will be returning to Lyon; a city in France I also love. Side note: I did a search and found this strange airline called Volotea. It’s a low budget Spanish Airline that will fly you to Toulouse for next to nothing and then quadruple the return flight. I won’t even consider using them unless I book a flight without a return.
  2. I wrapped up my last blog before leaving Toulouse. I wanted to share that I enjoyed a wonderful Easter lunch at Café Maurice in the centre of Toulouse (see photos below). They opened the entire front of the restaurant because the weather was ideal for fresh air and al fresco dining. I sat inside close to the open doors to avoid the smokers. Europeans are still big smokers. Everything about this restaurant is done well.

I also had excellent Korean food in Toulouse; I can’t get Korean in Faro and I don’t see it happening anytime soon.

Traveling to Berlin on the 29th of this month for one week. I’m looking forward to returning to a vibrant, artsy, and fairly close to Faro, city. Amsterdam, Geneva, Milan and a northern Europe cruise after that. And after years of wondering what has happened to detroit, I’ll be going in September (part of a bigger trip to be fleshed out).

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An American in Faro and Some Bordeaux & Toulouse Highlights

Why I Love Faro and Plan to Stay Put

When you live in a place where they speak a different language and the customs are not what your accustomed to, you cannot help but ponder on how you fit in. The truth is that I have never fit in. Family, school, neighborhood, work, social gatherings — you name it, I was out-of-place; sometimes I still am. Mind you, it wasn’t always people who made me feel this way; it was mostly my own voice telling me I didn’t belong.

So when I decided to move to Portugal, for many who know me well, the first question was: how will you be able to live in a foreign country? Having rehearsed for this move my entire life, my answer was: oh that’s the easy part.

In the past, I have mostly written about logistics and concrete matters related to my move abroad; today I want to write about how it feels to be an American overseas. First allow me to describe the setting.

Home

[Covering an area of 4,997 km (3,105 miles), Algarve is home to 438,406 permanent residents. According to statistics from Pordata, 10 percent of the population is expats.] It is my understanding that about 11 percent of the Portugal expat population is American. I would say that this figure is far smaller in the Algarve. If you break it down, the number of Americans living in Faro is actually quite small.

The Algarve (the region of Portugal where I reside), is the southernmost part of Portugal. It is a tourist destination for many Europeans seeking predictably good weather, an affordable holiday, outdoor activity, and a safe place to hang your hat. My earlier blogs will tell you why I chose Portugal and Faro; I’ll spare you those details here.

People who look and sound like me are difficult to find in Faro. I workout at a large gym and I am one of two Americans. The other, Al, is also from Brooklyn, but he has lived in Portugal for a long time. It took several years of walking by him at the gym before I learned that he was from Carroll Gardens, a neighborhood not far from my own. Al’s a big guy who is probably a teddy bear, but he looks like someone you wouldn’t want to make angry. I think I look that way when I’m not smiling.

My apartment building is entirely Portuguese and the restaurants I tend to eat in are patronized by a majority of Portuguese people. I’m simply stating fact, no judgment.

Having described feeling out-of-place my entire life, you would think I might feel that way in the Algarve, but I don’t. I feel welcomed, accepted, and like I belong. I’m sure most of these feelings reside in my head and are not based on reality, but does that really matter? I could get all philosophical about what is real and what is made up in our imagination, but I don’t want to scare you.

Thoughts that Swirl and Machinate

These days, I feel as if I’m living outside of myself. I’m like a voyeur watching this old guy navigate a life he cannot quite believe he is living. It’s fascinating for me to watch him fumble. I’m not concerned that you’ll think me mad, because I am certain most people feel this way from time-to-time. Who am I? Where do I belong? How do I fit in? If you’re human, you frequently consciously or unconsciously, ask yourself these questions.

So why do I feel so much at home in Portugal? I will refrain from creating a list and instead, try to describe my dominant feelings. But first . . .

An aside: I flew into Bordeaux because EasyJet cancelled my flight directly into Toulouse and I rebooked on RyanAir to Toulouse which is two hours away. I like the train system in most of Europe, so I figured I’d spend a couple of days in Bordeaux and five days in Toulouse; a city I have come to love. I literally just missed my train from Bordeaux to Toulouse because I booked the wrong time and didn’t notice it on the ticket until I was on the bus to the train station. I jumped off the bus to call an Uber. It was sort of like a scene in a film . . . me leaning into the front seat asking the driver to please try and get me to the station quickly, but unfortunately traffic and slow drivers made it impossible. I tried to book a ticket for the next train, but it’s full so I’m stuck in Bordeaux — not a bad place to be stuck — a 5 hour wait I’m afraid. When I booked this trip, I was unaware that it was Easter week. What do they say about breathing or that things happen the way they’re supposed to? I’ll blog and people watch and eat and answer emails and people watch and sulk. I get to sulk just a little. It was a stupid mistake. This too shall pass . . .

Ô QG, 66 Quai de Paludate, 33800 Bordeaux

I saw this restaurant in Bordeaux on-line while I was waiting for my train. I took a shot at a reservation and they had one seat left (sometimes traveling alone has its advantages). I sort of thought they were lying until I sat down and people started flooding in. I ended up having one of the best sirloin steaks of my life. I almost went all out for a 50 Euro dry aged T-Bone, but I held back having had already incurred extra expenses from missing my 10:28. A nice Medoc and some potatoes au gratin . . . yada, yada, yada. All that for 25 Euros; now I understand why they were all booked-up.

BDX Café is attached to a stylish boutique hotel near the Gare St. Jean in Bordeaux. I’m killing time here while I wait several hours for my train to Toulouse. The homemade chocolate cake with fresh whip cream is divine and I’m sipping a Kressmann’s Blanc Grande Reserve while I type away on my fully charged laptop (multiple outlets at my feet).

I met a very nice young lady on the train who helped me pass the time and gave me a good restaurant recommendation. She was smart, very pretty, and delightful. I suppose I was meant to meet her. I hated saying goodbye at the station. People come and go so quickly here (movie reference; know which one?).

Back to the Main Reason for this Blog

Let’s return to why I feel so good about my life in Portugal. First and foremost, removing myself from a place where I wasn’t very happy, was a tremendous boost to my spirits and self-esteem. I took life by the balls so to speak. When you enter into a situation knowing that the change could and hopefully will improve your life, it gives you hope and the drive to push forward.

I found myself and Giorgio (my pooch at the time) in the position to reinvent myself. I wanted to relax more, care less about what others thought, embrace the European lifestyle, travel, and most importantly, take better care of myself — eat better, sleep more, have regular check-ups, and leave the world of answering to others behind.

It didn’t hurt that I found myself a place overlooking the Ria Formosa and Atlantic Ocean. When the high school is not holding classes, it’s peaceful and perfect and when the students are there it’s youthful and nerve-racking. I think it’s good to have the former to look forward to.

I am a man of many hobbies (e.g., cooking, reading, gardening, writing, film watching, home decorating, learning Portuguese, and keeping up with friends); therefore, I am never bored or at a loss for projects. You’ve heard retirees say, “How did I have time to work?” — that’s me.

I’m close to a large market for fresh fish and beautiful groceries (French owned with many French products), an open air farmers market on Sundays, two Lidl’s, an Aldi’s, many restaurants, numerous good coffee shops (latté one Euro everywhere — café com leite), several closed-to-traffic shopping streets with great stores for clothing, etc. a mall, a multi-screen cinema, a jazz club, great pet shops, good doctors, a wonderful vet, several rooftop bars with magnificent views, and parks everywhere. There is a big park next across from my apartment; it’s being totally renovated and I’m excited to see how it turns out — I liked how rustic it was before they started.

Now I’m certain you will read what I just wrote and think, “No wonder he loves Faro,” and you’d be right. But for some reason expats have stigmatized Faro as a town you only go to for the airport and train station. Whenever I have an expat friend over from another town, they make a comment about how they’d misjudged Faro. Some say, “I could live here.” I don’t really need the validation, but it’s nice to hear that others think I made a good choice. A friend from Manhattan recently purchased in Faro. She is a person of great taste and doesn’t decide anything lightly. This has been not only gratifying for me, but also validates my decision to settle here.

Odd as it may seem, I am happy to be one of a small minority of Americans. I navigate through Faro as a proud resident of a beautiful country and I think, I am an American in Faro.

Toulouse

Toulouse is quickly becoming my second city after Faro. I love everything about this French gem (I have blogged about Toulouse in the past). Ninety quick minutes on a budget airline and I am eating French classic dishes and drinking beautiful French wines. This city has everything I love about Paris, except that it’s less crowded, friendlier, and more affordable. I will only point out a couple of highlights since I am here to just be. Now pass the foie gras.

My airbnb is close to the center of Toulouse and has everything I could possibly need. My first night was quiet and comfortable and I slept nine hours. I think last time I slept-in was 1989. Nice hotels in Toulouse are close to 200 Euros a night and this Airbnb was just a little over 60 Euros a night. I don’t always choose an Airbnb, but for five nights I like a kitchenette and a quiet neighborhood (near everything).

L’Emulsion

I booked this very popular, modern French cuisine restaurant well over a year ago and then I had to cancel several times due to COVID-19 cancellations. They were extremely accommodating and it finally happened my second night in Toulouse. My one big splurge. The dishes were visually appealing and tasted magical. You have a choice between two tasting menus and nicely paired wines (optional). I spent about 65 Euros and for a meal of this caliber, that’s pretty good.

Went to Victor Hugo Market at lunchtime; it’s my favorite and a five minute walk from my Airbnb. After a sweet walkabout, I had lunch upstairs at L’Impériale. If you’re in the mood for authentic country French, it doesn’t get much better. Get there early because the place fills up quickly. They’ve got the charm and the service down pat. The cassoulet made me think about small country inns on the outskirts of Paris; a warm fire and hearty cuisine.

The dish pictured in the middle is an escargot crumble. It must have been cooked in reduced red wine; like many French country dishes. I never had anything like it. I lapped up the sauce with some good crunchy bread.

I sat across an elderly country at lunch. I assume it was a Good Friday fish day for them. It was one of those couples who have been together for 50 or 60 years; they say nothing out loud, but the words between them are sweet, filled with tortured and loving memories. Watching them through my invisible window was a privilege I do not take lightly.

Tonight I booked a Vietnamese meal to prepared in the home of a Vietnamese home cook. I found it on Airbnb. No doubt it will be memorable. I will add more tomorrow.

Vietnamese dinner at Vivi’s home: I love these “dine in someone’s home” experiences. Vivi moved to Toulouse after studying in Montreal. Born and raised in Vietnam where her family resides, Vivi was a delight to be with. She’s authentic, young, smart, a developer, a writer, and an excellent cook. There were two amazing things about this enchanting evening: first, it was just the two of us (not so good for Vivi) and second, Vivi’s warmth and willingness to share her story. Once again, I am grateful.

Vivi

I have a few more days here in France. Vivi told me about a Korean restaurant I will try for lunch. I purchased some good eats at the market yesterday and I’m just back from buying a crisp baguette at the local boulangerie. After a few days in a particular place you get to know where to shop and who serves the best latté. My favorite thing about an Airbnb is the ability to buy local food and eat in in a comfortable apartment setting. I will post now rather than wait so that I can enjoy the rest of my trip. If anything amazing or out-of-the-ordinary happens (it probably will), I will include it in my next blog.

Upcoming Travel Plans

In a few weeks I travel to Berlin, then on to Amsterdam, followed by Geneva, Milan, and Nantes. There are some small local excursions in between and a Northern European cruise in October. I have COVID-19 doubts about the cruise, but we shall see.

Lately I’ve been thinking that I am travelling too much and it’s wearing me out. I miss Paco and my creature comforts (the familiar). I admit my desire to explore and experience new things is currently stronger than the wish to curl under a blanket on my sofa with a good book and a glass of Portuguese red, but I suspect the latter will become more attractive over time. Until that happens, I will fight the urge to hibernate.

Feedback

I was feeling a bit down about my blog until my birthday came around. I received birthday wishes from quite a few friends and acquaintances and many of them encouraged me to keep blogging and posting photos. Honestly, I wasn’t sure anyone was listening or watching. Some of you have been following me since the beginning and I appreciate that. Since I am not one to disappoint . . . there’s no stopping me now (four years of consistent blogging). I’ve thought about self-publishing a book about living overseas, but isn’t that what I have right here on these pages? Perhaps a book containing chronicling highlights in the future. For now, this suits me just fine.

Au revoir pour le moment mes amis.

Please forgive spelling and grammatical errors; my proofreader is on vacation (ha!).