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?)
Shock and denial. This is a state of disbelief and numbed feelings.
Pain and guilt. …
Anger and bargaining. …
Depression. …
The upward turn. …
Reconstruction and working through…
Acceptance and hope.
Some of the Awful Things an Aging Body Experiences (I’ve been spared a few on the following list):
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.
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:
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.
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).
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 . . .
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).
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!).
Much of the blog below was written at my one year milestone in Portugal. I thought after three years, a pandemic, a great deal of reflection, and trips to many places, I should provide new insights.
A Brief Overview(I’ll note updates)
I have pondered living outside of the United States my entire adult life. Until a couple of years ago, the opportunity had not presented itself. I moved to Maine, but it never felt like the right fit. When I’m unhappy I usually consider something I might do to change things up; leaving the country was my best option. I love America and will never give-up my citizenship. You just never know what the future has in store for you. Update: If anything, my decision to keep my U.S. citizenship is even stronger, without any doubt.
The Highs
I think the best part of leaving the States has been the ability to gain some perspective. A big move, such as the one I made, forces you to take inventory of your life. I left most of my material belongings behind. I didn’t put my things in storage, I got rid of them. I brought five suitcases full of memories I did not want to part with and clothing I hoped would fit for a long time. The purging of most of my material belongings was a good exercise for me. It made me realize that I can live without so much of what I have accumulated. It was also nice to start fresh. Update: I’ve always enjoyed buying new clothing as the seasons changed and my wardrobe wore out; not sure why, but when I left the U.S. I imagined myself wearing the same thing and buying very few new articles of clothing. After a short period of time I started feeling better about myself and I decided it would be good to wear comfortable, but stylish clothing. I came to Portugal and I found a style that I’m completely comfortable with: casual, smart and mostly cotton. The warmer climate is perfect for cotton fabric and I find the brighter colors and comfortable fit perfect for travel and local outings.
Having my little Paco (see photo above) in my life has been a wonderful and pleasant surprise. Giorgio is forever in my heart and I am forever grateful that he got me to Portugal and stayed with me until I was all tucked in.
The people in Portugal are gracious and welcoming. I have never felt like an outsider. I had dinner in a restaurant last week and when the owner learned that I was living in Faro, she gave me her cell number and said that I should call her if I ever needed anything. That’s just one example of the reception I have received. Update: I only went back to that restaurant once. I loved the coconut milk Thai soup and they took it off the menu — damn!It’s still true that Portuguese people are by and large, gracious and warm. I’ve made several close Portuguese friends (Swedish, British, Canadian, Brazilian, French, and German as well).
Taxes on property are much lower in Portugal. Condo maintenance is one-fourth the cost in Maine and one-tenth of what I paid in New York. Groceries are about 30% less. Insurance costs are a lot lower. There are bargain airlines that allow you to fly for less than 30 euros each way (if you carry a small bag onto the plane — I’ve learned how to pack more efficiently). Sometimes I wonder why things cost so much more in the States.
I know this is odd, but I had no idea that I would be only a little over two hours away from Seville, Spain and that it was an easy bus ride. It’s been a huge bonus to take two or three-day trips to one of my favorite cities. I love everything about Seville. Spanish culture is very different from Portuguese culture and there’s a whole lot to discover. Update: I actually spend a lot of time in Monte Gordo/Vila Real de Santo Antonio (VRSO)on the Portuguese side of the Spanish border. From there I can take a quick ferry over to Ayamonte, Spain. It’s about an hour by train, very reasonable, and a nice, easy respite. I have also been able to see parts of Spain I had not visited when I travelled with Alejandro.
The weather in the Algarve is amazing all year-round. With an average 300 days of sunshine, no humidity most of the year, and the temperature never dipping below 45 degrees, I have to say it’s hard to beat. There is often a beautiful breeze in Faro during the summer months because of where we are on the south side of the Atlantic. The beautiful and diverse beaches here are also more than I could have hoped for. Update: I rarely go to the beach, but it sure is nice to have it nearby. My skin doesn’t like the sun anymore.
The Little things that make a big difference:
Because there is very little humidity here, things like sponges and clothes never get that damp, musty odor.
No snow . . . ever! I loved snow until I couldn’t ski anymore (knee issues).
The Portuguese government has regulations prohibiting the use of pesticides in farming, no hormones, no food additives, etc. Eggs are bright orange and delicious and do not have to be labeled organic — all food is grown naturally.
Very little crime. I feel very safe. Update: a bit more since COVID.
Public transportation is cheap and efficient. City buses are less than a euro a ride and run frequently. Going outside the city is also easy and only a few euros. Buses and trains are never overcrowded. Not owning a car has been freeing and has saved me a good deal of money. My commitment to lessen my carbon footprint has been rewarding. It took me a while to figure out the system, but once I did, it was fairly easy. Update: I take the train rather than fly when possible. It’s that balance between doing what you love and doing what’s right.
Because we have an abundance of sunshine and great weather, I can cycle all year-round.
I have discovered many European healthcare products that are inexpensive and work well (i.e., face cream, toothpaste, pimple cream). I have a French grocery store a few blocks away and a fresh food market right above it. The outdoor farmer’s market travels from town to town and it’s in Faro on Sundays.
Labor is inexpensive. I have been able to do some very nice renovations to my apartment that did not cost me a fortune (i.e., french doors in my kitchen, tile work, painting).
Furniture is well-made here.
Update: Restaurants are increasing in number and quality in Faro. More ethnic food and close to home.
Incredible new friends
I love my gym and I try to get there six days a week.Annual membership, 245 Euros!
I have joined a croquet club: The Pink Flamingos. I usually play on Wednesdays; sometimes on Sunday as well. I also play Mah Jongg on Fridays and Mexican Train on occasion on Tuesday. My official retirement schedule and activities. I do all of this outside of a retirement community.
The Lows
Losing Giorgio to heart disease has been the worst thing that has happened in Portugal thus far. In truth, he would have had to be put down in the U.S. at some point; however, knowing that the climate change adversely affected his heart, made his death more difficult. The wide sidewalks were great because I could walk him without a leash. He loved our new home (parks and beaches) and that gives me great comfort.
I indeed miss my friends and family and that can be tough at times. I fortunately chose a place people want to visit and so, I’ve had more friends and family come to see me than I ever anticipated. It’s been quite a treat to show the people I love, my new home.
I’ve gained some weight and I’m not happy about that. Delicious pastries are everywhere and they’re so cheap. I think the novelty will soon wear off; either that or I’ll get tired of buying new pants. I’ve always had to work hard to keep the weight off, but aging makes this even more difficult. Update: I’ve been the same weight for a few years now. I keep active and I have accepted the fact that I will always be a bit overweight. I refuse to give up the food and drink that bring me happiness. All things in moderation.
Also, I hate my condo association and I will not go into why.
Flying back to the States is expensive. Currently, airfare back to the U.S. is 900 euros during the high season, April to July. I won’t be returning very often. There are bargain fares; however, you have to accept long layovers and not-so-great airlines. I like TAP — Air Portugal.
Update: A Canadian airline has a new route to Toronto from Faro. I will not recommend them until I’ve tried them. It looks like I can get there and back for 650 Euros. I’ll probably fly to a U.S. city from Toronto. I hate flying into Newark, JFK or Miami.
Did I Make the Right Choice?
There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that I chose the right country at the right time. Portugal is becoming more attractive to expats because real estate prices are reasonable; however, in the year since I purchased my condo, the value has risen by 20 percent. It will soon be just as expensive as everywhere else. I saw this happening with Spain 20 years ago. More importantly, I love it here. I love the people, I love the food, I love the weather, the quality of life, my location in Faro, my healthcare, and I love how it all makes me feel. I’ve mentioned this before, but I am 45 minutes to Spain by car and I can fly or take a train to several other European countries very easily. The time difference in other countries is only an hour or two and that’s manageable.
Update: I believe that I found my place.
Access to Travel
Faro is not a very large city; however, it is the capital of the Algarve and the airport is a fairly large hub. Multiple airlines fly direct to many cities throughout Europe. The rail system in Europe is also quite extensive and efficient. I can see the world more easily from my new home. I know that as I get older I will want to stay closer to home where I get to enjoy all the creature comforts. I sleep better in my own bed than anywhere else. Still I know it’s best to travel as much as possible; while I still can. Update: I have fully embraced the notion that I will someday (soon) be an old fuddy duddy that likes to stay home.
From Original Blog. Photos: I took these photos in Sagres, Portugal, a couple of days ago. Sagres is the furthest south and west you can go on the Iberian continent. It’s difficult to capture how truly peaceful and spectacular this part of the world is. It was an easy two and a half hour drive from my home. Update: I’ve returned numerous times.I have also fallen in love with Alvor (off-season).
I have decided to stop thinking long-term. I am open to possibilities I might not have ever considered before. I have two big trips coming up in 2019. After I return, perhaps a rescue dog? A pet would probably force me to stay put for a while, but that’s not a bad thing. I’m going to go the organic route on this decision and see where the future takes me. Getting older means aches and pains I did not anticipate and other small medical issues that I have to be dealt with. Staying on top of these things is important for long-term good health. When you get older, health becomes a priority. Update: all remains true. I did rescue Paco and I’m still “fairly” healthy. I thought I’d stop planning way ahead, however, I’ve given up trying, it’s what I do.
“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” ― Soren Kierkegaard
“I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived in and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you can. Never turn back and never believe that an hour you remember is a better hour because it is dead. Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones, while the future lives in a cloud, formidable from a distance.” ― Beryl Markham, West with the Night
“We don’t have to be defined by the things we did or didn’t do in our past. Some people allow themselves to be controlled by regret. Maybe it’s a regret, maybe it’s not. It’s merely something that happened. Get over it.” ― Pittacus Lore, I Am Number Four
Liverpool at the end of this coming week. Other travel will be mentioned in my Liverpool post. I’ve cancelled Asia in 2023. Due to COVID-19, there are too many considerations and changes to worry about. It will happen someday. The long flight to and from Cuba did me in, keeping me closer to Europe for a while.
With some strong opinions about our current political situation.
What you see here is my immediate family: Paco and me and me and Paco. Don’t be sad about it, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. After 30 years of therapy, countless self-help books, two or three semi-rewarding careers, and early retirement, this is where I’ve landed. Paco and Portugal are a pretty darned good combination. I can walk him year-round without ever having to step in snow or wear a winter coat. This is the life I have chosen and I believe it is unfortunate that there are people who are partnered or dying to be partnered, who feel sorry for me. Family can be defined in many different ways; for me, family is me and my dog. Trust, loyalty, commitment, and love; none of it questionable or wavering (new).
Pandemic, war, climate change, political division . . . these are the times we reflect on what matters.
A thought I am stating upfront (reprinted from 2019):
Admittedly, this has been one of the more difficult blogs I have written thus far. I have wanted to write about family from the day I started publishing, but I have often hesitated and abandoned the idea. There have been mentions of family; however, I have clearly danced around the topic on purpose. I have decided to go forward with it, play it safe and not name names. I am fairly certain family members know where they stand with me and I think it’s best not to air dirty laundry in a public forum. Darn!
I’m fucking angry at many of my family members and although I know some of them won’t like what I am going to share, it needs to be said. I want to remind several of them, that I’ve been around them for 62 years and I have listened carefully. Anyone in my family who is currently supporting Trumpism wants the following for the United States: 1) immigration exclusively for those who can prove they have means, 2) the end to programs designed to assist the less fortunate, 3) the stripping down of school curriculum so that revisionist history is banned and only the conservative perspective is taught (I’m holding back), 4) christianity is the moral compass of the nation, 5) anti-abortion can continue to be used as a weapon for fighting personal freedom, and 6) power and money can be kept in the hands of the fast becoming white minority. I’m leaving off a few things that are way too personal and would only fan the flames of hate directed toward me.
If you are a close family member and have felt distance and diminishing contact, I need to be clear that I don’t care how much love there has been or how strong the bond, anyone in my life that thinks ‘Make America Great Again” is a good thing should not reach out to me. Clearly some of you are too stupid to know why you vote the way you do, but I know many of my so called “family members” know exactly why they deny the January 6, 2021 attack on the capital was a threat to American democracy. I’m not so sure you’d feel the same way if you lived in Russia or other authoritarian parts of the world (last two paragraphs are new) .
Definition from Urban Dictionary and why it resonates:
A group of people, usually of the same blood (but do not have to be), who genuinely love, trust, care about, and look out for each other. Not to be mistaken with relatives sharing the same household who hate each other.
The words I love here are “genuine, trust, and look out for.” I am fortunate to have family members who check all the boxes. I also have friends whom I can say those things about; I consider these friends my extended or chosen family. None of my true family members are jealous of or would begrudge me of my chosen family. I believe those who love me for and despite who I am, love me no matter what. I didn’t always realize how much genuine love I had or have in my life; this came with maturity and experience.
Not unlike anyone else alive and breathing, I have family issues. There are family members that are as much strangers as the individual walking down my street that I have never laid eyes on before today. It would be easy to beat myself up and blame myself for family “stuff.” They don’t like me because I’m fill in the blank. Since we’re all so different and complicated, trying to figure out why people behave a certain way toward you is bound to cause trouble. Speculation is often dangerous and inaccurate; especially when it’s about family. Our expectations of family members is not the same as what we expect from friends or strangers. We’re often less forgiving when it comes to family.
This thinking that family should be held to higher standards sets us up for failure. In reality, we’re all human and therefore, we make mistakes, we say stupid things, we take others for granted. With a friend you might sit them down and ask them if everything is okay or if you can talk about it. For some reason with family (I suspect it has to do with deep emotional ties) we are quick to allow our anger and resentment to make us dismissive. This does not include the issues I outlined earlier.
Some of the statements we might make to ourselves:
He/she should know better.
He/she never invites me to family functions.
They’ve turned their children against me.
He/she never calls me or I always have to be the one to call.
I’m so tired of being the one with all the answers.
Am I the only one who is taking care of mom/dad?
I wouldn’t be friends with this family member if I met him or her on the street, so why should I expect to like this person?
Immediate Family
I have created a life where my immediate family consists of me and me alone (I’ve added Paco since publishing this blog). I could easily share my thoughts on why this might be the case, but I think I’ll spare you the psycho-babble. I would imagine that the larger your immediate family is, the more complex your life might be; I could be wrong. Growing up, there were nine or ten of us living in the house at any given time. Daily drama and breakdowns were a way of life.
I think that most individuals could point to a time when family loyalty was tested. I believe it is during this time or these times, when we shape our opinions of family members and evaluate how deep we believe their love to be. Can one be wrong in their assessment? Absolutely. Judgment can easily be clouded by an argument, a particular incident, and/or a betrayal by a jealous family member(s).
Estranged Family
It seems like everyone I speak to have family members that they do not see or communicate with. The first thing I always think is: how sad. Then I realize that there are family members I do not speak to and again I think, how sad. But as we all know we don’t get to choose family and we either accept them for who they are or we don’t. I once believed that all family deserved to be forgiven no matter the transgression, however, that is no longer how I feel. I now believe that there are people around us who are toxic. Keeping them around us is unhealthy and unwise. What I have learned over time, is that confronting certain people will only make the situation worse. It’s like the old saying about putting salt on a wound; best not to go there sometimes. There is nothing wrong with self-preservation.
Can an old wound be healed? I think it’s possible to mend a relationship, but both parties have to want it. It is similar to divorce, in that, emotions are often strong and anger deeply rooted, finding middle ground is near impossible. The older I get, the more inclined I am to walk away. It is important to consider regret and the outcome of your actions. You have to ask yourself several questions:
Did I do everything possible to reconnect with this family member?
How deep is the wound?
Do I even remember the cause of the disagreement?
Is pride getting in the way?
If I choose to forgive, can I forgive?
Can forgiveness pave the way for a healthier relationship?
Is making the first move possible or will you lose self-respect?
Will my estrangement affect other family members?
Are their beliefs so backward and divisive, that being associated with them is hypocritical?
Are you being true to yourself?
Let me be clear that I am not pointing fingers. I did not have a family member in mind while writing this. I have made many mistakes. I have turned my back on family more than once. I have behaved immaturely and jumped to conclusions. I have avoided conflict and I have looked the other way. I have made excuses. I have placed blame. I have suffered in silence and I have made assumptions.
I am in the process of acknowledging my limitations and I am attempting to figure it all out. I imagine in that way, that I am much like everyone else.
When I wrote this blog a few years back I was deeply hurt by a few family members who turned their backs on me because of my political beliefs and values. I questioned those beliefs and started to doubt myself. I’m happy to say that those feelings are all behind me. I have come out of this stronger and more resolute. I am determined to fight for: personal freedoms, for those who cannot defend themselves, for those who have been denied the tools to help/better themselves, evangelicals who impose their values on others, and anyone who believes that sexual orientation is a choice. The fight is exhilarating and life affirming.
Travel
Liverpool, UK at the end of March, Toulouse and Bordeaux mid-April and Berlin the end of April. Most COVID restrictions have been lifted in Europe; therefore, travel should be a bit easier.
There are other planned trips, however, I’m realizing as I get older, travel can often take its toll. I am re-evaluating the length and substance of my travel.
No doubt I will disappoint a lot of people with this post. I never thought of this trip as a pleasure trip. I had read about, saw things and heard about injustices going on in Cuba my entire life; seeing it for myself has been something I felt I had to do for a long, long time.
This blog will not provide a great deal of information on sites to see or restaurants to visit (I will include some of that). It will be more about what I saw with my own eyes and what I learned speaking to the people who live in Cuba. Jet lag will play a role as well — moving through time zones has always been an issue for me.
I studied Sociology and I have an endless appetite for observing and taking apart human behavior; especially group think. Cuba, as I expected it would be, is unique and special in so many ways. Many people fled the country after the 1959 revolution (click for history) and more have fled since. I don’t want to make this a white paper on Cuban politics and how the United States places in all of that. Still, I’d like to make a few observations and share some thoughts on current conditions. You may sense some strong emotions; it’s still very raw.
Hotel
My travel agent gave me two options for my four nights in Havana. I decided to spoil myself for the housing part of the trip.
SO/Paseo del Prado, La Habana, was probably the most beautiful chain hotel (Sofitel) I have ever stayed in. Five star luxury with some kinks to work out. The property had been closed for a long while because of COVID. They were understaffed and the details were not attended to: no towels or water in the gym, one front desk receptionist, not ready at breakfast, etc. The view of the Atlantic from my room and the location of the hotel, made it a good choice. It is in the Malecón district in Havana.
First named Avenida del Golfo, is Cuba’s most famous sea-side avenue. The project was undertaken by Don Francisco de Albear, Cuba’s greatest engineer at the time. Albear came up with a complex but smart design for the seawall, which was to be a lot more than just a promenade.
SO/Paseo del Prado
Be warned: hotels in Cuba are owned by both private companies and the government. I believe the government has a 51% ownership, but I’m not 100% certain of that. You cannot use Cuban Pesos (CUPs) in hotels; you are have to use your credit card or ATM card and you are charged in U.S. dollars. This troubled me while I was there. I prefer not to get into the politics of the matter. I spoke to several hotel guests who disagree with the policy, but they shrug and say they have no control or say. I did, however, learn that individuals who work in these properties are State workers and they earn a bit more money than most people working in Cuba. Breakfast at the hotel was delicious; especially the made-to-order omelets. The pastries were just okay — probably better for me in the long run.
The other thing to mention was that I asked to remain in my room longer because I had a 11:30 p.m. (horrible time to fly) flight to Madrid. I was told it would be $50 for three hours or $250 till 7:00 p.m. Crazy to pay that kind of money; instead I used a “transit room” which had an ocean view and very comfortable furniture. It was secure and free of charge.
The hotel could exchange your dollars or euros, however, the rate is the government’s exchange rate (24 CUPs to the Euro) and I got 95 CPUs to the Euro on the street. People trade money on the street all over Havana. I don’t know how they get away with it or how it works, but it’s good for them and for you. I was told the government turns a blind eye to this practice. One of many oddities in Cuba.
Eateries
A vast majority of the restaurants in Havana are traditional and very basic. You will not see chain restaurants (a good thing) or a variety of ethnic non-Cuban restaurants. I did pass a couple of Italian restaurants with limited menus and I saw a Chinese restaurant, however, I’m pretty sure it was closed. Many restaurants were permanently closed all over Havana.
La Macorina, @LaComidaCubana, has live music on weekends and the food is excellent and well-priced. Higher-end traditional Cuban fair.
Elizalde, Empedrado, e\ Avenida Belgica y Villegas, La Habana Vieja, is in the Old Town. They have a more extended menu than most and the food is very good — extensive and excellent cocktail menu.
I had several other meals in Havana, however, I would have to say that the cuisine was not remarkable. I had lobster tail in one restaurant and although I was told it was fresh (off-the-boat) and local, it was overcooked. It’s almost a sin to overcook lobster, but I think the dish was $8.
It’s also important to keep in mind that food is scarce these days; I would imagine that restaurants have to fight for product. I did see many corner produce stands with decent fruits & vegetables displayed.
I did not travel to Cuba for the cuisine. I’ve been told that the best meals are prepared in people’s homes. Perhaps because of COVID, only one of these opportunities was presented to me and I thought 30 Euros was a bit high for a home cooked meal in Havana.
Music
Live music is everywhere; on the streets, in bars, in restaurants and coming from homes. Cubans love their Latin beats and so do I. I was extremely pleased to hear and see musicians throughout my trip. See Buena Vista Social Club later in this blog.
Art
Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes is located in the center of the city (near the Parque Central Hotel). Filled with Cuban art dating back to the 16th century, this is a must see. It’s a modern building where you can easily spend hours strolling many galleries.
Local artists were either featured in galleries or had their own galleries throughout the city. Most of what I saw was commercial art designed for tourists, but there were some galleries displaying expensive and magnificent art. I did buy a tile piece (see end of blog).
Two Excellent Tours
I booked an Airbnb walking tour for my first day in Havana. I had just come from a 2.5 ride from Varadero and I had many questions about what I had seen along the way. I also wanted to learn as much as I could about Cuba and Havana. Daniel was an excellent guide. A group of five Austrians had booked the tour, but they were no-shows. It was one of those tours where you pay a small amount and then tip accordingly. It basically means more money in the guide’s pocket as a result of a lower Airbnb service fee. Brilliant for Cubans who earn very little income.
Daniel sold this as a two tour. It was causal and informative. Daniel is a journalist who had recently graduated from university. He was candid and very much in love with his country. It was clear he had some strong thoughts regarding U.S. politics, but he was polite and checked-in before saying anything controversial. He got a large tip.
The second booking on my second day in Havana, was a Cigar and Rum Experience. Abel and his wife have just recently opened Café Virgo where the experience took place. I ended up being the only taker for this 1.5 hour tutorial. Good for me, not-so-good for Abel.
I had a slice of homemade buttercream frosted vanilla and chocolate cake at the café before the start of the experience. Abel was the perfect companion for my afternoon of learning how rum and cigars are made and why they pair so well — each compliments the other and both prime you for good conversation. It was relaxing and informative. Apparently, Romeo y Julieta are the primo cigars, made famous by Fidel Castro and other national treasures. I’m not much of a cigar smoker, but I now know how they are made and how to light them and smoke them. I also learned that a seven year old rum is a mixed blend of barrel aged rum, the minimum barrel having been aged seven years; some barrels can be older than seven years. We drank a Club Havana Rum aged at least seven years; smooth and smokey. It’s about 23 Euros a bottle ($25.50) and considered to be one of the best tasting rums in the world. We drank it straight; my way to drink fine alcohol and Abel told me that it was the correct way to drink it. Café Virgo is a sweet little café across the street from the American Embassy. Side note: I would never have imagined that the U.S. had an embassy in Cuba. I wish I’d known this prior to my visit, I would have felt safer going there.
Abel Carmenate: Facebook and Instagram, Cuba Tailor Made Tours with Abel, 53 52811152 (whatsapp), abelholacubatours@gmail.com. I highly recommend this experience.
Abel Carmenate
And So This Happened
I started posting some of my photos while I was in Havana. But first, I wanted to share what I’d seen on the streets of Cuba that day. I wrote about seeing a theft and it disappeared before I could finish. Then I thought, well, perhaps I accidentally erased it? I tried posting it again and it was once again removed. I know it’s a conspiracy theory, but I think the government monitored internet, saw what I was posting and removed it before it could be seen by others. I imagine this sort of thing happens in places like Russia, China, and many Middle East countries. I take my freedoms for granted, because that is all I know.
The Theft
I was walking on a crowded Old Town street and saw a man grab a woman’s neck and then run. It happened quickly and I wasn’t sure what I’d seen. The woman who was attacked was breathing heavily and holding her throat. Apparently, a man tried to steal her gold necklace. Since it didn’t come right off, he ran. She was fairly shaken by the incident and in truth, so was I. I was carrying a man bag with my phone, credit cards, and cash. I moved the phone and cash to my pocket and held my man bag close to my person. I was going to walk around for a few hours, but decided to go back to my hotel instead; I just didn’t feel safe. The rooftop pool and a novel, became my afternoon activity.
The following day I decided to go out with a small amount of cash (CUPs) and my phone. The weather was decent most of my trip; a bit humid, but not too hot.
The Buena Vista Social Club, was an option I chose to ignore. I had seen the documentary a few years ago and my interest was peaked, but when I looked at the menu, I decided it was not worth the money. I had a few people in Cuba tell me that people go there for the music, not the food. Admittedly, if I did go, the food would matter; therefore, I stayed away.
What I Learned From the Locals (I’ll be brief)
Looking for milk: My hotel room had an espresso machine (always good because of my wake-up time). I like milk in my coffee and I had a small refrigerator in my room where I could store it. I ventured out about 30 minutes after my arrival and before my walking tour. I went to a small grocery store near the hotel, however, they were closed for a private party. This was the first time I have ever encountered a grocery store closed for a party, but that’s Cuba for you. I asked the person who came to the door if it would be possible to purchase a small container of milk. Her English was poor and my Spanish is worse. She told me that I wouldn’t find leche anywhere in Havana. I laughed out loud and went back to the streets. This is when I discovered that people ran small businesses out of their homes. They will sell you just about anything they have, but no one had milk. They either shook their heads or said “no leche.”
I was out for about an hour looking for milk; during this time I was approached by no fewer than 20 people. They asked me where I was from and why I was there. While walking, I noticed all of the buildings were run down and the odor from many of them was foul. I engaged with some of these people and learned that milk might or might not be available the next day. I said, what about babies? How do babies get milk? I was told that they got milk when milk was available. This blew me away. Most of the individuals who approached me were looking for a handout. Honestly, I believe they truly need the money.
I went back to the hotel feeling sad and disappointed. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask the bartender in the lobby if he was selling milk. I was given a large glass of milk free of charge — he too received a large tip.
I was hounded by driver’s of the old iconic cars you see wherever you go. They all asked if I wanted a ride. I had no desire whatsoever to spend 30 Euros or more just to ride around Havana in an old car. I know that this is how these men made their living and that it is part of the tourist experience, but it’s not my sort of thing. I’m just an old cynic.
In the days that followed I spoke to several Cubans. I was surprised to learn that they, for the most part, are very happy people. Havana residents mostly live in once beautiful and opulent mansions with a large center courtyard. They are all now divided into many small living spaces. The buildings are mostly falling apart. My tour guide told me that the government (the State they call it) is responsible for repairs, but there are too many in need and no money available to get the job done. There were many unemployed people spending time on the street. I guess few people own cars, making for no traffic in most places. The Cuban government blames the American trade embargo. The United States is one of many countries who will not trade with Cuba. Yet still, Havana residents are happy and have great pride in their country.
Written the Morning of My Departure
I took this photo of the moon (see below) outside my window a few minutes ago. I am extremely emotional today. What I have seen over the last 10 days leaves me with with sobering and conflicting feelings. Although I was born in poverty and lived with little my entire childhood, what I experienced in Coney Island was nothing like what I have seen in Cuba. The poverty here is not so much about money; it has more to do with freedom; the freedom to find work that is fulfilling and feeds the family, the freedom to love freely (homophobia), the freedom to . . .
Yet, so many people I spoke to expressed happiness. Many told me that although they do not have much in the way of material things, they have life, they have loved ones, they have friends, a bed to sleep in, food to eat most of the time, and they have hope. Who am I to say they’re wrong or misguided. For most in Cuba, what they have is all they’ve ever known.
My tour guide told me that religion was forbidden after the revolution. I don’t know enough about this to address it. I did pass a couple of churches, but I do not believe they are currently used for worship.
I found this on the internet:
Is religion banned in Cuba?
The constitution provides for freedom of conscience and religion and prohibits discrimination based on religion; however, the Cuban Communist Party, through its Office of Religious Affairs (ORA) and the government’s Ministry of Justice (MOJ), continues to control most aspects of religious life, June 27, 2019.
Home
I know that it is the combination of weary travel and the abject poverty I just experienced, but am so happy to be home in Portugal. I chose a home where social democracy allows for people to live knowing that they will have food, water, healthcare, housing and a government that supports their freedom. Portugal is not a wealthy country, but most people here are well cared for.
It amazes me that I have to leave home to appreciate just how beautiful home is.
What I Purchased (besides rum)
She’s glued together
This is a ceramic tile I brought back, unfortunately, in four pieces. I told the gallery owner that I was afraid it might break and she assured me that she had packed tiles a thousand times and that it would not break. Someday I will listen to my own inner voice. Anyhow, here it is glued back together, a forever reminder of my journey to Cuba.
We’re funny creatures aren’t we? We do so many things naturally, but keep them to ourselves or judge that discussing them is taboo. I’ll name a few:
Our true feelings — deep, dark, sincere feelings
Our bathroom habits (e.g., a majority of older men have trouble urinating due to prostate issues); we don’t talk about it.
Our fear of death and failure
Our sexual habits and desires
Thoughts of suicide when feeling alone or desperate
Our true nature
Let’s face it, we are a repressed people. And, we have no one to blame but ourselves.
A Funny Story (names will be withheld to protect the innocent and humble)
I recently attended an extremely satisfying dinner party. I say satisfying because I’m normally uncomfortable and apprehensive about even attending them in the first place. I get all anxious and threaten cancellation at the last minute. But this one was different. There were eight of us: three Americans, two Canadians, one Swede, one Finnish and a Brit. Probably all left leaning, although I cannot be 100% certain. What I do know is that all eight of us were there to have a good time and a good time is what we had.
I’ve been out-of-the-closet for a long time; therefore, discussing my sexuality is not usually an issue or concern. My current attitude is simply, take me as I am or don’t take me at all. What seems to be more of an issue for others, is that I’m single. When I’m in a group situation and my status comes up, I usually state that I am “happily single.” I say this because so many people, gay, straight, and undefined, seem to believe that I am in some way unhappy or unfulfilled and that this state of being is directly correlated with being single.
The party host was unfortunately recently widowed. Since it has been a little more than a year, I can see that people who care about her, are interested or secretly hopeful, in seeing her paired-up. Why do we do this to one another?
With all of the not-so-subtle comments or questions that surface during a gathering such as this one, it was refreshing and poignant to be on the receiving end of a genuinely sweet and innocent question. I should be clear about two things: first, the individual asking the question is an ordained minister, and second, the question was directed at the two single individuals in the group; the host and myself.
It is true that the host and I have an outwardly symbiotic relationship. We laugh a lot, touch a lot, and although we only know one another for a couple of years, it is clear that there is a lasting bond between us. I knew her husband, in addition, I had the pleasure and good fortune of knowing them together. They had one of those rare and touching partnerships that makes you believe in love. Although I felt her loss deeply when her husband passed, what I feel today is hopeful. I see an individual who has embraced the notion that life goes on. She seems to know that although nothing will or can, ever be the same, living with the memory of a joyful and loving life partner, can be a force in experiencing current and future happiness. I’m not an expert on these matters, but nothing speaks louder than a real life example — she is my litmus test, my proof.
Back to the question posed: the minister, female, late fifties, early sixties, appropriate at all times and allow me to guess, a role model for most; looked at the host and I with an unassuming smile, slightly raised eyebrows, and an empathic tilt of her head (adorned with a gorgeous fedora), and asked: “Couldn’t you two get together and fulfill your sexual urges?“
Honestly, I’ve been exposed to open minded people my entire life, I have had innocent children ask me questions about my bald head, I have been asked about my favorite sexual position, but I have never been asked a question quite as pure and loving; bold and judgment free.
The space the eight of us filled became notably silent for about two seconds — two blaring seconds. Seven of the eight of us needed to replay the question asked — to process and ponder. The golden silence was followed by tremendously loud and raucous laughter. Did we hear the minister correctly? When we all realized that we had heard the same thing and that what we heard was clearly a serious question, years of taught appropriate behavior and political correctness, shook us all to our collective core. Did someone innocently and politely address the unspoken truth? Yes, we have sexual urges, yes we had the body parts that biblically match, and yes, we genuinely care for one another.
The idea that all of that would be enough to sexually join together a fairly recent widow and one very out homosexual, was cause for true unbridled joy. At that moment, I fell in love with the minister. The zero judgment attached to the question, the caring way in which she asked, and the reaction she unknowingly provoked, informed me that this moment was one for the “this only happens once in a lifetime, this is your life,” living journals. I will hold onto it until I can no longer remember my name and I suspect our host will as well.
Finally, allow me to add, at a time when we have been forced and advised to isolate ourselves from others, it is moments such as this, where social interaction and human kindness collide, that I personally realize, why it is essential that we come together. To be human is to be with one another; to laugh, to cry and to love. No judgment, just good intentions.
Travel
As long as I test negative for COVID-19 on Sunday, Cuba is finally happening. You’ll read all about it in my next blog.
Be well, and be with the people you adore and admire and those who feel the same way about you.
[I tested yesterday so that I could pack and prepare with some degree of confidence. Negative results were not a given. Having achieved negative results, I will be isolating for the remainder of this week.]
“There are only two things. Truth and lies. Truth is indivisible, hence it cannot recognize itself; anyone who wants to recognize it has to be a lie.” Franz Kafka
My mother’s lies taught me two things: First, and most harmful, it was acceptable to lie, and second, secrets are impossible to keep and dangerous.
I had a beautiful half-sister who died a horrible premature death several years ago; she was in her mid-forties. Shortly before she passed, Grace found our brother Anthony, dead, with a needle in his arm; it was her birthday. She was already mentally and physically far gone by then and I’m certain, finding Anthony lifeless in her own home, must have sealed her fate.
My sister Grace or Gasha (the way we spelled it), as she was known to close family, was a troubled child. She wore thick glasses and was labeled “four eyes” by her siblings and peers. We also called her monkey because of her button nose; kids can be mean and we, her brothers and sisters, were the cruelest of all. I am not claiming innocence; in fact, I may have been the worst culprit. Perhaps it was the secret I held onto that drove me to cruelty.
My parents argued a lot; in fact, they argued night and day. My father would come home from work at midnight and my mother would dig in her hateful claws. Having been exposed to this behavior early on, I worked hard to tune them out and fantasize about a quieter world that I knew existed elsewhere. In fact, this is the reason I choose to spend a lot of time alone today. My memory of their relentless rage goes back to pre-school and a time when I was too young to understand the complicated world of adult behavior. One particular memory is vivid because it involved a lie I did not understand at the time; I may have been five or six years old.
Many angry words were exchanged during one very loud shouting match and most of those words were as difficult to comprehend as a foreign language. For some reason I held onto something my father said, “Gasha is not my child.” At the time I thought it was odd for my father to say such a thing and so, I dismissed those words from my thoughts. Every so often I found myself daydreaming and reflecting on what he said. As I grew older and more inquisitive, I continued to wonder why my father said this to my mother. I looked at my sister differently because of what my father said. I naturally wondered who her father might be, if it were not my father. I was not aware of an affair my mother had with her first husband while she was married to my father.
When I turned nine, there was a lot going on around me; my only living grandparent passed, my mother was divorcing my father and marrying my stepfather, and I was repressing my sexuality (I remember having some strong feelings toward one of my mother’s male friends). My mom and I would occasionally spend quality alone time together — rare because she had seven children. On one of these occasions, I decided I would ask her about Gasha. My mother had a way of drawing me in as a close confidant and then shoving me away. I can’t blame alcohol because she wasn’t a drunk, but her father was an alcoholic and physically abusive; perhaps it was his influence. As a child I longed for the kind of closeness where you felt honest love and affection — not likely to get it from my mother, but I never stopped trying. Psychologists would say that I will continue to search for this love until I die; I’m fairly certain that is true.
We were sitting on her bed watching an old black and white film and she was running her fingers through my hair. I may have been as happy with my mom at that moment as I would ever be. I thought it was a good time to address my curiosity.
Ma, who is Gasha’s father?
My mother pushed me to the edge of the bed and said, “Where do you get these ideas?”
I told her that I had overheard an argument she had with my father a few years earlier; she told me that I was imagining things.
“Who would Gasha’s father be if it wasn’t your father? Honestly Chris, I worry about you.”
I wanted to believe my mother, so I let it go . . . until a few years later when this happened:
I was having dinner with my father at the restaurant where he worked; a once a week ritual. Our meals were very special to me. We spoke openly and earnestly. I’m pretty sure I was in my teens at this point. I had accidentally seen my parents marriage license and came to learn that my mother and father didn’t marry until I was three years old. I’m not sure why, but it didn’t bother me. My dad told me that they couldn’t marry because my mother’s first husband was in prison and there was a law about divorce and incarceration back then. He said that they married as soon as they legally could. I shrugged and decided this would be a good time to ask about Gasha. I sort of tricked my dad and acted like I knew for certain that Gasha was not his biological daughter.
When I asked him who Gasha’s father was he said, “Joe is her father, but I adopted her and so she’s legally my daughter. How did you know about this? Did your mother tell you?”
I shared that I had overheard an argument between the two of them when I was a kid and he grabbed my face and squeezed my cheeks; something he did to show affection. He hardly ever said anything negative about my mother; I wish I could say the reverse were true.
When I asked him how she ended up with Joe while married to him, he said, “Your mother has always been a bit wild.”
Truer words had never been spoken. Now that I knew my suspicions about Gasha were true, I had to consider what this meant for my relationship with her, how I felt about my mother lying to me, and whether or not I should share the truth with Gasha and our siblings. I knew early on that it would not be fair to share the truth with her. It was my mother’s place to tell her. I was tormented by the lie. I did not approve of my mother’s infidelity and I could not understand why she denied the truth all those years ago. In my mind, I could never truly trust my mother again — in truth, I doubted her always. I’m also certain that I felt betrayed by my mother and it has had an affect on every loving relationship in my life.
My mother did eventually tell Gasha who her biological father was. I’m not sure when or where it happened. My brothers and sisters found out at some point as well. It seemed to me at the time that no one cared about the indiscretion or the lie. I questioned my own reaction to it: had I made too much of it? Did it really matter? As an older adult, I am still questioning the lies I faced as a child and young adult — there were many others.
I recall often looking at Gasha and wondering who she resembled. When she would behave a certain way that was odd to me, I would explain it by considering who her father was or was not. Gasha had a severe eating disorder and made several bad choices in her life. She was angry, she isolated herself from those who cared about her, she refused to acknowledge her disorder, and she trusted no one. I cannot help but wonder if the knowledge that she was conceived during a torrid affair, had had a huge impact on her life and her ability to cope. Knowing her biological father was willing to allow my father to adopt her, must have tormented Gasha throughout her life; her self-worth was shattered.
My mother had a very complicated relationship with her and Gasha was resentful of the way she saw my mother treating the rest of us; she seemed to always feel slighted. I was aware of both the way she was treated and the way Gasha perceived it. I had conflicting feelings about my sister. There was a part of me that believed she didn’t belong and I’m not proud of those feelings. At the same time, I felt sorry for her.
Gasha’s downward spiral was difficult for me to watch. She married trailer park trash and she had a child with him. Her husband shot himself in the head early on in their marriage. I remember visiting her in Knoxville, Tennessee and thinking that there was hope that she’d come out on top of all the drama in her life. Unfortunately, I was wrong. Bulimia took hold of my sister in her early 20s and never let go. All four of my mother’s daughters suffered from some sort of eating disorder as a result of my mother’s obsession with weight. Gasha lived in complete denial — the disease and the consequences of starving one’s body of nutrients eventually ended her life. Her two children suffered the most; watching her abuse herself on a daily basis, had to be impossible to observe. Out of respect for my niece and nephew, I will refrain from commenting on their current lives.
The question is, was it the lie that destroyed Gasha’s life or was it her personality and the circumstances of her illness? I guess we’ll never know for sure. What we do know is that shielding her from the truth all of those years was not productive or right. If her biological father had stepped up and assumed his role as her father, might she have been stronger and felt more loved? I have to believe she would have embraced her father and adjusted to her circumstances. After all her two oldest sisters had the same biological father. But after being adopted by my father, Gasha, was instead forced into a situation she did not ask to be in and was prevented from being with a father she might have grown close with. I’m not a psychologist, however, I am fairly certain that Gasha was thrust into a situation that would have caused anyone pain and anxiety. It was a lot for a young person to take on, and in truth, she had to endure the ramifications of this terrible lie, on her own. It’s a small miracle she was even with us into her forties.
When faced with the reality of a difficult truth or keeping a secret, always go with the truth. As hard as it is to share that secret and cope with its consequences, that reality is far better than living a lie — that’s my truth.
“When you check your own mind properly, you stop blaming others for your problems.”
Thubten Yeshe
I have grown to love Alvor, Portugal and have returned to the same hotel room several times. Peaceful sounds of nature never disappoint.
Travel
So far Cuba next month is a go. There will be testing on both ends. I know there will be additional hassles, but this is something I have wanted to do for a long time. I couldn’t travel to Cuba when I lived in the States, so now is a good time to make the trip. I promise a blog or two when I return.
There are scheduled trips to France, Italy, the UK, Northern Ireland, Germany, the U.S., Singapore, Thailand, Vietnam, and Hong Kong, in 2022 and early 2023. COVID-19 has put the kibosh on many planned trips over the last two years; I can only hope I’ll get to go.
Two things I intend to work on this year — I will from time-to-time report on my progress: First, walk away from toxic relationships and second, practice gratitude daily. The latter makes a tremendous difference in the quality and substance of my day, but I fail to practice this exercise often enough. I need to make it a permanent part of my day; like exercising. Why would put up with toxic individuals is beyond, but I am certainly guilty of it. Time to make a strong commitment to change.
I am grateful to all of the people in my life who lift me up, make me smile, and accept me as I am. I’m also grateful that I have the wherewithal to assess my mistakes and either make amends or move on.
Beliefs
I have strong convictions; always have. These are not opinions. They are the things I believe in my gut and I don’t think anyone or anything could persuade me otherwise.
Not In Order of Strongest Beliefs to least strongest beliefs (they are all strong beliefs):
All human beings are born good. I have always truly believed this. When we are taught bad values or bad behavior is modeled early on, we can sometimes make them our own. I think evil babies only exist in film. That might not be true, I have a nephew who had a death stare when he was a toddler — there are always exceptions. Nature versus nurture; it’s a fascinating debate.
Owning certain material things can mess you up. You purchase a fancy car (for example); people in your life and strangers fawn over your new car. This happens every time you take your car out of the garage. You unconsciously begin to believe that your car is an extension of you. After awhile, you begin to believe that you are as attractive as your car or that people are fawning over you. It’s not an attractive quality. Humility seems to be a lost characteristic for many. Two questions to ponder: 1) why are you buying the fancy car, and 2) how many of the “things” that you buy are enhancing your life and not for the purpose of proving your worth to others. Sometimes we purchase an expensive item and feel good for about five minutes. Is it worth going into debt for five minutes of gratification. When I was in my 20s and 30s I resisted spending money on many shiny new things. I did this whole number in my head about enjoying the moment, and what if I have a massive heart attack at 40 and die. I didn’t die and I was about to retire at 57 — a time in my life when I have a better sense of what I want, where I want to be, and how I want to live. Self-control is difficult, but it can be incredibly rewarding. And honestly, if I had died, I probably wouldn’t have had a thought about the $30,000 sound system I didn’t purchase. I realize I may be sounding a bit preachy; my apologies.
Most politicians start out as people who care about their constituents. I didn’t say I wasn’t naive. I’ve met many grassroots politicians; they start out with great intentions and a few even serve their entire tenure with the well-being of others in mind. I partly blame the average passive Joe for mass corruption. Too many of us, myself included, do not take action. Should an elected official make a six figure salary, get 12 weeks vacation, get healthcare for life, and have the ability to quadruple their wealth because they know things we’ll never know? We allow it; therefore, we are to blame. We forget that we the people, due to our numbers and our constitution, hold the power.
The desire to fall in love fades as you grow older. If you’ve been hurt a few times due to failed relationships, you tend to become cautious. Not all do of course, but this guy does. Then there is the effort factor. I am a firm believer that one has to work hard for something to be good or to improve, but . . . too much effort, where there is an imbalance, is not good either. I’m at a point in my life where I really enjoy being single. I may have talked myself into this mentality, but I don’t believe that’s the case. Relationships are totally worth the energy you put into them; however, they’re also complicated and sometimes messy. I like myself enough to enjoy my own company. I do not owe anyone an explanation for choosing to be single.
Most things can be tolerated in moderation. Tell me that I cannot do something and I will want to do it even more. Simple example of this is food. If a doctor told me that I couldn’t have chocolate because it has a property that might slowly kill me, I would desire chocolate all day, everyday. I know that wine has some positive beneficial qualities for good health. If you enjoy drinking it, then it’s good for your state of mind and well-being. I also know that wine has a lot of sugar and that’s not good for your health. I recently started pouring a half a glass and I’ve noticed that I am drinking less. Now, I slowly savor the taste and pleasure of drinking wine; gulping it is unnecessary and unhealthy. I feel like I can have my cake and eat it too — literally. I know I bargain with myself, but because I do not have an alcohol addiction, I feel that I keep it in my life in a healthy way. If I felt to compelled to drink as soon as I got up in the morning or drank until I passed out, that would make for a different scenario. I think it’s important to continually assess his particular relationship. I believe it applies to medication, food, gambling and anything else that is considered addictive. Self-control may factor in depending on your particular situation. I have very little self-control when something is put right in front of me. For example, I usually do not eat chocolate at night because it has caffeine and I am super sensitive to caffeine. If I’m at a dinner party and a homemade chocolate cake is put on the table, I cannot resist. I will usually limit my intake to a few bites. As I said earlier, don’t judge.
Jealous people are dangerous. I’m going to leave it at that.
Ignoring a thing will not make it go away. I’ve been trying to prove myself wrong on this for years. Whatever it is that I’m attempting to deny, will pop-up at the most inopportune time in the least desirable place (i.e., conversations, during sex, during sleep, while watching a good film). Much better to confront it head on and deal with it. Sometimes, the longer you leave it, the worse it gets or the more complicated it becomes.
You can satisfy a desire by allowing yourself a small amount of whatever it is you are seeking (does apply to everything). Eat slowly and allow yourself to fully enjoy food without guilt — it works! Here’s another one: you’d like to go to the Caribbean for a week, but money is tight. Book a four night trip instead of the full week; it will probably satisfy your vacation desires. I’m certain I am over simplifying this one.
When people try to attach themselves to you too quickly, they probably have an unhealthy agenda or motive. Completely based on life experience. Cautious in nature as I am, if I find someone is clinging to me or contacting me way too often, I usually back-off a bit or sever ties completely. Sometimes you have to trust your instincts.
When someone tries to push an investment opportunity too hard, it’s probably best to walk away from it. It’s not easy to persuade me to do anything and investing money is at the top of the list. After I say, no, I track the business or stock and in almost every case my instinct was correct. I did make one investment reluctantly and the business was sold a few years later. I did not suffer a loss, but the gains were minimal and in the end, not worth the worry. I did, however, get to be a part of a venture I believed in — I guess that counts for something.
Travel
Alvor, Portugal again this week. I like everything about this small coastal town off-season. I’m not too happy about having to show a negative test; however, it will be free and I guess necessary.
Cuba, Toronto and Baltimore in February. I guess we’ll having see what happens with the Omicron variant.
Many trips are planned in 2022; one or two a month in fact, but I’m not counting on anything these days. Not being cynical, more practical perhaps.
I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately; 2040 is not so far away and no doubt, the world will have changed; just wondering how much. The big questions seem silly to ask, but curiosity has gotten the better of me. What’s the weather like? How many mutations of Coronavirus have been discovered? Is Ivanka Trump president? Who in your orbit is still around?
There are of course things I’m certain remain true. Those certainties that have stood the test of time: the fear of God, every man or woman for his or her self, stupidity, denial, illness, religion, 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 human. I watched too many of my neighbors place plastic in the organic bin. 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 blind 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?
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 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 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 got stronger as you got 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 becoming 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.
What I hope for more than anything else, is that you have found peace. The ability to laugh at absurdity; comfort in your tears. Also, that loss has somehow passed you by or that time has only taken those you were prepared to let go. I know that you often think fondly of Ashley, Giorgio, and Paco. The dogs 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 the 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 enter your heart and/or mind.
I want to be a good listener, truly I do. I also want to believe that everyone has a right to an opinion and that one’s opinion is valid. These days everything gets blamed on social media, disinformation, and fake news. However, I suspect that human beings had opinions way before the advent of social media.
Are you tired of a particular person expressing their opinion? Some people seem to believe that they have the god given right to share their opinion with everyone. Does it seem like some individuals believe that they are an expert on every subject, therefore, their opinion is gospel?
It seems that the world is so divided that the opinion of others is not truly valid unless it is an opinion that you (the collective you) share. Trying to convince another person that their opinion might be less than 100% correct, is nearly impossible in most cases.
I have been trying to figure out a way to mitigate the universe of opinions I appear to reside in. Do I just listen and stay quiet? Do I interrupt and politely let the individual know that I am not interested? Do I listen and then try to engage in a debate? Do I assume that the person I am listening to is open minded or are they more likely locked-in to a certain mindset? I know you might be wondering if it matters. I’m here to tell you it matters.
The Know it All
This personality type is hard to take. Doesn’t matter what topic comes up at the table, this person knows better. I’ve learned that staying quiet is the only way to shut this individual down. If you speak up and attempt to argue, you are only fueling the fire. Sometimes this person comes with their entourage, their tribe, the people who agree with everything they say and suck-up to them. If you encounter this unfortunate situation, the thing to do is either leave the party or walk into another room. If you’re reading this thinking: “I wonder if Chris is talking about me?” I am.
One of the many maddening things this person does is interrupt you as soon as you open your mouth to speak. If you dare try to continue and speak your truth, they raise their voice and succeed in drowning you out. This type will never change and therefore, it’s best to let them go or pay them no mind. Any of this ring true for you?
The Individual Who Agrees With the Opinion of the Moment
I once had an acquaintance who found great satisfaction is touting whatever the leader at the moment was selling. Didn’t matter what oral diarrhea was spewing forth, those were the very words this person shouted for all to hear. I wanted to say, do you have your own opinion? But I dared not, knowing they would only get defensive and tell me that I needed to respect this leader because they were “fill in the blank.” I have been banned from a party because I presented an opposing argument. Well, that’s a party I’d prefer not to attend.
The Person(s) Who Follows the Opinion of Just One Other Person
There is an individual in my world who is the “unofficial” head of the family or tribe. He or she is funny, charismatic, attractive, and ultimately the keeper of the keys. Just about everyone in his or her orbit waits to hear their opinion and then they follow whatever it is. Don’t you dare try to challenge this person or have your own opinion, because if you do, you will be labeled “the black sheep, the crazy liberal, the person who only believes these silly notions because he’s gay or black or brown or gullable.”
What troubles me most about this particular individual, is that their beliefs and ideals are ultimately racist, sexist, elitist, and/or homophobic, but they are smart enough never to say the words black or women or gay; instead they use the words God, immigration, and values, to cloak their truth and instead spew hate and fear.
I know, it’s a dark opinion, but here, in my blog, is where I get to speak my truth.
People Who Are Afraid to State Their Opinion
These are the people I pity the most. I know they have an opinion, but for whatever reason, they are afraid to speak up. There are actually people among us that believe if they oppose the leaders of our country, they will be jailed or audited by the IRS. I cannot imagine having to live with this kind of fear. Freedom of speech is one of the many privileges of being a U.S. citizen.
The Individual Who Will Always Oppose Your Opinion, No Matter What That Opinion Is
I enjoy a good debate with an intelligent and informed individual. It’s stimulating, provocative and ultimately, may persuade me to change my way of thinking; nothing wrong with that. But among us are people who get off on arguing with others, whether they believe what they are putting out there or not. It’s impossible to reason with them; their goal being to make you look bad and admit you are wrong. I have no patience for this character; if this is you, please target someone else. I implore you to look elsewhere for a victim.
The Person With No Opinion
This is the person who will always say, “I don’t know what to think,” or I don’t have enough information to respond.” Really? Do a little research: what do the scientists say, historians, experts who have studied the subject matter for many years, study the facts, for example.
I know, I know, it means one has to put forth a bit of effort. This is what I find troubling about the freedom to vote; so many of us who vote, have not done any fact finding — it’s about what the average Joe on the street says instead. This is how conspiracy theories are perpetuated. The saddest thing is when an intelligent person who once had a mind of their own, succumbs; it’s an awful thing to watch.
You
That leaves you. Wondering what to say and how to say it? Deciding what to believe? Daring to speak up when your brain is telling you to remain silent. Living with the pain of alienation or betrayal. Just remember, you answer to yourself. It is your head that hits the pillow when you attempt to fall asleep. And it is you who will ultimately take inventory of your words and deeds. You decide how your opinion is formed and how you choose to be heard. You, after all, inspire me.
An example showing how opinions are expressed and can be dangerous
“I never make the same mistake twice. I make it five or six times, just to be sure.”
Anonymous
“The greatest deception men suffer is from their own opinions.”
Leonardo da Vinci
By the way, this entire piece is just my opinion of course.
Travel
Back to Alvor, Portugal in a few weeks (one hour and 20 minutes by train). I’m enjoying being by the rocky sea, off-season. Truly wonderful restaurants, peaceful, gorgeous, close to home, and affordable.
Papagni Pages 