Keep in mind: my thoughts, not gospel, not all based on fact, and not meant to persuade or dissuade. Merely suggestions for getting through the muck & mire.
First and foremost, no matter how bad it gets — and it will get worse, I cannot allow what is happening in the United States or the world, to drag me down. I honestly believe Trump and his sycophants are attempting to distract, exhaust, confuse, and lead us to helplessness. To the point where many will just give up or even worse give in.
Next, I realize as a childless, older adult living abroad, American politics has less impact on my life, then it does for others. Having said this, I would also add that the influence of American Politics is felt throughout the free world. Further, any discrimination, stripping of basic human rights, corruption, and/or abuse of power, directly impacts my life.
Some ways that I have learned to cope (in no particular order):
By filtering all that I read, see, and hear. There is currently a lot of noise, news, and opinions about the Trump era. Some of it is of course factual and has grave consequences. To be well informed, one must be certain to sort out what is hearsay or false. I feel empowered by standing with those that know what they are talking about.
I cannot control those members of my family that have decided to stand by and support this administration. I can, however, distance myself from them and/or insist that they not try to persuade me to join them.
When you are in pain or discomfort, the best thing you can do is find a healthy way to soothe the pain. Go to the gym, immerse yourself in your hobbies, watch mindless films, have a glass of good wine, a well-made cocktail, or a cold beer, read, go for a hike or walk alone or with a friend.
Keep a journal. Clear out your mind on paper; it helps keep things in perspective without sweeping your thoughts under the carpet or worse, denying they exist.
Speak your truth when questioned. Hiding your thoughts or your truth, can ruin a relationship and make you feel guilty or angry with yourself.
Always keep in mind that this too shall pass. There have been times in history when adversity led to more progressive change.
Get away. Nothing is better for clearing my head than a change of scenery.
Make a worst case scenario plan. Always better to be prepared.
Be a bit frugal, just in case you need funds in the future.
Pick your battles. You cannot take everyone and everything on. Write to your congressmen and senators, vote in every election, and campaign if you can — even if it’s on a grass roots level.
Celebrate the small victories.
Cook and/or eat comforting food.
Spend time with a friend or loved one that is like-minded and supports one another. Try to avoid a negative rabbit hole.
Having taken advantage of therapy for much of my life, I am a strong advocate of finding a professional you can trust and talk to. A psychiatrist may be more appropriate; especially if medication is to be prescribed. Medication can be a lifeline for those suffering from depression or mental illness. No shame in self-care.
Meditation is a very effective tool. I find sitting in a quiet space and concentrating on my breathing, works well for keeping outside influences in perspective.
I discovered gratitude not too long ago. Taking stock of all of the people you love who love you in return, and the gifts provided by the universe, is an excellent reminder of how good it is to be alive. And then there are pets to bring you joy.
Lastly, getting rid of toxic individuals in your life is essential for good mental health. People in your life who are broken, may attempt to bring you down with them — don’t allow it. If necessary and when necessary, walk away.
Whatever works for you, is the way to manage the chaos and strife; so long as you have tools.
What we have is worth fighting for
Oh How these words spoke to me
“We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.”
T.S. Elliot
I’m worried about a few people in my life that are feeling defeated and suffering from intense melancholy. I hope that they come to realize that there are ways to rise above the negativity. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not enough.
Peg sat at her kitchen table pondering how she was going to get to work. Her car died in the driveway the night before and her bank account was pretty much depleted. She’s had a rough time of it lately; she’s had a rough time of it her entire life. Born in Detroit, immigrant parents from Slovenia, nothing had ever come easy. Except that she is smart; she’s smart and she’s resourceful. And despite the dead car and her financial situation, things were looking up.
About a year ago, when Peg was cleaning up after a spin class, she was approached by someone who had been with her in class.
“Hi, I’m Sheila. I think we both take the same spin class on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“Hi, I’m Peg.”
“Tough class today, huh?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty beat.”
“Would you be interested in getting coffee after class sometime?”
Peg was tentative; she told Sheila that it would be nice, but she usually had to run to work after class. The two agreed to try to work it out.
Weeks went by, Sheila would wave to Peg in class, but neither woman would ask the other for coffee. On a beautiful spring day in April, Peg decided to go into work a bit later than usual. After spin, she walked over to Sheila to see if a walk over to the coffee shop might be possible. Sheila seemed delighted and ten minutes later they were sitting across from one another at Cuppa Joe’s.
Peg was curious to learn more about her new acquaintance. Sheila seemed so sure of herself and not at all vain. Peg also wondered why Sheila had approached her in the first place. She was suspicious of anyone who seemed to want anything to do with her. But Sheila was different, genuinely sweet and engaging.
Sheila asked Peg where she worked, if she was married and whether or not she had children. There seemed to be no judgment, only a desire to learn more about her new acquaintance. Peg held back. She was afraid to scare Sheila away.
Sheila wouldn’t have been scared away. She looked for people like Peg and preyed on them. It would start with coffee. She played a mean game of finding unsuspecting women at their lowest and bringing them down further still. Each successful takedown, empowered Sheila more. Prior to meeting Peg, she has destroyed the lives of over ten women. Perhaps Peg would be her next victim.
After several weeks of coffee dates and pleasant walks, Sheila asked Peg if she’d like to come over Saturday for dinner and a sleepover. Peg had never been asked to share this sort of intimate evening before. She hesitated accepting Sheila’s invitation, knowing she’d never be able to reciprocate. Before she could even respond, Sheila said:
“Listen Peg, I know you hardly know me, but you don’t have to worry, I’m not expecting that you’ll have me over to your place. I have a guest bedroom with an ensuite and I love having people over. It will give us a chance to really get to know one another and share some silly girl time.”
Peg happily agreed to Sheila’s invite. She said she’d be responsible for the cocktails, having tended bar out of high school. Sheila seemed delighted.
Sheila’s home was absolutely gorgeous. Everything was in its place and the decor was tasteful. Peg was shy at first, hesitant to look around and barely touched the appetizers Sheila put out. She liked her own cocktails and Sheila seemed to enjoy them as well — Sheila sure did knock them back.
As the evening progressed, they ate less and talked more; well it was mostly Peg who talked. Sheila asked a lot of questions, complimented Peg a lot, and listened. Peg had never had a friend care so much about how she felt and what she thought. She believed she had hit the jackpot. They finally went to bed at 3:00 a.m. Sheila got up early, letting Peg sleep until noon. Peg felt terribly guilty and made an excuse about having an appointment.
The two texted one another that night and the following day. Peg didn’t want to be pushy, but she was anxious to make future plans. Sheila sensed Peg’s excitement, making sure to fill Peg’s dance card for the next two weeks. After five or six ladies outings, Peg started to question Sheila’s character. She rarely spoke about herself and after all that time, Peg knew little to nothing about her. Being mysterious is one thing, but Sheila was almost certainly hiding something.
The second sleepover was scheduled for Saturday, three weeks after the first sleepover. Sheila was as excited as the first time and requested Peg’s bartending magic be repeated. The two were about an hour in and Sheila realized she had no coffee beans for the morning. Peg told her not to worry, but she insisted that she could be at the grocer and back in 10 minutes. She asked Peg to watch a bit of television, promising to return quickly.
Peg sat on the sofa for a bit, thinking about the house and how stunningly beautiful it was. She also realized that she had never seen Sheila’s bedroom. She decided it wouldn’t hurt to venture upstairs for a peek. She opened Sheila’s bedroom door and her jaw dropped. She had never seen a more beautiful bedroom, wondering why Sheila had not shown it off. She walked around the room admiring all of Sheila’s beautiful things. Out of the corner of eye she spotted a vanity in an adjacent dressing room. She had always dreamed of having her very own vanity. She walked over to glance at Sheila’s jewelry and cosmetics, noticing many labeled glass vials. She picked one up to examine it. It was a stick on label with a female name. She didn’t recognize it as a perfume; in fact she had no idea what the vial contained — it was clear and odorless. It bottle read, The Essence of Susan. She picked up another, The Essence of Lisa, and there were a dozen others like this. Peg found herself confused and frightened by this discovery. She went back downstairs and waited for Sheila to return.
As she waited, Peg realized that she needed to somehow find out who the names on the vials represented. Were they friends of Sheila? Did Sheila formerly work for a perfume company? Where did these bottles come from? She sensed something was off, but she couldn’t quite shake her worry. She decided to stop drinking that evening without letting on to Sheila. She would discreetly pour out the contents of her glass in the bathroom sink. She needed to be fully alert for the rest of the evening.
Sheila returned with coffee beans and some other things she said she needed. She didn’t waste any time asking Peg to make some cocktails. She even said,
“We are going to get drunk tonight.”
Peg just laughed and started their drinks, making sure to put very little vodka in her own glass. Sheila prepared dinner, providing Peg with an opportunity to ask her some probing questions. Sheila was evasive and guarded. She danced around responses about friends, past boyfriends, and family. Peg acted as though it didn’t matter. She even started slurring a bit to throw Sheila off. Sheila did eventually let down her guard just enough to reveal a bit of her past.
Sheila accidently mentioned two friends that she said she no longer spends time with. Peg had an idea where she might find them. She behaved as if she was about to pass out and told Sheila she was going to bed. Later, she sensed Sheila was in the bedroom, but Sheila stayed far from the bed. She spent about ten minutes in the ensuite. Peg was now certain something was not right and she needed answers.
Peg spent the next few days tracking down Sheila’s friends. She asked around at Cuppa Joe’s and learned that two of Sheila’s friends used to go to the coffee shop after spin class. She spoke to their spin instructor and found out where at least one of the two women lived. She decided she’d pay Leila a visit that week.
Leila answered her door. She was obviously very weak and out of sorts. Peg asked her if she could come inside and speak to her about Sheila. Leila said that she didn’t really see Sheila anymore, but she was happy to speak to Peg. They sat down in Leila’s living room. Peg was struck by how this young woman looked older than her years. It was also clear that Leila was once very beautiful. Leila described how she had become friends with Sheila and how little she knew about her. She said she’d slept over Sheila’s a few times and that they’d had a great time. Leila said that she recently became very ill, unfortunately unable to work or see people. Peg asked her if she knew of any other friends in Sheila’s life. Leila told her she had once met Angela who lived across from Cuppa Joe’s. She gave Peg a description of Angela and the two said their goodbyes.
Peg went to the coffee shop the next day, sitting and watching the building across the street. Finally, after a couple of hours of hoping to spot Angela, she left her building and walked across the street toward the coffee shop. She didn’t seem to be stopping there, so Peg had to leave the shop and chase her down. Angela was not as cooperative as Leila had been. She was in a big hurry and appeared extremely disoriented. The only thing she would say is that she had not seen or heard from Sheila in a long time. Peg asked her if Sheila had ever done anything to hurt her, Angela replied:
“Not to my knowledge, but I haven’t been the same since meeting her.”
Peg was convinced that Sheila had done something terrible to these women. She suspected that Sheila may have copied her keys the night she went out for coffee beans. She decided to have a conversation with Sheila about having to leave town for a few days. Then she sat in her apartment, waiting to see if Sheila might show up.
The next morning, Peg was in her kitchen and she heard someone keying into the apartment. She quickly hid in the pantry and called the police to let them know someone was breaking in. Sheila had only been in the apartment a few minutes when the police arrived. The police arrested, handcuffed, and took Sheila to the police station. Peg provided a statement and assured the police that she would be pressing charges.
The following week, a detective contacted Peg to let her know that they had done a search of Sheila’s apartment and discovered the personal effects of over a dozen women. They found hairbrushes, tooth brushes, underwear and other items. It appeared that Sheila had been collecting the DNA of these women and creating some sort of liquid potion from each woman’s DNA. The police had never seen anything like it. They assured Peg that they would further investigate what Sheila was up to. They found no evidence of a vial made from Peg’s essence.
Sheila was eventually charged with breaking and entering several homes. She was convicted and pleaded guilty to all charges. Sheila refused to explain what she was doing with the DNA. She would serve several years for her crimes.
Peg could only speculate about Sheila’s motives and intentions. She found strength in knowing she had stopped Sheila for at least a few years. She and a few of the other women involved formed a support group. She watched them slowly regain their strength and confidence and eventually their essence.
Sheila posing for Instagram
Storyline Thoughts
I may or may not have been thinking about The Substance and Demi Moore when writing this piece. It is more likely that I ponder and think about society’s obsession with physical beauty — not just women by the way, men as well. This obsession with beauty haunts me. When I lived on the Upper East Side in New York City 25 years ago, I witnessed the wreckage of cosmetic surgery, now I’m afraid it has spread to the rest of the world.
I realize when I write these short stories character development is an issue. I wish I could say I was more committed to going on to write a novella or novel. For now, I’m just having fun indulging my warped imagination. I appreciate those of you who have stayed with me. Who knows what the future brings.
By the way, this time I used the title AI suggested. The photo is not AI.
The horrific airplane/helicopter crash this week and T’s attempt to blame DEI and the previous administration, the bogus cabinet confirmation hearings, the numerous executive orders designed to remove necessary programs, and the execution of Project 2025; I’m truly at a loss. The worst is knowing I have family who fully support the dangerous reality unfolding daily. To call these trying times is an understatement. I can’t help wondering just how bad it will get before Americans wake up. I know that I’m not overreacting.
Pornic, France in a few days. I know a change of scenery will do me some good. Not to mention the French food & wine.
Images taken on recent cruise from London to Iceland. Stopping in Scotland and Norway along the way.
What Once Mattered
We can all relate to warped or misplaced priorities. When you’re 20 years old you care more about your outfit or where you’re going on Saturday night, than your bank account. When you are thirty, it’s your fading good looks that keep you up at night (and perhaps cocaine if that was your drug of choice — no judgment), in your forties it might be a mortgage payment that is larger than you can manage, aches and pains in your fifties and so on and so forth.
I look back at the things that concerned me in the past and I wonder why nobody told me that it wouldn’t make an iota of a difference when I reached a certain age. Some of these things include, but are not limited to: brands & labels, Michelin star ratings, my attendance at parties, the cost of a gift I received, and how late I stay up Saturday night.
Why it Shouldn’t Matter
Perhaps it shouldn’t matter, but for reasons I cannot control or change, it does. For example, caring about what other people think. This has been on my goal list for years. In fact, I continue to care. How many likes I get when I post something on Facebook shouldn’t matter; in fact, it doesn’t. But who does or doesn’t like a post, does matter. When I exit a plane matters, I want to be up front so that I transfer quickly or get to passport control earlier than later.
I find myself struggling with how I process conversations: what I say, how I say it, what I don’t say. There is a righteous aspect of my personality that can make life difficult, but can I stop it? Probably not, however, I can modify my reaction; I can tone it down. I can almost see the relief on the faces of those who love me most. In truth, I sleep better after keeping my big mouth shut.
What Does Matter
Here’s where I get to make a list. A list that is actually longer than it should be. Hmmm, should be, there I go shoulding on myself again. What matters:
What you think about my sexuality matters. If you’re disgusted by who I am and what I am, that matters. It took me way too long to be comfortable in my own skin.
The people who have shown me that they care about me and want me in their life.
The things I choose to spend money on and what things cost.
Good people who deserve to be seen.
Paco, my dog.
What I eat, where I eat, and who I eat with.
Where I travel and with whom I travel.
My health and happiness.
Being awake, alive, and present.
What charities I choose and whether or not I choose to make my giving known.
How I spend my time.
Where I choose to live and how I choose to live.
How and when I choose to die with dignity, if and when that choice needs to be made.
My bed and the quality of my sleep.
Lifelong learning and the desire to know more.
My family.
I can proudly state that I am overall pleased with my list. The process of being discerning and thoughtful, has taken decades. That’s okay by me; I know some who never give it a first or second thought.
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Future Travel
Oslo, Norway with Paco for all of July (with visits from friends throughout the month), Krakow, Poland in October, Bristol, UK in December and a much anticipated trip to the Puglia region of Italy in April 2025. Booked a Greece/Turkey/Egypt cruise for fall 2025. The United States in the late fall/early winter of 2025 or 2026: Brooklyn, Florida, Portland, Maine, Baltimore, Maryland, and Charlotte, North Carolina.
State-of-Mind
I lost a close friend this week; a second friend over too short a period of time. Angelina was nearly 100 years old and Angela only in her 70s. Losing a close friend changes you in ways that play out in choices not words. What matters now are love and an appreciation for the many gifts I have been given. That pathetic bible thumper, that jealous cousin, that watch you lost in Budapest, that extra twenty pounds: no matter at all.
“Death is inevitable for all of us. The only thing that really matters in the end is how we choose to live.”
Being born in Brooklyn has its advantages; one of them is bravado. Back in the 60s and 70s, we were taught to fend for ourselves. I’m sure it had a great deal to do with the mafia presence in Brooklyn, street gangs, and the nearly 3.5 million people who resided in a relatively small space.
Growing up closeted may also have a lot to do with my tough exterior. I was only moderately bullied because I put on a good front, but still, my guard was up 24/7. My brothers and sisters were onto me; they let me know that even though they loved me, the sexuality issue could not and would not be overlooked; as if I had a choice. The harder I was beaten down, the more resilient I became.
I don’t care who you are or who you know, come for me or anyone I love and I will make you wish you hadn’t. It’s not a threat, it’s a fact. Some call it aggressive behavior and others call it self-preservation; I call it peace of mind and I make no apologies for it.
What happened to me is not unique, take a look around and you’ll notice similar personality types for those who have been marginalized or ignored. Yet another reason to lift people up, as opposed to putting them down.
A Suit of Armor
The down side of putting up a massive shield is that it sometimes prevents the good stuff from penetrating. I state this as if I have personal experience; I might. I’m told by others who can be far more objective, that my guard is up and my openness to the possibility of a lifelong partner is non-existent. I don’t argue anymore for two reasons: first, I am happy just as I am and second, they could be right and I’d have to admit that might be the case.
“You never know how strong you are, until being strong is your only choice.” – Bob Marley
Vulnerability
If you want to see my softer side, be genuine and sincere. The divisive behavior I am seeing lately has me very concerned. Pick a side or you’re out seems to be the dominant mentality. If something is needling me; rather than pop-off, I am testing my self-control and staying quiet. Knowing that this is not my usual MO, it’s a good exercise for me. It’s a double edge sword; I may feel better mentally, but I am hurting emotionally.
The Wisdom That Comes With Age
One of the things that I have learned is that certain people love to stir the pot. If things are calm and quiet, they want to get folks riled-up. We all know who these people are; why do we give them air time?
What I have learned and what I am still learning:
When someone around you feels compelled to gossip about someone you know, shut them down. “I am not interested in hearing this, thank you.” Or you can walk or move away. This does not include sharing concern for another . . . for example if a person in your group is engaging in self-destructive behavior and you may collectively be able to help them — this is concern and compassion, not gossip. Note the word “help.”
People seem to thrive on a tribal mentality: “my tribe is superior and if you’re not on my side, you’re on the wrong side.” Respect for others goes a long way. It doesn’t mean you have to take a cruise with this person, but we can hear each other out and agree to disagree.
If people in your social circle are talking about others who are also a part of your circle, those same individuals are probably chatting about you when you’re not around. And I don’t mean innocent small talk (e.g., “where is Chris these days? He’s always traveling.”).
Your mental and emotional well-being is directly tied to the well-being of your peers. In other words, stay away from crazy. Some individuals are just not worth it.
All individuals have prejudices and stereotypes they hold onto. When as a child, it’s drummed into you at home, in the playground, and in the classroom, how can you not hold onto it as truth. We can all either embrace the truth as fact and try to be better or we can further perpetuate falsehoods (e.g., immigrants are ruining our country).
Good people who try to educate others are often beaten down in today’s divided world. No matter how strong you are and no matter how resolute in your quest for truth, after a while it starts to get to you and you can become numb or exhausted and give up the fight. We cannot allow this to happen.
I do not appreciate pot-stirrers. There are other ways for one to become stimulated. For example, one could dig a hole in their backyard and bury themselves in it.
If you can rest your head on your pillow easily at bedtime, you’re probably doing the right thing. In this case I am referring to good people as opposed to the other kind.
If you’re an aging man, urinating may become difficult. Note: I’m not sure this belongs on this particular list, but it needs to go somewhere.
Lighten up, chill, let it go, it’s not personal — you’ll live a longer, happier life if you take it all less seriously.
The bravado part is all wrapped-up in my desire to be perceived as masculine. Sometimes the psychobabble makes sense.
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Future Travel
A couple of short local trips to Spain and parts of the Algarve coming up soon; an Iceland cruise by way of Northern Europe in May; Oslo, Norway with Paco for all of July (with visits from friends throughout the month); a much anticipated trip to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States sometime in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Florida, Portland, Maine, Maryland, and North Carolina. I can now fly direct from Faro to Newark, thanks to a new United route. I booked a Mediterranean cruise for October 2025 — it sails from Tel Aviv, so it’s a bit uncertain. It includes parts of Turkey and Egypt I have not yet explored.
State-of-Mind
Spring has come early — it tends to do that in the Algarve. Since spring is my favorite season, I am taking advantage of the warm weather and I’m tending to my terrace garden and spending time at outdoor cafés and restaurants with Paco. Rain is glorious and I’m thrilled that we’ve had quite a bit this week. The primaries in the States are pissing me off, but people who care about me are teaching me to let it go. What troubles me the most is the knowledge that many of these radical right individuals have an agenda they dare not reveal. The repression of marginalized groups and the fear of losing power/control has been a reality since the day mankind started fighting for ownership of (fill in the blank). I’m not sure we will ever collectively agree to share resources and be honest with one another. It makes me very sad.
Before I sign-off I’d like to thank many of you for your delicious feedback about my blogging . . . I am inspired to keep it up.
Please forgive typos and grammatical errors; proofreading is the part I detest.
I had an epiphany during the first COVID-19 lockdown in 2020. I realized the best way to live my life was to determine what I truly enjoy and celebrate those things as much as possible. This revelation is one of the many positive outcomes of blogging and quiet contemplation. Writing has forced me to express my thoughts and feelings with conviction. Lying to myself (or you) about anything would only take me down a woeful path. Onward and upward we go.
Because I love making lists and because I think some of what I am going to share will resonate with some of you, I have decided to boldly put it out there (random order):
The best time I have spent in my life has been creating a comfortable place to sleep. A firm mattress, soft cream colored cotton sheets, a couple of goose down pillows and a light goose down comforter, matte blue/gray walls, photos and paintings that evoke the best parts of my past, and a toilet only a few steps from my bed. All money well spent.
Fresh ground beans used to make that first cup of coffee. Sometimes in an espresso machine, sometimes in a French press, sometimes poured over, but mostly in a drip pot. I want it soon after I wake and I want it with a little whole milk. That watered down, low-fat crap, is not for me.
My Paco by my side, especially after he’s had a bath, and especially when he’s sleeping.
A good novel, read in a quiet place, makes me very happy.
Eating good food is probably my greatest pleasure.
A provocative and engaging conversation with someone smart and present is time well spent.
Sitting in a beach chair in front of the ocean on a warm, blue sky day, provides enough fuel to last days or weeks. Warm sand between my toes adds to the beach experience; as does a beautiful sunset.
The laughter of my toddler nieces and nephews is the elixir of life.
A glass or two of a good red wine at dusk is about as good as it gets. Paired with an aged gouda, takes it to another level.
Finding a bargain when I least expect it is extremely satisfying.
A good game of Texas Holdem’ is hard to beat.
The realization that I am enough cannot be overstated.
A good friend reigns supreme.
I am an unabashed and proud TikToker. Hours of watching humans be human has been a recent guilty pleasure.
Sundays where I reside are peaceful and quiet. I have made a practice of staying at home and opening my terrace doors to allow the outside in. The absence of cars and kids makes hearing the wind and the birds easier.
A one euro café com lait after a workout is hard to beat.
A freshly cleaned apartment puts a huge smile on this worn out face.
A productive hour at the gym.
A pair of fresh pajamas, a good film, a curled-up Paco, a comfy sofa, on an evening at Twilight is pretty fucking awesome.
Solitude
A good night’s sleep followed by a pre-dawn, unleashed Paco, walk in the park, is a great way to start the day. When the moon is full, it’s an added bonus.
A competitive game of croquet, mah jongg, or poker with my fellow expats, are once-in-a-while, gratifying social activities.
Discovery of a part of the world I had yet to explore or the comfort of the familiar I love returning to, are gifts that keep on giving.
Good health is not to be discounted or ignored. All of the above are nothing without it.
You won’t see a luxury yacht, the Maldive beaches, or a $200,000 Lamborghini on my list. It took a lifetime for me to realize that the simplest things provide the most pleasure. An occasional indulgence becomes a treat I can savor and a hassle-free day is all I can hope for.
I’ll keep adding to this gratifying list. It’s hokey, it’s corny, it’s self-indulgent . . . it’s me. If you notice, there is no mention of men.
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Future Travel
A couple of short, local trips to Spain and parts of the Algarve coming up soon; an Iceland cruise by way of Northern Europe in May; Oslo, Norway with Paco for all of July (with visits from friends); a much anticipated trip to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States sometime in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Florida, Portland, Maine, Maryland, and North Carolina. I can now fly direct from Faro to Newark, thanks to a new United route. I booked a Mediterranean cruise for October 2025 — it sails from Tel Aviv, so it’s a bit uncertain. It includes parts of Turkey and Egypt I have not yet explored.
State-of-Mind
Being satisfied with the status quo is not a bad place to be.
Please forgive typos and grammatical errors; proofreading is the part I detest.
I included the fireworks photo just to remind myself how much I dislike them. If you’d seen my great dane freak out during 4th of July fireworks, in New York City, when I was 18 years old, you’d understand. Also, any loud bangs, pops, or explosions are hard on my ears.
Fun
noun
enjoyment, amusement, or light-hearted pleasure. Oxford Languages dictionary
Let’s go with light hearted pleasure . . .
What Fun Once Meant
What I thought of as being “fun” has naturally changed throughout my life. When I was five years old, playing on a rocking horse was fun; at fifteen, it was a film with popcorn at my local movie theater; in my 20s it was a night on the dance floor . . . you get the picture. Drinking until I passed out was never fun for me, nor was taking drugs or vandalizing my neighborhood. I’ve always been somewhat conventional and on the quieter side. I don’t see the point in fighting your proclivities.
This topic is front and center due to recent comments made by friends and acquaintances:
Isn’t croquet an old persons’ game?
Isn’t Mah Jongg a women’s game?
Aren’t you missing out on a lot of fun by not going out at night?
Come out with us Friday night, you’ll have fun!
You may be using Paco as an excuse to stay home.
Are you traveling too much?
None of these comments were meant to hurt my feelings; however, depending on the delivery, they can be considered stupid.
How Fun Has Morphed Over time
Admittedly, discovering what is fun can be experimenting with an activity or trying out something new. I remember going hang gliding and wondering if the thrill of soaring through the atmosphere without an engine would become a hobby; it did not. There was a time when I thought camping by a fire was fun; not so much now. A comfy bed and climate control is more my style. It’s good to know what you like and what you don’t like.
Getting older factors into what I currently consider fun, but not for the reasons you might think. It’s not because I’m limited in what I can do, or that I fear death, or that I resent young people. It has a whole lot more to do with having lived a full life. I’ve tried many things and I have a fairly good idea about what makes me happy.
Always Fun
The following has and will always bring me great pleasure: live theater, good food & alcohol, a good night’s sleep, being in the sun on a warm (not hot) day, reading a good novel, that first cup of coffee in the morning, conversations with smart people, sitting by a fire on a cold night, a long walk on a beautiful day, time with my pet, travel, a good film, playing poker, swimming in the ocean, listening to music, hosting a dinner party, and laughter — no doubt all will remain on my pleasure list until I die.
Great to be reminded of how long my list is.
Future Fun
I’m becoming more of a homebody as I grow older. I like my creature comforts. I enjoy slow, quiet days and early to bed nights. I like a glass of wine and a good film on Netflix. I love a home cooked meal. When the weather is warm, I enjoy a light dinner on the terrace at sunset. I’m not sure I’d classify all of these activities as “fun” per se, but they certainly do give me pleasure.
Travel can be fun, but it can also be exhausting and anxiety producing. The key to the future enjoyment of travel will be hassle free, safe, well planned travel; travel with like-minded friends and family.
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Future Travel
South Africa land & sea in February, Iceland/Norwegian fjords, land & sea in May, Oslo in July. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Florida, Portland, Maine, Maryland, and North Carolina. I booked a Mediterranean cruise for October 2025; more about that some other time — it sails from Tel Aviv.
Current State of Mind
I’m very excited about South Africa. Paco is eating well and looking good. My floors are being refinished in a bold, bright white next week. By the end of the day yesterday, I was so exhausted that I was worried about walking Paco. I am occasionally reminded that I am no longer a young man; makes me wonder what 80 may feel like.
“Pleasure is the only thing one should live for, nothing ages like happiness.”
I tackled this blog topic five years ago; shortly after my relocation to Portugal. At that time my life was in a state of upheaval: the shutting down of my consulting business for an early, unplanned retirement, selling my home and leaving Maine, buying in a foreign country, saying goodbye to friends and family, losing Giorgio (my pet), financial instability, Trump’s America, and approaching 60. In general, gay men struggle with aging. The idea that my body was changing and that I was no longer a young man, hit me hard. My anxiety level and life’s uncertainties are reflected in my writing back in 2018. When I look back on my journal entries and my blog, I wonder if I could ever replicate that kind of strength; I was running on high octane. Today I am stable, secure in my decision to reside in Portugal, career averse, and feeling very much alive at 64. A look back and an update:
You Can Run, But You Can’t Hide
When I made the decision to leave the States: my friends, my family, and my home; I also made the decision to leave some baggage behind. I’m not ashamed to say I have baggage; I’m fairly certain that all adults have baggage and lots of it. Coming to terms with getting older and losing my youth has been one of the most difficult challenges of my life. As with so many other things I write about, I know others share my angst.
I decided a while back that rather than ignore the inner turmoil around aging, I would face those feelings head on. I challenged myself to look in the mirror when I preferred looking away, to light heartedly tug on the sagging skin under my chin, to grab and hold onto my growing love handles; by doing this, I am fully embracing every imperfection. In truth, they are only imperfections because I identify them as such. I am learning that it is much healthier to just accept my aging body. To admire every line and to see the aches and brown spots as a reminder that I have lived a life. Not so easy. Often I take two steps forward and three steps back. I know that it’s a process and I am determined to conquer this challenge. I welcome your thoughts on the subject.
Update: Going to the gym five or six days a week is a very positive experience. My gym in Faro has a diverse clientele; all nationalities, ages and sizes. People are extremely friendly and save for the very young, I feel seen and accepted. Although I ache all over — not the case when I moved to Portugal, I mostly feel really good. I have accepted my aging body and I do what I can to stay healthy.
Quick story: there is this Portuguese guy at the gym whom I only know as a gym acquaintance. The day Trump lost in 2020, he approached me while working out on a machine, voice raised and veins popping from his neck. This is just some of what he said, “You must be happy now that Biden won the election. Maybe this guy will give you what you want. I don’t know why you people need your own fucking parade anyway. You make me sick.” I see him at the gym almost everyday. That which doesn’t kill you . . .
My new Mediterranean diet consisting of a healthy breakfast, a substantial lunch and a dinner snack (about a third of what I used to consume for dinner), is helping to keep my weight down. I sleep better because my belly is no longer full at bedtime. I have found that my body rhythms respond best to an early bedtime and early wake-up pattern. It also helps when I drink less alcohol in the evening. I find an occasional cocktail (twice a week), and a maximum of two glasses of wine, prevents the alcohol from interfering with sleep. It helps that my daily life is more stable and that the stresses of a career and a life partner are no longer factors. Having a healthy pet and a beautiful home, also contribute to a better life. But mostly it has to do with the work I have done in “cleaning up” my act. Getting rid of unhealthy relationships, accepting who I am despite my limitations, worrying less, and being grateful for what I have and where I landed.
Men are from Mars . . .
I don’t think it is sexist or stereotyping to state that this aging gracefully challenge is greater for women and gay men. Western society places a great deal of pressure on these two groups to stay young — the goal being to remain desirable. You have an inner ego voice urging you to walk into a room and be noticed. When this stops happening, and it stopped for me over 20 years ago, you begin to feel less than.
There are things I have done to convince myself that I am still young and vital. One of them is something many men with means do, gay or straight, and that is to buy a shiny new sports car. I’ve done this more than once and although it does actually help make you believe you are young and fetching, trust me, it doesn’t last. Another thing I have done is to shop and purchase clothing that is suited for a younger man. I actually wore skinny jeans for a few months last year, a truth I am not proud to admit. Thank goodness I came to my senses by summer. Why didn’t anyone tell me that it was very wrong? (This was five years ago, but still). I know that my friends and family members are reluctant to share their thoughts in fear of hurting my feelings or facing a defensive me — I assure you that I’d rather be gently slapped into a more appropriate conscious state.
When I Started Feeling the Effects of Aging (again 5 years ago)
I’m getting very close to being 60, so it may be difficult to recall when I started to feel the effects of aging. I remember when my hair started thinning and receding in college, I became very concerned about baldness. Although embracing baldness seems to be more prevalent these days, clearly society and the media place a huge emphasis on a full head of hair. When a person is described as someone who is getting older and letting themselves go, “fat and bald” are usually adjectives used in that description. If you yourself are bald, that seems somewhat derogatory. Now I know there are women out there that will say that they find baldness in men attractive. I believe that to be true because women are much less concerned with physical attractiveness and more concerned with character and other attributes — sorry for the generalization, but that’s been my experience (it’s what women tell me). And you gay men know what I’m talking about. Just go to a gay resort and you’ll see what I mean. Many men cover up their bald heads in shame or surround themselves with eye candy in order to feel better about themselves.
Then there is the “fat” part of that “fat and bald” description. We all know that it is more difficult to keep weight off when you’re older. Some reach a point in their lives when they can afford a nicer bottle of wine and a thick steak and then find themselves having to cut back on these things because they negatively affect their health; not just their appearance, but their overall health. I don’t have to tell you about heart attack rates, stroke, diabetes and other weight related illnesses. At a certain age you begin to think about the future and your quality of life.
Loss (new)
I lost a good friend this year; the first person I came out to and an individual I have loved and admired for over 40 years. Watching Angela succumb to cancer was difficult. She was always youthful and optimistic; a fighter until the end. Our fathers were both born in Puglia, Italy; my father adored her. Angela’s death has helped me to appreciate life.
As you get older, the losses begin to pile up: parents, friends, former lovers, former classmates, and celebrities you felt you knew and grew up with. Grieving is not easy; however, there is so much one can learn from the process. I’m not a religious man, but I do feel the presence of those I have lost all around me. They are cheering me on, boosting me up, giving me the strength to carry on with grace.
Slowing Down the Process
There are a number of people in my life who believe they have discovered the formula for keeping aging at bay. They take 23 supplements at various times of the day, they eat only fresh vegetables they personally witnessed being plucked from the ground; no bread, no carbs, no meat, no alcohol, no life! And then of course it is essential that they share their healthy lifestyle with us and convince us that they know better . . . “Well the experts said so.” I have always said that if I learned today that I would live five years longer if I never ate bread again, I would eat bread and die a happy fella.
“What helps with aging is serious cognition – thinking and understanding. You have to truly grasp that everybody ages. Everybody dies. There is no turning back the clock. So the question in life becomes: What are you going to do while you’re here?”
— Goldie Hawn
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Future Travel
Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, Iceland, Scotland, Norway land & sea in May, and Oslo, July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Florida, Portland, Maine, Maryland, and North Carolina. I booked a Mediterranean cruise for October 2025; more about that some other time — it sails from Tel Aviv. I know you may not see it, but this is a much lighter travel schedule than the past.
Current State of Mind
I’m excited to spend Christmas with a good friend and her family in Lyon. I consider myself a very fortunate fella.
I normally hate photos of myself, but I looked at this one and thought: okay, this looks like me and I don’t mind it. Seven surgeries (not cosmetic), a couple of car accidents, a few tough break-ups, years of working with difficult people, the passing of several siblings and friends, and I’m still here.
My mother told her children that we had it better than most. She said that we should appreciate what we had because it could be far worse. We were not permitted to discuss our lives with outsiders under any circumstances. I didn’t realize why until I learned that other children were raised with love, encouragement, and hope for the future; we had very little of any of that. The love we got at home was twisted and divisive. Coming out was the least of my worries.
You hear a lot about people “coming out” these days. There are many incredible stories; each unique and compelling. I’m looking forward to a time when these stories are all in the distant past. I fear wide acceptance of differences is a far off reality.
My story was this: I hid my sexual orientation and acted straight, married a woman, kept it from the boss, had an awakening, told my sister first; she told me she already knew (as did everyone in my family), and so it goes. What you don’t hear is that when you’re gay, you don’t come out once, you come out again and again . . . and again.
Allow me to explain: I’m at a fundraiser sitting at a table with eight strangers. They have no idea who I am, where I am from, and what I do for a living — let alone know about my sexual orientation. We all make small talk to be polite. If I brought a female friend, she was automatically my wife. I am not being critical mind you, it’s a reasonable assumption. So one of the first comments is, “So how long have you two been together?” or “Do you have any children?” I’m wondering whether or not to tell the truth. If I stay silent or play along with the charade, am I doing a disservice to all gays and lesbians? We fought long and hard to be out and proud; if I stay silent, I am complicit.
When I am open and honest with people, I sometimes get these reactions:
“You don’t look gay.”
“I had no idea.”
“But you act so straight!” (Having worked so hard at acting straight in my teens and 20’s, this is my personal favorite.)
“If you were married to a woman, you must be bisexual.”
“Are you the man or the woman in a relationship?”
“Your lucky you are gay, because all gays are smart and creative.”
“There is this scripture from the Old Testament you need to hear.”
I have learned over the years that people can say some fairly stupid and insensitive things without intentionally meaning to offend (but they often do offend). I either nervously chuckle or ignore their words. Either reaction is not very honest, is it? What I would like to say is, “Now that you’ve made your bias clear, tell me what you really think about gay people?” And then go on to tell them what I think.
Let’s put it out there, have some dialogue. But, I don’t say what I’m thinking, I keep my mouth shut, remain silent and hope that the moment passes quickly. I do this because it’s what I was taught to do since I was old enough to comprehend life lessons. Adults teach children to keep the truth inside:
to spare the hurt feelings of others
to keep them out of trouble
to keep them safe
to keep children from sharing the truth about their parent’s lives (i.e., what happens in this family, stays with this family)
it’s the “norm;” that’s how we’ve always done it
I hid the truth until I was 28 years old; up until that point I worked hard to hide who I was from myself and everyone else.
Being honest, telling the truth, telling the whole truth, speaking your mind, sharing secrets, whistle blowing, and so on. They’re not the same things are they? Everyone seems to define “truth” differently these days. So when someone tells you that they are telling the truth, what exactly does that mean?
I should note that there have been times when I have spoken my truth and suffered the consequences.
The Truth Can be Painful and Consequences Can be Real
Having made a conscious effort to be honest has been fairly difficult at times. People say that they want to hear the truth when in fact, they cannot handle the truth. I acknowledge that my truth may not be someone else’s truth — for example, politics: I may believe that our previous administration was corrupt and dangerous and others might believe that it was the best leadership we’ve had in a long time. This is a difficult debate because one will argue the facts which are fairly skewed these days, depending on the reporting. This kind of truth aside, deciding to share the truth with someone can put both parties in a difficult position. The truth can do irreparable damage and that is something you may have to live with. I don’t believe examples are necessary since most people have experienced what I am referring to.
Many of us make a conscious decision to keep the truth to ourselves in order to keep the peace. The problem with this decision is that individuals who need to be told they have an alcohol problem, or that they are being psychologically abused or that their severe weight problem is killing them, will continue to talk themselves into a lie. I have a friend who told me that her doctor told her that it is better for her to smoke cigarettes because if she quits she might have a nervous breakdown. She’s told herself this lie so many times, she actually believes that it’s true.
Conventional wisdom tells you to hold your truth close to the chest; share it with only a select few that you truly trust, otherwise, you make yourself vulnerable — open to criticism. People will think you’re weak or flawed. I’m done with conventional wisdom. Do what feels right and either suffer the consequences or discover who your allies are; who is here to support you, love you, elevate you.
Coming to Terms with the Truth you Tell Yourself
A few years ago I found myself in a toxic work environment. Telling ourselves we are no longer happy at work, I believe it is one of the most essential truths we may have to tell ourselves. It’s very easy to become comfortable and feel safe in a toxic environment; after all, it’s all you know and the alternative might be too frightening to face.
Once you are able and willing to be honest with yourself about your career or work environment, change needs to happen and the old adage that “change is good” will prove true once again.
There are many truths we keep from ourselves: failing health, toxic relationships, financial ruin, alcohol or drug abuse, missed opportunities, why having an affair is hurting many people, etc. Facing any and all of these life issues can be challenging; however, failure to do so will only mean future problems that could very well end up being insurmountable.
My Future and How I Intend to Deal with Truth
One of my reasons for moving overseas was to find truth. Life for me was becoming mundane and way too comfortable; I was choosing the path of least resistance nearly every time. I’m not referring to seeking the truth about our existence, what I’m trying to find is my own truth: who am I, what am I looking for, and how do I find it?
I am aware that these are big questions and finding the answers is a lifelong journey. I believe the answers lie in self-reflection, self-assessment and shaking things up. Looking in the mirror can be difficult. If you look hard enough, you might see the truth. So many are reluctant to look because they’re afraid of what they might find. I’m not so much afraid as I am concerned. I’m concerned that I will not be able to change what I don’t like. For example, I learned a while back that I can be unfairly critical. I can hold people to a standard that is unrealistic and unfair. I don’t like this one bit. The question is, can I change it? I’m not sure that I can, but I have made a commitment to try.
Other lies I tell myself:
One more cocktail won’t hurt you
You can leave your bicycle helmet home this one time
It’s better not to put yourself out there because men are all slime buckets
Trump will definitely go to jail
You don’t have to cover your head from the sun today
You can eat whatever you want and work it off at the gym
You will know a bad person when you meet them
Being open about these lies is a good first step; it’s time to face them. My friends and family tell me I’m too hard on myself. I believe it’s an easy out — I don’t want to face my shit so I’d prefer you didn’t face yours. I’ll have none of that: “the truth shall set me free” (to paraphrase the bible and that may be a first for me).
Future Travel
Asia land & sea is finally happening this week, Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Portland, Maine, Maryland, North Carolina and perhaps the west coast.
Current State-of Mind
Two eye opening things happened this week; different, but thought provoking nonetheless. I took Paco out to a local café for a home cooked lunch. I discovered that if I get there early I can avoid smokers and high school kids. When I think about this today, I honestly feel like a bitter aging man — a sad state-of-being. I had a simple, but delicious lunch; as I finished, the students started pouring in. I could feel my entire body tense-up making leaving my best option. I was at the register paying the check. I reached into my pocket and my cash was gone. Before I could panic and a teenager tapped my shoulder. I turned around ready to mouth off and he handed me my money, which I guess had fallen out of my pocket. I immediately felt terrible for judging this sub-population of individuals. With one small gesture, my faith in the youth of Portugal was restored. It was a gentle reminder to shy away from jumping to unfair conclusions about my neighborhood tennagers. I need constant reminders.
The second situation happened here in my home with a contractor working on my floors. I had a vision for how my refinished wood floors would turn out. As the work progressed I realized what I wanted was not going to happen. I had to take a deep breath and accept a different reality — a reality I have discovered I am thrilled with. I truly need to be more open to curve balls which could be brilliant opportunities.
Please forgive any and all typographical and grammatical errors.
This letter needed revising — you live and learn don’t you?
Dear Christopher,
2040 is not far away and I’m certain the world will have changed; just wondering how much? Technology (AI), war, cancer, viruses, politics, and climate change will undoubtedly be factors. The big questions seem silly to ask, but curiosity has gotten the better of me. What is the weather like? How many mutations of Coronavirus have been discovered? Is Ivanka Trump president? Do three individuals possess 95% of the world’s wealth? Who in your orbit is still around? How is your health and do people reach out to see how you are?
There are of course things I’m certain remain true. Those certainties that have stood the test of time: the fear of God and blind faith, every man or woman for his or her self (greed), stupidity, denial, illness, love, and Cher. Self-destruction of humankind seems inevitable; however, I can’t help wondering if that’s how you’ll go.
The planet has always gone through stages of birth, death, and re-birth; that is a constant. The big question on my mind is what lessons have been learned? Knowing that society’s changes are often temporary and uneven, I cannot help wondering how the billions of earth’s inhabitants are experiencing their current reality. How many billions are there by the way? As usual, I digress.
Allow me to explain my reason for writing. As a pragmatic cynic, I never had much faith in my fellow humans. I watched too many of my neighbors place plastic in the organic bin (one symbolic example) . It wasn’t that I wondered if they cared, it was more that I knew they didn’t. Unfortunately, that’s what age does to you — you’ve seen too much to hold onto senseless hope. Yes, there are rare exceptions to the rule. There are moments when you think that people have changed. But, as we know, history repeats itself and humankind makes more missteps than progress. Isn’t that what being human is? Anger, holding onto it, feeling it, conveying it; has always been an issue, I sincerely hope you are less angry.
You were always one to defend ignorance, therefore, I’m certain you’re spending more time defending and less time explaining. But are you mostly happy? Or maybe you’ve been around long enough now to realize that happiness is relative.
Knowing that you are a dreamer, there are some other things I have been wondering about: for instance, do you continue to care about what others think? I suspect you do. That was an elusive lesson no matter how much you tried to detach; proving that imprinting early on is almost impossible to alter. I’m hopeful that the effects of gossip and idle chatter have softened you over time. As your taste buds only get stronger as you get older, I’m hopeful that this consistent pleasure remains intact. I can’t help imagining that the walks have gotten longer and your bedtime earlier. The quiet of the morning hours become more of a comfort, as the messages from loved ones are more than likely, less frequent. I’m certain you expect less and long for even less.
Do you continue to allow people to hurt you? You’ve worked on letting go your entire life; knowing the toll emotional pain can take. How far have you retreated into your protective shell or perhaps you have learned to recognize that when people are hurting, they sometimes lash out at others to ease their own pain or hide their insecurity. “It’s not about you,” has been your most difficult life lesson.
What I hope for more than anything else, is that you have found peace. The ability to laugh at absurdity; find comfort in your tears. Also, that loss has somehow passed you by or that time has only taken those who were prepared to let go. I know that you often think fondly of Ashley, Giorgio, and Paco. The pets who taught you more about life and love than most of the humans you encountered.
If there is anything I can help you with as you get closer to death, let it be this: time is your most precious possession. Cherish time, forget regret, love yourself first, dance when you feel like dancing, sing anywhere you like, love without fear, embrace your authentic self, if the play sucks, walk out, do not give away time to those who do not deserve it and spend time with those who do. And for once in your life, do not allow guilt to control your heart and/or mind. Lastly, I hope you are celebrating that you’ve made it this far.
With hope, love and arrogance,
Your younger self
__________________________________________
I know this letter seems negative, but I read it differently. For me it says better days are ahead and lessons learned have softened the landing. I’ve experienced enough of life to know that you have to celebrate the highs and ride out the lows.
Future Travel
Asia land & sea, end of October/November, Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Portland, Maine, Maryland, North Carolina and maybe the west coast.
Current State-of Mind
I spent a few days in Spain this week. One of my car tires blew out in a posh neighborhood outside of the city. I wasn’t in a hurry to get to a restaurant I had planned to go to, so I attempted to fix the problem on the side of the road. I’d never even heard of this green slime solution that supposedly seals the tire, allows you to fill it with a pump provided, and in theory, gets you to a car repair business. As I mentioned earlier, this is all conjecture. It doesn’t work if you have a blowout. I’m just glad I was in a populated place not far from my hotel. I was able to leave the car where the mishap occurred and walk back to my hotel. The next day my insurance rep told me to make sure to be with my vehicle by 9:00 a.m. He did mention that roadside service in Spain was slow; alas over three hours later a tow truck arrived. I have never had a vehicle of mine break down close to home. Perhaps this is why I opted to go vehicle-free for my first five years in Portugal. Cars can be a royal pain in the caboose.
I have to at least mention one highlight: I was in Spain on a Monday when most restaurants are closed. I ventured out on a walk hoping to find a place with decent food. I managed to locate a little tapas café where I saw locals drinking, but not eating. I think it’s safe to say that Spaniards do day drinking better than most other cultures (Portugal is not far behind). I walked in and this very pleasant middle-aged woman asked me in English, if I wanted a beer. I guess it’s obvious that I am American. I said yes, of course. I asked for a menu and she instead described what she could whip-up for me. She made me delicious potato croquettes as an appetizer and then I had braised beef in a savory brown sauce over frites. I paired the last dish with a Rioja. I left with a smile and a full belly. This is why I love to travel.
This is Maria. She asked me to take her to New York; it wasn’t right away, she waited until I was leaving. I certainly couldn’t fault her for trying!
Please forgive any and all typographical and grammatical errors.
I chose this photo because I immediately judged the subject; Look at me, look at me, I’m different, I’m beautiful.” In truth, he (if this person identifies as a he), is probably just making a buck modeling and what’s wrong with that — this is my internal dialog around tolerance and acceptance.
A Recent Observation
I took a long walk to a trendy restaurant in Basel, Switzerland last week. I have to say, I definitely dig hipster food. Young up and coming chefs trying to stand out in a crowded field are showing up these days. Their food can be fresh, delicious, and creative; I want to eat it whenever I can. The clientele these chefs are attracting, can be horrible people — by horrible, I mean fake . . . pretentious . . . showy . . . ugly.
I observed a group in this restaurant in Basel and it got me thinking.
What I Witness All Around Me
I love the city of Faro for many reasons, but mostly I love it because it is a working class city that doesn’t pretend to me something else. For the most part, people live in modest homes and drive small, inexpensive cars. Buildings are not ostentatious and grander than they need to be. If you like places that boast garish, way too massive homes, more power to you — live there, play there, stay there.
Whether it’s where you went to university, where you live, the hotel where you stayed in Paris, your child’s accomplishments, etc., shut up about it and let people learn of those things from either asking you or from others who might boast for you.
Perhaps it was my upbringing; having been born into poverty and a city in decay, I don’t appreciate excess. It seems to me that a big chunk of humanity is biting off more than they can chew. At some point, the world will implode. Or perhaps climate change will wipe the slate clean.
Ask me about my travels, I’m happy to tell you about the two-star hotels I stay in.
The Best Thing About Being Retired
I do not have to impress anyone in order to make a buck. I cannot count the number of times in my career when I had to smile when I could vomit or listen to someone spewing nonsense when all I wanted to do was flee. Work socials, conventions, visitors to campus; so many insecure or narcissistic nobodies trying to be somebody. There were a few authentic and modest individuals I truly enjoyed being around, but there were more ego inflated buffoons who were legends in their own minds — celebrity chefs come to mind. Inflated egos are difficult to navigate.
Tolerating Fake People
We are surrounded by individuals who for one reason or another need validation by boasting about what they have or relying on people to tell them how incredible their lives appear to be. Social media has accentuated this in a perverse way.
Here are some ways to deal with these individuals:
Avoid them by going nowhere near where they might be
Buffer yourself by having a friend who doesn’t seem to mind them, sit right next to them
Say something like, “Oh I wish I had time to pay attention to such things, or I drove into that neighborhood once, but I was profiled by the police and escorted out.”
Stay quiet until you can no longer control yourself and then tell them to fuck off
Lead by example
Do what’s best for you and ignore the rest
Just be better
Do People Know What They Sound Like?
Humans have this uncanny habit of believing something to be true just because it’s been said a number of times; even if it’s an internal voice and even if it’s false.
I often wonder, while I’m listening, if people have any clue about how pretentious and ridiculous they sound? I wish I could say something right while they’re doing it. I believe that some of the people I know will read this blog and think, “I know people who brag about everything; it’s disgusting.”
I know that I have been focusing on what is real and true a lot lately. Why? The death of siblings, living on a budget (I hopefully have a few good years left and I’ll need groceries right up until the end — I worked in the education sector, not hedge fund management), having friends that are so ill they cannot leave their homes, aging, self-reflection, empathy, our current political landscape — it’s a combination of all of these living realities. Maybe pissing and moaning makes me feel better. I never want to feel superior; however, I do want to feel good, safe, and hopeful.
It’s a good time to remind myself that I am no better than anyone else. That includes you. I know that when I’m dead, no one will care about the car I drove or the size of my condominium — these things will not have defined or informed my life or character.
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Future Travel
Asia land & sea, end of October/November, Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Portland, Maine, Maryland, North Carolina and maybe the west coast.
Trust me, it’s all done on a budget; no business class or Four Seasons. I should note that travel is a big part of my blog, therefore, I do not consider this section of my blog boasting. Let me know if you believe it is — always interesting to get your perspective.
Current State-of Mind
I have to admit that sometimes I’m pissy and I don’t know why. The weather is great, I’m seeing good friends, I’m eating well, sleeping well, my health is good, Paco is healthy; it’s all good, but I’m still pissy. Not all the time; it comes and goes and I refuse to take a pill in order to hide or mask it. Instead I just walk around trying to manage it.
Pissy defined: negative attitude, short tempered, difficult to please.
Maybe it’s the high school students revving their motorcycles on my street? Maybe it’s my ginger beer price going up 50% from one week to the next (I hate how business owners are profiting from inflation)? Could it be the dog shit I stepped in yesterday? Perhaps it’s friends who seem completely self-absorbed? Yes, it’s all of the above that is making me pissy.
Remembering Dianne Feinstein, who lived an exemplary life and served us well. Rest in peace Dianne.
Please forgive any and all typographical and grammatical errors.I hate proofreading and I often get crazy with commas.
Papagni Pages 