Coming to Terms With Aging

Update along with additional content to 2018 blog

Could be me in 10 years

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.

A Portuguese Retreat in Castro Marim

Be prepared, I get a bit corny.

 

 

 

I have been spending the last few months looking for the perfect quick getaway in the Algarve and I believe I have stumbled upon it. Not that other parts of the Algarve aren’t beautiful mind you. Castro Marim is different; it’s old world, it’s unspoiled, it’s an hour door-to-door.

I discovered Castro Marim while surfing Airbnb. I must have rented six or seven apartments or rooms this summer and I wanted to make sure there was nothing out there that I was missing. I’ve spend more time west of Faro, so I decided I should explore the towns closer to Spain. While looking at Monte Gordo (resort-like) and Vila Real Santo Antonio (at the Portuguese border), I found an Airbnb that was very reasonable on a beekeeper’s farm. I have always had a fascination with bees and I’m a big fan of honey. It is almost like wine or olive oil in that it has a very distinct taste depending on where it is harvested. Apparently, there is a good deal of substituting other sugar substances with the real thing, so I’m always searching for local honey I know will be pure.

The train station is a few minutes walk from my apartment in Faro and the train ride was a little less than an hour. I usually have to take an Uber or taxi to my destination, but in this case the directions to the Airbnb looked fairly straight forward from the train station; about a ten minute walk. I opened my phone to look at the directions and I heard my name. It was Jennifer, one of the owners of the Airbnb. I was pleasantly surprised. Jennifer told me that when she saw when I was arriving, she thought it would be easier just to meet me at the station — gotta love that. We walked and talked and I knew I had happened on something special in Castro Marim.

The farm is owned by four friends who have pretty much built it from the ground up over the past five years. I had booked “Ameratasu” The White Room at Phaedra. It was one of the four rooms in a very cool sort of adobe type building with a beautiful courtyard in the center. Honestly, I hate spending all my time taking photos, if you go to the Airbnb site (click), you will see more photos.

 

Ameratasu with Private Deck
This was my room. The front leading to the terrace is open to the elements and I loved the fresh air (and ignored the bugs). Ameratasu  private deck

 

Jennifer graciously showed me the property; swimming pool, vegetable garden, chicken coop, outdoor lounge space, outdoor community kitchen, communal bathroom complete with compost commode (a little sawdust over your poop that’s all). It’s not for everyone, but it’s a step above camping and the price is right.

I asked about dining options and Jennifer told me about my many choices:

  • Taberna Remexida — only about 100 yards from the property and where I had dinner my first night
  • São Bartolomeu — the town very close to the Castro Marim train station. It’s a tiny town with a couple of traditional Portuguese restaurants — always good and always inexpensive
  • Praia Verde — nearby beach (see later on in this piece)
  • Castro Marim centre — I would say it’s about seven miles from the property. I had lunch there my second day (more later).

If you have a vehicle, you are also fairly close to Tavira, Monte Gordo, Vila S. Antonio and only about 15 minutes from Spain. Many, many options.

I needed an ATM machine so I biked (bicycle provided by the Airbnb) to Praia Verde to see the beach and the properties near the ocean. It was a hilly 20 minute bike ride. What I found was a pristine beach and lots of amenities. There were shops, a supermarket, a pastry shop, a place to sign-up for water sports, a spa and a very fancy restaurant. Infante Panoramico was right on the ocean and offered a very extensive menu (not cheap by Portuguese standards) of beautiful seafood. I will definitely return to this restaurant for a special occasion. I also want to get a condo by the beach; perhaps next June.

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Praia Verde from a window at Infante

 

Cash in pocket, I bought some fresh bread for breakfast (Jennifer invited me to get my own fresh eggs from the coop, which I did both mornings), pastel de nata — I like to compare these famous Portuguese pastries, some groceries for the communal kitchen; and cold beer most importantly. My favorite thing about an Airbnb is the ability to make some of your own meals and snacks which can obviously both save you lots of money and keep you away from giant rich meals. I have to show some constraint.

I biked back to the property and took a big dip in a very refreshing pool. There were only two other couples staying at the property and they must have been out touring. I happily had the place to myself.

Staying close to the farm was essential for dinner, so I made a reservation at Taberna Remexida down the road. When you’re on foot, on very narrow country roads, it’s actually quite dangerous to be out in the dark for obvious reasons. This restaurant was close enough that I could almost see it from the farm. And what a treat it turned out to be. Gigi my Italian waiter made it even more savory.

 

 

 

I finally got to try Sharish Gin as an appetite stimulator. It was wonderfully herbaceous and fresh. I picked some up at the market in Faro yesterday.

 

Sharish Original Gin

Sharish Original Gin Bottling Note

Sharish Gin comes to us all the way from Portugal, and it made with a selection of botanicals grown by the distillers themselves, including oranges, lemons and apples. Other botanicals in the mix include juniper, vanilla, cinnamon, clove, coriander and lemon verbena. Interestingly, the base spirit for Sharish gin is made with a mixture of molasses, rice and wheat!

 

I moved on to simply prepared local clams and shrimp. So fresh and perfect for a warm evening near the sea. I ended with chorizo which was sauteed in honey; a nice combination of sweet and savory. All accompanied by a perfect white from Alentejo. During my last course, the dining room suddenly erupted in screams and laughter. Three playful puppies charged the dining room and all three came to visit me at my table. They were the last of a recent litter; cute and adoptable. It took everything I had not to snatch one up. I strolled back to camp very satisfied.

A couple of rather large mosquitos accompanied me to bed; admittedly not very desirable, but when you’re sleeping half indoors and half outdoors, it’s to be expected. I did bring insect repellent, however, I ended up being a day late and a dollar short rubbing it on. No worries, a bit of cortisone topical cream and I was good as new.

Turned out that a 90 degree day turned into a 60 degree night and I had to wrap myself up in a big comforter; provided of course. Eight delicious hours later, I was ready to tackle the day. Two fresh farm eggs, some Spanish ham and toast prepared (by me) in the outdoor kitchen, made for a beautiful start of the day. I watched the sun rise and the cows graze and honestly, I felt more alive than I have in a long time. A very verbal kitty came by to have breakfast with me and she was pleasant company indeed. Now for activities:

Spa Salino, a place where I could enjoy a natural salt bath and a mud application was in Castro Marim about a 35 minute bike ride north. I had never seen salt harvesting and I was certain I would enjoy floating in rich mineral sea water.

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After the bath you cover yourself with mud rich in minerals and you can feel it draw all that toxic garbage from your skin.

The entire time I’m soaking in the salt, I’m thinking about two very important things:  First, where am I having lunch? And secondly, how am I going to make that brutal trip back in this 95 degree heat. Since food always reins supreme, I focused on lunch. The owners of the baths told me about a place in Castro Marim that they thought I’d like. I showered off, convinced myself that I was fully rejuvenated and ready to get back on the bicycle, and headed to town. I went straight to what I thought was the restaurant and alas it was closed — it’s early September, is tourist season over already?

My second stop was to be the market to purchase provisions for the evening meal. I had decided that if I had a big lunch, it would be nice to eat a light meal that evening in the great outdoors. I found the mercado and bought fresh bread, olives, jamon, and a nice bottle of Portuguese red. At the check out, I asked the cashier if she could recommend a place for lunch. She and the customer behind me, named the same restaurant the guys at the baths had mentioned. I said that it was closed and both ladies gave me a funny look. I got back on the bicycle and thought I’d eat at the first Portuguese restaurant I came across; after all, they’re always excellent. Sure enough I found A Tasca Medieval (click for more) and got a nice outdoor table in the shade. I mistakenly had gone to the Taberna Medieval, an easy mistake to make. I had a delightful black pork dish and the best lemon meringue tart I have ever eaten.

I was dreading the bike ride back to the farm; my belly was way too full, it was scorching hot and I was way too relaxed — oh, and my backpack was heavy. Faced with a daunting task, I usually tell myself that it will be good for me:  lies, lies, lies. I got on the bicycle and started pedaling. At some point about 45 minutes in, I realized I’d made a wrong turn. I was wet from sweat, tired and the roads were eerily free of vehicles. I thought that if I’d passed out I would not be found until 2020. Okay, I exaggerate a bit, but truthfully, it was a bit scary. I had been conservative with my phone battery and I willed Google Maps to open. Alas, it all worked out — there was a cut through and I was back on the farm in 15 minutes. I didn’t stop to put the food away, I headed straight for the pool, undressed and jumped in. The whole day was extremely surreal because of the absolute quiet everywhere. Minutes later, I met Tom, another one of the property owners, and was thrown back to reality. He was careful not to invade my solitude.

A gin & tonic and a good book, made the afternoon in paradise heavenly.

Tom was cooking his meals for the week when I went to prepare my own snack in the community kitchen Wednesday evening. It was nice to hear his story; a young man in his early thirties, living his dream . . . sort of. The combination of Portuguese cheeses, jamon, olives, and that delicious red, were the perfect way to end a very adventurous day — I was sated and proud of myself for making it happen. I spied what Tom was cooking and I was grateful for my meal.

Early to bed, not quite as cool as the night before, but pleasant. As usual, I was up before the sun and made coffee under the stars. I sat quietly listening to the roosters and watching the sun start a new day. Many things crossed my mind on that glorious morning, but mostly I just smiled and took it all in.

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An hour later I was on the short train ride home contemplating a place close to home to escape the day-to-day and remind myself of all that I am grateful for.

 

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I sat about 30 feet away from this child at the restaurant and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. She was incredibly beautiful and very pensive.