If You Hadn’t Been So Rude

You never know if and when your kettle is going to boil over. She sat across from Henry on the city bus almost every day. Same time, same route, same rude behavior. Her phone would ring loud enough for the passengers on a passing bus to hear it and she’d always answer it; she spoke as if she were in her living room or the middle of an empty football field. Wouldn’t matter if he’d been on the back of the bus or the front of the bus, because everyone could hear her on her phone.

Some people acted like she wasn’t there and others just stared in her direction. She was oblivious; either she didn’t notice or she didn’t care or perhaps both. One day someone standing over her politely asked her to keep it down. She waved her hand as if to say, “If you don’t like it, don’t listen,” and then she crossed her legs and raised her voice. Henry knew that if they’d been in New York City, she’d have to shut up or be thrown off the bus. He hated that about Portland, the people were just too easily intimidated.

This went on for weeks and months until Henry couldn’t stand it anymore. He started waking up in the middle of the night hearing her voice and seeing her tiny little vacant eyes. Weeks prior, he’d gone to his supervisor to see if he could change his work schedule by 30 minutes, but it couldn’t be done. He’d thought about quitting his job; he thought about other alternatives that were even more drastic. One night Henry woke in a cold sweat as he pondered getting rid of her.

Just threatening her wouldn’t be enough. She’d bark back or ignore him. Henry could be confrontational, but most people just laughed at him or shrugged him off. He found himself pushing most exasperated thoughts back into the deep, dark corners of his deranged mind. But these intrusive thoughts kept resurfacing; each time clearer and more likely to be manifested. A recent break-up left him melancholy, bitter, and lonely; no one wanted to be with him.

The woman on the bus had to die and it had to look like an accident. Her death would provide the greatest satisfaction of Henry’s life. He wished he could take a survey of the bus passengers to see who would be happy to see her gone — he suspected all of them would cheer. He would have to be on the bus the day after the deed to see and hear the reactions of the other riders. Being there would complicate things just a bit, but the reward was too great to pass up.

He’d have to study her closely over the next few days; what did she do on a daily basis that left her vulnerable. She always had an iced coffee in her hand, she carried a shoulder bag, she wore heels, and she never let anything out of her sight. She entered the bus across the street from Joe To Go Coffee Shop and she got off the bus at SW 10th & Burnside; the busiest intersection in Portland.

His best bet was to poison her iced coffee, but how? And would it be enough to kill her? How could he get her to put it down long enough to do the deed? One morning he waited for her at Joe To Go. He watched as she ordered her coffee and waited for them to call her name. That was it, he’d cause a distraction at the shop after they called her name. He’d quickly grab her coffee, add the poison, and place it back on the counter.

The distraction would be easy. He’d plant a recording device near the counter with the sound of fireworks that would imitate gunshots and last about 30 seconds. Everyone would take cover and Henry would quickly poison her coffee.

He learned her name was Carla while waiting in the coffee shop. If Carla ran from the shop, he’d have to come up with Plan B or abandon the plan altogether.

AI generated photo. This is too much fun!

Henry could be very patient. He’d wait for the right day to add atropine to Carla’s iced coffee. He was able to purchase the atropine in Morocco a number of years ago. At the time it was for emergency purposes; a home invasion or his future mother-in-law. He was certain it would kill Carla and never be traced back to him.

The initial effects would cause Carla to hallucinate on the bus — now that would be something to see. If she stayed on the bus while the atropine was doing its job, she’d eventually pass out and die soon after. Everyone would get to watch her writhe and wretch. Henry became more and more excited as he imagined Carla’s demise.

Days before Henry was scheduled to fulfill his greatest act to date, he was called into his supervisor Jason’s office. Jason proceeded to relieve Henry of his duties. He was told budget cuts and downsizing were the reasons, but the truth was that his co-workers found his behavior to be off-putting. He left his office for the last time at 10:00 a.m., not seeing Carla on the bus during his ride home. His thoughts shifted away from Carla for the first time in weeks. It was Jason he was focused on now, but how would he settle the score.

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Weeks away from a trip to Warsaw and a bit of renewed perspective. Years ago I discovered that I need a dangling carrot. I consider it a reward for this and that; mostly that. No matter why or how, I need it soon.

Have a good day and don’t use your cell phone on a crowded bus.

You Never Truly Leave Your Home Country

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

The Tipping Point

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

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

Arrival, Challenges & Stability

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

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

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

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

What People Share

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

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

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

Why I Say You Never Truly leave

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

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

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Future Travel

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

Current State-of Mind

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

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

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

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