I’m a multiple trauma warrior. I’ve seen some shit. Because of that, I’m primarily hyper-independent which is, in fact, a trauma response. When you can’t trust the people around you, you become self-sufficient at a level most people don’t realize. It makes asking for and accepting help extremely difficult.
After yesterday’s horrors, my bestie Jen contacted the people I was supposed to go see today and let them know what happened. They didn’t hesitate. They said they’d be up to see me instead. When I found this out, I told them thanks, but you don’t have to do that. Nonsense!
They arrived early this afternoon, Lori and Dave. Bless their beautiful hearts.
I’ve been thinking about love a lot lately. What it is, what it takes, what it gives, where do you find it, is it even real? It is.
They showed up, they brought me hugs, friendship, warmth, kindness, compassion, but most of all they showed me what love is. It’s about showing up. It’s about being available. It’s about sharing moments, stories, and time together. It’s about accepting one another just as they are. It’s a trust found in relationship. I can’t even begin to express how grateful I am for them making the trip up to make sure I was okay.
We walked together to the Coach museum, with a side-jaunt to get some ice cream (Poor Dave had motion sickness from being on the boat for 20 minutes), where I took assloads of pictures of some of the most ornate coaches I’ve ever seen. They practically carved statues onto these rolling monuments. I’m not even kidding. When I took the pictures, I took a picture of the name of each one. I took a picture of the description in English so I could remember what I was looking at. Then I took pictures of the many intricate details that were added to make sure that particular carriage/coach was the biggest and the best. I was surprised at the size of the wheels on those puppies. Many of them were taller than my 5’3″ tall height. Heck, some of the carvings on them were as big as me!
When I downloaded the pictures to my computer, none of them came up in order. I have no idea what is what. On top of that, many of the pictures I took before we got to the museum didn’t make it. They don’t exist according to my phone. BLAH!
One of the pictures I took was in Portuguese. It said, “Se isso custa a sua paz, e muito caro.” which means, “If it costs you your peace, it’s too expensive.” Another said, “School kills artists.” Graffiti for the sake of tagging doesn’t seem helpful or add to the beauty of the world, imho. But, when you can make the world a bit better by reminding them of a message that needs to be remembered, that’s what I appreciate. Kindness spray painted on a wall decorates instead of desecrates.
I had planned to make this a picture heavy post. My intention was to show you what I’ve seen, but how can I show you kindness that was given to me? How can I exude the love that I feel and was given? What could I possibly display that would show you how broken open my heart is for the people I love so dearly? I can’t.
What I can do is offer you my blessing:
May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You, yes you, are loved!
This morning I woke up to my alarm. I had to go to retrieve my now fired tile because my intention was to take a train down to Faro tomorrow to visit with some friends of mine. I’d made the appointment to pick up the tile for Friday, but…well, that’s what I get for not putting things in my calendar.
As I was getting ready to meet the Bolt car, I happened to look down into the water by my boat. HOLY TOLEDO! A mother farting jellyfish! My friend Bonk! said it was a box jellyfish. I’d never seen one in the water like that before so I was intrigued with the way they move in such a fluid like motion.
Ana, The Tile House artist was rightfully concerned about the brushstrokes. It was my first time making one, so I’m actually quite pleased with the result.
Traveling is something I obviously love to do. I love taking trains. I once rode on a train from Las Vegas, Nevada to Chicago, IL. I felt like I was in the lap of luxury even though I only had a plain seat. It was totally wonderful. So, taking the train on a three hour trip is exciting for me.
But first laundry. I’ve been conservative with my clothes. I wear the same pants for a few days changing my undies. I change my shirt every couple days and my socks daily. Although I didn’t have a lot, they were really dirty and needed to be washed. I plotted my course, hooked the bag on my back like a backpack, got on the scooter and went for a ride.
I found the place I needed to go pretty easily. Finding a legal place to park the scooter, not so much. I checked the map, found one nearby and tried to follow the directions. I made it to a parking lot, even found a stand that had other scooters parked there, but the app still refused to allow me to park. I checked the map again, found another one nearby and was heading that direction when I was suddenly on the ground.
I face planted. I don’t know what happened, but when my face caught the brunt of my fall, my hands didn’t even come out to brace myself. I felt an instant black pain as I landed. I layed on the ground for a bit until I could get my breath. I sat up slowly and realized my nose was bleeding profusely. I mentally checked the rest of my body and found nothing else hurt as much as my head and face.
I grabbed the towel out of my laundry bag and held it to my face as I stumbled to my feet. A couple found me, helped me out of the traffic lane. They brought me water to drink (I couldn’t do that) and water to wash the blood from my hands. I was shaking, dizzy, and nauseous. They asked me if they should call an ambulance. Since I couldn’t remember what exactly happened and I was bleeding so much, yes.
They waited with me as I alternated between crying and groaning. Fun fact: When you break your nose, it jostles every bit of your sinuses and they go into evacuation mode. It’s not pretty.
A broken nose, four stitches in my lower lip, my front teeth are pushed back with a fracture on the bone that holds the teeth. My glasses survived.
I can’t say this is my favorite part of my trip so far, but the people that took care of me from start to finish were loving, compassionate, giving, and attentive. I couldn’t have asked for better considering the circumstances.
I didn’t break it, but I did bruise my pinkie finger on my left hand pretty good. Scooters are fun, but not worth the trouble when they stop suddenly and throw you to the ground.
It’s been a long day with a lot of catastrophe. My damn laundry still isn’t done, but I’m alive even if it’s in pieces.
Of further note, the Bolt driver that picked me up from the hospital also made sure I got my prescriptions, got food from the grocery, and waited while I did those things. You bet your sweet bippy I tipped him well. Haziz, you’re top hats.
May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved!
I woke up this morning, not because I was done sleeping, but my bladder was urgently letting me know it was time. I folded myself out of bed with a huff and a sigh. I opened the hatch to a warm morning. It wasn’t hot, but I didn’t need a jacket to make my way.
I was bleary eyed with lack of sleep. I stumbled my way back to the boat. I climbed aboard and looked up as I entered the hatch. HOLY CRAP! What in the world had I been missing?!
A few days ago, my housesitter asked me what the sunrise looks like here. I had no idea. This morning I found out.
The air smelled so fresh, the breeze was balmy, the boat was barely moving. It was a perfect setup for my morning communion with the Nectar of the Gods.
There is an old adage that says, “Red skies at night, sailor’s delight. Red skies at morning, sailor’s take warning. Dudes, it’s true. A couple hours after this the skies went dark. The wind picked up to a pretty steady 27mph with gusts up to 39mph. The temperature stayed in the lower 60’s. It stayed that way for hours. I had to plan my trip to the bathroom in clothing that I could dry quickly on hangers. Even with that, it was drenching.
What I couldn’t get done today, I’ll have to squish into tomorrow. Tile pickup, laundry, packing, and, if the weather holds, a sunset sightseeing tour up the river. It starts in the marina to the west of me by one. Scooter rider I shall be.
I did get my train ticket to go visit friends in southern Portugal on Thursday. I even figured out how to get to the train station. Honestly, I haven’t felt brave enough to venture onto the public transportation system here although it’s quite extensive and there are a variety of ways to go. I don’t know what my problem is here when I had no issue whatsoever in France. Maybe I’m just tired and need to go home to process and decompress.
Note: If you’re an excessively gassy person or if you eat something that causes that, do NOT sleep in a tiny cabin. You will dutch oven yourself. Don’t ask me how I know this.
May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved!
I went to bed last night at 9:30 PM Lisboa time (4:30 PM East Tennessee time) because I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I snuggled under the warm blanket and closed my eyes. I didn’t wake up until 9:30 AM because I had to use the facilities. It’s kind of like camping in the sense that I have to go to the building to use those facilities. I went to put my shoes on and realized that my body heat had caused considerable condensation inside the boat. Enough to soak my shoes. Nuts.
I stripped off my socks and made it safely out to get my other pair of shoes. I put my drenched pair out on the seats of the back of the boat to dry. I got dressed, put on my coat, and…it started to rain. Not just a little bit either. I quickly exited, locked up, and went to the building. I was soaked by the time I got there and it’s really not that far. Abuh. But, such is the life of a sailor, eh? (winky face).
I stepped back out after washing my hands to clear skies and sun. Uh, well, okay. I went back to the boat to change my clothes and dry my coat. I was still pretty tired so I laid down and slept for five more hours. Good Pete!
When I woke up for the day, I had to use the facilities again. No issues, by the way.
I pondered what to do. I like to keep busy doing something and, quite honestly, if I’m not busy, I feel like I should be doing SOMETHING. But, as my sensible friend Jen told me, sometimes taking care of yourself means doing nothing. So I didn’t for the entire afternoon.
Resistance
Rock, creak,
tug, squeak,
jolt, sway,
river, bay,
tilt, groan,
wind, blown
rythym right,
sweet goodnight.
At 4:30, I made another trip to the facilities because my Bolt car would arrive at 4:50 PM to take me to another art class. I made it to the pickup point ten minutes early and waited. I checked my app and it said I went to the address the evening before and charged me money for a ride I didn’t take. Abuh.
I found the support ticket submission after several failed attempts, plead my case, and awaited response. In the meantime, I had to get where I was scheduled to be. I called another Bolt. Within minutes a fine young man named Ivan picked me up.
We chatted about touristy stuff, as we passed a large group of police exiting their station, I became curious. I asked him what the letters mean. There are three different police units in the area. One is like a city police force. One is like a National Guard only with police privileges, and the other is like the US’s FBI. I thought about it and in the quiet I requested:
“May I ask you a question that may seem inappropriate, therefore you’re not required to answer. I won’t think you rude if you don’t.”
“Sure.” he replied darting in and out of traffic.
“In the United States, the relationship of the African American people with the police is horribly abusive. Being black could be a death sentence simply because you exist. Do you find that the same in this country?”
He thought about it. As he changed lanes he said, “Yes there is racial issues here too. All across Europe. Our police kill black people here, but not like what I hear about in the States.”
“I feel ashamed of how we treat other humans.” I told him. “I’m a Unitarian Universalist. One of our principles is Social Justice. It seems ridiculous to me to not love people.”
“It’s good to know there are people like you out here that are working to make a change.” He said as he pulled up to a stop light.
“I wonder if it’s shame that causes such hate. I mean, if I do something wrong and I’m ashamed of it, I’m not likely to be nice about it if someone starts poking the bear.”
“It’s complicated.” He sighed.
“I just want to love humans for who they are.” I stared out the window at the neighborhood. There was graffiti on many of the walls, but the streets were relatively clean. People were walking everywhere, going in and out of shops, stepping in front of the many cars packing in bumper to bumper.
“Thank you, Ivan. I appreciate your willingness to answer a difficult question.” I spoke with sincerity.
“You’re welcome. We’ll change the world.” He laughed which made me laugh.
When we arrived at my destination, I wished I could have given him a hug. Instead I gave him a tiny yellow duck. He laughed again and thanked me. I tipped him through the app.
My Destination
I arrived at Agathe’s studio with anticipation. I walked up the three stories to her apartment. It smelled like spice with a hint of floral. Stepping into her work area was like being at home. There were various projects at different stages of completion, bins overflowing with supplies, jars of brushes, multiple paints, and a fantastic view (which I didn’t get a picture of, sorry) that could be seen from her plant filled balcony.
The table was set up with 8 stations. It turned out there was a group coming who were celebrating a birthday by joining the class. They were nearly a half hour late in arriving and I was already well into designing my unique tile.
Already finished the outlining, starting on the watercolor part.
When they did arrive, they came in cloudy with laughter. They were on a girl’s trip, they explained, so they were having difficulty finalizing plans. They sat down quickly. Agathe ran through the same procedure with them, but it wasn’t as relaxed because they were pushing time. We were the fourth and final workshop of the day. She was tired, but not impatient.
They caught up to me pretty quickly. I finished with my design just before the first of their group did.
My finished design before Agathe worked her magic on it.
They brought wine with them. They offered some to me which I declined. I’m not a teetotaler by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s not something that interests me either. Agathe broke out the wine glasses and the group toasted the birthday woman.
One by one they finished their works. There were a lot of oopsie’s and one woman kept saying oopsie-doodle whenever she made an error. It made me giggle.
Agathe took the finished pieces and worked her magic. When mine was done I honestly couldn’t believe what I’d created. I love it!
Yes, that’s on an actual tile with a cork backing. (Agathe comes from France originally. When she says cork with her accent it comes out sounding like cock).
I purchased a couple of gifts for my people back home, decided I was hungry so I asked Agathe where she goes out to eat. She said she doesn’t typically but when she does she goes to a few places nearby. I chose one she mentioned.
The place was pretty busy but the serving staff were prompt, polite, and efficient. If you’re vegan or vegetarian, don’t read the next sentence. Lamb Korma with jasmine rice, hot chamomile tea, sparkling water, and the last picture is of a homemade mango ice cream they make there every day. My tastebuds are drooling with happiness.
As I stepped outside after paying my bill, I hailed another Bolt car to return me to the boat. The street was busy with people and cars. It had the feeling of community. Like, the people who lived there really were included in the daily life of where they lived. It was a good feeling.
Looking up the street from the restaurant.
On the way back to the boat, I saw this pizza place which made me laugh out loud.
When I got back to the marina, I had to…use the facility. Well that serves two purposes because I won’t have to go back out again for quite a while and second if you’ve eaten Indian food when it’s not common fare, then you understand.
The European places I’ve visited are pretty big on water and electric conservation. Many places have motion sensor lights in them to save on energy. I’m totally down with that. However.
As I sat in the bathroom, taking care of my business meeting, it occurred to me as the light repeatedly shut off in my room that they didn’t take into account long periods of not moving. I had to keep sitting on the throne waving like a queen.
And that’s how my day went. May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved!
My day today was rather uneventful. I had to get quite creative with what I have on hand to keep warm. 55 degrees doesn’t sound that cold, but when you’re trying to sleep, believe me it is. But, I wrote it off to the cost of boat living because it’s not like I know. I’m a land-lubber.
Today, the host contacted me to check in and see how everything was going. He asked if it got cold at night. Why, yes. Yes, it does. His reply was filled with dismay. He brought me a thick warm blanket so I won’t have to wear a sweater, use my shawl/airplane blanket/bathtowel for a blanket. SQUEE! It’s the little things.
I found out that the guy I hollered Ahoy to yesterday as he parked his sailboat wins every race he enters. He’s top notch at sailing. Really nice fellow, smiles and waves when he sees me.
OH! I also needed supplies. I needed water, some food, and a snack. I found where the local grocery was, despite the rain, I rented an electric assisted bike. I bundled up, got my grocery bags into my purse where I keep my tissues (heehee), and headed out into the drizzle.
Siri does a much better job at giving directions than Google maps does. I have my Siri set to a british male voice so I can pretend it’s Doctor Who talking to me.
Whomever was the idiot that said once you ride a bike, you always know how, did not understand how a short person like me should or could ride a bike made for “normal” height people. With the scooters and the bike, you have to push off to get going. Dudes, this was not something I expected to relearn. My front wheel was going back and forth like a sewing machine’s needle goes up and down. The road was a cobblestone/asphalt combination which made for some potholes and rough riding.
When I got to a smoother road, I was able to figure out how to tiptoe pedal. As long as I was steady pedaling, the bike pulled me forward easily (SCORE!) but the moment I stopped pedaling, the drag slowed me down equally as quick. (YIKES!) Trick: Keep pedaling steadily. Do not stop pedaling.
I got lost several times because the instructions told me to turn where there wasn’t a street. When I turned on the next possible street, her exasperated (I swear it’s true) voice corrects my lack of navigation skills even though they’re hers. But, I just kept pedaling because to stop would be to fall over.
I found the grocery, got my things I needed, exited and it was really raining. I figured I was already damp so I’d bite the pillow and just do it. But, the groceries I got, really not that much, 22 Euro 50, wouldn’t fit in the basket of the bike. I was getting soaked and uncomfortable. I walked back to the store’s overhang and called a Bolt (Eco-friendly Green) car.
A ten-minute ride and I was at the dock. She was really personable and friendly. I enjoyed her company. Her name was Ana.
And now, what happened last night? I went to a studio called The House of Tile. A local artist owns the shop and teaches people how to paint tiles in the styles of the Portuguese people. She was kind, helpful, a patient teacher, and played good music which I sang with and even danced a bit.
The class was about two hours long. There were three other people there learning how to do it. One of the techniques she taught was one that I’ve used before to get lines onto a pumpkin I wanted to carve in a non-traditional way. She had tricks and tips to make the experience an all skills activity.
Between you and me, Ana was magical. She could make things happen instantly. Her repeat phrase when questions were asked was “It’s your tile, do as you like.” She gave the tools, told and showed you how to use them, then let your creativity do the rest.
A trip to the bathroom discovered this beauty on shelves filled with creations.This is a cock. It’s a symbol of luck and prosperity. I have to forbid myself because there are colorful roosters in every souvenir shop I poked around in yesterday. Must resist…Ana supplied water or coffee while we painted our designs. The little plastic pots are the glazes. The wood keeps your hands from getting on your project.
I’ll return to her studio on Wednesday afternoon to collect my fired tile. I’ll show you when it’s complete.
The first night I was on the boat, I was seasick. I slept with a trashcan on the bed next to me. Now, it would seem, I’ve got my sea-legs. I’m not at all bothered by the steady, sometimes jerky movements of the boat. The sleeping berth has a rope tied over it which is tied to the dock. It creaks and groans, stretches and relaxes. It’s oddly soothing.
May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved!
This is some of the wildlife I saw when I visited the Tropical Botanical Garden in Lisboa.
Obligatory Nectar of the Gods with cinnamon.You have never tasted sin this delicious in all your days. It has a croissant like crust with a custard filling. It was outstanding.
Becows
The Charity of RomeHerculesDogs
I will end this post with a disgustingly funny story.
After breakfast and walking around for a couple of hours, I had to “Take a Meeting” in the worst way. The map showed the facilities all the way at the back of the park. Uh, no can do muchacho, so I exited the Tropical Botanical Gardens doing the “Not yet” dance.
I made it down a cobblestone street, turned the corner and was met with so many people. Good hell, that was a lot of people. The cool part is, I heard so many different languages being spoken that it almost made me weep with gratitude. So many people.
I found a Starbucks! Hooray! The sign said bathrooms were upstairs. I can do this. I got up there and there was a keypad that you have to enter the code to get in. CRAP! Well, not yet anyway. Someone was coming out, so I went in. Both rooms were filled (Their bathrooms are actual little rooms, not stalls). I was really doing the dance when a woman came out of the men’s bathroom. She said nothing to me, didn’t wash her hands either come to think of it.
I got in the room, locked the door, dropped trou, and took my meeting which took a bit. I looked over and the toilet paper roll is empty. WHA?!?! Uh oh. I searched frantically for something, but there was nothing to be found. WAIT! I have tissues in my purse! Hooray!
Damn it! I took them out to make room for something else. I took out my google translator, turned it on to Portugese, typed in “Help! There isn’t any toilet paper in here!” (Ajuda! Não há papel higiênico). I played it every time I heard a voice outside the door, but nobody came.
Well, I considered my socks, but I’m not a fan of how my feet feel in my shoes without them. I thought of the nylon shopping bag but that grossed me out worse (It’s a GOOD BAG!) I even considered using a paper Euro. Oh yes, I did think about it, but no. When I visited the breakfast place and the botanical garden, they gave me receipts for my purchases. Ahoy! Solution.
I removed the staples from the three receipts I had. Four pieces of paper. Well, better than nothing. After much work, I was able to finish the paperwork. Dudes, keep the damn tissues with you. I went out, washed my hands, warned the next person, got some napkins, returned to the bathroom, made sure I did a good job.
When I told the women at the counter the situation, the one woman asked me how I got out of it. I told her. She laughed. They gave me an employee discount for my purchase, and you better damn well believe, I took that receipt! (P.S. The tissues are back in my bag.)
May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved!
When I left Caen, Normandie, France on Thursday, I was excited, filled with anxiety but also booming with curiosity. At the beginning of my trip, I flew into Paris, rode in a harrowing taxi ride to where I stayed, explored the city a bit. I got to see the pretty parts of the City of Lights. Going from the very clean city of Caen to what I witnessed outside of my bus window in Paris was a startling contrast.
The amount of garbage piled up along the highway was like a collection of mini landfills. How many freaking mattresses get discarded? I saw homeless encampments against the brick walls (probably to protect the “good citizens”). Everything that was a surface was tagged with spray painted testaments that the artist exists. I saw rather nice set-ups with chairs and campfires, a shelter built out of tarps.
It breaks my heart to see so much suffering when there is enough. I am of the mind and opinion that every person’s basic needs should be met. Safe shelter, clean water, food, sanitary toilet facilities. The mentality of every wo/man for themselves is based on self interest, I get that. I’m not willing to give up what I feel I’ve earned either. I’m not sure how to solve the problem, but I am aware of it.
The bus station in Paris was underground. I had a two hour layover there so I found a bench outside to sit on and observe. Immediately outside the doors of the station was a public gym where males were posturing their fitness by removing their shirts and video-ing themselves doing pull-ups. It smelled like piss. There was garbage everywhere. The border next to the sidewalk was muddy and slick. It was not a pleasant two hours.
But, graffitied on a pillar within my line of sight was the phrase, “Call me at night <3…” It inspired me to write this:
Call Me At Night ❤
When you're lonely for my company
When you require reassurances that you're okay
When you're over or underwhelmed
When you need to feel loved
When you need compassion
When you need to vent
When you need someone to be with you in silence.
Call me at night.
31 hours on a bus. I was so exhausted when I finally got to Lisbon, whose bus station is very busy but open air. I got an Uber to take me to my destination because I hads the dumbs. I just couldn’t function enough to navigate.
A nice full bodied fellow named Eduardo loaded my bags into his car and off we went. I had given him the wrong address. I found the right one, reset the ride, and we were off. On the way to the marina, Eduardo showed me the embassy district. When I think of embassies I think of tall, large buildings, but these were like…houses. They had a flagpole in the front yard of the respective country behind walled yards. I said Wow a lot.
We got to the actual address and I tipped him well. He was a great driver.
I got met by the host and his girlfriend who were warm, helpful, and good people. They helped me load up my stuff onto the boat, brought me a kettle to make coffee in, and left me to my leisure.
Okay. I know. It’s a boat. What the hell did I expect? The water was choppy and the boat was rocking a lot. I honestly felt so sick to my stomach that I put a garbage bag in a tiny trashcan and slept with it nearby. And boy did I sleep.
Motion sickness is real until your body adjusts.
When I awakened, I pushed open the hatch of the boat. Dudes…
I feel much better than I did. I look forward to breakfast in the morning and learning to ride a scooter (A razor like apparatus). I didn’t get to explore much today, but Saturday night (tonight here) I’ll be painting tiles with a local artist. Woot!
May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved!
I’m sitting on the FlixBus in Caen. My cumbersome luggage is loaded under my butt. I feel a complexity of emotions.
I’m excited to see what happens next. I’ve been to Paris, so that part doesn’t feel anything but familiar. I’m not sure if that’s what I mean exactly but it’s close. After Paris, then the fun/fear/excitement/unknown begins.
Truthfully, I’m intimidated by that unknown. More so than when I first arrived. Maybe because it was a rather spontaneous choice to change everything I’d planned at the last minute. Perhaps it’s because the summation of my experience has been a working trip.
I don’t have to work. I don’t have obligations. I’m doing this for me. It feels selfish. It feels uncomfortable. It feels unsafe. But it’s also exhilarating because it’s not something I normally would do. It’s adventure and exploration. It’s new.
I’ll let you know what happens as I leave Caen and head into the rest of my life.
May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved!
I spend time with my client and his family today. It’s the last time I’ll get to see them until they return stateside in December. When I first arrived in the middle of September, it was because of them that I took a chance and stepped outside of my comfort zone. WAY outside.
My client and I exercised his body. I chattered on about things that I’m learning or figuring out. He’s pretty quiet, but he surprises me with how much he pays attention. It was a blustery day. Chilly, windy, rainy. The day seemed sad. I felt sad.
I fall in love with my clients in a non-romantic way. It allows me to give grace, feel compassion, and evoke empathy even when things are a challenge. I absolutely adore this family. Truly it has been an honor to work with them for three years and many into the future, (As Miss Pat would say:) God willing and the creek don’t rise.
We drank real champagne from the real Champagne region in France. It wasn’t quite how I envisioned it, but sharing it with people I adore and love made it all the better. They’re just incredible people.
This evening I’m packing up all my stuff to leave for Lisbon, Portugal tomorrow. I’ll be taking a bus (31 hours…don’t even) to Paris, then on to Lisbon. I’ll arrive Friday at around noon (Insert Miss Pat quote here).
I have felt such a raw presence of myself here. My eyes are open, my ears are hearing, my mouth is tasting, my senses are satisfied with my stay here. I’ve seen everything (but one) that I’ve wanted to see. I’ve made no friends which I’m okay with. I love the people here.
Au Revoir to my French Experience.
I knew that if I failed in France, I had the safety net of my clients to call on if I got in over my head. I didn’t, but knowing it was there was reassuring. The training wheels come off tomorrow and I’ll be striking out on my own to explore. I’m lollygagging, farting around, procrastinating even though I should be packing.
Okay, deep breath. Let’s do this, Mare.
May peace be with you wherever you may be. You are loved!
Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
Mare Martell 