My last day in Portugal, in Europe, in Lisbon. What to do? Well, since I don’t do well with tourist transportation, I decided on a walk about. There were a couple sites nearby where I’m staying that I wanted to check out. With my FINALLY dry favorite Blowfish shoes on my feet, shorts and a t-shirt (It was really that warm out), I headed out. I’m going to mention that I took all the medication I was prescribed for the pain so I was okay to observe the world around me.
I walked the riverside until I reached the pedestrian crossover. I shared a picture yesterday of what I had to cross. It was not busy. I climbed up the ramp and crossed over. The walkover exits nearby the coach museum I shared with you. I walked to the left.
I poked my head into a few shops, bought a bucket hat since I can’t wear my transition lenses for very long, grabbed some coins, and took my time.
That bridge is incredibly high up and looks similar to the Golden Gate Bridge, but this particular version has a bonus feature of a train that runs on the lower level.
I walked through the Jardim Afonso de Albuquerque. At the four corners of the large park, there are four unique statues of women. In the center of the park is a tall spire with a statue on the top. I giggled because a seagull took a rest on the head of the statue,
I strolled the tourist strip ducking out into a park at the end of the first strip.
I visited the Pavilhao Sala Thai which is located inside the Jardim Vasco da Gama. It was pretty, but I was rather underimpressed. I thought it would be bigger.
A prayer for peace and I wandered towards the fountain in the middle of the Praca do Imperio Garden. I’d seen it at night from the Padrao dos Descobrimentos (Explorer’s monument). It lights up in different colors as the water spouts shoot into the night.
I sat watching the people and the fountain for quite a while. I was listening to Fado music in my earbuds. If you’ve not heard of Fado music, try Amalia. Her voice is top hat.
I made my way over to the Centro Cultural Belem. Art fascinates me. I didn’t take any pictures because I wanted to not be a tourist. I wanted to be in the moment, taking it all in. I was not disappointed.
I strolled over to the Museu de Marinha but didn’t go in. The outside park had ship anchors displayed. They were massive. Taller and thicker than I am. At the back of the museum courtyard was a Planetario de Marinha but there weren’t any shows available to see. I went dancing down the Praca do Imperio road.
I passed by the Mosteiro dos Jeronimos. The exterior was much different than the churches I saw in France. There was ornamentation, but not overly so. The building is a World Heritage listed Gothic monastary.
One of the Presidential Guard. I’m sorry I didn’t get a closer picture but he and his fellow guard stood at attention while I watched them from afar.
I returned to the boat. I’m heading up to take a shower and change into my travel clothes. I’ll pack up my things and have them ready to exit the boat tomorrow morning. I’m already fussing with myself about what to leave behind so I can bring my goodies back home. Small living is difficult to do.
Other than nausea and a bit of a headache, I’m doing okay. I took a short nap when I got back, so I’m relatively rested. Tomorrow I get to sleep in my own bed. I get to see my pup and my kitty. I get to see my son. I get to see familiar sights. I get to see friends (picking me up from the airport). Life is good.
OH! I wrote a letter to the man who races his boat. I thanked him for the invitation to sail. I expressed my regret of not being able to fulfill that invitation. I used Google Translate to write it. I hope I didn’t say anything completely wrong.
May peace find you wherever you are or go. You are loved.
Last night I became increasingly dizzy and upchucked several times. By this morning, I could barely stand upright without feeling like I was drunk (without the fun, BOO!). My friends encouraged me to seek care, but I was reluctant.
I justified my dizziness because I’m on a boat, there was a yellow coastal event happening which was rocking the boat pretty hard. However, the dizziness and nausea continued when I spent time on stationary land. nao e’ bom.
My resistance led me to call the hospital where I was treated after the wreck. I wrote up a script to say to them:
I don’t speak Portuguese I know I am calling a hospital I was in an accident on Wednesday and broke my nose and face. May I please have someone who speaks English
Eu nao falo portugues eu sei que estou ligando para um hospital onde fui tratado quanddo quebrei meu nariz na ultima quarta feira algeem que fal ingles por favor
My attempt massacred the language.
The woman who answered the phone the first time said Eu nao sei (I don’t know) and hung up. I revised my script. Despite my atrocious pronunciation, she understood. She transfered me to another number. I repeated the script that worked. She said no and hung up. I called back. The first lady answered, recognized my script, asked me to hold, then transferred me to the same woman who hung up on me again. Dang it.
Finally I gave up on that. I called 112 which is the emergency number here. I started off by asking “Do you speak English?” A little she replied. That was about the extent of what we could understand. She asked me to find someone who could translate. They must have thought I was nuts. “Voce fala Englais’?” (Do you speak English?) I kept asking everyone sheltering from the rain under the gas station portico.
A woman asked me what I needed. She kindly translated what was happening to me, where I was, and other information. Obrigado (Thank you). Wait here she said. They are coming.
I waited. They showed up. My friends were messengering me their concern. I can’t really wear my glasses right now so it’s hard to read. I reassured them as best as I could, loaded up and headed back to the hospital.
I spent so much time in this hallway, I thought they forgot about me.Anti nausea and pain medication which helped ease the symptoms.
As I reported the other day, I broke my nose and my “mustache” line above my front teeth. As it turns out, that wasn’t accurate. I broke four bones in my face. No messing around here, kids. I go all out. No guts, no glory!
After consulting with colleagues and the IV being complete with my symptoms under control, the doctor suspected that my pain being out of control had contributed to my issues. An adjustment of medications, a list of warning signs, and 300 Euros later, I was on my way to the Farmacie to pick up 32 Euros of medication.
I got back to the boat, made a few phone calls to reassure my friends and loved ones of my well being (as much as I can be right now), and now I’m writing for you fine folks.
Tomorrow I’ll be trying to stuff six weeks of momentos into my two suitcases. I’ve already tried to figure out what I’d be willing to leave behind if it comes down to it. My six weeks in Europe is coming to a close. I fly out Tuesday morning for Philly, then home to Knoxville.
There are two more things I want to see before I go home. I’m hoping the weather will cooperate with me. They’re both within walking distance, basically across the street.
But this is the street I have to cross.
I’m going to sleep now. May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved.
Ten-Thirty this morning (Earlier than that but I wasn’t awake yet), Lori poked me to see if I was awake. We had a brief conversation where we discussed the plan of the day. She and Dave prompted me to choose something, but honestly, everything they’ve shown me has been extraordinary in such a profound way, I bowed to their wisdom and encouraged them to light the way.
There is a Galp petrol station in front of the marina. The woman who works there has wild curly hair that is both dark and light in a pleasing combination. She makes REALLY good espresso. That’s the meeting point. I was told to bring my laundry with me today.
The other day when I had my wreck, I grabbed the first thing from my dirty laundry to control the mess. I grabbed my bath towel which at the time was a perfect choice. However, it is my only towel which has prevented me from being able to take a shower. I have Dude wipes and some wipes called HoneyPot which have kept me at least presentable and not stinky. I’ve washed what I can, but without a towel, it has been limiting.
As I waited at the station sipping my cup of espresso (double shot), I observed a sailboat pausing at the dock below me. They were getting ready to head out. The Captain of the boat untied the front rope and gave a mighty push to the front of the large sailboat. Then he quickly went to the back of the boat and pulled the rope which forced the back of the boat toward the dock, pushing the front to where it pointed to the marina entrance. A man at the wheel obeyed the Captain’s commands, steering appropriately. Once the boat reached a safe trajectory, the Captain boarded and guided the boat out into the river. While this was happening, two other boats exited the marina, one with full sail (much smaller sailboat).
Dave and Lori arrived, loaded me and my laundry into the car and we headed off. Now, Lori told me where we were going, but I forgot which made the destination a wonderous surprise. We went to Cascais (CAS-caysh).
First we found a laundry. The roads were more narrow (I didn’t think it possible) than France. Dave navigated skillfully to our destination.
This Lavanderia, Mary Clean, was small. Three washers of various sizes and three dryers. It was very clean. How freaking cool is this? The washers put the soap into the wash for you! Load your clothes, pay, and your clothes get washed. What a revolution!
With time to kill, I offered food because I was hungry, they’d already eaten. I found a restaurant at the corner that had food I thought I could eat. We sat outside under giant umbrellas.
I ordered a soup and a tofu dish that came with rice. When the soup arrived, I was able to eat the broth, but not the actual vegetables. I asked the server if he could request the chef to blend the food so I could enjoy it. Absolutely. It came back with the texture of a thick oatmeal. Farts, that was outrageously good.
As Lori enjoyed hot jasmine tea and Dave was off getting his ears lowered, my entree came. Tofu, lotus root which looked like crunchy waffles, sweet potatoes, a curry sauce, and other vegetables mixed together but, I couldn’t eat anything but the tofu. I asked the waiter if he could do the same thing to the entree, which he did. Hokey smokes! It was stupendous. It came out with the texture of the rice. It was fantastic!
While I slowly made my way through my brunch, Lori popped off to put the clothes in the dryer. And again, she popped off to take them out of the dryer as Dave arrived shiny like a new penny with his spiffy haircut. We sat and chatted as I finished my decadence. I paid the bill and left tiny ducks for the waitstaff who had been so kind and entertaining.
Painted in the middle of the road is a starfish.
Lori had folded my clothes already! Man, how lucky can I get?! We went back to the car, loaded up again, and headed off to the next destination. Unfortunate event, we got a parking ticket. Abuh! But it has a QR code on it so you can pay it right then and there. That was an expensive parking spot.
As we rode through winding roads, I felt like my eyes were seeing the world in an entirely different perspective. The houses are painted in yellows, pinks, tans, cream, white, and almost all of them have terra-cotta roof tiles. It’s an incredibly pleasing aesthetic.
Dave pulled off into a parking area because they wanted to show me something. The video you’re about to see if of today and I finally got video to load from yesterday, so you get the bonus clip. The Ocean’s Music:
This is the two seaside places I’ve been taken to in the last couple of days. I can’t even.
We arrived in Cascais about 2:30 PM (9:30 AM East Tennessee time). It was similar in style to Pigeon Forge only the buildings were definitely not Southern American. Brightly colored with wares pouring out the doors. As we walked towards the shopping area, the ocean crashed and waved hello to us. The air breezed past us with scents of a variety of restaurants, the ocean, the scent of anticipation.
We popped into the first store in search of a sweatshirt for me. We found one, but the price made me balk. Lori reassured me there was plenty more to see. I left, making a mental note where to get it if I felt the need.
Look! I’m an ice cream store!
The shops were bustling, the outdoor cafe’s were filled with people. I popped in and out of stores, browsing from the many choices. Lori suggested a shop called The Bijou which had the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had in my life. Outstanding!
I didn’t purchase anything. I saw a lot that I was tempted to impulse buy, but I had a couple of people I wanted to bring things back for. Lori suggested a small corner shop that was deceptively large. To say I went hog wild in that store would be saying too little. I was able to get the gifts for my people in sensational style. I can’t show you the pictures of them because I want them to be a surprise, but I will post them after I’ve given them away.
Finished with the shopping and trying to meet the “deadline” for Dave and Lori to return home, we hopped in the car and drove all the way down the coast. Surfers were out paddling in the crashing waves. People were swimming despite the cool air. There were kids playing beach volleyball. At points on the road, the waves hit the guardwall so violently that it splashed up into the air and onto the cars and road.
Day done, we arrived back at Doca De Belem. Warm hugs, empty bladders, sunshine brightly lighting the afternoon, we bid adieu. They gave me a gift of their presence which was more than I could ever have imagined. I didn’t know I needed it so badly, but I did. I will cherish the memories we made together for as long as I live.
Falling in love with my friends, sharing moments in a life well lived, putting down the camera and just existing in the time we had together was a highlight of my trip. Gratitude has no bounds.
“Stop being a tourist and just be in the moment.”
Mare Martell, 2023
Storms A'Brewin'
Sailboat windchimes wildly chorus
obeying the Mistress of the Winds
The strength of ropes is tested
creaking, groaning, protesting
as the waters stake ownership
A waving power rising and falling
obediently testing boundaries
Like ashes to ashes
dust to dust
the ocean claims
what it must.
Mare Martell2023
May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved!
Yesterday afternoon as I was walking with Dave and Lori, I observed the waterline was quite high up the walls. The water was filled with bits of debris, but not too bad. There is a breakwater that extends out towards the marina which is made of concrete. It was fully visible down to the base that met the water.
Last night I didn’t sleep all that well. The boat was being tossed about hard by Yellow Zone warning meaning the waves coming in were 4-5 meters high. There is a breakwater to get into this particular dock, but that didn’t stop the violence of the water. It was jolting me frequently enough that it was hard to get to sleep.
At 2 AM, my bladder went off. Damn it. I put on my shoes and walked to the bathroom. There is a gangplank from where the boats are up to the land. Normally, there is a rather steep grade to get up, but this was barely a slant. I looked over to see that the waterline was gone. The jutting breakwater was now nearly underwater. Well no wonder!
After I observed this, I returned to my warm bed. At 5 AM my bladder went off again, Oh for Pete’s sake! I hauled myself out from under my blankets, put on my shoes and made my way to the bathhouse. To my surprise, the grade to get to the gate was steeper and the waterline was again visible.
I thought to myself, “How often do you actually think about the tide?” Being a land-lubber, hardly ever if at all. But here, it was brought into sharp focus. Something I don’t think about because of where I live, but to observe it happening was astonishing. It inspired me to write a poem.
Tides
Be mindful of the tides
Waves prowling, the waters rise
Deep green home
to long black fish
silvery minnows
a seabird's dish
Boxy grace flowers below
Undulating with aquatic flow
The deepened walk
becomes less so
As the river rises and the rivers go
A breakwater holds the mari-"time"
cyclical clock of moonlight's bride.
Dave and Lori stayed in a hotel last night and this morning they were up and ready to go. They came and picked me up. Lori let me ride in front with Dave so I could better see the sights. It made me feel great!
We started to go to one place, but we got distracted and ended up going someplace really cool. We showed up at the Palacio Nacional De Pena. We opted for the garden ticket because the palace only allows a certain amount of people at a time and the next available entry was 2.5 hours away timewise.
We entered the grounds like cattle. Cobblestone walkways lined the paths. Their shop consisted of vending machines which was rather disappointing, but there was a scale model of the palace itself.
I have no idea what is happening with my phone. It keeps breaking pictures, deleting others so it looks like a trip to the phone store when I get back to the states.
This was a decent model of the grounds. I had a picture of the other side too, but that’s gone. 😦
As we were making our way up to the palace, there was a cafe in a forested garden area. My body was telling me my blood sugar was low so we went to get drinks and sit in the festive red chairs. While we were sitting there enjoying the view and chatting, the rains came. Oh boy, did they!
Lucky for me, when I was in France, I picked up these handy little grocery bags that are made of nylon and fold into themselves so they’re no bigger than a potato. I whipped my purple bag out and used it as a rain hat. People were laughing, but I was staying dry.
We went to the palace and then walked down a LOT of stairs with long steps down to the next level. Back to the parking lot, I got a call from one of my favorite clients. It was so great to hear his voice. We chatted a bit and I told him of my mishap. After a brief conversation, the three of us loaded up into the car and headed off to the coast to see a lighthouse Lori wanted to see.
Dudes, the roads are narrow like in France, but only a bit wider. There are a lot of blind curves which Dave handled beautifully. As we climbed in elevation after our descent from the palace, the views were filled with vast vistas. The buildings are primarily white with terra cotta shingles on top. To see them against a forest of green was such a striking contrast it made me wish I had time to paint the scenes.
For the record, the parking here is zero Euros, but there was a guy in a yellow vest directing traffic. When we got out of the car he kept saying 2 Euro. I gave him one which he accepted and moved on while jingling a considerable amount of change in his pocket.
The music from these musicians made a lovely soundtrack as we viewed the ocean. The man, at first was playing the accordion and singing in a rich, true voice. She played the keyboard accompaniment. Her son (The man is just her music friend) danced wildly with abandon to the songs. It was pleasing to witness.
Their sign reads, “We sing for Ukraine” I emptied my change pouch into their box. I gave the boy and the woman each a tiny duck. It lit their faces up with smiles and thanks.
This particular song he’s playing in this picture was haunting, moving, emotional, and passionate. The rain started so we had to go.
My friend Cathy E. suggested that if I get the chance to try the roasted chestnuts. I can’t chew anything, but there was a vendor near the parking lot who was roasting them on his cart. 3 Euros a dozen. I bought them, peeled the first one with stinging fingers (They were hot!), broke off a tiny piece and ate it. It was sort of like eating almond butter with a slightly different flavor. I shared with Lori and Dave, but they didn’t want any more than a few. I gave the rest of those delicious tidbits to an Asian woman explaining I couldn’t eat them and she could have them. She tried one and smiled with satisfaction.
The wind was getting stronger, drops were starting to fall as we made it back to the car. We got in, decided to find somewhere to eat, and toodled off again.
Lori admitted she wasn’t one to make solid decisions, but when we got to a turning point, she told Dave the directions with fierce confidence. We arrived at a restaurant called Don Quijote’s. It was a homestyle villa with a beautiful garden and a windmill. From what I read about it, the mill was where the locals used to bring their grains to be made into flour but it fell into disrepair. It was lovingly restored into a magnificent place.
This sink! WOW!
Haunted Risotto which had zucchini, pumpkin, spinach, and parmesan cheese in it. The appetizers were organic sauted mushrooms, and a dish called Naheleh (maybe?) which was a cheese that tasted a bit like a cross between cream cheese and cottage cheese. It was seasoned with olive oil, roasted cherry tomatoes, black olives (with the pits unfortunately), and a parsley. They served that with toast made of a wheat bread.
The pink stuff is an iced tea that had fruit and honey in it. I’m not a fan of sweet tea at all, but that was quite tasty.
I was stuffed. It was SO good. I checked out the dessert display on my way back from the restroom. They had a lemon meringue pie which had a spider web design set in the top. They had a pumpkin pie which had little ghosts of whipped cream. The cake had a finger shaped cookie with an almond fingernail on the top of each slice. They looked fantastic.
We stopped off at a grocery on our way back so I could get enough supplies to last me. As we navigated back to the marina, the rain started falling heavily. By the time we reached the dock, the rain was still going, but not heavy. Dave and Lori went off to their hotel and I made it back to the boat (low tide but currently rising) safe and sound.
What an incredible couple of days! May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You, my friend, are loved!
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!
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 