Tag Archives: Portugal

Day Thirty-Eight, Arrival

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!

Day Thirty-Seven, 🎶Borderline(s)

Leaving France, entering Spain
I’m the blue dot. 3AM here, 9PM East Tennessee
About to cross into Portugal.

I’m so tired but holy crap! Fantastic!

Cheers, Coleman’s!! That’s a double espresso.

Day Thirty Five, Champagne Farewell

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!

Day Thirty-Three, An answer

Back on day Twenty-Seven I told you about a course I was taking through Going With Grace called The Living Practice. Each day you’re given something to think about, write about, and enrich your living experience by thinking about your death.

Yes, I know that sounds counter-intuitive, but it really isn’t. Every day you do things, whether you realize it or not, you’re building your legacy. Your life is your message to others about what kind of a person you are externally, and to some extent even to yourself. But the juicy part, as Alua Arthur, founder of Going With Grace, likes to say, is that who you think you are may not actually be who you are.

We all have to go through the every day life stuff. We have to survive. We have to pay bills. We make time for social interaction or hobbies or adventure. But, who are we really? Without anything external, who are you?

I’m still pondering that one, but the question I’ve come to the answer for is:

Who or what was your most impactful death?

Of all the people I have loved and lost in this lifetime (part of the reason I became a Death Doula), the most impactful death would have to be my best friend L3 aka Bean. I lived with her and she with me for the majority of our adult lives. She was so freaking quirky, weird, and resentful of being pulled out of her comfort zone. A little secret I never told her, she MADE me braver than I felt.

I was friends with her for 37 years. She and I fought, laughed, created, sang, played, roadtripped, went to concerts, went on vacations together. She was my secret keeper. She was the fastest typer I’ve ever seen. I think they clocked her at like 125 wpm without errors. She was happier in a world of fantasy than in real life where disappointments followed her around like a rabid dog.

When she died, I got fucked up in the head. The person who was always there was gone. Who did that make me then? It took me about five years before I could think of her without crying or feeling devastatingly sad. Which, when you love someone like I loved her and know that you’re loved back, that loss is going to do exactly that.

Okay, so why was it the most impactful? I was 49, she was a month past 50 when she died. I suppose it’s a trick of my own disbelief or even a naivete’ but who the freak dies at 50? I was looking down that barrel myself and it freaked me out.

It made me really look at my life. I was unhappy. I was deeply depressed. I was so ridden with anxiety I couldn’t handle even missing a bus. Did I want to live the rest of my life like that? What could I change to make my life a better place to live?

She was the most impactful because I decided I wanted to live after she died. I mean live like we had intended to do together. She made me braver than I ever thought possible. She gave me the gift of life by leaving hers.

And now, here I am in freaking France getting ready to head to Portugal. The things I’ve seen would have made her laugh. The food would have blown her mind. The atmosphere would be right up her alley. She, although not physically, is still with me. She’s still here next to me,

I wear Bean in this.

(Well technically around my neck since I wear some of her ashes always) cheering me on to the best life I can live, for the both of us.

May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved!

Day Thirty-Two, Change of Plans

Since February I’ve had a plan in place for September and October. I was going to fly into Paris and stay a couple of days. (check) Then take public transportation to Caen, Normandie, France. (check) I planned on staying in one place for September them move to another for the month of October. (check) Then I was going to stay in my client’s home while they went to Morocco. (Uh…) Well that was a bust, so I made reservations for another place in Caen. But…

If I’m not going to be working, why should I stay in one place? I started looking around. I checked out Brussels, Belgium. I looked at Geneva, Switzerland. I checked out The Hague in the Netherlands. But, they are rather cost prohibitive last minute. Then I thought about Barcelona, Spain. Again cost prohibitive.

I have a friend that housesits on the west coast of the U.S. and in Portugal. She’s told me so many good stories about her journeys that I started looking towards Lisbon.

Okay, so a bus goes from Caen to Lisbon via a route through Paris. As it turns out, it’s the same bus I would have used to get to Paris for my flight home.

Well, can my flight be changed from Paris to Lisbon? Why yes, yes it can. Okay, but can I find an affordable place to stay in Lisbon?

Yes indeed. Did you know that you can search for OMG places on airbnb.com? As it turns out there is a hobbit house you can rent, but I couldn’t figure out how to get to the affordable place because it was not very close to Lisbon.

What I did find was a boat. Like a real live boat. It is located near Lisbon, close to public transportation, and it’s affordable.

I rearranged everything, canceled, reworked, submitted, and dudes, I’m going to Lisbon, Portugal! I figure I’m never going to have this opportunity again and if I didn’t do it, I’d kick my own ass for being anxiety-ridden enough to maintain.

Courage is feeling the fear and doing it anyway. No guts, no glory. It’s my intellectual way of saying, “Hey ya’ll, watch this.” We’ll find out what happens.

Downside, the bus trip is like 32 hours. Bonus, I’ll be traveling through a lot of France, across Spain, and into Portugal. Did I forget to mention that some friends from ORUUC, my church back in Tennessee, moved to Portugal last December? OH! AND! They happen to live in the same neighborhood as the hobbit house. Maybe I’ll get lucky and get to see it, but I KNOW I’ll be lucky enough to see them,

We’re already in talks for me to train down to them and spend a couple days. Dudes, the world is a beautiful place.

May peace be with you wherever you are. You are loved!