It had been a long time. A very long time since I had travelled outside of the United States. The 2024 election was just days away and while I felt compelled to remain at home since I was uneasy to leave at this pivotal time, I did. I had voted so my obligation and responsibility had been completed. A privilege I exercise, always. I felt the need to stay home and hold my breath along with my like-minded fellow citizens, but I soon found myself boarding an overnight flight out of Logan.
A year in planning now in place. My daughter Emily had put together an extraordinary itinerary. She had worked hard to optimize this adventure. My wringing hands would have to work overtime 3 plus thousand miles away.
There was a time when we lived across the pond and travelled often. Easily and without much preparation. This time and being that much older the details seemed more extensive. Traveling with my daughter and her family felt exciting. Two littles aged 4 and 15 months. Granddaughters having their first European adventure, and I would bear witness to this new experience. Granddaughters. What will they remember of our great adventure? Time will tell but I know its imprint on me lives in my heart forever.
We arrived in Lisboa. Winding through the narrow streets. Climbing to new heights while our driver handily and agilely navigated the oncoming and randomly parked cars. We learned of the devastating earthquake of 1755. The Great Earthquake of Lisbon. A tsunami with waves reaching upwards of 20 feet. 8.5 on the Richter scale. A city rebuilt.
Warmly greeted at our first stop and temporary home for the next 3 nights. Our initial impression confirmed what many others had told me prior to our trip. I had heard time and time again how special Portugal was and I was quickly becoming a believer…
I sat on a soft gray fabric couch monitoring our sea of luggage while the details of our stay were being sorted out and taxes paid. I had an uninterrupted street view as I glanced through double glass doors.
Graffiti splashed across the stucco and stone buildings. A harsh black painted lightening bolt. Bold and vibrantly colored letters spelled out a message to an unknown recipient. Pop art, pillow letters reminiscent of my grammar school doodles that covered my Girl Scout handbook and filled my notebook margins in the late 60’s. Messages of love and hate coexisted yet juxtaposed. Painted in an illustrated fashion. Expressive. I tried to imagine the how and why’s but choose instead just “to be” and drink in this fascinating environment. Nearly as soon as we arrived at our splendid hotel were we out the door and on the streets in search of the new and exciting.
Food carts with the aroma of roasted chestnuts wafted into the unseasonably warm air. I tell Emily about how her grandfather loved eating chestnuts and how I remember the odd occasion when my mother would make them for him. Just a shared moment that may not have ever happened without this wonderful prompt. Stores and restaurants had us visually busy as we darted in and out of inviting locations. We chatted eagerly about all we saw and plans we were making…
Terraced hills. Terracotta and white stucco with the occasional pale yellow or painted pink structures. Clusters of homes tucked into the hillside. Villages. The drive was made easy as I imagined the people that inhabited the homes and communities captivating my imagination as we travelled from Lisboa to Sintra.
We were to visit a fairy tale castle. My 4-year-old granddaughter Belle asked about the princesses that lived in the castle. Imagining the mythic characters of Elsa and Anna my daughter gently managed her expectations. A palace appeared nearly in the heavens yet visible from the highway. The National Palace of Pena. The legacy of Ferdinand II, the King-Artist. Once again, we travelled spiraling up and around the many tight turns till, we reached a brightly colored palace with far-reaching views …
From Sintra to the Waves at Nazare. Surfing legends are made here we are told. Boasting 80-foot waves. Eager we were to believe the magnificence of the stories while we feasted on a calm curling ocean under cobalt blue skies. The caution of a wild ocean after an intense storm with surfers at the ready. Hard to imagine this is the same Atlantic Ocean that touches our Cape Cod coastline in a much tamer fashion. Connected we were. Delighted by thoughts of surfer’s anticipation as they wait for the weather to tumultuously shift. The allure of beauty intertwined with danger…what is it about we humans?
Coimbra next. We passed the university with students sporting black gowns walking to and fro. A scene right out of Harry Potter we giggle. We were told JK Rowling was influenced by this university and wrote part of her series while visiting Portugal. I can’t confirm or deny it, but I appreciated the possibility.
Drinking white port in Douro Valley. A wedding at a vineyard in just a couple of days. A best friend of my son-in-law was to wed, and Jon would co-officiate. Attending a wedding at a vineyard so spectacular and magical that it felt dreamlike. The weather warm and the breeze soft. In attendance were friends and family from around the globe. Music played, children laughed, ran and danced. The food…the food!
I sat on a wooden bench on the perimeter of the lawn overlooking the many acres of vines. Grapevines by the mile. Grapes by the bunches in deep purple hues. A reassuring breeze softened my gaze while I momentarily closed my eyes and tilted my face up to catch the last morsel of warmth from the setting sun. I let worry wash away and instead soaked in the embracing surrounding sounds of happiness.
A food tour in Porto our next stop. Walking upwards of 10 miles sampling the best eclairs to custard tarts. Fish and more fish for my family while I enjoyed vegetable soup. Simplicity of ingredients but rich in flavors blended like velvet. The bread. Oh, the bread…
Buses in Porto whizzed by brushing my forearm as I strayed a little to close while walking on narrow sidewalks as we navigated fellow pedestrians. I remembered I was no longer on a country road in Vermont. Far from my world…
Streets cobbled. Black and white sidewalk tiles underfoot.Fashioned in shapes of waves. A vertigo of footsteps. Uncertain rhymical footing was that of my imagination only. The rise and fall of the waves were not real just a clever artistic allusion created. Languages swirled around me. Energy. Excitement. People moving feverishly to reach their destination. I had missed this…
The mainstream adventures engaged me, but it was the out of the blue encounter that truly delighted. Jon and I passed a small jewelry store with beautiful displays of gold lacy filigree jewelry in the windows. We were running a bit late for an appt we had but decided to go in. Indigo Jewels in Porto. We were immediately greeted in this beautiful small shop. A friendly smile and an eagerness to help. I found a small pair of drop earrings that have grown more special each day. Two other women soon appeared as the transaction continued. The jewelry soon became a backdrop. I was asked if I was on Instagram, and I mentioned that I was and that professionally I was a painter. My phone was swiftly lifted out of my hand, and I was instantly discussing my work. The ooohs and the ahhhs were more special than I can articulate. We didn’t need the same language to speak the same language. I left my three new friends feeling lighter and happier than I could recall. Redeemed that people are indeed kind and loving…accepting.
“But Portugal has a peaceful feel about it. I sit on the terrace overlooking the vineyard there and I feel cut off from the world. You need that sort of thing.” – Cliff Richard