I sometimes blog about some of the great elements of life on the island of Terceira, and occassionally been accused of glorifying things here.
I plead guilty.
This past month has been very frustrating, primarily attributed to cultural differences, legal differences, and business differences. Let me share a few of my frustrations, which I do not believe are unique to just my wife and I.
I decided to buy a motorcyle to replace the one I left in the states. Since I’m older, traffic laws are often “vague” here, cows and cow droppings in the streets every day in many places. My wife was strongly opposed to the idea, so I struck out on my own. I promised I wouldn’t use any savings, so I located several bikes in Germany, Italy, France, and finally found several in Portugal. Short story is that I have finally locataed one and now have invested more than a month in accomplishing the paperwork, and still will wait for one weeks to get it here on the island. I’m dying to get it:)
Another frustration, we had a small fender-bender with the car, right around the corner from where Sofia grew up. She was backing out of a parking space while another resident was backing out of an alley across from the parking spot. We collided in the middle of the intersection. Fortunately for me, I wasn’t driving, I was watching traffic right and she was checking left and using the rear view camera. The other guy was backing out. I immediately checked my wife was okay and then jumped out to check for injuries in the other car. I said “let’s call the police” and she said “we don’t do that here…we just share insurance information.” Then we drove away. He said we hit him, our insurance agent explained that if we were at fault, they would pay for his damage and we would have to pay for our damage. There was another scenario where both of our insurance companies would pay 50/50. So I’m not sure where this will end, but believe me, like many things in the island, it will take a while. Weeks of investigation by an adjuster and someone in Lisbon has to read his report and decide what to pay. Next time we’ll call the police to file a report on the spot…tradition be damned:)
So while you wait, no Waiting Room Musac, no old magazines, no sterile environment. It’s Terceira, where you run into friends, dine on various things from octopus sandwiches to cheese burgers, where the wine is great and the scenery is beyond great. And according to the wife, the ocean is the most perfect therapy for relaxing whle you are waiting.
Nearly every morning now we grab our Ham and Cheese sandwhiches (Sande Mista..each bakery uses a different, but always fresh-baked) bread, an expresso for me and a meo-da-lait (half coffee and half milk) for the boss, and then hit the beach. After laying out a towel on a nearly-deserted beach, we hit the water to the tune of Sofia’s wild sounds of enthusiasm (“this is heaven”) and then lay on the sand for an hour or so. We nap, reminesce, and plan the day’s activities.
Sorry. I can’t be completely skeptical or completely zealous. Retired life here is a two-edged sword, I suppose like everywhere. We have worked hard to get this choice, we made it, and we live with the consequences, good and bad. I expect most retirees do the same.
So retired life on Terceira is probablly justlike everwhere else….Life!