“Neighbors” throughout the world is a diverse term. As a child, we had Nigerian neighbors who had never seen snow (and we’re not very good at snowball fights:)); stationed in many nations I’ve enjoyed neighbors of different cultures. learned more about them, and love many of them to this day. Here in Terceira, our neighbors and friends include cows, chickens, and donkeys. Yes, we have great American friends who have lived the world over and have great love everywhere they go for donkeys, including the two they have here living in a field nearby. Now they want three, and after we’ve seen baby donkeys grow, we can share their excitement as they bring in a “gentleman caller” and try to get a baby donkey.
Courting is different in the Azores! I can attest to many of the differences from before I married a magnificent woman, so the protocols must work. So we recently “peeked in” on the couple and, like everywhere, relationships seem to be a bit of a roller coaster:)
In the U.S.A. for almost 3 decades, house plants weren’t always her “forte,” but in the front and back yard of Casa do Sonhos, the wife makes everything outside colorful and bright. For hours, she and our wonderful neighbor talk, laugh, and dig around in the soil to make the entire end of the street glorious. (The local government is supposed to do this, but, well, I guess they haven’t gotten around to our street yet:)) No matter, these ladies absolutely love getting dirt under their nails, have fun doing it, and the many visitors here especially enjoy the beauty, aroma, and all their hard work!
Here’s just a taste, but pictures don’t do it justice!
Even as the Regional Government of the Azores struggles to keep pandemic cases at a minimum (on Terceira we’re very conscientious and cases often are zero) more emphasis on tourism anticipates a return of visitors.
Tourism, interrupted by the pandemic, is expected to return, both good news and bad news for the residents of this peaceful volcanic “rock.” Tourism has, and will, bring tourists by plane, yacht, and cruise ships to enjoy the tranquility and natural beauty. This beauty is enhanced by warm, wonderful people who welcome visitors. Those same welcoming residents will also cope with the influx of people, rental car drivers, and crowded beach restaurants. Such is life:)
Post-pandemic springtime encourages returns to the hiking trails for our many retirees and their family and friends. These trails, which honeycomb the island, are constantly being improved, enhanced, and safer. Last weekend under perfect skies, about a dozen friends (citizens of Portugal, U.S., United Kingdom, and Germany) all explored a new trail with added WC, campsites, parking, picnic, and a groomed path. From the picnic grounds high above crashing waves, through forests, cow pastures, down to fishing overlooks, and back to parking lots, the 5 kilometer trail was magnificent.
After a couple hours on the trail, a short drive to Altares on the north side and a favorite eatery, Caneta, with an old-world atmosphere, fantastic dishes with home-grown beef, many bottles of wine, and great friends.
Reality Check: Retirement in the Azores has some ups and downs. A weekend hike through forests and along the coast is definitely one of the highs. The scenery is great, the activity is healthy, the history is amazing, and the photography is flawless. Pandemic be damned, good friends practicing social distancing, masks, and safe dining procedures, I can’t imagine how you could ask for a better day!
Good news, bad news. You can defend yourself with a two-edged sword, but you can also cut yourself. With a good fire, you can heat, cook and see after dark; or you can burn yourself or burn down a home!
Weather here has been vicious. Four days straight of rain, winds to 34 knots (39 MPH or 63 Kph), winds so strong it was tough walking across the veranda for firewood for the stove. (Make no mistake; I love the Azorean weather!)
Here’s what it looked like most of the time on the trees on the far side of our little backyard (more impact if you crank up the sound!)
So you know what’s coming next: It’s an American right to complain about everything! Now that the storm has passed, the grass is high, some poor schmuck has to go out and mow the grass, bring in more firewood, clean the ashes from the stove, and wash the truck, etc.
Good news, the grass is very very green, the ocean is very very blue, and the view from the kitchen is relaxing, tranquil, pastoral, and downright beautiful. After four days in the house, all the cleaning is done (if you know the boss, you KNOW that will never happen:)), the laundry is done, the honey-do list is complete (I wish) and there is nothing on Netflix we haven’t watched in any language.
Yes, I’m an American first (Portuguese second) and so I complain. It’s my right, I’ve earned it (25-plus years of government service) and now I’m exercising my right. But I was raised that if you can’t something nice, don’t say anything. So, Mom and Dad, rest assured, I still follow your teachings. There are many nice things, and after most difficult times, there is a rainbow after each storm. I love my rainbows here:)
After a morning walk along the beach, it’s time to face the day. “Face the day” after retirement has different connotations for me; always the usual cleanup after breakfast looking out kitchen windows, and often working around the new house, which sometimes leads me to think of family back in the states. So as we tackle some “less than exciting tasks” around the house, I wonder if the next generation will appreciate our hard work?
I spent most of my adult life working in jobs where my work had an immediate impact on someone else. I’ve had to face a transitionary period when I realized no one really sees an impact on what I spend most of my energy on…or really cares about it one way or the other. That realization, for me anyway, is a significant adjustment.
So when I buckle down to tackle yet another task, I find myself wondering if future generations will appreciate our hard work. Planting trees in the yard (today it was two bright red flowering bushes which resemble bottle brushes and are aptly named something which translates loosely to ‘bright red bottle brush bushes”); repairing wind-blown screens around the mango tree, the avocado tree, etc. Other tasks this week included greasing all of the shutters, doors, windows, and locks throughout the house; weeding, collecting rocks and moving them out of the gardens and yard (this is, after all, a volcanic island in the ocean).
As I’m struggling to get the dirt off my jeans and clean up the trowels and rakes, I’m searching for truths in my last 40 years…did I raise my daughters to appreciate what we’re building for them? When my grandchildren visit the island, will they appreciate fresh avocados, mangoes, and persimmons? Will they enjoy the fragrance of the flowers we’ve planted and nurtured? Will they even be cognizant of how much work it is to maintain all the steel and aluminium elements of the house in gale-force winds all winter, rain blowing horizontally, the sun baking down all summer? Probably not.
So, I open a cold beer and find myself asking, are we doing this to ourselves? Investment? Battling Boredom? Keeping ‘the warden’ happy? Physical activity to combat aging? All good, selfish reasons. But under the surface, that faint vein of introspection…did we raise our children to appreciate what we’ve done so they would enjoy it? Who knows.
Such intellectual meanderings keep my brain happy while I’m pulling rocks or weeds out of the yard.
Most mornings and evenings I find myself peacefully enjoying the beautiful view and occasionally contemplating mortality. Invariably, I refocus on reality, hoping that I’ve done all I can to raise a family that does occasionally appreciate our efforts, and then re-invigorate myself with the mantra I’ve adopted to face life and the pandemic…”It is what it is.” Then I force my aging joints off the stone wall where I’m sitting, head into the house, kiss my darling bride, and smile to myself. It is, after all, time to get ready to “Face another day.”
Less chill, less dew on the grass, more invigorating sunrises, more vocal birds, the island gets ready for summer. Even as Terceira spends another month with no Covid cases, the sun rises on a diligent population working hard to meet the demands of a locked-down economy. Tourism is virtually non-existent, friends who drive taxis and run tours are putting in more hours, re-inventing themselves to take care of families, and everyone is wearing masks. Many stores have limits to the number of customers inside at once, and tables in many restaurants are taped off. Bullfights, sporting events, and festivals are cancelled or postponed.
But on a small island, generations have adjusted, made the most of whatever situation comes along, and mostly keeps their sense of humor and their faith. When you choose to retire in a different culture, you adapt; we’re helping our neighbors and keeping our sense of humor.
Traditionally, in every part of the world I’ve lived and travelled, a sunrise brings hope for a new day, a day with more opportunities, more prosperity, and more time to spend with friends and family. Our little paradise in the middle of the Atlantic is no exception…everyone does what they can to help their neighbors and look forward to yet more sunrises.
Morning constitutionals, or walks along the sunlit boardwalk in Praia Da Vitoria, are always relaxing, healthful, stress-reducing, and educational. The government has installed numerous historical explanations of the city’s growth and contributions to the Acores, Portugal, and Europe. This 1832 illustration shows a busy port with mountains surrounding the bay…and our Casa da Sonhos is one of those mountains.
A warm sun, a slight breeze, the sounds of waves breaking slowly on the rocks and sandy beaches, the friendly neighbors walking and the heartfelt greetings of “Boa Dia” represents a great stress-reducing exercise.
After many months, Sunday our friend Jerry invited us to hear his friend Gustaaf play Harpsichord and the 1788 Pipe Organ built into the church in Angra do Heroismo. Gustaff was joined by friends on the flute and cello.
The day was awesome! About 20 people (aged from about 5 years old to about 65 years old) spent an hour sitting (with masks) in the choir loft of this magnificent church which is incorporated now into the Musee da Angra do Heroismo. After the event, we had a sumptuous Chinese dinner across the street and drove home through the green mountains under a bright blue sky. The only thing that could have improved this magnificent day was…well, nothing!
I’ve always loved harpsichord music, and Gustaaf was fantastic. He is also the resident organist at Igreja de Nossa a Senhora da Guia, the church built in 1672, nearly destroyed by the 1980 earthquake, and now restored; so Gustaaf played some Bach just to give us a thrill. He also played several selections on the harpsichord, (in my humble opinion one of the most underrated musical instruments of the world). The flute and cello accompaniments were excellent and added even greater depth.
Following the concert and some pleasant visits with old friends (still in masks) we ventured across the street to a Chinese restaurant (you have to know it’s there, no signs on the streets of this UNESCO Heritage City). The last time we had dined here was several years ago with Sofia’s father and his wife after Mass at the Angra Cathedral. Since he passed last month, the dinner was a bittersweet memory, but the food was great. (Yes, I ate too much!)
Just to be clear, there are some challenges to life in the Azores, life in retirement, life in a country you’re not used to yet, and life in a pandemic. Challenges have always attracted me. But last Sunday’s challenges were easy to overcome, and more importantly, just about heavenly! Great friends, great food, great music, and fantastic history…all enjoyed with social distance, masks, and appropriate safety. I just don’t see how it can get much better than this!
Nancy asked me if we had goats on the island. We’ve seen a few here, a few there. One “herd” even grazes on the shooting range while we’re sighting in air rifles. “Yes,” I explain, “we have a few.”
Monday the weather was beautiful, a spring-like day (between days of rain and winter winds) and we stopped at the shooting range to check some measurements. After I closed the gate, we waited in traffic as hundreds of goats, old ones, baby kids (they are the really cute ones), dogs, and shepherds (?) brought them from the fields in the woods and mountains to graze on the grass along the highway. On Terceira, most things have a basis in nature (when you’re thousands of miles from either mainland, cohabitating with nature is a watchword for everything before any technology is applied). Thus hours of mowing grass, fuel, pollution, and noise are avoided while keeping local goats and farmers employed and happy.
Yes, Nancy, we have goats! They are cute, harmless (unless you call traffic delays harmful – we’re retired!) and natural. So we put the truck in neutral, wait patiently, enjoy the dogs working, the goats exhibiting their individual (and herd) mentalities, and wait for the road to clear.
By the way, natural selection includes a food chain. Goats (Cabritos) is on many menus as well:) They are cute, abundant, and tasty!
Winter is hard on the beaches in Praia (which means “beach”) and the winds, sands, tides, and storms, deposit a lot more sand even inside the bay. So each year about this time, the Camara da Praia da Vitoria (City of Praia da Vitoria) brings in trucks, tractors, and excavation equipment to redistribute the sand and carve out a pleasant beach for the year.
Some say it’s the first sign on spring.
Some poor schmucks like to agree, but instead know that “Spring Cleaning” is the first sign of spring. So when the sun comes out, the winds die down (slightly), and “outdoor dining” becomes tenable, one unnamed individual labors at power washing the veranda, getting the Terra Trikes out and oiled up, and cleaning cobwebs off the eaves.
I know, it could be worse. I haven’t shoveled any snow in several years. Moving the furniture on smooth tile floors is easy and painless. The windows have power shutters, so cleaning them isn’t too time consuming, and honestly makes everything look a lot brighter. Mowing the grass is more than physical exercise, it’s intellectually challenging, with three “smaller” yards separated by tiled cement, two of them are “triangular” and so I experiment with the most efficient way to cut them and empty the clippings. (So my definition of “intellectually-challenging” has evolved since days of military tactics and community and media relations, and snow plowing:))
Either way, we also have more time to get together with friends and family in our relatively Covid-free environment, share some chats, wine, and more than enough food. Way more than enough. (A wonderful Italian neighbor just dropped off a pot of Cabbage Soup which smells fantastic:))
So as spring comes, we welcome some changes (NOT spring cleaning), but watching the sand disappear on the beach. We prepare for the joys of the change of seasons! And that is the best part of island life today. Relaxing with friends, fine wine, and anticipation of next month….
Some college classes continue to reaffirm life; My Michigan State University Anthropology 101 class taught “How a culture handles death tells us a great deal about that culture.” This week this was reaffirmed by the culture in my adopted home…a great man lost his battle with cancer, and my friends and family banded together to say farewell to him in the style he lived…with love, support, and great food!
Traditions here are different; they don’t embalm, schedule, and arrange things well in advance. When the call came that his breathing was changing, we took the lunch out of oven and rushed to the hospital. (After months of expectations and seeing him suffer, it was with mixed emotions; but it is always painful). Procedurally they selected a casket, dressed him in his vestments as a lay minister, and friends and family stayed with him until midnight, then returned the next morning, had a mass at 2 p.m. and buried him with his first wife in the same grave we wash weekly.
Tough times call for tough measures, and many friends came out, not only to pay last respects to a long-time friend and neighbor, but to bring food, comfort, and hundreds of stories about Tony to his grieving family. We knew he was a great friend to many; I for one had no idea how many.
I met many friends again, some I hadn’t seen since our wedding many years ago. Some we see nearly every week; family we see nearly every day. We all had our thoughts and prayers, but we all had each other for support. That’s the way he raised his family, and that’s the way every family here is raised. So embracing a new culture isn’t always hard, its sometimes extremely comforting in tough times.
We all miss him already; but he taught us all to move on with our lives, help each other, and remember him. Hell, I miss him already!
Today it hit…not just a Storm, Intermittent Sunshine, Rainbows galore. “It” was the big Sixty-Five (65) years of age.
Friends from all over the world sent notes, congratulations, missals, messages, jokes, more jokes, jokes in German, Portuguese, French, English. Even heard from an old friend now in Nigeria. Two things transcend all these languages:
1. the numerals 6 and 5. 65.
2. the label “old.”
Guess now I must be officially old. I have many great friends and colleagues who far surpass that age. I am often prone to quote Indiana Jones and quip “It’s not the years, it’s the mileage.” I contend — and almost everyone who knows my history — I have a LOT of miles on me:)
To celebrate, my darling wife (she points out that she is now 56 and I’m 65, and our actual birth years perfectly coincide with our ages) graciously took me to dinner at Buzios in Porto Martins. Now just a stone’s throw from our place, it was also the location of our very first date years (and years) ago. We had a wonderful dinner. I didn’t eat as much…I’m older now:)
Wiser? Guessing not. I opted to wear a white shirt and ordered Vinho Tinto (red wine) and pasta with shrimp and tomato sauce. So, no, not the wisest thing I’ve ever done. Kind of messy, and I’m hoping the stains come out of the shirt.
So older, yes. Wiser? Not so much! But feeling full:)
We minimize time with family and friends, often just hunkering down with a movie and a fire in the stove as the wind and rains pound our Casa Da Sonhos. But when we wake to a Sunday with Sun (actually sunshine in Praia, although the Serra da Cume mountain ridge behind is is still shrouded in clouds) it’s time to embrace our “minimal contact” while Europe battles yet more strains of the virus.
So we wash the bedding and hang it to dry. It’s Sunday, so it’s time to teach me to make my favorite Portuguese dish…Sopa da Cenoura (Carrot Soup). It was the first dish I ever ate on the island (Rhonda took me to Restaurante Atlanico by the Aeroporto in 1990 the night I arrived at Lajes) and I’ve been a fan ever since. No one makes it better than Sofia’s mother and now Sofia (she pays me to say that:)) and now I’m learning how to make it…hopefully with just the right “bite” of Massa Malagueta (great homemade spicy stuff:))
After lunch, I’ll be going for my walk on the shore and then enjoy a nice steak dinner, with soup and rice, red wine, and a pleasant move with my darling, after a call or message to check on daughters in the states. At one point (or many) during the day, we’ll turn to each other, hug and smile, and remark…”if you have to survive a worldwide pandemic, this is the best way to do it!” So far, knock on wood, we’re surviving well.
So when I tell friends I’ve “retired to an island” they invariably hear I’m “living on a tropical island” and conjure up images of sun, sand, beaches, and delectable adult beverages topped by little umbrellas. Not always true of Terceira.
Winter here is usually days of high winds and constant rain…punctuated occasionally by rainbows as the sun breaks through for a moment or two. My greatest dichotomy? Sun is out, so wash the truck. Soon as I’m finished washing the truck or mowing the grass, rain starts. Go inside, check wind strength on the meter, and start a fire in the stove, then read or watch TV. Often mix a drink:) Tough life, huh?
Either way, a bad day on Terceira with family and friends is better than a good day in DC traffic. Mostly!
Terceira is categorized as a sub-tropical island, but sometimes the umbrellas are over head, buffeted by high winds … and sometimes they are in the drinks! Cheers.
So cardiologists and medical experts seem to agree with my wife, and she is not making those big bucks. Since I got back to the island, appeared after quarantine, and returned to her kitchen, she thinks eating fish, fruit, veggies, and walking every day will make me live longer. So I’ve “volunteered” to live longer…strengthening my heart, my mind, and my legs with morning walks.
Honestly, I can’t complain (that doesn’t mean I don’t!) when morning walks along the coast feature friendly greetings, occasionally warm greetings from puppies also out walking, a coffee at one end or the other, and best of all, wild wind and waves. Recently a storm brought waves crashing over the breakwalls, over the sidewalks, roads, and yes, even the occasional pedestrian. It was AWESOME! Anyone can walk in the sun, but a 40-knot wind and 4-meter waves…that’s for me.
So you see, not only do I have a better lifestyle, a longer lease on life (Covid permitting) and some delicious seafood and fresh fruits and veggies for lunch (still have to have some red wine with lunch!) I also increase the expectation that medical visits will decrease and I’ll meet more friendly folks on walks.
Now, if I could just convince her and the doctors that Gin is a clear liquid and also healthy…:) Meantime, see you at the beach.
I do try. Honest. I try to eat the local dishes, speak and write the local dialect, even work around the house to clean and shine the way she and her family have done it for generations. But I’m so disappointed…she doesn’t like the way I put clothes on the line. So she asked me to not help her hang clothes.
Oh darn, I guess I’ll never get the hang of it….pun intended. So if you see her hanging clothes and need to see me…I’m inside drinking a beer:) Or putting the clothes into the dryer!
Returning at Christmas (Natal) in Praia da Vitoria, some things haven’t changed since 1679, other things are amazingly different. The church is still beautiful, intricate, very hallowed. It’s also empty, as are the streets. Few pedestrians on the fussgangerzone (Pedestrian zone) and they are mostly wearing masks. Traditional warm greetings of Boas Festas (literally Good Celebration) are now largely replaced by a semi-curt nod; only the eyes if you’re close enough to see them relay warmth. Largely the wonderment of the season is replaced by the trepidation of “What’s tomorrow bringing?” When family gathers (many times, but only up to 10 at a time) discussions of “What’s happening in America?” and “What do you hear of things on mainland Portugal?”
One of the first stops on returning the island is always Matriz da Praia where we married many many many years ago. A visit to the cemitario to pay respects to friends, family and always Padre Candido, the wonderful priest who married us (and baptized Sofia, and confirmed, etc…). For me, I guess it’s a way of re-establishing my roots in my adopted home; it always works to get my mind back into island life.
And it helps get ready for this weird Christmas season…the knowledge that each of the generations before have not had Covid, but they have all faced challenges and triumphed. As will we!!!!
Wanted to spend some time with my offspring in the states. Left two days before Thanksgiving…2019. Had wonderful holidays, did some travelling (never enough), visited friends and made planes to visit more, then the world changed and we found ourselves “locked down” in the States. So we adjusted; got a couple of part-time jobs, got an apartment in Alexandria, and spent most of our time watching Netflix from the comfort of our little futon. Occasionally I would help out in my old office in the Department of the Interior, go grocery shopping with one daughter, meander up the liquor store, and wait for the world to change back. Making calls, video chats, Zoom meetings, and the like…some local, and some long distance!
So it was a different Rat Race, but we evolved until we could return to our island paradise, family, friends (all wearing masks now)! So we’re back in Porto Martins, sitting on our couch, wearing masks, watching Netflix, occasionally going grocery shopping, and calling friends and family to see how everyone how everyone is weathering….still some calls are local and some are long distance.
Saved considerable amounts of money on this lockdown…since I’m High-Risk for the virus, I didn’t want to risk exposure to a barber when they did open things up. Some say “it’s the real you” and others say “Arghhhh, get a haircut!” Maybe when things settle down after the vaccines are out:)
Anyone been tracking progress knows that we came back to America to visit family and friends, ended up getting caught in Virginia during lock down, and until the world is safer, we’re not going back to the island. Good friends and a good reputation got both of us our old jobs back, and we’re “settled” in with some camping gear we left in storage for family and what we could bring in our three suitcases. Now we’re working part-time, watching Netflix, and waiting for the situation to change. We know some people who have made it back to the island, some who were turned around at the airport. We’re in good shape, got jobs and friends, a nearby liquor store, and some work to keep our minds busy. So yes, we’re back into the “rat race,” the rules are changing almost on a daily basis, but it’s a much slower race!
Missing Home! Yesterday Air Azores started flights back to the island for the first time in months. First flights were filled, we hear. This also on the heels of news that the U.S. is not on the list allowing visitors to Europe, and the slightly confusing reports that the Azores may or may not play by the same rules. We’ll wait and see what options develop; we miss home and we also love so many friends and family on the island that we have no desire to endanger any of them. Meanwhile, we isolate, watch TV, and drink Aguar Dente!