Category: Azorean Life

Busy month for news and ‘discussions’ around the kitchen. War and the possible threat of cyber warfare affecting banks and stores, news stories about evacuations of our neighboring island due to volcanic tremors on Sao Jorge, and ever-rising prices. So naturally, we’re trying to adjust and support those we can.

The island does business differently, and adjustment I still have not marshalled and don’t know if I ever will. So when we decided it was time to cut down on grass-cutting (yeah!) and make sure we have fresher herbs and kitchen fare, my darling went to work. For more dirt, she called the lady where she gets eggs; their friend dropped off about 4 cubic meters of good earth for about $30.

We had met Paulo about a year ago and he seemed a hard worker adept at gardens, both flower and vegetable. First decent weather we had, he came over on his scooter, surveyed our plans, the dirt, seeds, and gave us a list of what he wanted to do the job. He’s been out there since 8 a.m. moving dirt, making a fence, and moving flowers to another part of the yard.

Meanwhile, for lunch, we’re having freshly-caught fish from a relative. I sharpened their kitchen knives for them, and they wanted to give something back, so they dropped off the fresh Pargo. Needless to say, my wonderful wife (the “boss” in English, the “Chef” in Portuguese, and “the Chef” in English) whistled up a great lunch. (Hey c’mon, I can do more than blog, I also cut up the fish, the onions, carrots, and helped with the potatoes (which we also got from a neighbor for whom I sharpened some farm and yard tools). Against this backdrop of activity, we waved and hollered to our farmer friends who were in the field below our yard milking cows:)

Our neighbor (who ran down to his brother’s house to borrow a rake for Paulo) also mentioned that the local news was that many homes near the now-downsized Air Force base was opening many homes used for housing American families when I was stationed at the base for use by both Ukrainian refugee families and families evacuated from the nearby island. So we’re making calls to see if we can help with that “resettlement” effort in any way.

Retired life on an island doesn’t seem to be very dull lately. Recent winter days of rain and wind (lots of both) encourage lounging, setting by the wood stove, and reading or watching TV (American, Portuguese, French, German, and some Swedish — that one needs subtitles). We still miss being near DC sometimes, miss the great restaurants, daughters and old friends. I have also been very active lately in supporting some old colleagues at Department of Interior with some computer and database assistance. We also offer our meager assistance and moral support to friends here facing cancer, heart problems, and ‘age-related’ injuries.

So, as I’ve said many times, retiring to an island in the Atlantic is not retiring to a paradise. We’ve consciously traded some problems (traffic and parking here are a lot easier; helping daughters deal with relationships and professional advancement) etc. But here the weather is tough, world issues directly impact family and friends here, and preparing to proactively face new challenges remains a high priority. Don’t be fooled. If you move to an island, prepare to face a different lifestyle, different problems, and continue to “feed” your support structure. I predict that if you do that, you’ll have a magnificent, satisfying experience!!!

Another gray, windy, rainy day at Casa Da Sonhos, so it’s time to tackle yet another retirement task. Years after the paperwork, the move, the cleanups, the cleaning (perhaps I should say Cleaning ad Infinitum) etc., I’ve tackled one of the final tasks.

The End of an Era.

Final admission to myself that I won’t be going back to the office soon. Final admission that the life of this retired guy on the island of Terceira is getting healthier, exercising more, losing weight (nearly a hundred pounds) and ‘living the good life.’

Yes, I cleaned out the closet.

Colorful shirts, ties, and old uniforms from days as a warrior, bureaucrat, IT geek, nerd, motorcycle guru, photo freak, and hiker/camper. They have all moved on to new homes in the neighborhood, some destined for folks we know, some who need colorful scraps for sewing projects, and probably some for oil cloths in the workshop. Most still have their final dry cleaning tags in them. Many have memories; this is the tie I wore on my first interview at the newspaper, this is the shirt and tie I wore to my niece’s wedding, this is the coat and tie I wore to my daughter’s graduation. All great memories. All a patchwork of great times in a busy, varied career.

Now that chapter has closed. I don’t need souvenirs, just memories, good and bad. The closet is now better prepared for my new life. Retirement. I have a suit and tie for weddings, one for funerals, and a standby outfit for the unknown. (For decades, I kept a suit and tie in a locker at work or a Class A uniform for when I’d get calls to meet a plane, brief a general, etc. Now, i keep one more handy that fits, more as homage to those days which helped me advance in my chosen career). And of course, the closet is well-stocked with sandals, shorts, and swimming trunks.

Just to make me feel better about the shift, the warden has agreed to a few “lightly-worn” outfits to visit the tailor in Lajes, shorten the pants, take in the shirts to reduce that ‘tent’ effect, etc. Never know when we’ll be called upon to represent our country, impress a neighbor or elected official, or otherwise be “socially acceptable.”

But mostly it’s another step toward embracing a new lifestyle in a distant land. With a little luck, I’ll still occasionally bump into some of these good old duds, smile at the Azorean wearing them, wish a “Boa Dia,” and compliment him on his attire:)

Hope it serves him as well as it did me…it got me to this retired life.

We’re often accused of retiring to an island paradise, and it is. However the winter months (January through March for you southerners) rarely bring us calm seas, swimming on sandy beaches, natural swimming pools, and pleasant breezes. As February wanes, temperatures in the evening drop to low teens (Celsius) and our Heritage wood stove takes the edge off the chill.

I think I am getting more acclimated to the island. I accept the winter chills, rains, high winds, and empty beaches as part of life, just like the thousands of Azoreans who are born and raised here. Charles Darwin, when he visited Terceira on his way home aboard the HMS Beagle, recorded the utilitarian lifestyle of residents here….they enjoy life, make the most of the work and fun, and accept the weather, the seasons, and enjoy family, friends, and faith. So here I am, retired and settled here, and surrounded by ancestors of Darwin’s subjects.

So as I build a fire each evening (shades of Boy Scouts and Camp Northwoods with Leroy et al building campfires, splitting wood, sharpening knives and axes) I am learning to quit comparing to other things and places in my life. This is where I am, this is what I’ve chosen, and this is what I will enjoy. I don’t compare it with life in the greater Washington DC area, rural and urban life in Michigan, and a small cabin near International Falls Minnesota in the winter. Like my new neighbors, accept life, make the best of it, and enjoy it.

For example, I’ve learned yet another thing…having a weather station that measures rainfall, winds and temperatures hasn’t turned out to be terribly useful. I’ve learned that weather stations are tantamount to comparisons; other days, other locations, or conditions. I’m reminded of my family’s great consternation when I was touring on motorcycles throughout North America, South America, Europe and Africa. I would watch the weather before I rode…much to the amazement of friends and family. “You’re going to go, even through storms, snow, hurricanes, and blazing hot deserts, so why watch the weather reports?” Took me about 50 years, but I can finally see their point. I would tell my “pillion” riders…”if it’s raining, don’t think about being at home in front of a fireplace. You’ll be miserable.”

I was right! (Gasp:)) Like a winter day on Terceira, I have learned that if you compare a cold, rainy, day to a tropical paradise on a beach, you’ll likely be miserable. But when I look at the great friends, family, food, drink, grass and trees blowing, waves crashing, then I’m happy.

I like being happy in retirement!

Breakfast as a bright sun wakes us, we are greeted by the view of the cruise ship Ventura, with 3,000 passengers, 1,200 crew, and more amenities than we have on the island.

Even though evenings are slightly chilly (by island standards) and we still enjoy a fire in the wood stove in the evenings, cruise ships on the horizon herald arrival of a warmer season and return to beaches, natural swimming pools, relaxing meals, and drinks on the veranda. While our friends and family are imprisoned in a very bad winter storm hitting the U.S., we count our blessings that we “came home just in time.” (Trust me, I’ve survived driving over the Mackinac Bridge in blizzards, sub-zero temperatures in International Falls, MN while in the outhouse, and snowplowing feet of snow each morning at 2 a.m.!)

You know we miss the snow, and nestled in our sub-tropical climate here, we still encounter the dynamics of Covid rules, surges, testing, boosters, and lengthy discussions with friends and neighbors, we’re preparing for days at the beach and long walks along the ocean shore. We’re also listening with some trepidation for increased air traffic of allied forces refueling at the base as military forces move further into eastern Europe. Memories of my days in the Persian Gulf redouble my concern and respect for military service!

Seasons change, weather changes, the ocean changes, but some things are predictable, like seasons. Whether we explain these changes as politics, economics, mythological gods, or astronomical and environmental phenomenon, we admire our ancestors and pay homage to their fortitude and perseverance. To us, sitting in our breakfast table, watching cruise ships arrive and leave, it makes no difference to us. We admire, respect, and enjoy our retirement:)

After you’ve built a Dream House (Casa do Sonho) and love every day of retirement in the Azores (well, not EVERY day, but damn close!), occasionally you need a road trip. A few days in mainland, a trip back to see daughters, sightseeing in Europe, etc.

As part of the planning, undoubtedly we digress to discuss “What are you going to really miss?” Over the years, some of the answers are already canned. “My bed.” “Multiple screens on a faster computer.” “My kitchen.” “My icemaker.” (Bet you can’t guess which one of these are from me and from the wife:)).

This year, the list got longer. Our neighborhood Mama Kitty (who started only understanding Portuguese directions and now ignores commands in every language) had six kittens and she would maternally drag the food we left on the porch back to the little ones to eat. We would occasionally follow mommy home and take some goodies and milk to the kittens in a nearby abandoned farm. Six kittys became four, and when the four were old enough, mommy kitty brought the gang to stay nearer us and we started putting out some food on the porch. One more disappeared about three months ago, and now mommy and the three stooges stay nearby and play in the yard, to the thrill of family and friends who come for dinner and get a free floor show.

So when we’re off on a road trip, we beg family and friends to come and drop some food on the porch for the “family,” and of course, we have to dial in and watch the antics on the surveillance camera.

If I had to prioritize the items on our list of “What will you miss most?” sisters, neighbors, shooting companions, creature comforts, favorite restaurants and menu items, but I think at the top of the list this time is “our kittens!”

Who knows, when we return, they may be all grown up and want to borrow the car keys:)

Fall (Autumn) is different on a sub-tropical island. Like most things, that’s good and bad.

The good is that beaches are no longer crowded, the festival season (cancelled this year) is normally drawing to a close, and folks are stacking firewood, clearing fields, and cutting weeds and lawns. City and village workers are struggling to clean and prepare the beautiful parks and gardens around the island for more wind and rain.

The bad is that my “homesickness” kicks up again. Virginia, Minnesota, Michigan, all have colorful fall seasons. Football games, tailgating on campus, picking apples, gathering around fires with neighbors on a crisp night, all of them are distant, loving memories. Falling leaves and brisk breezes (here “brisk” has a totally different meaning:)) are replaced by cleaning windows, washing the veranda, and getting the wood stove ready for another winter.

But with retirement age comes my ability to tune in to the positive side of things. Not many things in life are better than cuddling up with your best friend around a wood fire crackling in the stove or listening to the wind howl while you’re inside, safe, warm, sipping on a coffee, and enjoying some music. Especially that excitement when friends and neighbors stop in for a chat, apple pie, and a glass of Maciera. Sure, I remember raking leaves with my brother, football games at MSU with my cousin Mike, and the annual race to get our cars ready for winter, check antifreeze, dig out the snow shovels, and mark driveways and parking lots for snowplow customers. But they are memories, and at my age, I smile and know that’s what they are.

Enjoy what you have. Sometimes tough to say, but always keep things in perspective. No cheering football fans (American football) here, but a pleasant moonlit walk along the beach, walking hand-in-hand and watching surfers as waves crash on the shore; those are the the life.

Seasons are now. Life is now! Enjoy seasons, enjoy memories, and make new ones:)

Some things just creep up on you in the Azores (see my new friend below:)) when you have time to notice (and photograph) them. Waking up early every day is sometimes frustrating, but often rewarding. A bright red sunrise over Pico da Capitao (Captain’s Mountain) across the street greeted me the other day. While there are usually many birds (don’t know what kind) perched on the power lines, this one large guy took a moment to pose and survey his domain.

Meanwhile, as I stepped onto the patio to take this shot, I nearly squashed this little guy making his way to the lawn to get out of harm’s way. I’ve never timed them, but this Azorean caracol seemed to haul ass faster than snails in Germany (Wittlich) and in the U.S. (Mattawan). So I spent a few minutes encouraging him (or her). While cheering, it occured to me that for many years, I would be up, showered, and racing off to catch my train for Farragut West and work. Those were the Rat Race days…now I have time to cheer on snails and observe nature!

Life is good After The Rat Race:)

When you’re retired to an island in the Atlantic, the only sure thing is that every day brings something new, and at the end of each day, you also figure out you have survived whatever new thing came your way.

Sometimes morning coffee brings a mundane view of cows in the fields, a tall ship (The Portuguese Navy Sagres) coming in for a few days, clouds, sun, rain, and sometimes, just pure majesty. Middle of July during the second year of the pandemic, a red sky greeted my coffee cup and I. Makes you feel humble, tiny, and seems to put all our troubles into a perspective that can help us deal with things, one at a time.

Summer nights also bring great stress relief. The backyard, shielded from the street lights, displays stars like I’ve not seen except at sea or in the Sahara.  Our great nighttime constitutional here … kill all the house lights, hug on the back patio, and share amazing memories about stars and reinvigorating discussions of “counting our blessings.”

At my age, friends are retiring. Remembering past friends and escapades is wonderful; so is the hope that retiring friends will be able to share the joy of retiring in peace!

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!