happiness could be so easy

Given that my days as of late are filled with familiar and - let's face it - boring (however enjoyable) tasks I continue to have little of novelty to report. There is also the current juggle I am in the midst of performing regarding airfares and visas and logistics and the like; all seeming to consume my brain just as much as it does the hours of my day. Zzzzz.....

But meanwhile: Ishtar. My recent morning noon and night. People came and people went and I have willingly adopted the task of sole caregiver. Walking routines, food routines, medicinal routines. I am both reminded of how much work it is to have a dog but also how much I miss it.

Our long walks truly give me so much space and time to consider all of the boring all of the above. Our suddenly symbiotic relationship share, our moods reflecting back to eachother, good, bad, energized, not. Deciding together which path to take, when to turn back. Her sitting her huge body in my indian-style lap in the forest, her taking a secret nap with me in my little house when I needed it and her company most. These walks can take on an almost meditative quality, so much so I am at this point almost avoiding adding other people to the equation should they happen to offer.

My first thing in the morning, my last thing at night. This crazy bruised and battered pitbull mix. What a gift.

awake from a dream

I've said some variation of this before and now I will say it again: life really is beautiful.

Full of light, love, happiness, and choreographed coincidence.

What a magical mystical full moon weekend we just experienced in the hills of Portugal. So much of it cannot be relayed or easily explained but here I am on the other side and I am generally just feeling part of the connectedness of life, seeing nature as its most beautiful, saying all the things that will lead you to think I have truly jumped off the deep end.

Aho.

lights out

And what do you know, the electricity to Nubia's School (also known as Nadia's Tiny House) got run over by the weed wacker. David assured me it can be fixed as he literally handed me a solar powered lamp. Off grid, off the charts. There really are worse things.

character study

He came and he went.

David told me that his father was in town and described him as his Little Sadam. The physical description was accurate. Heavy gray mustache; superior air. He probably came up just past my shoulder. I was warned he did little ore than sit quietly and smoke, my initial memories are only of him ambling back and forth from afar, either by the mandala or the bread oven where he cooked his meat. On his final day he, like the mornings before, relaxed shirtless on the patio, smoking and watching the world go by. We exchanged a too-early-to-be-awake "Bom dia....". I didn't see him again until the afternoon when I happened to pass his way. As he is known to to do, he offered me a nip of whatever he was drinking, this time with some English attached. "Very good, no?" And then a hefty refill. Later Adrian would report him offering "wine or beer" and instead of letting him decide simply mixed the two. He ate his peanuts, finished his pack. Soon he would appear behind me in the kitchen, tiny plastic bag in hand - his luggage? Suddenly a wave of English: "Goodbye! See you again! See you tomorrow! I go, I see you! Tomorrow is a better day, VERY nice day, very very good....I can feel this..." He's clutching one of my hands, then another, then the classic Portuguese double kiss goodbye that in this moment I would dare describe as passionate. I barely had time to utter my reply and he was out the door.

I relayed this all to the delight of Clara and Adrian, and eventually David, all the while snacking on his leftover peanuts. Minutes later I would glance into his vacant room and discover this man's botanical installation. Every bottle of mini Super Bock, including the one Clara and I had shared days before, had been repurposed as a vase to house a fresh cut of some herb, branch of eucalyptus, or similar. He, for whatever reason, felt compelled to offer a toilet paper holder a personal spin using an old jug and a huge sprig of Rosemary shoved in the center. And that was it. And I am now completely charmed by this man.

All the rooms needed to be cleaned so I took every last one of his bottles down to my house. I did my best to replicate his vision and, I have to say, it makes the place. Now I wake up each morning and they're the first things I see. A bit of greenery, their sweet smells. Memories of a mysterious man that I never even knew.

 

 

adrift

I offer you, without fanfare or surprise, another view of the beach. I have been drifting as of late, perhaps obvious in my absence of daily posts. The days are passing and I am having trouble accounting for them. Wake up, breakfast. Help the tomatoes, eat lunch. Sweep something, tidy something, weed something, paint something. Swim in the pool. Set the table, dinner, a walk. Back to my little house, back to sleep. Blurry dreams, awake again.

This is not a complaint. I love it here. But my previously formed, complete thoughts feel as though they are shrouded in a fog. Is it my resistance to acknowledge the countdown upon me? The threat of "reality" looming so close? My total and complete familiarity and comfort level here? I cannot say.

And so we go to the beach one morning. We talk, we read, we sleep, we watch. Its peaceful with Clara and I savor these moments. I don't feel entitled to them at all, but they're there for me to take. So I take them. And I keep wondering and wandering. And then another day passes. Coming and going like the sea.

woman's best friend

Like so many farm dogs before her, Ishtar, our little Phoenix resurrected, has become a favorite faithful farm friend and companion. I have resumed my habit if walking in the evening, most often along the canal so that Ishtar can join me leash free. She'll run ahead, turn around, wait for me, run again; chasing anything: rocks, pine cones, peanut shells. Her lopsided ears, her pitifully bare stomach. Scared of the churning water at the end of the covered aqueduct, if I sit there for awhile she will pace and peer over the ledge nervously before butting her head into my legs, pressing the full weight of her ever-fattening body against me.

There are so many people these days, I am retreating to only the greatest of friends and the purest of company. She has a certain air about her that expresses pure gratitude to be alive, to be back here, to be walking along the canal. I wonder if she can tell how much I can relate.

 

home

This morning I woke up bathed in sunlight and happiness. I've returned at last to my hidden homestead in the hills, back to David and Ju and Clara and Adrian and Filipa and the other David.

My reunion here was beautiful. David was almost on time to the bus stop, a quick dark beer for us each while we quickly filled in the gaps of me in France and he on the farm as well as his latest conspiracy theory and scheme. Back at the house, the day was in full swing. There are three extra people helping out these weeks, the table is full. David's father is also around, keeping watch, smoking cigarettes, grilling goat in the bread oven, offering me nips of his honey flavored moonshine (!). Good ol Jiva has abandoned his guard position in the wake of Ishtar (long thought to be dead) making a miraculous, if not battle-wounded, return. All is in bloom, the squashes and pumpkins overtaking all. The Terrace (née the Saloon) is almost fully constructed. And my dwelling for the coming month? None other than Nubia's School, functioning electricity and all. I have carried this dream for months and it's finally a reality. It's cozy, tiny, and drafty but in a good way. The first night was a bit raucous what with a door that wouldn't latch and the resulting slamming that removed all possibility for deep sleep. But it's coming along, a replacement latch added, windows you can almost see through, elbow grease readily extended.

I've already written brief correspondence back to the real world and to friends I've met along the way to the tune of my needing to re-adjust, re-acclimate, re-devise the routines here now that I'm back. But it's so good here, it always has been. Patience, as always, will be required but suffice to say: it's so nice to be home.