I can't wait to get a bike! So this will happen!
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Happiness Comes from Within
This weekend was my first anniversary with the hubs. For weeks I researched our long weekend road trip to upstate NY and I found several day dream worthy destinations. I looked into small B&B's, big resorts, small rentals, yoga classes, wine tours, just about anything you can think of for a fun filled romantic weekend as reasonably boring adults. I fantasized about a wildly romantic and classically American road trip, driving through fields of golden hay, hair blowing in the wind, driving some old red hot rod. Probably wearing something adorably tweed and J.Crew-ish. Possibly wearing red lipstick. Effortlessly cool.
Problem is, money is tight right now and frankly we couldn't afford it. After a final hour or two of feverishly researching the cheapest accommodations known to man, (Sleeping in the car, anyone?) I admitted to myself that my dream anniversary weekend wasn't meant to be. I very ungraciously threw a few things, told my husband to and I quote "pull some money out of your ass," and eventually started developing Romantic Anniversary Weekend plan B. Or plan G rather. Let's be honest.
It's so hard to accept and still be truly happy when your life is not what you want. I'm a big girl, I realize that in life, you don't always get what you want. After many tough lessons I certainly know for sure that you don't always get what you want. I also realize that I have lovely family, friends, my health, a job that I love, and that all things considered, life is peachy. But that doesn't make the everyday struggle to feel happy, powerful or fulfilled any easier.
Turns out, we picked a few fun things to entertain us on our little staycation. We got massages, rented movies, cooked dinner. Most importantly we talked a lot, laughed a lot. We took naps, played tennis, painted, and spent time just being us. The kind of real me that doesn't have to wear J.Crew on vacation to be happy.
Problem is, money is tight right now and frankly we couldn't afford it. After a final hour or two of feverishly researching the cheapest accommodations known to man, (Sleeping in the car, anyone?) I admitted to myself that my dream anniversary weekend wasn't meant to be. I very ungraciously threw a few things, told my husband to and I quote "pull some money out of your ass," and eventually started developing Romantic Anniversary Weekend plan B. Or plan G rather. Let's be honest.
It's so hard to accept and still be truly happy when your life is not what you want. I'm a big girl, I realize that in life, you don't always get what you want. After many tough lessons I certainly know for sure that you don't always get what you want. I also realize that I have lovely family, friends, my health, a job that I love, and that all things considered, life is peachy. But that doesn't make the everyday struggle to feel happy, powerful or fulfilled any easier.
Turns out, we picked a few fun things to entertain us on our little staycation. We got massages, rented movies, cooked dinner. Most importantly we talked a lot, laughed a lot. We took naps, played tennis, painted, and spent time just being us. The kind of real me that doesn't have to wear J.Crew on vacation to be happy.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Quiet, Loud and Soft
Quiet
Is happiness
Felt in the breeze of a clear and colorful autumn
Sweet in my mouth
Ears tired from so many smiles
And the world is a warm green and blue
Dashing through days and lingering in nighttime
A warm hand a hot heart a calming/peaceful mind
Where time is a song
Of birds and rain
Loud
Is sadness
Pounding hot in my ears
Like the unforgiving burden of sorrow
Where earlobes are stiff – sour with the world’s anger
And the heart is heavy
Dis-empowering the uncertain mind
Soft
Is a feeling
That lives only in me – with passion and will
Breathing changing emotion
Invisible to the world
Transforming from words
Into thoughts, eyes, dreams, and life
I become you
A transitory part of an enormous story
A syllable; a thousand parts of a whole
My feeling is me
A hot bubbly beautiful soul
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Local Union Chumps Protesting Milkboy in Ardmore
This winter Milkboy has been picketed almost daily by The Carpenters Union, who are protesting work being done at a new Milkboy location currently under construction at 11th and Chestnut. The two blank faced stooges refuse to conversate (Me no talka! Me want paycheck!) but are distributing materials which states their case.
According to the flier, the union is shaming the MilkBoy for using contractors that are “contributing to the destruction of area wage and benefit standards of the community by paying its employees substantially less than those rates established by members of the Metropolitan Regional Council of Carpenters.” Translation, they hired a contractor who was willing to accept less than the "union wage." This is the reason construction costs are so darn high that small businesses can't afford the expansion they want and that local economies need. This is the union wage that funds a billion dollar investment portfolio, owns a 38% stake in Philadelphia Media Holdings, (the company that owns The Philadelphia Inquirer, Daily News and Philly.com.)
The union efforts to thwart Milkboys business is clearly futile, they're always packed. The food and music are fab and it seems the pro-union message couldn't resonate less with the young creative types who hang here. In my stops at Milkboy, I've chatted with Tommy and found him kind, well spoken and easy going. To my inquiry about the folks outside, he explained the situation, shared frustraions but was calm and even sympathetic to his opposors. He told me he even offered the union protestors some hot coffee on a particularly cold day to which they refused. It is winter, and they're standing outside with a sign all day. Bravo Tommy.
Monday, January 17, 2011
On the 33
On the 33, I rode through the streets of my home, Philadelphia, stared out smudged windows and examined unfamiliar faces. I remember a few individuals who were regular riders whom I had the pleasure of getting to know, not well enough to know their first name, but with whom I had a familiar friendliness I would like to think is uncommon on most public transportation systems. My 15-20 minute ride was a perfect amount of time to reflect on my day or worry about and hope for a different tomorrow. Frequently I arrived at my destination with tales from my commute. Usually displaying either shock by a typical display of urban blight or warmed by the completely unimportant but beautiful display of unique, comforting often bizarre human behaviors.
Many faces on the bus were black or brown, many were shades of tan, olive and some white. Much of the experience was entirely mundane on these rides on the Septa bus route 33, up from Penns Landing, all the way down Market St. making a right on 19th and up north through Fairmount to 33rd and Vengango. The electric voice meant for reminding travlers of the route final destination, still rings in my mind. A robotic, "Thir-ty-third and Ven-aango," a place somewhere in North Philly I might never see and don't pretend to understand.We rode together, sharing nothing if not the same breathing space, a seat, a pole to hang on to during a particularly jerky stop. A quiet moment in our busy days. At some point these folks I rode the bus with, silently and without their knowledge, became my people.
They taught me lessons about the commonalities of strangers, and powerful glimpses into lives very different from my own. Sometime after seeing one too many care worn single mothers, being sat on, having countless anonymous crotches and mid sections walk by, rear ends backing up into me, elbows jutting out, people yacking too loudly into their cell phone, joyful chance encounters of old friends, little independent old ladies out shopping did their lives and struggled infiltrate my soul. My heart broke for them. Hoped for them. Felt the daily struggle of making do with them.
There were intimate moments shared, beyond maneuvering a sweaty hand through droves of other different colored hands, clamoring for an inch of real estate on the grip pole or hanging bar. I remember laughing with a pretty light skinned black girl, her hands overwhelmed with shopping bags, about the delightful indulgence of retail therapy. We both craved those new clothes, our updated and fashionable version of our young selves. I remember the frantic, desperate and angry pleas of an overwhelmed mother calming her rambunctious toddler. A little too roughly shoving with demands for him to "quit whining and act right." Sometimes there were threats of physical violence to these children that still haunt me. The child's eyes wide with youth, potential, innocence, their short legs dangling off the seat. They were the cutest, the most well behaved little kids, the ones with the frustrated single, working two jobs, going to school, trying to do the right thing even with the challenges, too young mommies.
Sometimes a care worn mom would yell too loud, push too hard, grab too tight, and the whole bus would hold its breath. I used to make silly faces at the wee ones, using my signature (my old touch my nose and stick my tongue out routine,) hoping to bring some laughter into what seemed like a rough day. I loved seeing the feircely independent older ladies out and about doing their thing. Curiousity got the better of me, and I would let myself wonder what their lives were like, how many grandchildren they had, what funny or heartbreaking tales they had to tell. So many life lessons were learned in these tiny powerful moments. I'll never forget my people on the 33!
Many faces on the bus were black or brown, many were shades of tan, olive and some white. Much of the experience was entirely mundane on these rides on the Septa bus route 33, up from Penns Landing, all the way down Market St. making a right on 19th and up north through Fairmount to 33rd and Vengango. The electric voice meant for reminding travlers of the route final destination, still rings in my mind. A robotic, "Thir-ty-third and Ven-aango," a place somewhere in North Philly I might never see and don't pretend to understand.We rode together, sharing nothing if not the same breathing space, a seat, a pole to hang on to during a particularly jerky stop. A quiet moment in our busy days. At some point these folks I rode the bus with, silently and without their knowledge, became my people.
They taught me lessons about the commonalities of strangers, and powerful glimpses into lives very different from my own. Sometime after seeing one too many care worn single mothers, being sat on, having countless anonymous crotches and mid sections walk by, rear ends backing up into me, elbows jutting out, people yacking too loudly into their cell phone, joyful chance encounters of old friends, little independent old ladies out shopping did their lives and struggled infiltrate my soul. My heart broke for them. Hoped for them. Felt the daily struggle of making do with them.
There were intimate moments shared, beyond maneuvering a sweaty hand through droves of other different colored hands, clamoring for an inch of real estate on the grip pole or hanging bar. I remember laughing with a pretty light skinned black girl, her hands overwhelmed with shopping bags, about the delightful indulgence of retail therapy. We both craved those new clothes, our updated and fashionable version of our young selves. I remember the frantic, desperate and angry pleas of an overwhelmed mother calming her rambunctious toddler. A little too roughly shoving with demands for him to "quit whining and act right." Sometimes there were threats of physical violence to these children that still haunt me. The child's eyes wide with youth, potential, innocence, their short legs dangling off the seat. They were the cutest, the most well behaved little kids, the ones with the frustrated single, working two jobs, going to school, trying to do the right thing even with the challenges, too young mommies.
Sometimes a care worn mom would yell too loud, push too hard, grab too tight, and the whole bus would hold its breath. I used to make silly faces at the wee ones, using my signature (my old touch my nose and stick my tongue out routine,) hoping to bring some laughter into what seemed like a rough day. I loved seeing the feircely independent older ladies out and about doing their thing. Curiousity got the better of me, and I would let myself wonder what their lives were like, how many grandchildren they had, what funny or heartbreaking tales they had to tell. So many life lessons were learned in these tiny powerful moments. I'll never forget my people on the 33!
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Friday, January 7, 2011
Delicioso!!
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| Lots of fresh veggies!! |
So on days when I'm lacking culinary creativity and find myself tempted to pop in a frozen pizza, this is a perfect option to cook something in only a few short steps and still feel amazing!
These are three superb ingredients that are perfectly versatile in any meal.
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| I buy the spinach either in a bag of the large tub. I'd prefer to get the unbagged version (which requires mindful prewashing) but this is a nice shortcut. |
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| Saute it up in my wok, drizzle a bit of olive oil, fresh chopped garlic. |
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| Deliciously nutritious lentils. These take a while to cook, approx 45 min. so leave some time! |
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| Add a layer of chickpeas! |
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| Top with your sauteed spinach, sprinkle some feta and voila! YUM!! |
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Montana, July 2006
I went to Iceland and Montana consecutively. July 2006 was an amazing month for me. Montana was a trip I went on with my two older brothers and uncle. The four of us hiked (with a tour guide) into the back country of Glacier National Park for 3 days and then spent two days rafting the middle fork of the Flathead River. We were astounded by the natural beauty of this magnificent place. I'm not religious, but this place made you want to believe. The colors were bright, the air crisp, the landscape of lush green, jagged rock and pure blue sky was glorious. I'll never forget how light and free I felt. Here are some shots of the peaks and valleys.
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| Heading into the woods |
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| Campers |
 | |
| Meadow |
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| View from the top |
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| Flat River |
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| Our raft |
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| Relaxing on a calm part of the river |
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Iceland, July 2006
Iceland was the trip of a lifetime for the hubby and I. We were only dating about a year at that point, and traveling internationally together was a big step for us. When we left, we were dating. When we came home, he was my boyfriend. :)
Hubby also had family there. He's actually 1/4 Icelandic! So we met his family and enjoyed an authentic Icelandic experience. The country was beautiful. Wild. Rugged. Fresh like a celery stick. Here are some shots from this gorgeous country.
Hubby also had family there. He's actually 1/4 Icelandic! So we met his family and enjoyed an authentic Icelandic experience. The country was beautiful. Wild. Rugged. Fresh like a celery stick. Here are some shots from this gorgeous country.
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| Snow mobiling |
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Iceland Capital, Reykjavik |
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| Hubby's Family. Almost 25 people gathered to meet him! |
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| Blue Lagoon, Thermal Spa |
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| Icelandic Wild Ponies |
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| Icelandic Wild Goats |
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Colorado June 2008
This was a 5 day business trip with my then boyfriend now hubs. His company was footing the bill, therefore we stayed at the Ritz Carlton Bachelor Gulch, just outside of Vail, Colorado. We ate at the fanciest places, went to a rodeo and hoedown, and even enjoyed some white water rafting for free. We had a lovely time. I enjoyed schmoozing with a new group of folks I'd never met, laying by the pool and pretending to be an heiress.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Awesomely Bad....
Please at least watch a few minutes of this awesomely bad safety video. I'm personally terrified to work in a factory after this gem. Safety first!
Philadelphia on New Years Eve Guide 2010
Hi friends and non friends alike, I'm trying to compile a pretty darn comprehensive list of New Years Eve restaurant specials in Philadelphia. Including prix fix dinner specials, live music, etc. A note, I didn't include anything that listed it was serving a regular menu, that was in New Jersey, or w/o mention of specials or entertainment.
Here are a few good places to start:
Foobooz New Years Eve Guide 2010
Foobooz 50 Best Bars in Philly 2010
This post has been edited! In lieu of my lengthy list of options for a rockin' NYE, I'll happily admit that Foobooz has this covered. Please see links above! The Foobooz NYE Guide is searchable by features like Budget Friendly, Open Bar, Veggie Friendly, and neighborhood.
Here are a few good places to start:
Foobooz New Years Eve Guide 2010
Foobooz 50 Best Bars in Philly 2010
This post has been edited! In lieu of my lengthy list of options for a rockin' NYE, I'll happily admit that Foobooz has this covered. Please see links above! The Foobooz NYE Guide is searchable by features like Budget Friendly, Open Bar, Veggie Friendly, and neighborhood.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Real Fresh Food
If you read my post on farmed vs. wild salmon, you know I've been thinking more about food. I'm now reading In Defense of Food, and I'm getting a whole new perspective on how to think about eating. I have been doing what many of us "western" eaters do, focusing on the nutrient parts (carbs, sugars, protein) rather than the whole, not focusing on the chemicals in processed foods I'm eating, and being a slave to the latest nutritional fads.
My diet has been what I'll call moderately healthy but I'm realizing how much I can improve.
Here's what I'd like to eat more of:
Real Fresh Food
Fruits + Vegetables
Homemade sauces/seasoning
Beans, grains, nuts
Locally or sustainably grown everything
Fish
What I'm going to try to eliminate and cut down on:
Meats (Beef, chicken)
High sodium soups
Frozen pizza's or meal
Pre Packaged sauces
Canned or frozen vegetables
Anything that isn't sustainably produced (ie. farmed salmon)
Splenda/Any synthetic sweetener
Margarine
Breakfast sandwiches from Wawa
The main element of my diet that I'm trying to correct is too much meat, and relying on processed and science-y foods. I've always liked to have a complete frozen meal in the freezer, for those nights when I can't even think about turning the stove on. These are chemically engineered food stuffs that are manufactured not with a goal of being healthy, but to be produced as cheaply as possible, to last longer on the grocery store shelf and to turn a profit for the manufacturer.
So my husband and I have been filling our grocery cart with mostly fresh fruits and vegetables, and making meals of just these ingredients. We added in some beans, (lentils, kidney, black) and healthy whole grains like quinoa.
Here are some basic goals:
 |
| Fresh veggies in the crock pot.... |
My diet has been what I'll call moderately healthy but I'm realizing how much I can improve.
Here's what I'd like to eat more of:
Real Fresh Food
Fruits + Vegetables
Homemade sauces/seasoning
Beans, grains, nuts
Locally or sustainably grown everything
Fish
 |
| Eliminating these! Yikes. |
What I'm going to try to eliminate and cut down on:
Meats (Beef, chicken)
High sodium soups
Frozen pizza's or meal
Pre Packaged sauces
Canned or frozen vegetables
Anything that isn't sustainably produced (ie. farmed salmon)
Splenda/Any synthetic sweetener
Margarine
Breakfast sandwiches from Wawa
The main element of my diet that I'm trying to correct is too much meat, and relying on processed and science-y foods. I've always liked to have a complete frozen meal in the freezer, for those nights when I can't even think about turning the stove on. These are chemically engineered food stuffs that are manufactured not with a goal of being healthy, but to be produced as cheaply as possible, to last longer on the grocery store shelf and to turn a profit for the manufacturer.
So my husband and I have been filling our grocery cart with mostly fresh fruits and vegetables, and making meals of just these ingredients. We added in some beans, (lentils, kidney, black) and healthy whole grains like quinoa.
Here are some basic goals:
- I want to eat things that are fresh and from the earth.
- To cut down the process between when it's grown/born to when I eat it.
- Take less shortcuts.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Being a Jew on Christmas
It can really stink. Let's admit it, we can share in the spirit of the holiday all we want, but there's definitely a feeling of being left out on Christmas. For the month of December (and earlier and earlier every year) our lives are overrun by an overwhelming barrage of all things Christmas. I love celebrating with my husbands family, and love celebrating Chanukah with mine. Still, every commercial on TV, beautifully lit up houses, every store you patronize this time of year reminds you of this special celebration shared by the majority of Americans that you're not a part of.
Believe you-me, I get into the holiday spirit. I send cards. I love lights. I've celebrated lovely Christmas' with my now in laws and other families, (I've attended a beautiful midnight mass - in LATIN) and always loved the family togetherness, the laughs, and the magic that makes it the most wonderful time of the year. I love a sparkly outfit, cocktails pouring and indulging in a few too many hor dourves. Who doesn't enjoy a little festivity?
And we Jews get down in our own way with Chanukah too. I've been lighting candles and reciting the blessing since I could talk or use matches without risk of burning the house down. Like many Jewish families, we celebrate the festival of lights with chopped liver, latkes, a delicious meal and presents. There is no challenge enjoying our little Chanukah island even in an ocean of garland, red bows, and mistletoes.
I must admit, Jewish friends/family brace yourselves, I've always wondered what it feels like to celebrate Xmas as a bondafied non-Jew. Let me set the scene for you. There I am with my full on Christmas gear; a white cotton turtleneck topped with a terrible, itchy red or green sweater depicting Rudolph and Santa kibitzing under the tree. I'm drinking something delicious, a hot toddy or spiked eggnog, smiling happily with family around a magnificent tree. A cozy fire crackles and pops as we laugh and talk the night away. All is right in the world.
Only thing that's missing in this picture is the chopped liver. And my Mommom's Matzo Ball soup. And the Judaism. And the family history of my ancestors who worked tirelessly, lived simply, all the while honoring and sharing their religious culture with their children. Even though we can feel left out this time of year, I'd never want that image of me, in another life celebrating Christmas, to come true. My family has our own traditions, our own foods, language and joyous holidays to enjoy. I wouldn't be me without them.
So while we may look forward to the end of the holiday season, if not to escape the endless Christmasness, the commercialism or holiday parties, than to dull the sharp distinction that this time of year highlights between us and everybody else. How about let's use the holidays as an opportunity to celebrate our differences? (Corny Alert.) But I'm serious. Lets make the latkes, light candles, but (when appropriate) also sport a fabulous, itchy, red christmas sweater and laugh under the tree with the best of them. Invitations for Xmas (and Chanukah) parties currently being accepted!!
Believe you-me, I get into the holiday spirit. I send cards. I love lights. I've celebrated lovely Christmas' with my now in laws and other families, (I've attended a beautiful midnight mass - in LATIN) and always loved the family togetherness, the laughs, and the magic that makes it the most wonderful time of the year. I love a sparkly outfit, cocktails pouring and indulging in a few too many hor dourves. Who doesn't enjoy a little festivity?
And we Jews get down in our own way with Chanukah too. I've been lighting candles and reciting the blessing since I could talk or use matches without risk of burning the house down. Like many Jewish families, we celebrate the festival of lights with chopped liver, latkes, a delicious meal and presents. There is no challenge enjoying our little Chanukah island even in an ocean of garland, red bows, and mistletoes.
I must admit, Jewish friends/family brace yourselves, I've always wondered what it feels like to celebrate Xmas as a bondafied non-Jew. Let me set the scene for you. There I am with my full on Christmas gear; a white cotton turtleneck topped with a terrible, itchy red or green sweater depicting Rudolph and Santa kibitzing under the tree. I'm drinking something delicious, a hot toddy or spiked eggnog, smiling happily with family around a magnificent tree. A cozy fire crackles and pops as we laugh and talk the night away. All is right in the world.
Only thing that's missing in this picture is the chopped liver. And my Mommom's Matzo Ball soup. And the Judaism. And the family history of my ancestors who worked tirelessly, lived simply, all the while honoring and sharing their religious culture with their children. Even though we can feel left out this time of year, I'd never want that image of me, in another life celebrating Christmas, to come true. My family has our own traditions, our own foods, language and joyous holidays to enjoy. I wouldn't be me without them.
So while we may look forward to the end of the holiday season, if not to escape the endless Christmasness, the commercialism or holiday parties, than to dull the sharp distinction that this time of year highlights between us and everybody else. How about let's use the holidays as an opportunity to celebrate our differences? (Corny Alert.) But I'm serious. Lets make the latkes, light candles, but (when appropriate) also sport a fabulous, itchy, red christmas sweater and laugh under the tree with the best of them. Invitations for Xmas (and Chanukah) parties currently being accepted!!
Friday, December 3, 2010
Portugal in Depth
Some more details of the towns and cities we stayed in. This was our itinerary:
Nights 1+2: Lisbon
Nights 3+4: Carvoeiro
Night 5: Mertola
Night 6: Evora
Nights 7+8: Coimbra
Nights 9+10+11: Porto
Nights 12+13+14: Sintra
Also visited: Lagos, Silves, Vila Nova de Milfontes, Cape St. Vincent
Many of the traditional villages your guide book may describe as "must sees" are hauntingly beautiful towns that are worth a visit but can be too tiny to spend more than one night in. I'm talking one castelo, a town square, two coffee shops, four retail boutiques and three restaurant towns. It's charming, it's romantic and a nostalgic glimpse into a simpler way of life. If you want a vision of traditional village life, here it is.
If you're looking for more activity, you'll find a faster pace of life in the cities, which offer a wide selection of ways to spend your time and money. We shopped, (we were on a hunt for the perfect azulejos) ate, went to museums, soccer games and concerts. Here in the cities even more than the rural areas, the contrast between the old and new is so evident. The stories of the past are tightly interwoven into the essence of each place. Turn a corner from a glass lobbied office building, wind down one of the narrow European street, past paint chipped buildings, a tattered wooden door weathered and chipped by time, or graffiti strewn, broken glass windows. Ride the subway with suited up businessmen and angst filled fashionable teenagers listening to ipods, feverishly texting their girlfriends/boyfriends. The cities can take your breath away with the grandeur of beautiful architecture, palaces, museums, churches, many ornately decorated with marble or their famous tiles (azulejos.)
Portugal has a distinctly melancholy air about it. The distinction between the old and new, a sad song (perhaps the country's traditional fado music) that strikes a new chord with every new place you discover. I felt the proud enterprising spirit, cities buzzing with newness, and a relentless march towards the future of a new Portugal. I felt the love of traditional simple life. The enjoyment of a slow and quiet afternoon enjoying cafe com laite in your local town square. Portugal was an amazing way to experience both.
Nights 1+2: Lisbon
Nights 3+4: Carvoeiro
Night 5: Mertola
Night 6: Evora
Nights 7+8: Coimbra
Nights 9+10+11: Porto
Nights 12+13+14: Sintra
Also visited: Lagos, Silves, Vila Nova de Milfontes, Cape St. Vincent
Many of the traditional villages your guide book may describe as "must sees" are hauntingly beautiful towns that are worth a visit but can be too tiny to spend more than one night in. I'm talking one castelo, a town square, two coffee shops, four retail boutiques and three restaurant towns. It's charming, it's romantic and a nostalgic glimpse into a simpler way of life. If you want a vision of traditional village life, here it is.If you're looking for more activity, you'll find a faster pace of life in the cities, which offer a wide selection of ways to spend your time and money. We shopped, (we were on a hunt for the perfect azulejos) ate, went to museums, soccer games and concerts. Here in the cities even more than the rural areas, the contrast between the old and new is so evident. The stories of the past are tightly interwoven into the essence of each place. Turn a corner from a glass lobbied office building, wind down one of the narrow European street, past paint chipped buildings, a tattered wooden door weathered and chipped by time, or graffiti strewn, broken glass windows. Ride the subway with suited up businessmen and angst filled fashionable teenagers listening to ipods, feverishly texting their girlfriends/boyfriends. The cities can take your breath away with the grandeur of beautiful architecture, palaces, museums, churches, many ornately decorated with marble or their famous tiles (azulejos.)
Portugal has a distinctly melancholy air about it. The distinction between the old and new, a sad song (perhaps the country's traditional fado music) that strikes a new chord with every new place you discover. I felt the proud enterprising spirit, cities buzzing with newness, and a relentless march towards the future of a new Portugal. I felt the love of traditional simple life. The enjoyment of a slow and quiet afternoon enjoying cafe com laite in your local town square. Portugal was an amazing way to experience both.
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