Goodbye, Lisboa...

Dream job: travel to new cities, get to know the layout, the food, the best graffiti – then take newly arrived travelers to the places you have found. That’s how I spent my last day, with Emina as my test traveler.

Emina is 27 and has been to 47 countries, so considering the age/country ratio, she definitely wins (31 for me). But we share the "go-with-whatever" style of walking around a place - my favorite thing to do in life.

We walked Alfama – which was really fun with her since she is a photographer (she gasped around every corner), took the tram (we did end up in no-man’s land and had to frantically find a cab to make it to our IPAV lunch in time), had a glass of wine at the Magical Circus Bar, then did the touristy Fado Dinner (Portuguese guitar/singing) thing to end the day. We both knew it would be touristy, knew we would get ripped off, did it anyway. And, as usual, we both regretted the attempt to draw meaning from a touristy rip-off gig. However, we were treated to a fabulous, skeletal Fado singer who was so thin we could not figure out where her gigantic voice came from. At the same time, we both leaned in over our roasted cod dinners and said, “I wonder what her story is…”

The highlight of the day was hearing more of Emina’s story over Circus wine – the bar overlooks the city and is a beautiful place, just as Carolina had promised. She is currently working on her master’s thesis – a 120-page paper – through a Peace and Conflict Studies program.

Oh, and I forgot to mention this yesterday: Her part of the conference was called "Transforming Society Through Your Voice"; mine was "Transforming Lives Through Personal Storytelling." Some kind of 27 year-old, huh? So, in my new dream job, I would ike to show people around cities who have fascinating life stories and who are undergoing transformative experiences. And I would always like to hear the stories while drinking wine overlooking the city from a circus. This week has definitely expanded my awareness and made me appreciate all of the efforts to bring peace around the world - all of the people who are committed enough to randomly search the internet with the words "personal storytelling" to see what they can find - to see who they might find as partners in this endeavor to fly to their little corner of the world for a week of sharing.

Oh, and part of that sharing included a goodbye lunch (as if they hadn’t already done enough) and gift bags filled with Port wine, Fado CD’s and Portuguese sardines. Seasoned traveler that I am, I didn't know you couldn't bring wine as a carry-on. They confiscated it- in the nicest way possible. But, damn. Considering this is the only thing that has gone wrong all week, I guess it’s OK.

I've been meaning to add this all week: If someone asked, "What two American cities does Lisbon remind you of?" I would have to answer 1. San Francisco and 2. New Orleans. NOLA because it sits next to a large river, too (and something about the energy) and SF because they have a copy of the Golden Gate bridge, the tram/steep hills and some of the architecture.

Thanks so much for reading, for your comments, and for sharing in the fun of this week with me. It was a great, great one, and I now have a new favorite European city to visit, partially because now it includes life-long friends. What a deal. 

I will leave you with my new favorite subject to photograph in my new favorite city that is a European San Fran/NOLA mix - graffiti:

"I Am Because You Are"

"The belief in a universal bond that connects all humanity."

"Human kindness."

These are three translations of the South African concept of "Ubuntu." And, well, have you ever had one of those days where all of your life just came together - where so many random things you've done suddenly make perfect sense? Me either. But today was on that spectrum. 

About sixty people present: students, participants, youth workers, social workers, teachers...
The student participants shared their digital stories, I presented, the Norwegians presented. 

The IPAV team took us out afterward for a two-hour traditional Portuguese dinner with bread, cheese, wine, sausages, ribs, vegetables and dessert. (The conference began at 3...very humane in itself)

All day and into dinner, the conversation was some form of this theme: Stories matter. Personal storytelling makes us self-aware and promotes understanding and growth. Getting our stories out allows us to put our lives in perspective and be settled with what has happened and move on with self-confidence.

Personal storytelling connects humanity and creates community.

The girl on the left: Emina - a refugee from Bosnia, fled to Norway with her grandmother during the siege of the city; one year later her father was killed by bomb shrapnel. Today was the first time she has told her story - really moving. She came with Sylo (standing) a refugee from Sarejevo. They work more in the political realm, making sure that immigrant communities have a voice in Norway. And sitting on the right is Milton from Angola. He got polio when he was six, immigrated to Portugal with his parents to escape war and has not seen the rest of his family since. He has spent five years in prison and now uses his story to help young people through IPAV. I spent the whole dinner trying to get his story out of him, and he kept deferring in bits, "But my English is so bad!" (Of course it wasn't, and I got quite a lot out of him...) Next to Edina is Anna (on the IPAV team), and you all know Carolina by now.

So, yeah, after today - we are all connected for life. It's really something to come together from so many miles away and realize that you are working for the same thing.

I have many things to think about during my two-day journey home.

Something I'm still thinking about now had to do with this picture I show in my PowerPoint:

I talk about how much I wanted to escape from the teaching profession four years ago - how what I was teaching seemed to have no relevance to my students' lives. Then I get into the storytelling/ student transformation part. At the end I show the picture again and say that I don't even think of escaping anymore, but now this picture represents freedom instead of escape. That now my students and I are on the same page, and how that has made all of the difference. How asking students what their stories are (and having such an expert as Ingrid as my teammate to join me in asking them) and guiding them through the process of writing them has transformed me.

Anyway, back to the meaningful interaction. One of the teachers approached me afterward and said - a little teary - "That fish is me. I want to escape. The Ubuntu project is the most meaningful thing I have ever done and now I want to have something like that in my class. I cannot teach according to tradition or standards only anymore. Thank you so much for the inspiration." (The Ubuntu project is what IPAV does in the school. Students are chosen to attend this week-long course and are selected by their teachers. This teacher who was speaking to me was the supporting teacher for the project.)

The reason this is significant to me is that recently, I've realized that my story is one that will help teachers. I don't have a story of hardship; I'm like that Modern Family episode where Claire takes Haley out into the middle of nowhere and drops her off so that she will have a hardship to write about for her college essay. But this is my story. It's nice to know.

So many people thanked me and said that our program was inspiring. During dinner, the director of IPAV said to me, "Marjorie, do you know how valuable your experience is? Do you know that you could go anywhere and teach this? That everyone will want this?"

He thinks they, too, need to write. He suggested bringing me back to lead them with that part. I definitely would do it. (I had intended to teach some of the writing concepts today, but the audience had so many questions, we had to skip it.)

And this: Carolina told me that they show the movie "Freedom Writers" on the first day of the Ubuntu project (first day of one week). They are very inspired by it, so they looked into getting Erin Gruwell to come and speak - but she charges $28,000. So they got me instead (and wanted Ingrid).

"You are better than Erin Gruwell," her colleague told me. "She's not even teaching anymore and you are still in it." She didn't say it, but she also saved about $26,000.

After some sleep I will share this story better. Did I mention I am exhausted? And tomorrow I have another day to see Lisbon. I've offered to take Emina around since I can now make my way around without a map. I even gave a Chinese tourist directions on how to get to the pastel de nata place yesterday. The IPAV people are treating us to lunch, too. They are fantastic - all of them.

Sorry about the lack of food pictures and for the tired writing. Thanks for hanging in there...

"Fado is a poem that can be heard and seen"

O Fado - Jose Malhoa, 1910

Lisbon's National Museum of Art is the most boring museum I've ever been to. I left after twenty minutes because I had seen it all - except for the FOUR AND A HALF HOUR MOVIE feature on the Holocaust. Skipped that and headed to the Fado Museum, which was lovely, and where the above art is featured. Listened to mournful song-poems for an hour in the listening room. Wandered around the Fado area a few nights ago, stopped outside of Fado restaurants and listened to the singers through the doors. The word "fado" comes from the Latin word for "fate." These are songs filled with longing, resignation and melancholy. Beautiful.

(Carolina says I must become familiar with Ana Moura - the fado singer Prince loves.)

Then went walking around again and saw the classy neighborhood, Chaido. This is City Hall:

And the other - what a beautiful ceiling...




















By total coincidence, I found myself back at the Time Out plaza and was very happy about that. This is what I didn't have for lunch, but wish I had. The pork looked so tender:

And this is what I did have: shrimp Portuguese style, sauteed in butter, garlic and lemon. Phenomenal.

I am now writing from "Bellevue." Carolina and her IPAV "team" (Anna - from Porto, Portugal and Milton - from Angola now Portugal) picked me up at my beloved airbnb location and brought me to the conference center for a "sound check." Good idea, because the videos I made of the students needed very much sound checking. I really like these people - and I got to see three of the student videos that will be shown tomorrow. Very moving. They tell their stories in their own voices and find images from Google to enhance the story. Milton - one of the leader/partners - joined a gang when his family arrived from Angola. He got into a ton of trouble with them, but in the end he was the only one arrested and imprisoned - for five years. He has now been out for two years and wants to help others like him who are "vulnerable" immigrants through IPAV. I love it that they use that word to describe their program participants. Anyway, we all believe that storytelling will eventually bring about world peace.

Interesting side note: I was told I would have a translator and kept picturing saying a few sentences, pausing for translation, then moving on during my presentation. Stop and start, really slow. Well, no. The Portuguese have this figured out. The person who needs the translation wears headphones and a woman who stands in the back "sound room" translates ("she is professional" Carolina tells me). Therefore, I just talk and don't need to pause. Nice, huh?

One more side note: Write to Right is the only storytelling program presenting tomorrow that features writing.

After the sound check they brought me here to Bellevue. If I had flown in and only stayed at this hotel, I would hate Lisbon: a bunch of high-rise hotels in the business center; I walked for half an hour and found one empty Indian restaurant, five stuffy hotel restaurants and one hopping hamburger spot. Guess what I ate for dinner. I could have taken the Metro back to the heart, but I'm too tired and waited too long to eat. Had I known, I would have stayed in my airbnb and paid for it myself. But what do you do? I am just grateful for four blissful days in beautiful, old Lisbon.

Worlds Collide at the Westernmost Point of Europe

This is the Pena National Palace in Sintra. And this is the westernmost point of Europe:
(It was windy):













“My friend Marianna may come with us today,” Carolina tells me when she and Marco (no s) pick me up from the train station 40 minutes east of Lisbon, where they live. We are heading to Sintra today – a hill town that my guide book told me to go to on eight different pages.

“Great,” I say, and she begins to describe Marianna.

“She is on her way to India in two weeks for eye treatment,” she explains. “She is losing her eyesight.”

“What do you mean?” I am at full attention.

“Well, her eyesight is… how do you say? Degenerative. It’s getting worse and worse.”

“Is it Retinitis Pigmentosa?” I ask and she gives me a wide-eyed stare.

“Yes!”

“That’s what Ingrid has…”

And we both stare, taking in this more-than-strange coincidence.

When Marianna joins us (her father hired a driver so that she can get to places not accessible by public transportation, and Sintra is off the coast in the hills) I learn how many similarities she and Ingrid share. They both refuse to use the word that begins with “b-l-i” and neither would ever use a cane. They both go everywhere by themselves with very little help. (Marianna on the right.)

Which brings me to another world full of collides: she is going to Kerala, India, by herself, to get “karmic” eye treatment at an Ayurvedic spa for one month. She met a guy from the states whose vision improved while he was there, so she’s doing it. Kerala is in southern India, and at the moment, I have two friends who are competing to take me there (my favorite kind of competition). Kerala is Pam’s favorite place to lead her tours (other than Nepal) and Liza lived there while she implemented her “Beauty of Water” non-profit. Currently, I have a Kerala key chain and over winter break ate Kerala tamarind crab - both offered as part of the competition. 

Marianna has also gone to two “Circus Universities.” One that is about a five –minute walk from my current apartment and one in Madrid. (“You MUST go to the circus training place and have a glass of wine before you go,” Carolina says dreamily. “It’s a special place. And mention that you know Marianna and they will treat you really well. She is a star there.”)

Marianna specializes in trapeze and ribbons – it’s more of a Cirque de Soleil thing. Oh, and she’s also a massage therapist. But it’s the circus thing that will have my long-time friend Jaci pretty excited. She loves circus people, and was in a circus of types for years in the synchronized swimming world.

So we have decided that between Marianna and Ingrid, they will solve this eye-disease-with-"no-cure" issue. And that we all need to go to Kerala for a one-month Ayurvedic treatment. Who is in?

Confession: when we got to the palace pictured above, it was closed. It was my fault, really. Marco asked me, "Should we go to the palace first, or get the best sweet in Portugal first? ("better than the pastel de nata" - he added). I chose the pastry, and we got caught up walking around this charming town, which is like Leavenworth, only real. They were so apologetic that we missed the palace, but really, it's OK. I had to include the picture, though, for you (it was so high on the hill we couldn't even see the outside.)

Such a fun day, and all of our heads were spinning with connections. We talked politics of Portugal and the US ("Congress has been such a tragedy for Obama. He had really good intentions. Except he hasn't tried hard enough regarding global warming" - Marco). They talked about their country's financial crisis, which has led to a social crisis. But how the people have become entrepreneurs, and have learned how to "sell" Portugal - their wines, sardines, pastries. They have hope for a better future. They are proud of their country (it has the "best natural light" of all countries, they can understand everyone else's Portuguese and Spanish, but no one can understand them, etc...).

One thing I always worry about when I spend the day with people I don't know well is whether they are going to provide eating opportunities often enough for my blood sugar. I had some protein bars with me, but after six hours with nothing but sugar pastries, I asked (subtly) what time they usually ate dinner. "Oh, we eat at 8 or 9 usually," Carolina says. Ugh. So I told them about my caving blood sugar, so we ate "early" - at 7:30. They took me to get the most typical Portuguese meal: steak with garlic sauce, fries and a fried egg. Absolutely delicious.

Such a fun day. Fun, fun day.

Tomorrow, Carolina will pick me up and take me to the "conference" hotel and we will do a sound check, etc, for the presentation Thursday. The Norwegians get here tomorrow and are only staying for one day - pity. Carolina has three students coming to present their digital stories. How did I get here again...?

One more thing: Marco played soccer against Cristiano Ronaldo in high school. Said his team always lost to his, that they all knew he would be famous. Katherine, what do you think about that?

Groovy Atmosphere on a Perfect Morning

Perfect morning, perfect blue sky, perfect huge flea market behind St. Francis church. By "huge" I mean "sprawling."

I overheard a tour guide tell a group to come to this, so therefore was treated to this perfect morning.

Street musicians, artists and a cool, groovy atmosphere.

Below - your daily dose of graffiti, found on the way to church.

"Sorry About Your Wall"

Spectacular Street Car Views and Back in a Castle Again

After the Octopus and prior to the Urban Art, I went back to Alfama, the winding, ancient neighborhood, because I only saw a bit of it before the sun set last night. Here's what it looks like when the clouds burn off:

And this is St. Vincent:

Earlier I tried to catch the famed street car, E328, but the line was long. So I started wandering, and what do you know...the small stops along the way were not long at all; in fact, they were non-existent. I hopped on and was treated to some spectacular views - so spectacular that after disembarking 40 minutes later, I re-traced the route on foot to get these photos.

What a fascinating ride. Hard to believe that this ancient form of transportation exists. And the tracks seem so shallow, the hills so steep, the cars so full (I was pressed up against a metal bar for most of my ride). I sat up front where I watched the operator CRANK the dial to switch our course and screech the brakes when a truck  - with emergency lights flashing - continued to load huge pieces of furniture while we waited. Or when a car tried three times to parallel park in our path. The driver had nothing but patience for all of these shenanigans on his tracks, and gave a friendly "thumbs up" to all of the street cars that passed us. It was so much fun I think I will do it again tomorrow now that I know the secret to catching it without waiting in line.





Here is a view from my smashed viewpoint - he is cranking the gears, I guess:


























Prior to the Octopus, after my breakfast Pastel (egg custard tart - yes, delicious, but not as divinely crispy as that first one), I climbed back up to the castle to see all of it. Yesterday I only saw the big line to get a ticket in, but this morning it was empty. Not only is February a great time as far as lines go, it is the perfect temperature - for me, at least. It's between 55-60 degrees, a little warmer when the sun comes out.

Having lived in a castle for two years in Vietnam, it was especially fun to see this one - Castelo de Sao Jorge - a Moorish castle which has overlooked the city since the 11th century. It's a great landmark for me since it's by my hotel - I cannot get lost - and it's in almost every city view.

Anyway, I spent two hours climbing up and down a bunch of ancient, steep, scary stairs that America would not allow us to climb to get "the best views of Lisbon" (according to the toothless-yet-smiley guard at the archaeological site). One of the best things about this castle - its inhabitants include dozens of regal peacocks who roam around freely. I tried desperately to get a good shot of one, but was reminded of the days when Angie and I would take countless bad pictures of zoo animals. Here is one, even though everyone hates pictures of zoo animals:

And here is a very old house not far from the castle. I could take pictures of streets and houses here all day. In fact, that's what I did. I walked for about ten hours and took too many pictures of streets and houses, only a few of which I am sharing with you.






















I came in at 8 pm to rest my feet. Now I will venture down the eight flights of stairs (I'm on the fourth floor, but there are two winding flights per floor, so I'm claiming all of them!) and find something to eat. This city is small, walkable, tasty and beautiful.

"Urban Art"

Octopus: I Finally Get It~

I am devoting one entire post to what I had for lunch: one grilled octopus tentacle wrapped around a smashed baked potato crispy-fried in butter, laced with spinach. From the front:






































And the back:




I've had octopus once before- in a Korean pancake. It was rubbery/fishy and the aftertaste stayed in my memory (and made me gag) for days. But I know if it's done right it can be delicious, so I tried it in the busiest of the restaurants in the "Time Out" plaza that Marcos suggested yesterday. It's far enough from the tourist center that mostly locals find their way and choose from about twenty different classy "stands." The one I chose had the biggest crowd, and now I know why. The octopus was tender inside and crispy outside. In fact, I think the Portuguese excel at "crispy."

One of my best meals, ever. Top 50. Someday I will make a detailed list.

And now I have had three out of the four food items I displayed in my first post: now to find grilled sardines...

OK, that's it for my lunch break.

I Thought I Ordered Paella

 ...but I got this, which was more than fine. Setting the stage for this first meal: after waking up from a very short nap, I headed toward Alfama - the oldest district of Lisbon - a labyrinth of narrow, steep streets. Lots of little bistros to choose from, but I knew this was the one because of the food displayed in the window and because a half dozen Portugese men were eating soup and watching futbol. Had to order the house red wine and the "Arroz con Mariscos" - a saffron based stew full of clams, shrimp, mussels and cod. Bread, olives, house wine and stew came to 12 Euros - or about $14. That stew could have fed two people, easy.

And more graffiti - fascinated by it:

So tired. Going to collapse and hopefully sleep all night. I'm on my own tomorrow, but on Tuesday I will do some sightseeing with Carolina and Marcos in Sintra. Tomorrow, I think, will be all about grilled seafood and art museums. But who knows where these narrow, winding streets will lead.

Graffiti, Eight Flights of Stairs and Really Flaky Pastries

You've all seen enough castles and statutes, right?

Then how about some of Lisbon's graffiti? "It's everywhere," Carolina says as she gestures widely from the car. She and her boyfriend, Marcos, drove me around after picking me up at the airport at 8 am (since I had five hours until I could check into my airbnb). But the best graffiti is right next to my apartment, up a narrow staircase that leads to more apartments. I found myself there with several Chinese tourists, who also made up most of the line outside of the famous Pasteis del Belem - where the best pastries in Lisbon are sold - and which was our first stop this morning.

"For some reason, the Chinese LOVE these pastries," says Marcos. I tell them it's probably because something that looks similar is sold in China - at least there is that custard tart that Brian referred to in the last post's comments in Seattle's International District - but that these taste nothing like those. These are fluffy and custardy and are contained inside the ultimate flaky, crispy crust. Those - well, they are yellow "somethings" that are contained in cold, soggy dough. So the Chinese are discovering the divine kind, and I'm really lucky that these two took me to taste the divine of the divine first. I will run experiments so I can report on the quality of the others, all over the city.


Carolina and Marcos dropped me off near the river with two hours left to wander (my airbnb host's friend picked up my luggage at the airport. "It will be waiting for you upstairs at 13:00," he told me). So I went to the Modern Design Museum, hiked up to the castle (just five minutes from my apartment), then checked out the grocery store and bought European yogurt, always a highlight. By the time I got up the eight flights of stairs to my apartment (the picture is taken from the ground floor looking up), I had decided that Pam's "No Jet Lag" pills don't work - at least not after being up at 4 in Seattle with a five-hour layover in Newark and flying all night. So I just woke up from a two-hour nap, and am ready to go back out. Lisbon is beautiful, and I'm staying right in the heart of it. Here's a view similar to the one from my apartment window - lots of red rooftops:

I really enjoyed meeting Carolina after months of intermittent emails. She had been volunteering for IPAV until they received their grant in October, when she became a full-time, paid employee. She embodies everything you hear about Portugese people: she is warm and laughs easily. We talked a bit about the program that will take place on Wednesday - enough for me to know that she is very passionate about her students. It's going to be a great week, filled with many good stories and flaky pastries. I am feeling very lucky.