A Dream of Escape

A dream of escape.

Here in the Northeast in America, we are under a cold snap.

Since Christmas, we have been suffering with below zero temperatures and into the predictable future (according to the iPhone).

And then, with or without a cold (which I have), we are essentially trapped indoors.

I've been lucky to have a writing project to take me out of myself.

The BEST vacation I can ever have.

(But in Santa Maria, the weather is LOVELY right now!!)

A Non American Tradition

I met a new friend recently, and have been trying to understand what it IS about him that seems strange and familiar all at the same time.

He was NOT born in this country. He's an immigrant, with a strong sense of his own culture(s) and yet aware of the ones here, as well as lots of the peripheral cultures.  He is funny and quick to observe the absurdities that I blindly take for granted.

I wish I could be funny in Portuguese.  That is a certain kind of fluency I still struggle for.  And when i see it in another person-I think of their GENIUS.  And how odd it is that Americans don't value people who have multiple fluencies; as if the whole country has an inferiority complex. (As least I know that I do and why)

No Tradition of Halloween In Portugal

It is difficult to get my mother to celebrate, or play dress up, or to be silly as part of a holiday in this country.

There is a notion of All Saints Day, which I feel she takes more seriously.  As if everything is somber, and she is closer to not laughing than laughing. She is comfortable in cemeteries, and even more so at church.  As if she invests in all the superstitions of church, she can be making payments towards a painless death.

On the other hand, I like Edwin Gorey, his macabre drawings of skeletons and hauntings.  I laugh at ghosts, while honoring them at the same time.  I expect it will all come about in its own time.  Dying at my father's age or at twice that has allowed me to not be afraid of the passing over, but to include everything I can while I am on this side.

I have no deep understanding of the subtleties of the spirits of the Islands, the Azores.  The shipwrecked ghosts, the people driven mad by the isolation or their own internal madness.  But I want to learn, not just about what happens after death to my ancestors, but how the long traditions of keeping the bad spirits at bay.

Saudades

Saudades for Portugal and the Azores.  I miss being there, i miss being there in person to talk to my family & be there for them.  To see things with my own eyes and to hugs with my own arms.

Never does the ocean seem so vast as when you are missing people across the waters.

Even the devastation in Puerto Rico from the hurricanes, I cannot imagine knowing that my family was suffering and I was stuck and unable to help.  I worry that it is always a matter of time, until our own number comes up, until we are each hit by our own earthquakes and fires.

Portugal, my family and friends, I miss you. 

My heart aches.

Orange Cake or Caramel Cake

When I was young, all great Portuguese gatherings were attended by a great spread.

Every event included either or both an Orange Cake and a Caramel Cake.

My cousin is having a baptism for her much beloved baby.

The cakes will show up.

Portuguese Consulate in Boston: Cartao de Cidadao

Now, if you are like me, you might have a parent or grandparent who was born in Portugal.

Which makes you eligible for citizenship, the right to work in the EU, etc.

TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THIS!!

(The grandparent clause was added in 2016, I think, not enough descendants are going back)

The only problem is, you need a LOT of patience with the paperwork.  And it certianly HELPS if you have that parent/grandparent or someone who speaks the language to help you.

I had my mother, who is fluent, is a kindly old lady, and is naturally patient.

We have had SEVERAL appointments and every time, I leave puzzled.

There is no "process" that I can see. No CONFIRMATION system.

Our last visit 3 months ago, was me bringing ALL of my paperwork to fill out a Cartao de Cidadao.  (Online, i had selected a "Passport" appointment, which NEVER asked or told me what I needed).

3 months later, I emailed a week ago to see if the paperwork had gone through.  No answer.
My mother picked up her renewed Cartao and was able to process her NEW passport.  She's 77, but I keep convincing her to keep everything current, she's my translator and FRANKLY, if I must take care of her, I'd rather do it in Portugal.  Where I can write, hopefully!!  My fantasy is to "retire" there, or at least write and make enough money to survive, when this Tech thing dries up. (Always have another career in your back pocket, my generation will NEVER retire!)

The lovely lady-who we are getting to know-flitted in and out because the system was down in Lisbon.  She had called and sent an email for my mother's passport.  I was never sure if she checked about my paperwork.  We were there from 10:15 until 12:50.  Never fully dismissed, we had appointments at 10:40 and 11:05, although we were never called for them.  We were still there as the whole room emptied out. It was crowded when we arrived, full of people who were there for the first time.

Later that day, she sent me an email that it had gone through. All I needed to do was to pick it up. And make another appointment.

National Days of Mourning for the Fire

A few days ago, a bolt of lightning struck a dry patch of land and ignited a giant fire.

If you want to send a message to the Portuguese Consulate in Boston, reach out to:

consulado dot boston AT mne dot pt

Below is what I sent:

My dearest Portugal,

May you never fully be consumed by flames.  

The flood and the earthquakes couldn't defeat you.  

Always, may you explore the rest of the planet, always sending out roots, like a giant-strong-inflammable-tree to ground yourself in the earth.

May the earth receive you and your people, in beauty, in gentleness. 

The smoke will dissipate, the skies will be clear once more.

May your future be clean with oxygen and green

and may the waters quench the thirst of the heat

and float your roots and tendrils

across

to connect the rest of the world.

Love, 

Your daughter and granddaughter and great grand-daughter and more,

Me

Portugal Day & Poetry!!

I'm experiencing many saudades over all the pictures of SOPAS on my Facebook feed.  So to remedy that, I try to take a quick tour of Portuguese poetry on the internet.

Here is an article about Feminist Poets, written by someone from UMass Dartmouth (one of MANY of my alma maters!!) :
Back into the Future : Feminism in Portuguese Women's Poetry since the 1970s

From Canada, an interview with Vamberto Freitas (are we related??)

And if you want to know about Portugal Day here in NY, well-you have to go to Newark, NJ.

Drink to Luís de Camões and read Os Lusiadas, if you get the chance to be inspired!!

Nesperas on the Tree

I know these leaves very well. I grew up with a plant in our New England house. One long skinny trunk and a few of these leaves on the ends. No fruit.  

I always wondered why my mother was so loyal to this plant.  Hoping someday it would look like the pictures below. 

From my uncle's farm/orchard/backyard trees.

So many!!

Again, if you want to try these fruits, save this link for next near.  They accepted requests as of April 15 and were sold out by May 18.

http://www.loquatworld.com/LoquatFruit.html

Paposeco-Proper Spelling

After many moons of imagining that nobody ever reads my blog, my uncle sent me the following correction on a past post, where I admit I had no idea how to spell the word for the common sandwich bun. 

My uncle:

Let me try to teach you how to spell “Papo-seco”:

Papo: “a” as the “a” in “father”; “o” as the “oo” in “roof”;

Seco: “e” as the “e” in “rent”; “o” as the “oo” in “roof”.

 

PAPO-SECO

Os primeiros papos-secos surgiram no século XX sendo destinados aos mais abastados. É um alimento tradicionalmente Português de pequeno formato e de carater rústico. Composto por uma crosta crocante e um interior de miolo fofo. É entre os pães pequenos, o mais comum e o mais vendido em Portugal. O nosso papo-seco é confecionado com água, farinha de trigo, fermento e sal

---

 And he also put the above through a translation machine. See below about "chat-dry";

From no won, is computer translation:

CHAT-DRY (?)

The first chat-dry appeared in the 20th century being destined for the more affluent. Is a traditionally Portuguese food of small format and rustic character. Composed of a crispy crust and an interior fluffy kernels. Is between the small breads, the most common and the most sold in Portugal. Our chat-dry (?) is made with water, flour, yeast and salt.

 And when I wrote back, I called him "Tiu" instead of "Tio", because that is how my child-Portuguese mind spells.

Nesperas in Bloom

My mother is so in love with Nesperas/Loquats that they put her on the website.

LoquatWorld.com

Have one today, if you can!! ;)

Immigration is like Cold Leftovers

My Mom and I have just come from a long American-Portuguese day.

First, we had an appointment at the Consulate. I thought it was to apply for a Portuguese Passport, but it was to register for a Card (like a Green Card).

Seriously. I've been ASKING for the steps of the process for forever. I have all the paperwork. I brought a translator (Mom). But the bureaucracy is not transparent. 

They told me I that I couldn't do anything. They asked if I was Portuguese. But I could not tell what they meant.

"My Mom was born there and I was born here"

Yes, but are you PORTUGUESE?", they asked again.

After finding a nice Brazilian lady to help translate for the younger bilingual kid, I've started on my process of "Applying" for the Citizenship card. Now I wait 4 months, and then bug them again. To make sure I get the Card. And then, I still don't understand what the requirements are to get a Passport.

Then we went to Fernandes Fish Market on Cambridge St in Cambridge, MA. A real treat.  It reminds me of old timey grocery stores with products on dark wooden shelves against the wall.  All kinds of herbal teas in plain white cardboard boxes, sold not for the fragrances, but for the illnesses they cure.  Popciques (which I still don't know how to spell!) fresh from the oven, simple rolls to be served with cheese. Ready made pasteis de bacalau & cebolada de peixe, for those of you who do not cook at home.  And Quiejo Sao Jorge, cheese-very piquante and heavy. My Mom indulged and bought the last slice off the wheel. $20 of pure cheese gold.

Finally, we went to Filomena's Hair Salon.  She is from Flores (!!) and all we talked about was the scary boat to Corvo. And how beautiful the islands are. The American customers started feeling left out, so we showed them pictures of Pico on our Facebook pages. Sigh.  It's not this cold over there ("ova dere"!)

And so, we came home.  Opened our packages of food and ate them. Like cold leftovers, they can only give a hint of the original flavor.

Muito saudades!!

 

Vovo's Journal

I've started to photocopy some of my grandmother's (Vovo's) journal. She filled a 5 subject notebook (8 times-one for each of her kids!)

All in Portuguese.  My goal is to transcribe it all, in Portuguese AND in English.   A huge undertaking. I've been trying to do it bit by bit for years.

If I keep it up, it just might happen.

She has an entire index of events.  It's a lot of straightforward narrative, but I'd love to explore the details.  Especially while my Mom is still alive!!

Obstacle Course

Every so often, a word bubbles up in my mother's brain.

Our street was being repaved, but the construction was taking a long time to be completed. The manhole covers were several inches above the road; you never realize how many there are until you have to drive around to avoid them. 

"Gincana", she said. 

"Obstacle course" I said.

Exactly!