Canadas/Caminhos for Fajas

Some people travel to go hiking.  Personally, I love traveling for the sheer thrill of what it is that you will find.

Hiking includes the benefits of exercise, yes.  The landscape can be beautiful, yes.  If you are a smart naturalist and can identify birds, insects and plant life, even better.

The island of Sao Jorge is a name & place I know of primarily for its INCREDIBLE CHEESE!!  I've set foot on it during a boat trip to all the islands, and it is shaped like a giant loaf of french baguette.  It rises steeply out of the ocean and up close it is immense and makes a human wonder how other humans scaled the heights and found places to live on the rugged terrain.  There are villages which are not accessible by car.  Only paths, known as canadas{caNAdas}.  My mother says that it is a term exclusive to Sao Jorge, although I can remember going around Santa Maria with cousins who pointed to inaccessible villages there.

But there are many more layers to a path than can be immediately seen during a single visit.  How were the paths made?  What other humans traveled here, and why?  This article in the NYTimes Travel Section makes brief mention of a path traveled by the author; "The walk is only two miles or so, but steep in places, and retracing his footsteps I came to appreciate the effort he made to court this woman some 50 years ago."

As for myself, I am a Transcendentalist, and believe that there is a layer of spiritual beauty on every patch of earth, whether one is aware of it or not. Wandering on a path in the middle of an ocean is one of the best ways to experience this.  Everything together, including the stories, histories, experiences and ephipanies that you don't know can evoke a sense of wonder.

==
The full link here:

http://travel.nytimes.com/2006/10/08/travel/08azores.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0

Thoreau Mentions the Azores!

On another blog, I am recording my research into a play I am writing about Henry David Thoreau, Walden Pond and the circle of Transcendentalists who evolved around it.

In Thoreau's first book, "A Week on The Concord and Merrimack Rivers" (1849), I am shocked to find this on the first page:

I am bound, I am bound, for a distant shore, By a lonely isle, by a far Azore, There it is, there it is, the treasure I seek, On the barren sands of a desolate creek.

He knows his world, both near and far.  He would later live in a cabin by himself for two years and would be an important philosopher/nature writer who would show America the beauty of the natural world and plant the seeds for the current environmentalist movement.  My mother has always espoused this idea as well.  Every wildflower and weed is beautiful in its own way and Mother Nature should be honored and respected.

Random FB Poetry

Taken from a page called "Gosto de ti, e entao?"  And Bing Translate.

E o melhor lugar do mundo, ainda é dentro do teu abraço. É aquele que eu gosto de vestir. Que me protege e suporta. O que me acolhe o coração. O que me aquece a alma.
Dentro do teu abraço o mundo pára. E eu páro com ele.

And the best place in the world, is still in your hug. Is the one that I like to dress up. That protects and supports me. What is the heart. That warms the soul.
Inside your hug the world stops. And I stop with him. 

(No other author given)

Imperios em Hudson, Massachusetts!!

So, every year, on the last Sunday in June, they do a HUGE Portuguese celebration at the Clube. I find myself nearly fainting, packed into a wide & sweaty line of people, patiently waiting in the heat for a huge bowl of bread soup.

It's a famous tradition.

And maybe made the biggest impression on me when I was a kid. "This is what it means to be a child of the Azores!!"

This year, my Mom & I were out for a drive, when she suddenly remembered. (Another case of Portuguese-Immigrant-Amnesia). "it's the day of the Imperios!!" she shouts, and suddenly, we are transformed from being bored Americans out for a Sunday drive to Portuguese People!! Obligations, language, songs and tastes are released from memory and we hurry to make sure we don't miss the parade & feast!!

My Mother, you understand, is an older lady, whose energy level matches her exalted age. She is usually very quiet and sleepy. But with one quick call (they didnt have internet then, and dont need it now!), her whole mood became excited & animated the closer we got.

Last year, in the parade, there was a cow pulling a "traditional" cart filled with hay. It squeaked so much that you would have thought they were tugging the first Portuguese Dinosaur in captivity.

The rest of the town is usually baffled by the sudden traffic jam on a Sunday afternoon. A elder townie lady got out of her car and asked our group what was going on. I responded enthusiastically that it was a Portuguese Heritage Parade! She only blinked. And asked if the road we were on cut through to River Street. (If Boston can be taken over for StPaddy's Day & Italian Festivals, why can't those groups be at least appreciative of other "ethnic" celebrations? I've seen it here my whole life, and maybe it's a regional & generational thing as well. NY'ers may resent everyone else, but at least we are respectful of other people taking their turn at parades)

There are usually a bunch of people carrying flags, little girls dressed up in white gowns and a few marching bands. (Note the guy with the green saxophone!!)

The parade goes from the edge of town to the Portuguese Clube, on Portuguese Clube rd or something like that. Parking is never plentiful enough, although the same number of people seem to come every year.

There's an ice cream truck selling "American" stuff, but there is also a stand selling Portuguese Merch (tshirts,CDs, futball flags, etc) and a stand selling traditional food including Malasadas!! (if you buy a dozen, don't get them all sugared, they'll just get soggy & sticky. We always buy a dozen, and eat one or two there!!)

The building was "sponsored by" some guy who runs a cement company, i.e. the most "successful" immigrant, or maybe just the one who wants to show off the most. Or even the one who is the most generous, maybe. It's got a hall for weddings, a restaurant for "futball" games and a gym for everything else.

Behind the big building is another, smaller, dining hall. It has a large kitchen and capacity for maybe 60 people at long tables. THIS is the Imperios Banquet Room!!

The tradition from the islands is to celebrate the saints, each island has a different saint, so there won't be competing festivals on their Saint Days. Some people go from island to island just to go to the festivals (and to visit & have fun too, of course). The rich people in the town contribute money to buy some meat, the WOMEN cook it up into an amazing and simple broth, which then gets served over bread and a few sprigs of mint. It is served, in various seatings, to the community for free. To drink, there is a choice of red wine or a sugary punch.

There is even a word for what the little old ladies drink, asking for punch first, and then a little wine to top it off. And then a little more wine... You'd think it would taste weird, but it's funny, yummy and distinctive (I would never think of mixing the two, but when in the midst of little old Portuguese ladies....)

Oddly enough, the tradition INCLUDES the suffering of waiting in line, crowded together on a hot day. In Hudson, they have generously provided a covering for shade, but can't seem to organize a numbering system or a way to keep people in line in the Air Conditioned Gym (100 feet away!!). It happens everywhere & Everytime I go! I'm always afraid that the little old ladies (or I ) will pass out from the heat! (And trust me, passing out before the little old ladies would be pretty humiliating!!)

Not to mention that the traditional broth is always served in the summer... I wouldn't be surprised if anthropologists analyzing this in the future would describe it as an endurance test recalling the heat of the homeland. Although the islands are usually more temperate than New England....

Art & Music Festivals!

When I hear the term "Festa", I think of Saint Anthony and hot soup on a hot summer day.  But there are plenty of secular and artistic festivals for those who want to experience the islands beyond the native culture & beaches.

The Walk and Talk Festival is now in its third year (I personally just missed the first incarnation by a few weeks back in 2011!)  Go here and take a look at the great video from last year's festival (2012).  There's an IndieGoGo campaign up until the beginning of July which could use your help too, if you are so inclined.

There is also the annual (and international) Mare De Agosto-Tide of August Festival in Santa Maria.  The Portuguese American Journal wrote about it in 2011.  The real site is here, usually it happens mid/late August.  Make sure to book your tickets early!!  It's the height of the season and is poised to be the MidAtlantic version of Woodstock (without all the creepy hippies-just the nice ones!)  It is a sampler of the best of European bands and styles.  Don't expect to see the same old names here; instead you will be poised to discover the hottest new groups coming from the Eastern side of the "pond".

Natural Wonders of the Azores

A recent article focuses on how the focus is on ecology in Sao Miguel.  The article lists a variety of facts about the flora and fauna of the region.  Apparently, there is also a partnership with MIT, called the Green Islands Project.  The actual center is profiled in an architectural journal.

Santa Maria also has an amazing and modern Nature Center (which I can't seem to find online). Some of the qualities of its geological formations are mentioned here.

Back to Sao Miguel, the most charming video is of the head gardener of the Terra Nostra Gardens.  It doesn't even offer a taste of the garden itself, but he's a fun personality to watch.  Especially when he weighs his love of the garden to his family, "More on the side of the family", but . . . 

Bolos de bolas!

If you hear a Portuguese person saying "Bolas!", it generally means "Shit!"

If you hear someone saying "Bolos!", it might mean that you are at a party and multiple cakes have arrived.

If you hear someone saying "Bolos de bolas!", then they are practicing a creative use of alliteration (literally: "Cakes of shit!")

I have yet to hear this, but am doing my part to make it the most popular curse around!

Associação de Palavras

Poetry Post on Facebook

by "Associação de Palavras"

written by Eugénio de Andrade

Entre os teus lábios
é que a loucura acode
desce à garganta,
invade a água.

No teu peito
é que o pólen do fogo
se junta à nascente,
alastra na sombra.

Nos teus flancos
é que a fonte começa
a ser rio de abelhas,
rumor de tigre.

Da cintura aos joelhos
é que a areia queima,
o sol é secreto, cego o silêncio.

Deita-te comigo.
Ilumina meus vidros.
Entre lábios e lábios
toda a música é minha.

Eugénio de Andrade

(Translation)

Between your lips is that madness acode descends to the neck, breaks into the water.

On your chest is that pollen from the fire joins the nascent, growing in the shade.

In your flanks is that the source begins to be bee River, Tiger rumor.

From the waist to the knees is the sand, the Sun is burning secret, blind silence.

Pour yourself with me.
Illuminates my glasses.
Between the lips and lips all the music is mine.

Eugénio de Andrade (Translated by Bing)

Alimentação e culinária

Food is not just a matter of "comidas" in Portugal.

It is a series of memories.  A simple rhythm of meals to give structure to the days.

Cheese and bread. For breakfasts, keep it simple.  Milk from a cow just down the road.

Taste gets slightly more complex.  No funny sauces, just simple pan drippings evolving into a thin gravy.

Leftovers get combined into fried goodies.

Here are some Pasteis de Bacalhau to get you started.

I love that in this picture, there is a glass of white wine and a dipping sauce.  Like something you'd see in a restaurant.  I've only ever seen them next to my mother's stove, landing on a paper towel.  Few survivors would make it to the table or even the fridge.  

No dipping sauce ever required.

Querida Prima Grazienha/ Dear Cousin Grace

I want to warn you, The Azores you are about to discover are not found in the tour guide books. Nor are they the Ilhas Encantadas that we have always heard about from our Maes who have muito saudades for their youth.

They will be their own beautiful thing to you, and they are their own language that defies translation.

Let them rest with you, see as much as you possibly can, Tio Mane will make sure of this. Let him show you HIS Sao Miguel.

You will land in the most cosmopolitan city, Ponta Delgada, and the civilization will get sparser from there on in. They have a few American chains, a mall like structure with a cruiseship theme. Eat, eat, eat. As much fresh seafood as you can bear. THIS is what the memories ache for.

Mida's husband was/is a teacher, so please allow him to teach you. I've learned multitudes from him, even though his English is terrible and my Portuguese is worse. Maybe, like me, you will get used to speaking in native tongues and figure out how meaningless the words actually are.

He spent a day with me, driving up into the mountains, pulling over to collect pumice on the side of the road. He kept pulling over to show me vistas, belvederes, as the British would call their butlers. Places designed to lay these mountains at your feet. You will tire of the gloomy splendor and the overcast skies above the lush greens.

Hydrangeas line the fields, cheaper and easier to mend than fences. Cows are the only other bits of variety in the landscape. The best are the traffic jams, when the shepherds/cowherds use the roads. Cows, especially a multitude, are even larger than you think.

The twin lakes of different hues are the most famous landmark. But look for the haunted and empty hotel placed at the best vantage point for tourists. It was filled finished and furnished, ready to open, when the political powers decided not to allow a final permit (or something). You can see how every window is broken, and the curtains flutter in the breeze.

Tia Mida is a sweet old Portuguese lady now. A tiny apartment, with a lovely view of the city. Her stairwell has a very distinct tang of mildew which has not changed since I first visited. Nor have I in my life encountered the same smell anywhere.

She raised 3 kids in that apartment. Plus a tortaruga in the bathtub for many years, until it escaped by leaping off the roof and driving off with the hooligans who were foolish enough to worship turtles falling from the sky.

Tia Maria Jose lives just outside the city, and the rest home she is in is quiet. Most of the time, she is under the impression that the nurses steal her clothes.

On the far side of the island, almost a day's journey is the Grand Garden. It is called something else, named after an American who loved formal gardens. It has an Orange Pool. Very healthy and deliciously warm. SWIM there!!!

At the end of the tour, if you are lucky, is Tio Mane's dream house. He bought it several trips ago and is building on he land by himself. The house is decent enough, even a second floor with an incredible view. Mida does not seem to be in any rush to move in. Except to use it for storage. It does seem like a man's workshop.

Querida Prima Grazienha/ Dear Cousin Grace

I want to warn you, The Azores you are about to discover are not found in the tour guide books. Nor are they the Ilhas Encantadas that we have always heard about from our Maes who have muito saudades for their youth.

They will be their own beautiful thing to you, and they are their own language that defies translation.

Let them rest with you, see as much as you possibly can, Tio Mane will make sure of this. Let him show you HIS Sao Miguel.

You will land in the most cosmopolitan city, Ponta Delgada, and the civilization will get sparser from there on in. They have a few American chains, a mall like structure with a cruiseship theme. Eat, eat, eat. As much fresh seafood as you can bear. THIS is what the memories ache for.

Mida's husband was/is a teacher, so please allow him to teach you. I've learned multitudes from him, even though his English is terrible and my Portuguese is worse. Maybe, like me, you will get used to speaking in native tongues and figure out how meaningless the words actually are.

He spent a day with me, driving up into the mountains, pulling over to collect pumice on the side of the road. He kept pulling over to show me vistas, belvederes, as the British would call their butlers. Places designed to lay these mountains at your feet. You will tire of the gloomy splendor and the overcast skies above the lush greens.

Hydrangeas line the fields, cheaper and easier to mend than fences. Cows are the only other bits of variety in the landscape. The best are the traffic jams, when the shepherds/cowherds use the roads. Cows, especially a multitude, are even larger than you think.

The twin lakes of different hues are the most famous landmark. But look for the haunted and empty hotel placed at the best vantage point for tourists. It was filled finished and furnished, ready to open, when the political powers decided not to allow a final permit (or something). You can see how every window is broken, and the curtains flutter in the breeze.

Tia Mida is a sweet old Portuguese lady now. A tiny apartment, with a lovely view of the city. Her stairwell has a very distinct tang of mildew which has not changed since I first visited. Nor have I in my life encountered the same smell anywhere.

She raised 3 kids in that apartment. Plus a tortaruga in the bathtub for many years, until it escaped by leaping off the roof and driving off with the hooligans who were foolish enough to worship turtles falling from the sky.

Tia Maria Jose lives just outside the city, and the rest home she is in is quiet. Most of the time, she is under the impression that the nurses steal her clothes.

On the far side of the island, almost a day's journey is the Grand Garden. It is called something else, named after an American who loved formal gardens. It has an Orange Pool. Very healthy and deliciously warm. SWIM there!!!

At the end of the tour, if you are lucky, is Tio Mane's dream house. He bought it several trips ago and is building on he land by himself. The house is decent enough, even a second floor with an incredible view. Mida does not seem to be in any rush to move in. Except to use it for storage. It does seem like a man's workshop.

Mom's Mother's Day Email to Me

Her original poetry:


Hoje fui ver o meu jardim e fiquei encantada com o que encontrei: a g;icinia que plantei o ano passado na frente da casa pegou bem; quero ver se em poucos anos tenho uma trepadeira perto do posto electrico cheia de flores  lindas ( e preciso cuidado e nao deixar ficar muito alta); tirei fotos as flores da macieira que espero seja uma crab apple tree; a blueberry bush esta carregadinha de flores assim como a groselha;  o quintal atraz da casa esta cheio de violetas em flor e que cheirinho ao abrir a porta da cellar!! e encontrei 2 trevos de 4 folhas, os primeiros deste ano; ja tenho a minha prenda para o dia da mae
Beijinhos



And the Google Translation:

Today I went to see my garden and was blown away by what I found: ag; icinia I planted last year in front of the house caught well, I want to see if in a few years have a vine near the electric post full of beautiful flowers (and need careful and let not get too high); took pictures of the flowers apple tree hope it's a crab apple tree, a blueberry bush this carregadinha flowers as well as blackcurrant; atraz the backyard of the house is full of violets in bloom and smell when opening the door of the cellar! and found two four leaf clovers, early this year, I already have my gift for mother's day
kisses

Bostonian Words Demystified

For those of you who have relatives in the Boston area and are confused by the language they speak, here is a complete guide, courtesy of Facebook.  Liked by all.

YOU'VE GOT TO LOVE BOSTONIANS 
The geographical center of Boston is in Roxbury. 
Due north of the center we find the South End. 
This is not to be confused with South Boston which lies directly east from the South End. 
North of the South End is East Boston and southwest of East Boston is the North End.
There is no school on School Street, no court on Court Street, no dock on Dock Square, and no water on Water Street.
Back Bay Boston streets are in alphabetical awddah: Arlington, Berkeley, Clarendon, Dartmouth, etc. So are South Boston streets: A, B, C, D, etc.
If the streets are named after trees (e.g. Walnut, Chestnut, Cedar) you are on Beacon Hill. If they are named after poets, you are in Wellesley.
Massachusetts Avenue is Mass Ave.
Commonwealth Avenueis Comm Ave.
South Boston is Southie.
The South End is The South End.
East Boston is Eastie.
The North End is east of the former West End.
The West End and Scully Square are no more; a guy named Rappaport got rid of them one night.
Roxbury is The Burree.
Jamaica Plain is J.P.
There are two State Houses, two City Halls, two courthouses, and two Hancock buildings (one is very old; one is relatively new).The colored lights on top the old Hancock tells the weatha:
"Solid blue, clear view."
"Flashing blue, clouds due."
"Solid red, rain ahead."
"Flashing red, snow instead." (except in summer, flashing red means the Red Sox game was rained out!
Most people live here all their life and still do not know what the hell is going on with this one. Route 128 South is I-95 south and it is also I-93 north.
The underground train is not a subway. It is the T, and it does not run all night
(Fah chrysakes, this ain't Noo Yawk).
Order the cold tea in China Town after 2:00 AM; you will get a kettle full of beer.
Bostonians: think that it is their God-given right to cut off someone in traffic.
Bostonians: think that there are only 25 letters in the alphabet (No Rs, except in idear.)
Bostonians: think that three straight days of 90+ temperatures is a heat wave.
Bostonians: refer to six inches of snow as a dusting.Bostonians: always bang a left as soon as the light turns green, and oncoming traffic always expects it..
Bostonians: believe that using your turn signal is a sign of weakness.
Bostonians: think that 63 degree ocean water is warm.
Bostonians: think Rhode Island accents are annoying.
The bridge connecting Boston and Cambridge via Massachusetts Avenue is commonly known as the Harvard Bridge. When it was built, the state offered to name the bridge for the Cambridge school that could present the best claim for the honor. Harvard submitted an essay detailing its contributions to education in America, concluding that it deserved the honor of having a bridge leading into Cambridge named for the institution... MIT did a structural analysis of the bridge and found it so full of defects that they agreed that it should be named for Harvard. This is all true!
Do not pahk your cah in Hahvid Yahd. They will tow it to Meffad (Medford) or Summahville (Somerville).
Do not sleep on the Common. (Boston Common)
Do not wear orange in Southie on St. Patrick's Day.
The Sox = The Red Sox.
The Cs = The Celtics.
The Bs = The Bruins.
The Pats = The Patriots.
How to pronounce these Massachusetts cities correctly:
Worcester: Wuhsta or Wistah.
Gloucester: Glawsta.
Leicester: Lesta.
Woburn: Woobun.
Dedham: Dead-um.
Revere: Re-vee-ah.
Quincy: Quinzee.
Tewksbury: Tooks-ber-ry.
Leominster: Lemon-sta.
Peabody: Pee-ba-dee.
Waltham: Walth-ham.
Chatham: Chad-dum.
Samoset: Sam-oh-set or Sum-aw-set, but nevah Summerset!
Massachusetts Facts:
Frappes are made with ice cream - milkshakes are not.
If it is carbonated and flavored, it is tonic.
Tonic means Soda.
When we want Club Soda we ask for CLUB SODA.
When we want Tonic Water we ask for TONIC WATER.
Pop is another name for Dad.
The smallest beer is a pint.
Scrod is whatever they tell you it is, usually fish. If you paid more than $7 per pound, you got scrod.
It is not a water fountain... it is a bubblah.
It is not a trash can... it is a barrel.
It is not a hero, or a grinder... it is a sub.
It is not a shopping caht... it is a carriage.
It is not a purse... it is a pockabook.
They are not franks... they are haht dahgs.
Franks are money used in Switzahland.
Police do not drive patrol units or black and whites... they drive a crewza.
If you take the bus, your on the looza crooza.
It is not a rubber band... it is an elastic.
It is not a traffic circle or round about... it is a rotary.
"Going to the islands" means going to Martha's Vineyard or Nantucket.

Send this to your friends who do not live in Boston and also the ones who do!

SATA on Facebook

I wrote a corny limerick to win a contest that SATA is running on Facebook.
https://www.facebook.com/sata.airlines

It's the only airline that flies to the Azores.  First prize is a trip to Sao Miguel.  Second prize is a trip to Lisbon.  ;-P

There is an island called Faial,
Where families gather to call,
their friends in the States,
who shiver and wait
to return to that land best of all.

Boa Sr: La última hablante de la lengua bo

The last speaker of an ANCIENT language has died.

Article here:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-1248754/Last-member-65-000-year-old-tribe-dies-taking-worlds-earliest-languages-grave.html

Video which includes the sound of the language itself.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=OEnieIRIuLY

BTW: The speaker & language existed on an ISLAND!!

Please listen to your Grandmother, or an elder, or a foreign language.  It is not only the words themselves, but the ideas, history and stories that we shall miss.  Especially those we have never heard.

I remember my Vovo, her voice (in Portuguese) her English -which I was always embarrassed by when I was a child.  Today I am embarrassed that I didn't/don't speak Portuguese.

How do you say "Buck Teeth"? DENTUÇA

When I was a kid, all I wanted to read in Portuguese were comic books.  Heck, as as adult, it's exactly the same way.  Like any language learner, I want lots of pictures helping me to understand what's going on.  Oh, and I want to see the characters swear and use colloquialisms.

The 50th anniversary of a Brazilian comic character, "Monica", is happening. This article does an interview with the illustrator.  The title translates to "Monica, fat, bucktooth and feminist".  She resorts to violence and seemingly, if she were a boy, it might not be such a big deal.

And that word to describe her, [dent-oo-sa], is not a word I had ever heard a lot.  Which is odd, since I am slightly bucktoothed too.

Another unusual thing:  seeing these comics around as a child at my cousins' houses, I never knew it was a Brazilian export.  I am always fascinated by the differences in the two cultures.  Actually, in the three cultures: of Portugal, Brazil and the Azores.

The only other Portuguese comic book I had was Tio Patinhas.  I knew, even as a small child, it was the Portuguese cousin of Scrooge McDuck.

Frei Gonçalo Velho, Descobridor da ilha de Santa Maria

Greetings,

As this postcard says,  this is a photo taken of the principle church of the island and in front of the discoverer of the island, Frei Gonçalo Velho.

The year was 1431 and an explorer was commissioned by Prince Henry the Navigator to set sail from Sagres.  Frei Gonçalo Velho set sail with a crew, promising to name the first island they saw for the Virgin Mary.  After many days at sea, on the actual Feast Day of the Virgin (August 15), the crew was praying the Ave Maria, and just as they reached the words, "Santa Maria", the lookout shouted "Land ho!" (Well, actually, he probably shouted "Terra a vista!", but you know what I mean.)

Portuguese Text
Avé Maria, cheia de graça, 
o Senhor é convosco. 
Bendita sois vós entre as mulheres; 
bendito é o fruto do vosso ventre, Jesus. 
Santa Maria, mãe de Deus, 
rogai por nós, pecadores, 
agora e na hora da nossa morte. 
Amen

Latin Text
Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum.
Benedicta tu in mulieribus,
et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus.
Sancta Maria, Mater Dei,
ora pro nobis peccatoribus,
nunc et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen.

English Translation
Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and in the hour of our death. Amen.

NB: Diogo de Silves was placed as the person who discovered the islands in 1427, as stated by a Portuguese historian as of 1943, based on a smudged map.  It is entirely possible that the two were on that same boat in 1427, and that the "official" voyage in 1431 was to confirm the original sighting.  (Back then, writing was the ONLY form of verification.  How lucky we are to live in a society where writing is not only taken for granted, but exists as only one of many forms of verification.)

A Minha Avo, Se Estivesse Viva . . .

"A minha avo, se estivesse viva, tinha feito 106 anos no dia 28 de Dezembro de ano passado"

"My grandmother, if she had lived, would have turned 106 years old on December 28 of last year"

I had called my grandmother "Vovo", she had lived with me and my parents for years when I was a child.  My cousins in Rhode Island didn't see her very often (although they actually spoke Portuguese at home and even went to school for it).  They called her "Avo" (accent on the last vowel).

Most of my Portuguese words exist as affectionate diminutives.  Auntie="Titia" vs what grownups say when they discuss an aunt ("Tia").  I was taught how to address grownups as a child and now I must be old enough not to be corrected anymore.  And it is certainly rare (and amusing enough) for someone my age to be using the language of children.

She was wonderful.  She gave birth to 9 children.  She rarely laughed, but when she did it lit up the room.

 I realized just the other day that I don't remember talking to her.  Or her having conversations with me, or telling me stories.  It breaks my heart now, but it never occurred to me then that I was missing all of her life experience.  Nothing new, kids don't listen to their elders anyway.  You can't measure the loss of human exchange when there is a language barrier.

I remember her cooking, though.  And no one else in my family can match it, even though they have exactly the same recipes.

Dar os Parabens no Dia de Anos

"Ela precisa de chamar a seu primo para ele dar os parabens (no dia de anos)"

(She needs to call her (male) cousin to congratulate him)-(on the day of the years)

"She needs to call her cousin to say happy birthday"

It's very important to keep in touch with everyone, especially your cousins (Especially if they are in the same generation as you.  They are much more likely to be on Facebook or to accept texts.)

Sopa de Coves

"Ela gosta muito de sopa de coves"

(she likes much the soup of Kale)

Kale soup is made as a meat broth, with vegetables tossed in.  My grandmother made it strictly with only onions, white potatoes and kale chopped into long slender strips.

If you are ever in a Portuguese household and are offered anything with a green vegetable in it, you should accept.  White potatoes, white rice and white bread are the most common elements in any meal. (Circa 1970 in my family anyway).

When I was a kid I kept being offered soup by lovely little old Portuguese ladies.  Unfortunately, my language skills were so poor at the time that I wouldn't accept.  They would all point to the pot and say, "Sopa?"

I thought that "soap" was their secret ingredient.