Boy I hear you in my dreams, I feel your whisper across the sea, I keep you with me in my heart, You make it easier when life gets hard...
To be fair, it's not all my stomach's fault. It could be the fact that I ate more meat this weekend then I have in the last three months combined.
Two steaks, almost an entire chicken, and pork chops...
It could be the fact that I spent hours at the beach in the sun and salt water...
Or it could be the octopus or pastries, or a combination of all of these things...
Portuguese hospitality is brutal, at least for my stomach. My hosts for the weekend decided that I was to gain a kilo for every day I had left in Portugal. The mantra for the weekend, despite my protests was cinco dias cinco quilos. They pushed and pushed to make me eat more and more, but despite their best efforts the kilos didn't stick. The more food they made me eat, the faster it came out. That's the cause of the pain...
It's four in the morning and the pain forces me to the balcony of the house in Ramalhal, pacing back and forth stopping to double over only when the pain becomes too strong before starting again. The green hills stretch out before me, hiding the ocean from my view. In the morning the hills will be full of tractors and farmers in their cornfields. They don't take the saying knee-high by July very literally. The corn stalks are tall enough to hide nearly the entire portuguese population. This is probably why I feel so at home here. Just like home....only different.
This is Portugal. Where the beaches capture my heart, the people look you in the eye, man bags are completely acceptable, silverware is always wrapped in aluminum foil, and soup is served at every meal. Where the cobblestone sidewalks are worn smooth and there is half a dozen eggs in every pastry. Where the buses don't run on time because the driver had to stop for coffee, and one serving of food is an insult to the cook. Where the language is spoken in a sing-song way and anyone is willing to help you if you have the pinta de um americana. It's been my home and has part of my heart. And it just might kill me to say goodbye.
It's funny to think that at this time last year I was leaving a different part of my heart in another place. I've come to the decision though that I'd rather leave pieces of me heart in different places so that I have an excuse to go back and collect them at a later time. Yeah, I'm gonna run with that one....
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