currently floating in a sea of drupal modules and dreaming of winning the jackpot and building a spacious loft, with minimalist decoration and lots of windows. also, of doing some sort of masters in online journalism/documentary. and a website about quirky european roadtrip stops (why should americans have all the fun?!).
i daydream way too often.
once a year, around my grandpa’s birthday, the family gets together to celebrate. my mom has 7 brothers and sisters, all married and with kids, and some of my cousins now have kids as well… more people than we can sit at a table :)
it was the first time in 3 years that i was actually around to attend the party, so there were 3 new additions to the family that i had yet to meet, the smallest of which was just 1 week old :)
in typical portuguese fashion, there’s enough food to feast a full orchestra and plenty of house wine. the party drags itself into the night when we end up singing happy birthday to a sleepy grandpa :)
it’s a recent tradition, put in place by my mother, who by the way is the most unstoppable creature on earth. she has been holding on 2 jobs ever since she graduated, and all this while raising 2 kids and doing a second masters. she’s just been assigned to coordinate the nurses in the infectious & contagious diseases ward of the hospital (smack in the middle of the h1n1 crisis, no less). i cannot tell in words how immensely proud i am of this little stubborn creature and all she has accomplished :)
| À proa dum navio de penedos, A navegar num doce mar de mosto, Capitão no seu posto De comando, S. Leonardo vai sulcando As ondas Da eternidade, Sem pressa de chegar ao seu destino. Ancorado e feliz no cais humano, É num antecipado desengano Que ruma em direcção ao cais divino. Lá não terá socalcos Por isso, é devagar que se aproxima Miguel Torga |
At the bow of a ship of cliffs, Sailing in a sea of sweet wort, Captain in his place Of command, S. Leonardo plows The waves Of eternity, No hurry to get to his destination. Anchored and happy at the human port, It is in an early disillusion That he sails towards the divine port. There will not be terraces Therefore, it slowly approaches Miguel Torga |
hard task for me, almost impossible to translate this poem of Torga, without using all the twists the portuguese language offers. it’s about a specific peek on a hill in the margins of the douro river, called s. leonardo, or, the ‘terrace of the douro’.
compulsory high school portuguese literature, the meaning of the poem is much better captured when you’re up there, surrounded with vineyards on hills that resemble waves. this is the landscape of the “alto douro vinhateiro”, the region where porto wine is produced.
a truly magic (non-planned) roadtrip stop :)
prado, santarém. junho 2009
balloons, masks, music, banners and smiles for single cause: equality.
most pictures by paulo.