“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”
– Kierkegaard
I suspect we all sometimes wish for a glimpse of the future, especially when we have difficult choices to make or life feels uncomfortable. If you would have described my current life to me five years ago, I would have laughed and said ‘impossible’.
Growing up on a farm was a bit of a curse to me as a child, as it meant boarding school. Being an introvert and exceptionally shy and awkward at the time, it was like living in hell, and I envied those kids who could go home after school every day, and not just over weekends. My wish to be a day scholar was granted when my parents got divorced when I was thirteen. We moved to a neighbouring small town, which still really only exists because of the farming community surrounding it, and although I was at least grateful that I no longer had to go to boarding school, I never quite felt comfortable within that conservative environment. As a result, I fantasized about the day I finished school and could turn my back on small town life, which felt stifling.
I can remember how in primary school I loved memorising all the names of the countries in the world with their capital cities, while as a teenager I loved tracing the outlines of maps, spending hours hunched over an atlas, wondering what life was like in far off places. I spent a lot of my time daydreaming, conjuring up different lives for myself.
I’ve never been good at planning my life, although ironically I do like to have a rough plan for how I spend my days, as I guess that gives me the illusion of control. I leave the vision boards and affirmations to others. They’ve never seemed to work for me anyway, despite the fact that I’ve consumed every self-help book I could afford in my twenties and early thirties in my quest to find my place in the world.
The choices I’ve made throughout my life were often closely connected to a restlessness and longing within me to be somewhere else, and paying attention to opportunities or little serendipities that I would like to call ‘signs’. It may not be the best way to live a life, especially if one is looking for stability, but this approach has certainly gifted me with an interesting one.
Following these signs I studied dramatic arts at university, worked as an au pair in Germany, taught English in Taiwan and South Korea, had a little drama studio in a coastal town in South Africa, discovered yoga and became a teacher, and married Michael to name just a few. In the 34 years since I left school I’ve never spent more than 5 years in one place.
As a result I have had to say goodbye many times in my life. To places, to people, to a way of life.
In the process I’ve created coping mechanisms that stand me in good stead now that Michael and I are living in two different parts of the world. For one, I choose not to dwell on it, as overthinking awakens a Pandora’s Box of emotions, which serves no purpose. And as I like to think of myself as practical, I try to avoid all those emotions that don’t serve my day to day life and well-being. That said, they do creep up on me at times, but then I deal with them as best I can. Often after I’ve dissolved into a mess of snot and tears. (sigh)
Another way to effectively deal with saying goodbye to Michael after a visit, I’ve discovered, is to soften the blow with what I love best – travel. As one now has to have a negative test result or a vaccine certificate in Portugal to stay in accommodation, I had to console myself with a breakfast break at Almourol Castle on my way to the airport, but on the way back from dropping him off, I could spend a night in Tomar, as I’m now fully vaccinated.
The pandemic has impacted on everyone’s life one way or another. For us, the most difficult thing to deal with is that the ease of travel has been suspended. With rules and restrictions changing all the time, it is much more stressful and difficult for Michael to plan his visits. We do the best we can, count our blessings and voice our frustration with stupidities, as we pendulum through the yin and yang of life.
A part of me has always yearned for a place to grow some roots and live closer to the land. And for the first time in my life, I know for sure that I am where I am supposed to be. I have found the place where I am at peace. What the future holds only time will tell, but for now, I am clinging to this certainty, which also helps to soften the impact of saying goodbye every time Michael leaves.
Portuguese Words:
adeus – goodbye
viajar – to travel
país – country
Notes:
# Although we always run out of time, Michael finished the porch and a roof over the irrigation equipment at the well, as well as building a wind break for me to protect the two mango and two madacamia nut trees still currently in pots, but buried in the ground in the hope they will survive the next two years, before we will plant them out. We didn’t manage to go in search of river beaches, but he did take it slower this time around.
# Tim’s ankle healed enough for him to be back on the quinta for another two days of work on Tuesday and Wednesday – digging more trenches where we are planning a green house, moving rocks and levelling some land.
Written by: Jolandi
I can’t imagine how hard it must be to say goodbye to Michael. Hopefully his next trip to you is already planned so you have that to look forward to. I loved this post. I understand the longing to escape growing up in a small town, there was a whole world out there to explore and wings to spread. Funny though, the once a year trip back up to the town I consider my hometown, I get a peaceful and calm feeling. Couldn’t live there again, but there is something about going back that puts me at peace.
I am so happy you are right where you are suppose to be, that is exactly what life is about. Stay well and safe.
Thank you, Terri. I love hearing about your own experience. I am quite fascinated about how the places we grew up and have lived in shape our lives. Sadly we don’t know when Michael will be able to visit again, but I trust it won’t be too long. – Jolandi
What a great comment, Terri. I can relate to how you feel about your hometown. I especially loved how you thought of planning the next visit. That’s what I would need too.
Goodbyes are so difficult! Your coping mechanisms are similar to mine – I shut out all thoughts that make me emotional for as long as I can and I also give myself little treats to soften the separation blow. I am pleased Michael’s visit wasn’t quite as busy as former ones and I am pleased that Tim’s ankle is getting better and he was able to help you for a couple of days.
I grew up in a town near London but spent most of my time as a teenager dreaming of living in Europe! When that didn’t work out and I had to find work in London and/or my home town I changed my dream to a cottage in the English countryside. That dream has now come true and I wouldn’t go back to city life for anything. Take care and keep well, Jolandi <3
They certainly are, Clare, and I love how we share some coping mechanisms.
I also love reading how you have tweaked your dream so that you could make it a reality. Like you, I would really struggle if I had to live in a city again. I cringe at the thought, as I love the silence and sound of nature so much more than the hum of the city. I hope life is treating you kindly, and that you are having many lovely walks. – Jolandi
Hello Jolandi,
Good morning from Japan, and thank you for sharing this touching and personal post. Many of your points hit home, I felt I could relate on many levels. I am sorry that Michael’s visit has already ended, but do hope his next visit is planned soon. As always your writing and photos allow me to feel as though I am sharing part of this journey with you – thank you. Take care, and our best wishes to you always.
I’m glad you could relate to what I’ve written, Takami. And as always, I’m so grateful that you are sharing in this journey. It means so much to me, when what I write resonates with people. I hope you are having a lovely summer despite the world being upside-down. Take care. – Jolandi
Interesting that our Portuguese neighbour in London left her small town in the SE corner of the Alantejo for similar reasons!
How interesting. Small towns can be rather stifling to grow up in, especially if one is different from the rest, Trevor. It is therefor quite ironic that I, as I grew older, yearned for life closer to the land. – Jolandi
The timing for this post couldn’t have been more on target for me. Yesterday my older daughter and her family, which includes my two young grandchildren, loaded their bags into their car and took off for the long drive to New York. I know I’ll see them again in December (if I can get over a rising fear of flying during the pandemic), but it was still painful to say goodbye to them. It feels like I have a sharp-edged rock stuck in my throat, even as I tell myself that this was a good decision, they’ll be better off in their new house in the suburbs, that they won’t have to deal with wildfires, smoke and drought out there. Strong emotions are hard to argue with!
Your remedy, to travel after saying goodbye to Michael, sounds like a good idea. It’s a bit too busy now to visit the more popular tourist destinations near my home, plus the Delta variant has many places on the verge of lockdown: but sitting on a foggy beach and listening to the waves seems like a good alternative to staying at home and moping. I hope someday you and Michael will no longer have to part for long periods, and you can both stay put in your Portuguese home. In the meantime, I raise a glass to you and thank you for blogging about an emotion I’m also very familiar with.
I feel your sorrow, Hangaku – and the image of a sharp-edged rock stuck in your throat is so poignant. No matter how much sense it makes, or how well we can argue the reasons for saying goodbye, it never softens the heartache that goes with it. I hope you will be able to find your way to them in December, despite the restrictions and fears that go with the pandemic. I can completely understand your hesitation. I love that you found your way to the beach, and I guess the foggy weather was a good visual metaphor for how you felt inside. You’ve had quite a lot on your plate the last couple of weeks. I raise a glass to you too – may you find solace and peace despite life’s many challenges. – Jolandi
Your description of the pain of goodbye is so vivid. My child’s father and I shared custody, so we said goodbye to our baby over and over as they moved between our households for years, and it was often awful. Now that my little one is grown up and drives here and away again in their own car, the goodbyes are still hard. I can understand how it must hurt to send your daughter’s whole family off to New York, and I am so sorry. Hugs.
I hope your time apart from one another will pass quickly and will be filled with meaningful moments for both of you,
Thank you so much, Tanja. Focusing on meaningful moments definitely helps to soften some of the more difficult moments in life. – Jolandi
I can truly relate to your feelings as you well know a few of my stories as well. Agree to soften the blow of saying goodbye is to travel or discover new places in your surroundings. Covid really makes it so hard for all of us. I wish you well and I hope someday I can visit you in Portugal or if ever back in the UAE. Take care!
Yes, I’m sure you can Evelyn. And the pandemic has certainly made everything that is already difficult, even more so. I hope you and your son are well, and that your husband will be able to visit you guys. Stay well. – Jolandi
Restlessness and goodbyes do go hand in hand, as I have learned over the years also. The “stayer” always has the harder job; the “leaver” automatically changes scenery, which occupies the mind enough to soften the separation. At least this has been my experience. I often start a project or force myself into a long walk or run, but travel is the ideal solution because you get to be the leaver, too! I enjoyed hearing a teeny bit more about your past, too, and following the twists and turns that have led you back to the land.
That is so true, Lexie. Yes, I always think it is a bit ironic that I couldn’t wait to move away from small town life, and then started yearning for it, as I grew older. At least this time around I can justify it as an adventure as it comes with living in a different culture. 😉 – Jolandi
I understand your feeling, Jolandi. I grew up in different places, so saying goodbyes to old friends and trying to make new ones had always been part of my life, until I moved to Jakarta in 2008. I like to think that I’m better at dealing with separation than most people, but when that happens to the very few I’m closest with, it’s never easy. I hope things go well for you and Michael, despite the complications of international travel the pandemic has brought in.
Thank you, Bama. Yes, the pandemic really adds another layer to saying goodbye that is super stressful. Especially when rules change so quickly. Every time Michael flies back to the UAE there is something that is different from the previous time. I really hope that at some point there will at least be more stability where it comes to rules so that there can be ease of movement again. – Jolandi
The town I graduated from High School in had a population of 576. We had kindergarten through 12th grade all in the same building. Such a small town. I was DYING to get out, and like you, I just kept going. I am envious of all the different countries and cultures and languages you experienced though. What I lacked in ability to go to other countries, I made up by living in 12 different US states. I lived in Japan for 5 months, but otherwise stayed in my original country. When Tara was preparing for high school, I was getting ready to move again, they begged me not to drag them to yet another place. And finally I had a force powerful enough to hold me still. Somehow, I’ve stayed in the same area since then. It’s sort of a miracle: this is the longest time I have ever lived in a single place (I changed houses, but pretty much in the Portland area). I wonder if you have anxiety about investing in this new home as your forever place? With a lifetime of moving around, how will you reconcile your need to start all over in that scary, invigorating, thrilling, rush of sensations that happens when you arrive at your new town? I hope it turns out beautifully for you. I now have friendships built on a whole decade of living near each other, but I also have all those friendships scattered around the country and actually around the world, so it seems like I can have it all. I hope you find a similar joy holding still in Portugal. <3
It sounds like we grew up in similar sized towns. Our school was also from kindergarten through 12th grade. My 12th grade class was a big one – we were 22 students. So you know exactly what I’m talking about. Your restlessness resonate well with me, Crystal, and I love this glimpse you’ve given me into your life. I’m sure that the 12 different US states at times were a bit like different countries, as I think the US must have such diversity despite being one country.
I don’t experience any kind of anxiety when I think of this house and land as a ‘forever space’. The immense sense of peace I experience here overrides every doubt or anxiety before they can even surface. It is not something I have experienced quite like this before, so it will be interesting to see how it unfolds for me. And thank you for your beautiful wish for me – I too wish to find the joy you’ve found in ‘holding still’. – Jolandi
Beautifully rounded up, your life and this account. I very much feel your peace around settling down in your quinta. I wish you that the goodbyes become necessary less often.
Thank you, Manja. I suspect I will be living with goodbyes a bit longer still, but that is perfectly fine. Just another layer of my life. – Jolandi