A New Land to Explore

 

Sigh.

I mean really.  Sigh.

It’s time again.  Time to leave the country I love as I have yet to secure a paycheck to allow me to stay.  This just gets worse every time I do it.  My outlook is starting to dim.

Searching for a job continues to be a nightmare and I’m not the only one to notice.  YouTube is rife with videos of new graduates who can’t find jobs, multiple layoffs in the U.S. flooding the market with job-seekers, the presence of ghost jobs, and A.I. rejections of resumes in the dozens.  Videos on how the job search engines are broken, careers are dead, and employees refuse to hire even when they have the perfect candidates for positions that remain open.

I naively thought that the wave of layoffs that swept me out of a job in 2022 would eventually ebb.  I’d go on my sabbatical, take myself out of the job market for a year, and then everything would be better, right?  Right!?!

Then there’s the other side of this.  The clear and simple fact that I don’t want another soul-sucking corporate job.  I never wanted a boss to begin with and I certainly don’t want to fight to find one now.  I like having my time all to myself.  But, again, I have to have physical proof of employment for the Portuguese government to grant my visa, so the drudgery continues.

I’m trying to learn the programming language ‘R’ as part of my data analyst certificate and now brain leak out ears … hElp Me!!!

I’m sure there is a better way of getting this life thing done, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out what it is.  In the meantime … gotta flee the country again.  But where to?

Türkiye has become my automatic default, but I wanted to try something different.  After a little research, I realized I had an option that I thought was closed off to me. 

Cyprus is a weird little duck.  It’s an island that’s part Turkish and part Greek (mostly Greek) yet it belongs to neither country.  It’s not part of Schengen either though it has applied for entry.  I thought for sure the island would be accepted this year as had Romania and Bulgaria (Ireland is still waiting to get in), but that hasn’t happened yet for whatever reason.  So, it remains its own little free-standing country.  That means no visa requirements for U.S. citizens and a stamp in the passport allowing me to stay for 90 days as a tourist.  Sounds like a plan.

I had a 12:30 a.m. flight out of Lisbon that didn’t leave the airport until after 1 a.m.  They had a meal service about an hour later that I just slept through (seriously, I know a 4-hour flight usually includes a meal, but come on!  It’s 2 in the morning!  I just want to sleep!).

Because that flight was so late taking off, I had to race through Athens (ugh) Airport to make my next flight.  That included going through passport control as I was leaving the Schengen area.  After a long, sweaty sprint, I just managed to make my flight.

The plane landed early on a Sunday morning.  Already tired and a bit loopy from the flight, I can’t tell you how jarring it was to hear American music wafting through the airport.  Getting off the plane to hear The Village People blaring Y.M.C.A. from the duty-free shop was just …

My host, Demetris, offered to pick me up.  This is a rare offer from Airbnb hosts so it already made the new place stand out.  But as he drove me past the salt lake (the flamingos are there in the winter) through the streets of Larnaca, I started to have Athens flashbacks.  Not just because of the city, but it dawned on me that I hadn’t stayed in an Airbnb in Greece since that one night in that smelly dump.  I started thinking “oh crap.  This place is gonna be just like Athens.  And I don’t care how nice this guy is, I’m gonna have to bail.” 

The entrance to the place didn’t help with that perception.  Now, I’ve been on the road for over a year and I’ve learned that you can’t judge a book by the cover.  Shabby-looking or non-descript buildings usually have almost no bearing on the condition of the apartments. 

I was so relieved that this was one of those occasions.

To my utter shock, this is one of the most well-equipped apartments I have ever been in.  There are cough drops and Q-tips, water and juice in the fridge and fruit on the counter.  There’s a little lever on the kitchen faucet that filters drinkable water through a separate opening.  I’ve gotten used to buying a big jug of water whenever I hit a new place.  With the amount of water that I drink, better safe than sorry regarding the potability for Americans.  I can’t tell you how nice it is to just be able to drink from the tap again.

There’s still more!  This is the rare place that has a tissue box and paper towels.  There is enough shower gel and soap to have you smelling like anyone you like.  Demetris even provided me with toothpaste and a new toothbrush!  How did he know I needed one? 

I know it sounds like such an insignificant thing, but it’s providing little stuff like this that makes a host truly stand out.

Of course, everything couldn’t be perfect.  That first night (Sunday) there was a huge party or club or something nearby blaring music from 5 p.m. to well after midnight.  I still managed to sleep only because I was exhausted.  Toilet paper can’t be flushed (it’s Greece so I expected that).  The apartment comes equipped with yet another induction cooktop that I had to learn (seriously, I HATE those things!).  

And then when I tried to stay another week, I found the apartment was already booked so … there’s that.

As for the city of Larnaca – it’s got some good energy.  Yeah, it’s crawling with tourists and way too commercial.  There’s a TGI Friday’s right on the strip.  I don’t even think there are many of those left in the U.S., so it was very jarring seeing it on the other side of the world.  Of course, McDonalds, Burger King and Starbucks also have a hold on the island.

But despite all that, the place is lovely. It’s about 80 degrees F, sunny and dry on the island every day.  The apartment is just blocks away from the beach and a very stacked boardwalk with restaurants, pubs, and souvenir shops.

And then there’s the breeze.  I didn’t realize until now just how much I missed being near the Mediterranean. The cool air coming off that water is just so relaxing.  The whole vibe of the place says “chill out”.  I dig it.

It surprised me the number of people who speak fluent English.  The island is a big tourist spot because of course it is, it’s gorgeous.  But I’m still the foreigner on their soil.  Then I got to thinking.  Unless you were raised in Greece or are of Greek descent (or possibly a scholar), there is no way you just casually learn to speak Greek. Or read it.  You can find Americans who speak fluent Spanish, French, German – but not Greek.  The language may have been around forever, but few would even attempt to learn it.  I saw a t-shirt in an Athens flea market last year that read “I speak Greek.  What’s your superpower?”  So, yeah.  They know. 

                                                                (This is an Entry sign, btw)

I didn’t help my own situation by transferring directly from Portugal to Cyprus.  I kept wanting to say “Ola!  Bom dia!” (hello, good day) when I approached new people because it’s one of the few Portuguese phrases I’ve gotten down pat (and it’s fun to say!).  But then I have to stop myself, realizing that I don’t know the Greek greeting.  I do know ‘kalimera’ (good morning), but other than that (and my name) my Greek is sorely lacking.

Cyprus is truly amazing.  I think I can squat here a while.  Hopefully, I can pick up a bit more of the language without making my head explode.   

Back To Cascais

 

After two weeks in that great place in Porto, I decided to head back to Lisbon.  My Schengen days were once again running out and I figured it would be easier to leave the country from Lisbon than Porto.  I’d spend the week in the city and figure out my next move from there.

Lesson learned from getting to the apartment:  don’t subject another Uber driver to those narrow streets.  I don’t care how skilled they are, I just didn’t want to risk it.  So instead, I hauled all my stuff down to the main street (not a fun journey dragging my roller bag downhill over rough cobblestones in the early morning) and call a ride from there.

A quick flight from Porto and I was back in Lisbon.  After an overpriced cab ride from the airport to Cascais, I was met by a woman (the first black Portuguese woman I’d spoken to) and taken up to the apartment, a new place for me since I couldn't book the place I liked from last year.

Yeah.  It’s not a bad place, but it instantly made me miss the place in Porto.  To its credit, though, it does have a tub and a gas range.

I chose to return to Cascais as opposed to Lisbon proper because the area has beaches that I love to walk along.  But do you remember when I mentioned that there is construction going on all over the city of Porto?  Well, it seems that Cascais is no different.  Not only are many of the streets blocked off and the sidewalks torn up, but there was also construction happening in my apartment building.  Once again, it was right over my head.

I had heard some banging and clanging throughout the week, but my last couple of days in the apartment were the worst.  One day, the buzzing and banging began at around 9:30 right after I’d finished breakfast.  Since the sound was starting to burrow its way into my skull and give me a headache, I decided it was time to spend the day in Lisbon.

It was a half hour walk to the train station from the apartment.  Another 40-45 minutes by train into the city (with gorgeous views of the coast most of the way).  Then it was either a short trip on the Metro or a not-so-short walk into town.  Since it was a nice warm day, I decided to walk.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned Bertrand before.  It is a chain of bookstores that are all over Portugal.  The branch in Lisbon is the oldest bookstore in the world, having opened in 1732.  It draws a lot of tourists, but, mercifully, not as many as Livraria Lello in Porto.  I never could get into that place because the lines were always stupidly long, but Bertrand is always accessible.  Crowded, but accessible.  Fortunately, I had visited the store on earlier trips, so I knew the way.  I made a beeline for the English section, got my books (which they will stamp for you) 

then got the hell out of there.  Too hot and too many people.  Very glad to get outside.

My former host Luis, the chatty one in Porto with the maps and suggestions, advised me not to go to the Algarve in the south because it wasn’t as historic as Porto.  The only reason, according to him, to go there was for the beaches (my research also told me that there were so many Brits who’d relocated there that the place felt more British than Portuguese).  Lisbon, in his opinion, was too expensive and crowded and not to his liking.  While I appreciated his love for his city, I gotta disagree. No shade on Porto, but I will always prefer Lisbon.  Yes, it is too crowded and too expensive, but there is a vibe to the city that can’t be beat.  I’m always happily humming while navigating the winding, paved streets.

And, as usual, there were various sights to behold on that day.  A parade led to a bandstand with people waving flags and chanting.  I have no idea what that was about, but it seemed to attract a lot of people.

In the main square, framed by pretty, purple-flowered trees, was a crafts fair.   You could buy all sorts of handicrafts and jewelry.  And of course, booze.  Lots of booze.

Porto IV

 

So, yeah.  A part four.

After three weeks in Porto, I had to consider what to do with my few remaining Schengen days.  I thought about going to Cyprus or taking a train to Spain, but … nah.  I’m good in Portugal.  Porto isn’t my favorite city, but it is still Portugal.  It may not be Madeira, but this country as a whole still feels like home.   I would actually love to return to Funchal, but I couldn’t find an available place with a reasonable price (the prices ranged from $100/night to – and I kid you not – over a $1,000/night!).

I called for an Uber to take me to my next temporary home.  The driver was a friendly man who chatted with me the entire way. You know the drill.  I told him about my situation, how I came to be in the country, and how I did not want to leave.  He assured me that Portuguese was an easy language to learn and I laughed in his face (well, at the back of his head as I was in the back seat).  “If I can learn English, you can learn Portuguese.”  Um, English is easy compared to Portuguese, Turkish, Mandarin, etc. which is why everybody learns it.

We turned off the road that hugged the coast into an older part of the city.  The transition is always marked by leaving the paved highway section and slowing down for traveling the uneven, stone roads and increasingly narrow streets.  And I mean really narrow.  At more than one point, I was sure the guy was about to lose a side mirror or hit a parked car.  I just sat there wincing the entire time. 

We got to one area where he could safely turn around and I told him to just drop me off and I’d figure out the rest of the way.  I really didn’t want him to damage his car for a 12-euro ride. He said “no, I got this” and kept going forward.  After asking a lady passing by for the exact location, we turned into a tiny parking lot.  The apartment is just to one side of it.

He got my luggage out, shook my hand, and wished me luck.  I tipped him the max amount through the app – dude had earned every penny.  As I already had my phone out, I began crafting a message for the host’s neighbor to let me in.  Before I could press send, a pretty young woman with long curly brunette hair came around the corner and helped me into the apartment.

I knew when booking this place that it was a new listing.  It had no reviews but was owned by a Superhost (for those unfamiliar with Airbnb, Superhosts have the highest reviews and the best reputations). I usually chose my places based on reviews but took a chance on this one because of it being owned by a Superhost.

Turns out, it wasn’t just a new listing as everything in the place is new.  Brand spanking new.  As in the twist ties were still on the power cords of the appliances.  As in I had to remove the packing tape from inside of the microwave.  New appliances, cookware, bedding, linens, the whole nine yards.  I was the first guest and I can’t tell you what a difference it was to go from an old place with ancient appliances to a squeaky-clean place with unused … well, everything.

I LOVE that!

The place is really nice.  Big kitchen with a backdoor that leads to a shared courtyard, a roomy bathroom, and a decent sized bedroom.  I love the U-shape of the apartment even if I don’t love that it’s on the ground floor.  The windows in the living room face the tiny parking lot and there are always people walking around and making way too much noise. 

Being a new place, there was a slight hiccup on the first day.  I noted that the fridge, located behind the kitchen door (which is dumb – why have that door in the first place if you have to close it just to access the fridge?) was not working.  I pulled it back from its cubbyhole to find that it was indeed plugged in.  I shot a message to the host then immediately figured out where the fuse box was located.  Something tells me that the place has been sitting unused for a while.  The fuse for the fridge was the only circuit that was shut off and the clock over the kitchen door was an hour behind.  Daylight Savings Time started in Portugal several weeks ago.

There was another issue I had with the place.  It has the same problem as other older buildings in this country in that it stays cold no matter what the temperature is outside.  There are two wall-mounted heaters in the place that do exactly zip unless you’re standing right in front of one.  Fortunately, there’s a heavy comforter on the bed so I didn’t have to use the one in the bedroom.  The host also provided a blanket on the sofa.

While not in sight of the water, the apartment has easy access to it.  This part of Porto is right on the ocean, a short walk away from the mouth of the Douro River.  There’s a park close to the shore that reminds me of Belem in Lisbon as it’s just as green and pretty.  This whole area is just gorgeous, so much so that I don’t think I caught it all on camera.

It’s a good hour on foot from this part of the city to the touristy section, but there are busses and taxis everywhere.  The colorful tram cars run right along the main street with the terminus of the tracks being just a short walk from the apartment.

Unfortunately, after having decent weather for the last couple of weeks, the first few days in this new apartment saw the weather take a turn.  A couple of days were just frustrating, starting off sunny and then turning gloomy and rainy.  Then sunny!  Then raining.  That cycle repeated until the weather just decided screw it, just rain all day. 

Yay.

Since I didn’t relish the thought of finding a new home in that weather and I was quite content in the apartment, I extended my stay for another week.  After days of wind and wet, Monday 5/6/24 started sunny … and actually stayed sunny all day.  It was glorious!  And I’m not the only one who noticed.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: the Portuguese are a hardy people.  When I went walking on the first sunny day, the temperature still hadn't risen much because of the rain.  I had ventured out in my heavy hoody zipped up to the neck as the wind whipped tears out of my eyes and made my nose run.  Meanwhile there were half-naked people lying on the beach.  I don't know if I'll ever be this weather-resistant.

The very next day, temps were in the low 80's.  Summer is coming, folks.  Only my favorite time of the year!