Blog post to come soon, still too amazed and without words…
Blog post to come soon, still too amazed and without words…
Traveling is, by far, one of the things I love to do the most and one I spend the most time planning. All my savings are made with the next trip in mind, the world far too big for me to stop anytime soon.
But the name of the blog is not just referring to that need to get to know a new place and a new culture. I quite literally live out of a suitcase because, even when I’m in Portugal, I still have to run around between my mum’s and my dad’s house.
It’s a constant packing for one week (and the worse is they don’t even live that close, I can’t stay in one place one day and the other the next) and the overwhelming feeling that I’m failing them. If I’m with my mum, then my dad is alone and I should be with him before he goes abroad (he works in another country… It has been fun coordinating our trips…); when I go out with my boyfriend or my friends whom I miss I feel guilty because he’s already alone all the time there, he shouldn’t when we’re both here…
When I’m with my mum, I feel guilty for not being with him even though my brother is there and I only have so many days in Portugal; when I go out with my childhood friends, I feel bad for leaving her alone when I’m here…
It feels like I’m always losing, like I’m letting one of them down, most times both… Which makes me feel selfish for wanting to spend time with one or the other or even my friends…
Which leads me to realize one of the reasons I love being in England so much. I get to be selfish and do what I want when I want to, not out of guilty or feeling as if I’m losing something. I don’t feel pulled in ay direction, I get to guide my own way according to my heart desire.
I’m a creep, I know that, let’s move on.
I love observing them.
How they read their books. How they ignore their books, leaving them on top of the table right by their coffee while using their phones.
The newspaper read in the underground, counting the stops left to walk through the door and just get rid of those shoes.
The headphones in place, shutting the whole world off while creating the most intricate scenes.
The occasional writer, looking for his next muse and the strike of inspiration.
Friends meeting in the street, wide smiles and tight hugs being shared.
Children looking at things as if everything is new and exciting.
The frown brow while fighting against the wind, planning what the rest of the day will look like. Or the rest of their life.
I love watching people. I learn more about human nature. I learn more about myself.
I’m not one for the cold weather. While it might be fun to play with layers and textures in clothes, battling the wind and rain it’s no pleasant task.
What if we escape to a tropical paradise while the wind blows outside? Sounds amazing right? Then come right along with me to Cuba.
First things first, one just doesn’t go to Cuba and escape a Cuba libre, a mojito or pure coconut with rum, it’s impossible and, lets be honest, no point in fighting such typical and delicious drinks.
Getting off the plane and being hit with what feels like a wall, such is the humidity in the air, is the first sign that what follows is going to be like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
The white, thin sand on the beach receives each of my steps with a soft tickling sensation and the warm, transparent water is calling my name, making it impossible to physically remove myself from such a perfect paradise.
I had the chance to go to Playa Pilar and Cayo Coco and the only thing I could think of was how I must have been dreaming. The water embraced me so delicately that I was expecting fins to replace my feet and the water was so calm it resembled more a pool created by nature.
The weather definitely had my back since it was warm during my whole stay (as expected) and I only got one delicious tropical storm. I’ll never forget how amazing it felt to be in such a heated water while it rained cats and dogs on the outside.
Since having to endure a 9 hour flight just to go to two extraordinary beaches would be just plain bat crazy, I also went to Habana, which is (or should be) a mandatory stop when going to Cuba.
My expectations were going through the roof with anticipation. I’d seen a million brilliant pictures, read the most amazing stories and couldn’t wait to feel the city and its people. I was not let down in the slightest.
One of the things I was most expectant about were the classic cars that everyone associates with Cuba. Seeing the first one, I felt transported into a movie set. They demand to be seen and appreciated, their presence does not go unnoticed and many took advantage of that by transforming them into taxis.
Because Cuba has one of the most interesting stories in its making with a revolution that is known worldwide and still raises a million questions, my first stop was the Plaza de la Revolucion, the famous square where many political speeches of Fidel Castro took place, attracting millions of people to witness them. The square is huge, with an image of Che Guevara and Camilo Cienfuegos in two of the governments buildings around.
What I loved the most was the opportunity to just roam around the crooked streets and absorb all the culture. Everywhere is brought to life with the typical cuban rhythm masterfully played by the most diverse bands scattered around the streets and in the tiniest of bars. “El Bodeguita del Medio” is a mandatory stop for a mojito and this is written by the very own Ernest Hemingway. The bar is small, there’s a band playing in one corner, everyone is pushing and elbowing each other yet you can’t take that stupid grin off your face or the crazy will to start moving your hips to the sound that found its way into your veins.
Somewhere along the walk, I found myself in Plaza del Armas were a book market was taking place and little kids were running around, not a care in the world. The books smell different, their touch is singular and even if Spanish is not your first language there’s at least one book which finds its way into your bag.
The city has a air of its own, there’s nothing like it. The music, the people, the drinks, the paintings, everything is so peculiar and unique. This was definitely one of the best experiences in my life. And if one of the locals is quick to say the government can own every building but they don’t own him, other isn’t shy to say what you’re looking for is a “mentirita” (little lie) when asking for a Cuba libre.
“I’m going to start a blog when I go to University.” That was six years (six?! how?) ago.
“I’m going to start a blog now that I’ve finished my undergrad and have plenty of time while I look for a job.” The job search was a fail, as was creating the blog.
“Ok if I get in the masters degree I want in the Uk I’ll definitely start the blog!” A little late to the party, yes, but I got here nonetheless.
Should have start it in September but at the time everything was happening at once.
A completely different country I’ve never even been to.
New empty flat that felt cold and claustrophobic.
Every little cell in my body was screaming for me to run back home to the safe and familiar hug of Porto and Viana but somehow along the way that desire to run and hide turned into a need to discover more extraordinary places.
Being away from the place that raised me feels like home.
And now looks like the ideal time to kick start what has been hunting me for so long.
Not because I have the time or because I just moved to another country or any other excuse I was always looking for but just because I want a place to babble on whatever comes to mind.