No time like the present
The ability to invest myself--and our family--has manifested in buying a plot of land outside of Lisbon, on which Junior and I will build our own house. Junior has always wanted to build, but I prefer everything old. I’d rather find a run-down house that just needs a good renovation to bring it back to life. I like the history and soul of old spaces, and so the idea of building something from nothing just feels soul-less. But there’s no question that real estate prices in the Lisbon area have gone crazy, so finding something within our budget that hasn’t been run through the modern renovation machine that seems to touch everything here--or that is so amazing but will cost the same in renovation expenses--has tested every limit. We’ve been on the search for a while, so a few months ago when we found this plot of land, I figured I had better put my love of old on the back burner for now because this is definitely the best decision for our family. I will put my love of the outdoors (and grass and sitting outside to drink my coffee) in front of scraped-up plank floors, tattered window casings, and urban noise. For now.
Finally, I’ve also embarked on my now-or-never dive back into Portuguese language classes. My proclamation of investing here is admittedly thin if I don’t make a bigger effort with Portuguese. The fact is that it’s quite simple to exist and get by here without speaking any Portuguese. But getting by isn’t what I’m aiming for. I want to belong. When I’m around people who don’t speak English, I feel like a fraction of myself. I can’t follow up on a woman’s surgery or holiday. I can’t make jokes or understand humor, I can’t be the same level of caring, the same level of clever, the same anything. Honestly, I need to temper my expectations of being entirely myself--ever--in Portuguese; but a start is certainly worth the effort.
What's not to love about grammar, a brownie, and a flat white? Perfection.
