Eu sou português!

When I showed my uncle my shiny new Portuguese national identity card and declared that I was Portuguese, he very dryly replied, “I could’ve told you that without the ID.” Of course, he meant that I am very clearly of Portuguese descent and have been all my life. And in America, we all walk around declaring that we are Portuguese, or Italian, or whatever the nationality… but what most of us mean is Portuguese-American, Italian-American, or an American who has parents or ancestors from another country. Living abroad, I have learned that this is an American construct. Even though all of my ancestry is Portuguese, I cannot declare that I am Portuguese in London. If you are Portuguese in London, it means you are ACTUALLY Portuguese. I even have a friend who declared herself half American (in other words, she has an American parent). And I can assure you that she was not referring to Native American. Perhaps it is because I grew up in a sea of American immigrants, but I found this assertion of being half American because one of your parents is American to be disorienting. In my neighbourhood, most of us dissected our lineages and combined as appropriate. Such an exercise for me was easy because my parents’ families are from the same mid Atlantic island. But for most Americans, this is a more convoluted operation. My best friend is half Irish and half Portuguese. And I don’t remember the various fractions of most of my other friends, but they are various fractions of Portuguese, French, and other various European countries. However, earlier in 2009, my perspective has shifted again. Now I can declare that I am Portuguese in any country, whether in London or in Lisbon: I am Portuguese. I have always been proud of my heritage and I am very excited to be connected to my ancestors in this new way, even if it is just on paper.

Christmas

As I wake up this Christmas, my body is straddled across an ocean. It is a sacred ocean for at one end is the land of my ancestors. And at the other end of it is the land of my birth. And back at the other end, my current home. And there are yet more ends to the ocean because an ocean ends at each of its shores. At one shore, where my eyes currently linger, it is dawn. The growing hopeful light signals a beginning. At another, where my brain lingers, it is midday. And that brain, be sure of itself, has triggered the release of chemicals signalling the height of the day. So there it is, this Christmas, my brain is on one shore, and my eyes on another. I dare not contemplate where and when my feet may be.

Advent (the preparation of Christmas) has always been my favourite time of year. It is about getting ready for something magical. It is like when the pace car pulls into the pits just before the green flag at the Daytona 500. The team has been preparing, pouring all of its energy and enthusiasm and hope into that new beginning. And when that flag drops, I eagerly anticipate that this moment is the first one of the emotional highs and lows as I accompany my driver to victory lane. Or. It is like when the house lights go down just before the conductor plays the overture to Giselle. The company has been preparing, pouring all of its energy and enthusiasm and hope into that new beginning. And when the first note wafts into the audience, I eagerly anticipate that this moment is the first one of the emotional highs and lows as I accompany my favourite dance to scores of curtain calls.

Most races do not end with my driver taking the checkered flag. Most ballets end with only the choreographed curtain calls. And as 2009 comes to a close, every indication so far is that it will fade into lost memories. But this Christmas neither morning nor afternoon, I am bathed in the warmth of family and the wonderful expectation that this year will be THE year that I realise all of the joy that is in the promise of the birth of compassion incarnate: Jesus Christ. Merry Christmas to you, my online family.

My mobile phone

So I got a new mobile phone several months ago. I forget what happened to the old one that made me need a new one. But the new one has a camera in it. I know... to you this is nothing new... but to me, this is my first camera phone. I thought to myself: wow, having a camera in my phone will be great because now I can take pictures when I see stuff. Well, good idea… until I realised that having a camera on my mobile phone does not suddenly make me a person who takes pictures of stuff.

Now that I have a camera phone, there are times that I think: Hey, that might make an interesting picture and I have a camera on my mobile phone… naw, it’s not that interesting… I will wait until it is more interesting… Yes, I am that lazy...

There have, however, also been a few rare occasions that I actually carelessly snapped a shot or two. I say carelessly because it seems that the recent ones are quite blurry, so that is how I know it was careless. For example, here we are in West Hamstead making our house warming tea set in October (Thanks Susanne).

And here’s one from another weekend in October. My beloved & I went to Borough Market. It was a wonderful market (no pictures). They even had mulled apple juice (what Americans call ‘apple cider’, which bares absolutely no resemblance to the English drink of the same name). It was delish and it reminded me of the taste of home. So on the way back we stopped at The George for a pint. The George is my honey’s favourite pub. It is the last galleried coaching inn in London. Apparently, entertainers would perform on the ground and people viewed them from the galleries above. Well, in the spirit of the old galleried inns, a group of morris dancers showed up and gave us all an impromptu performance. Morris dancing is sort a modern incarnation of old folk English folk dance, steeped in tradition, whose origins are lost to history but will stir a frenzied debate amongst the competing dance teams. This is my first morris dance experience. There was lots of beer. And one of the team member came by and chatted with us afterward. He was very friendly and sweet, and patiently explained the ritual to us answering all of our burning morris dance questions. It was a fun experience and my phone sort of captured this moment (they are way in the background...).