here's to the bar guy

This post is for the guy I met at the bar last night.
HA... no not like that.
Here's to you bar guy.


Last night, two of my best life buds and I went to the classiest bar in town... aka the one where you can get $1 beers on Thursday.
We were standing in the upstairs,
and I stated it smelled like a "dead sock," due to the amount of sweaty, beer drinking individuals hanging around. Including myself.
I was playing pool, and as I was waiting my turn I was standing near this guy sitting at a table with some friends. Actually, some of you who were there too probably took notice of him.

I started making conversation with said guy, because he had pretty crazy dreadlocks.
I asked him about his dreads, how long he's had them, hear about his life and how people judge him for it, and so on.
Then he started talking about how he makes music...
Which, hey, I write music. So that's cool.
He was talking about how passionate he is to play music, travel, and meet people around the world.
Stop thinking... this dude is a total hippie.
Because maybe he was in his mustard yellow vibing shirt, baggy orange pants, and "drug rug."
Ha.
Whatever.

So I decided to ask him what motivates him to play or write music.
I don't have an exact quote, but he explained to me how he loves creating something that can be an expression of emotions and feelings. He talked about how much love people can experience within listening to or writing music and how much it builds relationships and community.
It was a moment where I wish I could take a picture of him and remember the words he was saying so I could share it with... everyone. Not because he's trendy or musical, but because that is the REALEST bar conversation I've ever had with a stranger, especially a male stranger.
He didn't ask me for my phone number or Facebook or anything,
He just shared with me who he was...
and offered to dreadlock my hair. (Don't worry mom).

So this morning I've been thinking about how cool of a encounter that was, and took some time to find him on Sound Cloud, since he did tell me his artist/band name. Really cool stuff.

So here's to you bar guy.
Thanks for looking different.
Thanks for having dreadlocks,
so I would come up and chat with you while
I was hopelessly shooting pool.
Thanks for giving me your SoundCloud
so I can hear your expression.
I'm prettty positive you'll never know
that the girl that you talked to for
fifteen minutes wrote a blog
thanking you for, well, being you.

Here's to you, bar guy with dreadlocks.
You inspire me to live.



email me if you're interested in listening to his music.

_shelly kav

it ain't nothing like the old school

Just a little Lisboa "character" to inspire your day.

Side note:  More "character" to add to the list would be the fact that they are playing 

"I'll Make Love to You" by Boyz II Men in the café I'm in right now.

Yesssss, I am in ANOTHER café.

And here it is because I know you want to.

Tan

Another Coffee Shop Post...per ushe...

I didn't seek to run away this time, I think I pretty much have that covered since I’m like 4,000 or something miles from home.  I just sought to veer off just a bit and for just a while.  Below is directly from the journal-ing that occurred while I was there last night:

I'm at this place, Pois Café.  Its heavy curtain with the slit down the middle after the entry way sparked my curious mind, so I stepped through.  Today I was feeling kind of down, but just in a human condition kind of way.  This day just happened to be lower than the past few days have been.  It’s rainy, and therefore gloomy, and i also think I may be getting sick or just coming to terms with the fact that I’ve been sick.  **I'll skip the part of this entry when I talk about the state of my tonsils.**  So, today I just was feeling the sigh a bit more than usual.  Now though, now as in like this very moment— yea, it's so wonderful.  I'm going to stop thinking about where I should be or worrying about what could be and be here with all of me, including my mind.  

So often that is not how our moments works.  we are here in the most obvious way and our mind thought about that very place we are in enough to get us there, but that can be the extent of it.  We get our bodies to places, but what about our minds too?  At the beginning of this America's Greatest City book on Chicago I checked out in the sociology section at my school's library **I won't explain why, ha.**  it questions our true sense of community in a global and techno-savvy age.  No longer (maybe, at least I think this book is saying...) is our community with the ones our bodies are "with" or near, but our community is with the ones our minds, and often only our minds, are "with".  This puts into serious question what we consider community to be I think, it’s not so straight forward when we add intentions into the equation.  We text, call, email, tweet, post, whatever to everyone away from us.  So then they are our community more so that the ones physically with us?  Oofta. 

I've been particularly struggling with metro habits as the metro in itself is foreign to me.  Unfortunately, the past week or so I've noticed I’ve begun to take on a particular demeanor in my own metro travel routine.  It goes like this:

Metro, enter, sit, wait, go, hand out, phone on, head down, stop, head up, hand in pocket, up, move, off repeat.  Repeat, repeat, repeat.  BLEH.  

Okay, I don’t go “bleh” at the end of the cycle, thank God, but I do go “bleh” when I think about the cycle.  I mean, come on.  I've been craving structure in my days, but not habituality!  I made that word up, but it works, eh?  I'm not sure when the moment was when I mentally shrugged my hypocrite shoulders and decided to conform to this blindness, but I definitely made this decision and it is life sucking.  Now, people do have to get places and people are tired and people think about what they have to buy at the grocery story while on the metro.  BUT what if there was just one person on the metro who did have a question, need a bit of light conversation or even just a reassuring smile and everything about my demeanor said, "Yep sorry buddy, it's not me.  Look past me.  I'm alone."  This is how I feel so many choose to project themselves on the metro ride and, recently, how I have chosen to project myself on the metro.  

Our minds remove us from where we are so snidely.  They want our bodies to put on the show that we actually are completely where our bodies happen to be.  In order to truly be where we are both our bodies and our minds have to be there.  What is community if we are constantly choosing the one that is away?  There is some researched definition of community out there, but here is just my two cents…community is chosen, intentional, and who we are "whole" to not just with our physical presence, but our mental presence as well.  EVEN on the fast paced metro where I see hundreds of faces I’ll never see again.  I don’t think the definition of community has a time limit, at least if I were constructing my own, it wouldn't.  Presence takes patience I think, so I hope I can manage that with people I encounter, even indirectly, and then maybe we could join in silent community for but 2 minutes.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to share and be understood or share in a way that feels satisfying enough to not care whether or not the other person actually understands because I do understand just enough to feel even the slightest amount competent and valid.  

I have a black smudge on my right pinkie from writing like a leftie with the wrong hand.  I finished my beer, this thought, and my ability to suppress the fact that I've had to pee my entire time being here.  Okay, catch me Lord.  I'm asking a lot of You with my stepping without planning and sometimes without considering that maybe reality really should be a factor sometimes.  Just be You, how about, and I'll be me and then I think that pretty much means all will be well...?  Okay, that is all.  

Tan

  

I'll end this post with this song, because it's been floating in my head for a few days and then this man in the metro station was playing it on his guitar the other day and it made me smile.

2.15.16

3:28 PM
I'm sitting on the floor in my room, googling towns near Dubuque to run away to for a few hours... You know sometimes you just feel kind of stuck and need to get in your car and drive or find a new place... it's one of those days. It's a Monday. I'm grateful for a car outside and $1.50 gas.
3:32 PM
I realize Potosi is only 25 minutes away.
3:35 PM
They don't have any open coffee shops.
3:40 PM
Still sitting in my room.
Listening to Bon Iver.
Ya know, he went for a winter and lived in a cabin in Wisconsin by himself....
and he wrote a wrote album while he was there. (Bon Iver... french for good winter... I think). But still.
I blame Bon Iver and Henry David Thoreau for me wanting to go live in a cabin and sort things out for awhile
3:42 PM
Platteville it is, not super different or random, but why the heck not?
4:11 PM

Roped in two of the roommates.
5:18 PM
after driving around aimlessly in Platteville looking for a gas station, we ended up going to a 1930s gas station...yeeeaaah.... and now we are sitting in a coffee shop in Platteville. I'm listening to the same music, typing the same homework (well not right now), thinking a lot of the same thoughts, but there is something soothing about being somewhere new. Somewhere that no one knows me, besides my two friends here with me. It's a sigh of relief from my structured Outlook Calendar.
 5:26 PM
So I wanted to run away alone at first. I wanted to drive somewhere, with no plan, and sit in a place, just with myself... in hopes that maybe something would change or make more sense.  Ha, sounds crazy, but it's the truth.
How about you?
Ever want to just run away? Ever try it? Did it help?
Sometimes I think that driving miles on a road will take me to a new place, not just externally, but internally too. And sometimes it does, but at the same time, there are moments where I drive minutes, hours, miles, whatever... and I come to find the same me. The same person that was sitting in my room two hours ago frantically googling places to drive my car to.
Today, running away was a good choice,
because I didn't reaally run away from anything...
the adventure was shared, and my heart was a little lighter.
Instead of cycling through the same thoughts during the drive to this coffee shop,
we told stories, laughed, jammed out a little, and just spent time with one another.
Nothing "crazy."
Just simple.
But I needed it.
5:32 PM
I sip my coffee and save this blog post... time to open a new Word Document and write a little paper for class.

Nelly Smith

from my mattress on the floor.

So,

I'm chilling here in my room.

From the mattress on my floor. 

Since my bed is a litttttttle broken for the short time being.

That is until I drive to the store 

and buy some... thing.. to fix it.

But due to the excess snow 

and my lazy soul...

I just chill here. 
on the floor.

(notice the stack of books holding it up. Classy.)

Anywho,

here are a few Michelle thoughts for 

your casual Tuesday evening thinking.

Disclaimer... the following my sound a little "dark,"

perhaps, but it isn't meant to be delivered that way.

It is a handful of my reflective thoughts of the day...

Lately people have been telling me that I'm in a really good place,

when I express a large variety of confusion with life.

It's a little dumb-founding to me.

How am I in a "good place" that is "normal"

when I feel like I don't know anything I used to "know"?

Ever feel like that?

Like you had this handful of something

so precious, that moves you...

and then one day you look at it

and say, "What the BEEEEP??!"

You don't recognize it anymore.

It actually, perhaps, resembles dirt....

& maybe you want to throw it on

the ground and leave it behind.

But for some reason,

something in you won't

let you release your grip 

and turn your hands over.

Each day you come to that 

handful and look at it, 

unable to really name what it is.

It frustrates you.

Some days carrying it seems heavy,

other days you don't even

give it a look, 

because you are slightly
bothered with the continual cycle

of confusion.

hmmm... so how could all this
be a "good place," that someone would
almost congratulate me, to be in?

Ha. I realize some of you reading this
may be thinking I'm crazy. Or intense.
Not denying either...ha.
But in all seriousness,
I think I may not be
the only person that feels like this
every now and then?
Am I right? or am I right?


Oh these posts...
They make me feel like a young
teen narrating a Disney Channel
show from the 2000s...
"This is what dreams are made of?"
Anyone, anyone?


Well until I find further thoughts on my little existential confusion-ness....
I used my handy iPhone to capture my tea brewing in water last night.
If you ever feel kinda "blah" grab some form of herbal tea that
is colorful and watch it brew. It'll settle the brain for a little.
Throw it on full screen and take a watch.

P.S. Bed is now fixed. 

-Miche

here & there

I walked here...like, from my home...

...then I sat outside and split a meal of Paella with my beautiful roommate, 

got a large cone full of white chocolate & coffee gelato, and then took the metro to the bus 

which would bring us to our humble abode.  

I needed tonight.  One month in and the stress of all the new begins to fade and the comfort you prayed for finally begins to set in.  

"Ah, I know this place..."

What a reassurance to feel this way.

Reality sets in as well, thoughts don't race around in my head as fast as they did when I just arrived here.  I'm able to let some thoughts linger a bit longer now and actually look at them for a while.  Home...oh home.  

I keep saying how blessed I feel to have something, someone, some place that I miss so much.  I do "miss" and recently, like when I heard my mom or my dad's voice over the phone, my eyes filled with tears and my throat did that clench thing--this is new for Portugal.  I've been so ready to get out and explore and discover for my own, but as comfort sets in emotions surface.  I am here and so happy to be, but I would be pretty happy to be there too.  What a gift.  

That's all for today.

-Tan

Simple Sitting

Wanted to do as the old Portuguese men do this morning, so I did.

I thought, "espresso me, random delicious pastry me, and plop me at a solo table outside where I can read (...a little Positive Psych Paper authored by no other than my dearest, Michellerenian), get some fresh air, food in my stomach, caffeine in my system, and some people watchin' in"...

When I got there those tables in front of me were completely full of old Portuguese men.  They were so engrossed in their papers and morning chit chat that I slid right into my position at the last table in the row without receiving any slight head tilts or eyes above the paper glances, that I noticed.  I do think the manager was surprised I stuck around for so long though, but then him and I were able to share in "obrigados" without any interruptions when I finally decided it was time for me to go to class (side note: turns out I DO have class this week, but just two of them).  I was also able to complement him on his fine, fine pastry and find out it's name, (which I was just about to share with you here, but then decided to look it up really quick.  I only found pictures of some soccer player guy...so I think the manager and I had a communication error, so never mind on the name.  Who knows though, maybe it is named after Zanetti.).  

Now I'm listening to Miami by Will Smith, 

**click**, 

NOW I am listening to Break Your Plans by The Fray.  Much better...

And what a very fitting shuffle selection and soundtrack for my 

side street sitting, old man imitating, adventure.

Ciao for now.

Tan

Going Slow

Hello again, Tan again.  As I typed this I was listening to this, now you can listen to it while you read if you so desire.  Disclaimer: not the best quality.

It's day 12 in Lisboa (Lish-bwa), but I'll take you back to my second day.  Here's what I wrote on January 23rd:

Here's some stories from yesterday, I was too exhausted to write when I came back to the room, ha.  I got 10.5 hours of sleep yesterday, again, it was marvelous.  I left the room around 2pm and turned left out of the Residencia, which I haven’t done at all yet!  Right is towards the metro, which is my “usual” route…if I can even say “usual” yet.  It was misting/raining lightly all day yesterday so I had my hood up for the majority of the day.  Turning left means uphill the whole way, I got a LOT of exercise in yesterday, like miles upon miles.  I stopped in a couple of side markets.  A lot of fruit in one and not the kind of vegetables I’d want in the other.  So I kept walking, I was very hungry at this point—kind of pushed it on the whole eating lunch thing.  I walked past a couple of restaurant/sandwich shops, but none really tripped my trigger.  
Finally at the top of the hill there was a hole in the wall restaurant I thought I’d take a chance on.  I walked in, there were two men inside, one cleaning tables and the other doing something behind the bar.  I asked in hesitant and slow English, “English menu?”  The two men looked at each other and laughed.  The man behind the bar pointed to a pot on the stove and raised his eyebrows as if to ask "want some of this?!" I shook my head “yes”, smiled, and said “si!”  The man showed me to a table, pulled my chair out for me and kindly placed my purse on the char across from me.  The other man brought me a white table cloth, a fork, and a knife while the man who was behind the bar (I’m pretty sure he was the owner) went back to the stove and dished me up a large serving of this spaghetti and chicken leg (yes, with the bones) noodle thing.  It was delicious.  Simple, obviously homemade, and obviously had been sitting there for a while, but boy did it hit the spot especially on that chilly day.  The owner also offered me bread, water, and when I was finished a coconut biscuit thing for dessert that also, was delicious.  He fed me good.  
I couldn’t speak Portuguese and he couldn’t speak English, but we managed to laugh together.  It was wonderful.  Once I was finished he saw that I had a Portuguese phrase book so he gestured as if to ask “may I see this?” and then proceeded to find Portuguese nouns in the book and point to them in his restaurant.  He was giving me a mini Portuguese language lesson, I'm sure I was beaming.  He was such a welcoming and father-like man.  I don’t remember much from that, but I did pick up that it is “sim” not “si” for “yes” and “nao” not “no” for…”no”.  After my lesson I pointed to my purse and said “pay?”  He hopped behind the counter and said “four euros”.  Four euros for a full plate of pasta, bread, water, and dessert.  I was stunned.  My experience there was priceless.  With a kiss on each cheek and many “obrigados” I was out the door and grinning ear to ear for a couple of blocks.

It sounds Disney movie-esque and it felt Disney movie-esque.  It was wonderful.

Now I am in the beginning of my second full week here, but while many other ISCTE students are beginning their classes this week I found out mine actually wont begin until the 16th!  So I basically have two weeks of freedom...in a new country.  Ah-may-zing.  Thank you, God!  This past week was orientation for Erasmus (which I am not technically a part of, but I am invited to all of their events anyway!  Woo!)  and the "going by a pre-determined schedule" thing was really starting to wear on me.  Met wonderful people, explored Lisbon, and figured out some logistics for school goin', but I was really in need of time to myself and time spent however I wanted to spend it.  Then two days ago I realized I don't actually have class until the 16th and I literally didn't know where to mentally place this information.  Such a gift from God and such a relief.  So, it's Monday and I could do whatever I wanted...so obviously I went to Belem.

This is a beautifully quaint part of Lisbon that resides right on the Tejo River with a perfect view of both the 25 de Abril Bridge and the Christ the King statue.  I meandered to museum of contemporary art, saw some pieces by some well known names like Picasso and Andy Warhol (heard of 'em?) and then by 3pm found myself in a green garden overlooking the river where I ate half an apple and some trail mix, journal-ed, watched an ugly duck try and "get with" cute lady ducks, and then picked up some dessert for Leigha and me at the traditional and original, Pasteis de Belem.  Then I took this back to my metro station...

As Ice Cube would say, "it was a good day".  Ciao for now.

Tan