Portugal

Now that almost three weeks have past since my return from this small country at the end of Europe, with the salty breezes caressing the rough coastline, lemon trees in the backyards, smell of cakes and coffee coming from small cafés on every street corner and barking dogs behind every gate, I should be able to write about my return to my second home country.

Actually it is more complicated to put it into words than you should think.
I think that only the ones who have done an exchange year at a young age can really understand what strong emotions it includes.

In the beginning of September 2008, a naïve, excited and inexperienced Julie left home for the first time to spend a year in Portugal.
I didn't know what I was going to or how it would affect me and what it later would mean to me.
I think that this year in a different culture is what have affected me most in my young life.
For the first time I was on my own. For the first time I was completely lost. For the first time I felt really alone.
Don't get me wrong, it was a priceless experience.
But these situations made me grow up. When I realised I had to get by on my own.

In the end of June 2009, I left what was then my home. I had my friends there. I had not only one, but two host families. I spoke Portuguese, ate Portuguese food, dreamt in Portuguese. Palmtrees along the streets was normal. Going shopping in Lisbon was nothing special. Jump on a bus in the morning and spend all day at a beach, that's how I spent my weekends.
That was my life.

I came back to Norway. Had to return to my old life and adjust myself to the culture there. Happy to see my old friends, busy trying to catch up at school, training, partying, being busy living the Norwegian life, Portugal soon turned into a very distant past.
And I was happy to be home.
It is my impression that it happens to most exchange students, but near the end of the year, you have had enough. You miss your home, your habits, and you are getting fed up with everything, because any problem you have there seems so much bigger than it would have back home.
So for a long time, Portugal was just something far away, something that had passed and taught me a lot – particularly about myself (and many things I didn't like to learn) – and a place where I knew people that I missed once in a while whenever I had time to think about it.

In March, when I went to Germany, I visited a friend I met when we were both on the exchange program.
For the first time in almost two years, I used this strange language again, watched pictures from our stay, and dared to recall some of the memories.
I had been afraid.
Terrified.
That the bad feelings I had sometimes during my stay would return if I came back.
That people had changed while I was away.
That I would no longer fit in.

Almost on impulse I bought a ticket in the beginning of May.
The last day of that month, I left Sauda with my head full of confused thoughts and my heart beating.

 

I did indeed get enough time to think on my way down, arriving at Stansted the 31st of May and leaving from Heathrow the next day.
I love sleepless nights at airports.

After a night of almost no sleep, my nerves were in mild words tense, as I sat in the airplane with my Portuguese dictionary, trying frantically to refresh my stored-away-for-so-long vocabulary, and watching the red rooftops of Lisbon getting closer and closer.
It was the weirdest day I have had for a long time.
I knew that place.
I knew this city.
I knew that red bridge across the river. I knew the water of the river Tejo reflecting that very particular Portuguese sunlight.
It felt like I never had left.
And it felt like I had been away for a lifetime.

This feeling stuck with me for more than a week.

I must say I shed a small tear when I heard my host mothers familiar voice as I entered the arrival hall, and saw her and my host dad standing there.
They were exactly the same.
And they talked and talked as we found the car and drove the 45 minutes home in the sunshine, leaving me no time for worrying about my bad language.

Then, home.

I can't describe it.
A boring town in the middle of nowhere somewhere south of Lisbon.
Now it seems to me the most beautiful place on earth.
And nothing had changed. Except a few new houses. The smell was the same, the neighbours, the weather, the animals, the sounds.

My street. 

 

My dear Luís, just as I remember him

It felt so good. All the things that I didn't like during my exchange year didn't matter now.
And all the disagreements and discussions I had been afraid would destroy relationships, was blown away in the warm breeze.

I could continue being sentimental for a long time, but there are pictures to show you.
But I warn you, this is not a sightseeing-blogpost as the ones from my last trips.

I hate tourists. I hate being a tourist.

Therefore I love being in Portugal, where I speak the language, know the locals and know the culture, so I can be the one giving tourists stupid looks when they don't use sunscreen at the beach, or simply because they behave the wrong way.

I got the chance when I spent a day with my friend Mariana in lovely Sesimbra.

How I've missed this sight

  

Good life. Sunshine, cold beer and seafood salad

 

Sesimbra.
With some amazing, crooked, steep streets.

 

Friendship doesn't die that easily

Unfortunately I didn't write any diary during my visit. I know I should have. 

Life is a strange thing.

Monica, one of my fellow exchange students from California, happened to be in Portugal at the same time as me.
I had no choice but visiting her in Cascais, a luxurious coastal town west of Lisbon.
Funny how nothing changes between people.
It was great.
We went out with her host brother, slept the next day away and went to the beach.
Drank a bottle of wine in the afternoon sunshine.
Good day.

 

Monica at the overcrowded beach in Cascais

In Lisbon I met some of my other family members. I am too lucky, having all these great families being there for me, when some don't have one. 

 

 

Promoting A festa dos Tabuleiros. As Portuguese as you can get it!

 

Beautiful Portuguese people and traditions.
...and then me, of course.

 

95% integrated in the Portuguese society. I only need to get a dress and dye my hair.
Sou portuguesa, sim senhor!

Lisbon, Lisbon.
Strange city, it feels so familiar, even though I don't know it well.
As Amália Rodrigues sings: "Cheira bem, cheira a Lisboa" – it smells good, it smells like Lisbon.
There is something about that city. The atmosphere is very particular.

 

The only picture I took, because I was afraid to look like a tourist with my big camera.
Because without I look exactly like them.

And there are so many yummi bookshops in Lisbon! I bought around ten books and sent home by mail.
Basically Portuguese literature. Have to know my culture well!

Portugal is a catholic country.
Fátima is a proof of the strong position the religion still has. Hundreds of thousands pilgrims visit that place every year.
My host parents brought me there one day. 

Even though I am not religious, there is something about these places. So many people praying and believing at the same time. You can feel it in the air.

 

Candles to burn (yes, burn, not light) for the ones I love. And a white carnation. 

 

The good pilgrim.

Fátima is famous because three children almost a hundred years ago saw Virgin Mary above an olive tree.
Quite unbelievable. Now it is one of the major religious attractions in Europe.

 

Love

 

Time for picnic. FOOD.
Most important thing in Portugal. See all that on the table? We were four people. 

For those who don't know me, I'll try to explain the situation of my families in Portugal.

When I arrived, I came to a family of five; mother Sara, father Víctor and Dúlio, Vanessa and David. Perfect for me, perfect ages on the kids, with Dúlio three years older and Vanessa two years younger than me.
I fell completely in love with them, but because of the circumstances back then, they couldn't keep me all the year.
The neighbours, a couple in their 50's, Luís and Luisa, wanted me, so I only moved two houses away.
So during the year I lived and slept in Luisa and Luís' house, but spent a big part of my free time in that first family, as the kids there were some of my closest friends.

The third family was the host family of a friend of mine that I got to know through the program, and I went to visit them for some lovely days in Tomar in the center of the country. Absolutely adorable area.

 

Road trippin' in Tomar with Joao Miguel and Pedro. Good times!

Yet another castle. Portugal has the highest density in the world.

  

It was amazing meeting all these great people again. I have no words. It seemed like the relationships just improved during this time apart.
After one week at my main home, I moved my luggage 30 meters up the street to my first family to sleep there. 

That is really home.
Nothing feels better than these normal things like being woken up way too early in the morning by David running up and down the stairs before school, or going shopping with Vanessa or playing football or watching the Lord of the Rings with Dúlio until 4 o'clock in the morning.

 

Birthday party for someone I didn't know. 

You can tell we're sisters immediately, right?

 

Another lazy day in Sesimbra. Just me and my book. And a beer. 

Some of the best days were the days Dúlio took me to Lisbon to play football with some of his friends. I haven't played since my year there, and I have missed it so much.
I didn't take any pictures, but seriously. Running around kicking a ball with ten sweaty, Portuguese guys as the sun goes down over the rooftops of Lisbon is one of the most beautiful things I can possibly do.


 During one of the weeks there was the annual city festival in Quinta do Conde.
I didn't get any pictures of it, but even though the festival itself sucks, it was great. Walking around late in the night with the smell of churros in the air and people and noises everywhere, and bumping in to your old classmates.
Wow.
And none of them have changed! A bit taller, different hair style, but ahh. It was so good to see them. Imagine that I suffered through philosophy and math classes with them for a whole year.
That does create special bonds!

I could have continued forever about Portugal, but it's late. And you should want to read it all too...

All in all, what I am trying to say is that I don't think the exchange program is fulfilled until you return. You have to return to see how much it actually meant for you.

I have no words to describe how happy I am to have gathered enough courage to face that life again.
It was all positive. No bad feelings anywhere, not even with the people with whom the things were not good back then.
Time heals all wounds.
Except the saudade. As the word only exists in Portuguese, you should read about it to understand.



Because the whole visit was such a good experience, leaving it was even worse!
I suffered. I didn't even manage to cry.

Let's just hope it won't be two years until next time I eat Norwegian codfish à Portuguesa!

  

My sweet siblings on the way to the airport 

Same trip back again; Lisbon -> Heathrow -> Stansted -> Haugesund -> Sauda

Spent the night in Stansted and couldn't sleep. At all.  

 

This is so describing.
24 hours without sleeping and just missing everything so badly my heart almost exploded. 

On my pursuit of happiness I really do find a great deal.

But I have to pay for it at every goodbye and departure.
That's life, and missing something is a good thing in the end!

Now I am back in business at work, enjoying an extremely wet Norwegian summer.

And planning my next adventure!