We are all infinite

So, I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them.

The perks of being a wallflower, Stephen Chbosky

The book of simples

When I was about twelve or thirteen and about to enter another special level of a complicated existence (those first steps into womanhood) my dad - the ever so blunt person that he is - offered me a book about making daily life simpler. Now this book (whose title in English completely eludes me) became a bible to me. I devoured it page after page, again and again. I underlined it and memorised entire sections of it. It had all sorts of cute little ideas to save money and time and appreciate all the blessings in your life, big and small. And to me, prisoner of my own age, it was like looking through a window into my future life, into all the neat ideas I could incorporate into my mature and independent life (once I had one, that is!). I dreamed of following most of the book's suggestions, as soon as I could manage. All of this - it goes without saying - helped me envision a very wise and practical and independent future me (whom I still waiting to become...) and it became a sort of security blanket. It was alright if something happened to make me cry because I had my book and in the future - in a time when life would truly be my own - I would be that person. As soon as I could have my own place the book would be the first thing to be packed. Or so I thought.

Now, more than a year after I've moved in, I've thought about the book for the very first time in a few years. It wasn't the first thing to be packed nor was it even on the second wave of possessions to arrive chez nous. In fact, it's still in my old bedroom in the country I've left behind. And it amazes me that it never even crossed my mind to bring it. I guess I don't really need it anymore. Because I have new ideas and tips of my own and I have someone else to share everything with. I can still be the person who has a box of tissues full of carrier bags in the car or the person who fills the sink with steaming hot water when entertaining (so that the dirty dishes and pots and pans become easier to clean afterwards) and I still want to bring the book over, it's just not my bible anymore. I'm grateful for what it meant for me (a liferaft to keep me from drowing in the sea of my own despair and misery) but I'm also glad that I didn't even think of it during the whole moving in process (and Lord knows there was loads of time for it to pop into my head... over a year of it, in fact!). And maybe I'm closer to the person I've been wanting (and waiting) to become for such a long, long time. And ain't that a happy thought?

One year and good things in store!

Exactly 15 days ago I celebrated my first year since I moved to the UK. As such an important milestone approached (the first of many anniversaries in the UK, or so I hope) I began to look back at the past year and I'm glad to say I'm proud of what I accomplished. True, I could've done a lot more - as indeed I had planned to - but that's the thing about life; you plan and you plan and you plan and sometimes when it's time to actually start living you realize that your carefully laid out plans simply don't apply anymore. You think of all the things you want to accomplish and then you open the door to the outside world and life kicks you in the nuts. I didn't fully realize the impact that being a foreigner would have on me. I thought I would get over it faster. I thought it wouldn't matter that much if I couldn't see in the sun for a few days. I didn't realize my own brother wouldn't recognize me when I finally went back to Portugal. I gathered recipes for weeks before I first left and it never crossed my mind that I wouldn't be able to make them here for lack of certain ingredients. And so it was that even though I had been preparing for the big move for a year I was caught off guard.

And now a year has gone by and even though I'm not exactly where I started, I'm also not as further along as I wanted to be. And that's fine. I needed more time and I'm at peace with it. And now that I'm back I intend to speed up to cruising speed and get on with my future. I've made my resolutions for my second year as a UK resident and I intend to do my best to make every single one of them come true (or as many as I can). I'm on my way to finding a job, even if it's not the dream job yet. I'm losing weight (at long last). And as soon as that can be granted then heaps of other good things will follow. In the meantime I'm finally taking some pleasure in my yoga practices and I've been doing some different readings that have allowed me to have this sort of yogic peacefulness and mindfulness about my life and future. I think I'm somewhere in a pre-bliss state. And I think I'd like to find out more about it. Anyway, folks, good things ahead!

Same meerkat here

Before deciding to move to the UK I used to dance a lot. And sing a lot. And go out a lot. And two years later it all seems like a lifetime ago. People sometimes look at me funny and ask me why have I stopped doing all those things and say I've become a different person. I beg to differ.

To my great joy (and sometimes misfortune) I have been blessed with an eclectic taste, such as it's impossible to feed appropriately with just 24 hour days. This means that I juggle as many hobbies as I can with whatever amount of free time that I have. During my BA I could have it all, granted that I only saved six hours for sleep each night. During my MA I had to drop most of the dance classes and stop going out altogether or risk failing my exams. And now I've moved to a foreign country.

Right now I'm focusing on gathering everything that I need to succeed professionally and as an emigrant. Until I'm satistied on that respect I have no intention of indulging in dancing or singing. Because I won't settle for what I can scrape by right now. Dancing and singing are my fix and if I can't devote myself as I want to now then I'd rather not have it at all and restart in a few years.

And as I mentioned earlier, I don't exactly lack hobbies, so I'm still very entertained. I've devoted most of last year to my love of cinema and my passion for books. Also I've been doing something I've always wanted to but never had a partner for: card games and board games. And I'm loving it. Also there's still the novelty of having our own place, so all in all I feel pretty busy!

I don't think of myself as a different person (that is if you subtract all the madness that comes with being abroad), I'm just trying to adjust to my new country and trying to settle as best I can. I guess what I'm trying to say is that in life you simply can't have everything and if I can't (or rather won't) have my fix and my old hobbies, then I'll choose to be glad for all the other hobbies and things that I can have. And isn't that the wisest, healthiest approach?

Leaving things behind

Being abroad for so long it's to be expected that whenever I come back to Portugal I stock up on things I don't have in my adopted country. In my case Portuguese books, Portuguese movies, Disney movies (because a bunch of them are childhood classics that I watched ferverously in Portuguese), Portuguese cds and some dry goods, such as certain types of stock, cookies or tea. And then there's also my stuff from my old bedroom. Oh and presents given by friends and family. Now, after an entire month back in the old country it's almost time to go back. And with only three days left I'm starting to think about all the things I can (and will have to) leave behind. From all the movies and books and knick-knacks I purchased or was given what is the priority and what can be left on the old shelves. And even though that's not an easy exercise for me, I'm glad to report that I am getting better. Of course when I first weigh my suitcase the next results may prove to be wildly different, but that's another story. Stay tuned, everyone!

A dream not yet come true

Young women like me have a very similar dream - to have a house of our own (whether to let or buy) that we can decorate to our heart's content. A house spells independence, it means you're living your life on your terms (and budget) and that at the end of the day you have a place to come home to, a place that is yours, that reflects your life style, that is your niche. And it's so heart-warming to see it slowing becoming a functional place and - more importantly - your place. Your furniture, your appliances, your stuff and then all the hundreds of things one has to buy to have a house up and running. To choose the plates, the glasses, the pillows, the shower curtain, the cutlery, the lamps, the duvet cover, the tea towels, etc, etc. Last night I had dinner at a friend's new place. It's only about a third done, but you can already see it's going to look absolutely amazing once she's finished decorating it. And I felt a pang of envy. And I'm ashamed to say I looked back at our place and felt sad it's not as cute and girly and tidy and pretty as I had imagined my own place would be. But then again, if I were to look closer into what my life has turned out to be, I'd see that I'm not meant to have that yet anyway. I have been abroad for only a year, I'm fairly new at my job and I barely have the means to live in a shared place with my boyfriend, let alone start thinking about having my own place and going insane with decorating it until there's nothing left of my savings. With a bit of luck and a lot of hard work in a couple years I'll hopefully be in a position to actively think about getting our own place (where we don't have to have some of the landlord's stuff mingled with ours). Then I'll go bananas with all the cute little things I mentioned in the beginning of the post. In the meantime what I do have is a roof over my head and a boyfriend that I love immensely and who keeps piling his books on the floor to free space on the shelves for my books. And what more can a girl want?

Planning a week on my own

Becoming a Mrs.

This month I went to my first English wedding (well, in truth it was only half-English, but it was on the bride's side, and that's always the side that counts the most!). It was lovely! Great venue, amazing food, everyone was so nice to us, foreign guests, the whole event had a nice flow to it, so it wasn't ever boring and we ended up having a marvelous time. Because it was so far from home and with me still unaccustomed to the English roads and it being raining cats and dogs we decided to spend the night and head home the next day after breakfast. And so it was that, at roughly nine the next morning, we said goodbye to the happy couple, he wearing a t-shirt with "Mr. B." printed on it and she with a "Mrs. B." t-shirt. And it got me thinking.

Now this is something we have ceased to do in my country for a couple of decades now. Before moving to the UK never in my wildest dreams would I consider changing my name if I ever got married. Even now it seems a lot alien to me. Not being the rule in my country (and thus having to willingly choose to go through all the hassle to change it) it would feel like betraying my roots. As if I'd be trying to erase them. Of course you'd have to know  my family to understand where I'm coming from.

You see, in my family, for generations and generations, what happens is that a person gets married and has two kids, a boy and a girl. Once they grow up only one of them gets married and then he/she, in turn, has two kids, a boy and a girl. As so on, and so on. Now in my generation (meaning me and my brother) I'm the only one capable of getting married and having kids. Of course my (potential) kids will bear the father's name, not mine. So I have tried to make my peace with the fact that the family name will die with me. It'd be easier if I was named Silva or Ribeiro or some other common name. But I have never met anyone with the same name (even though I'm sure there are a few out there), so it is a pity to "become extinct".

And it gets my mind thinking what does this really mean? Leaving your maiden name behind and becoming a Mrs. I know it's just how people do things here and probably not much thought comes into it. But still... I don't think I can say anything sensible about the subject, I'm too close to it to actually be able to say anything worth remembering. Once again, I'm still sending my rants and thought into the void.

But I just want to say one more thing. I love my boyfriend to pieces. He has a lovely last name. And I adore his entire family too. If we ever end up getting married I would love to take his name and become part of the clan, officially. A Mrs. Ramalho. But I don't think I could ever do it at the cost of my own family name. I could never cease to be who I already am. For better or for worst, no matter how well or how badly I get along with my relatives, I could never cease to be a Manata.

Dreams do come true, even musical ones

The first time I was went to London was way back in 2007. Being a musical geek a trip to London is the equivalent of dying and going to heaven. The escalators on the tube alone send shivers down my spine with the posters from all the shows. And there's so many that it's simply impossible to choose. Alas, I had too. When you go abroad with a group of friends you can't always have your way. So I used all my powers of persuasion for us to go see The Lord of the Rings - The musical. A lot of people argue that it wasn't the greatest of ideas, but I had done the translation of the behind the scenes documentary and knew I was going to see something great. And above all I was fully aware that it was something that would keep the Drury Lane busy for a few months only (and I was proven right when The Lord of the Rings gave way to Shrek - The musical). I had time for Phantom or Les Miz, but this was a one time only opportunity that I gladly took. Of course it pained me to see the posters of all the musicals I wasn't going to see. And then there was Hairspray. Not that it's one of my favourite musicals (even though it's so adorable), but it had Michael Ball as Edna Turnblad and that was another world of pain to miss. And there and then I told myself that one day I would come back to London (or even as many times as it took) and I would see my fair share of musicals and I would see my favourite actors on stage, Michael Ball being amonst them.

Fast forward almost five years. It's 2012 and I'm proud to say I moved to the UK almost a year ago and am currently living just about two hours away from London. I've been there four times and I've seen three musicals, which may not look like much but it's a lot more than it would've been had I stayed back in Portugal. Spring Awakening, Wicked and - just two nights ago - Sweeney Todd featuring Michael Ball as Sweeney. And with that I feel that I've come full circle. I have grown and changed by leaps and bounds and am now in a position to delight myself on a fairly regular basis with a few of what is to me one of life's great pleasures. Musicals. Right here, so close to my doorstep. And I am happy.

Five stars indeed