“Would you ever move to Europe?”

was the question Hans and Sonja asked me during a Happy Hour conversation. 

Between sips of adult beverages, we were exchanging stories and information about our respective countries: Nederland, Finland and the US. 

I thought about the question for a moment. “No. I need more space than what I’m seeing in Europe. I would miss America’s National Parks, Wilderness Areas and Monuments.” 

With that said, here’s  the stats for comparative shopping analysis. There’s  743 million Europeans. There’s 323 million Yanks. Europe is slightly larger than the US as far as landmass goes. There’s a lot of humans milling around here. Europeans notion of personal space is a lot tinier than mine. 

Later on when we parted ways, I thought about this question some more. Below are multiple reasons why I don’t think I’m a good fit for Europe. (To my European buddies, the facts are correct according to Google. As usual, I’ll embellish this yarn. Please don’t start WW III over this blog. Unfortunately, America has a President with an itchy nuclear trigger finger)

I would have to take up smoking. Nearly twice the number of Europeans smoke compared to Americans. (29% to 15%.) Yet, most Europeans live longer than Americans. 

I would have to up my caffeine allotment. Europeans swill endless dainty cups of espresso/day and night. On a world wide basis, the US comes in 16th in Java consumption. 

I would have to grow a hipster beard and start sporting a Boy Bun hairdo. (No stats on the next few reasons). 

I would have to wear a scarf regardless of the weather or the season. 

I would have to relearn how to eat. A European will clutch their knife at all times. They poke, plod and shovel food around with it. A sort of multi use tool. Americans only use a knife as a cutting instrument or to butter bread. Most of the time, a knife is in stand-by mode. 

I would have to wear garments that are not quite long enough to be pants but too long to be shorts. 

I would have to shift my daily schedule by becoming a creature of the night. No more early to bed early to rise. I would have to-“Sigh!” - burn daylight by sleeping in. 

I would have to learn lots of languages. The Swiss people use four languages in a country the size of Vermont and New Hampshire combined. English is already a second language to me the way I get tongue tied at times.

I would have to give up my trail runners and flip flops. I would have to purchase real leather shoes! I have not owned a pair since the late 80’s. I would have to start dressing age accordingly. 

Here’s the toughest thing I would have to change. I would have to slow down. No one has ever said, “Faster than a European Nano-Second.” The Europeans don’t move all that fast. (Except when they are driving!) I say Americans move at the speed of money. That’s fast. 

All in all, I just couldn’t make all these paradigm shifts to become a true European. I barely fit the standards of being a typical or normal American. To quote Eddy Vedder of Pearl Jam fame, “I changed by not changing at all.” 

Alas, I’ve been this way for a long time. It’s my comfort zone. 

I’ll be Stateside soon. However, I shall return to Europe next summer and fall. Like I’ve said so often in this blog. It’s cool being in Europe!

Cheers from beautiful, rugged Madeira on my 63rd birthday. 

Jeff 

“One is the Loneliest Number”

Three Dog Night

Truer words were never sung in regard to a Solo Traveler’s quandary of eating dinner alone.

Supper time is the social meal. It’s the end of the day to hang and Happy Hour with friends and family. It’s the time to say to a significant other, “Honey! How’s your day been?” It’s the worse meal to eat alone in any country.

In Portugal, it sucks even more. 

For the most part, eating here seems to be a matter of function over form. Cafes, restaurants and bars are white light lit like a Walmart Store. Tables are squeezed together awaiting paying customers who don’t arrive in this off-season. The few locals who just occupy space without spending money get a full-on look at the Lonesome Loser amongst them. 

Dinner is not a Happy Meal for me in Portugal. 

Portuguese Proprietors and chefs must also be stressed because the meals are subpar as well.

At the same price I was paying in Spain for a three course meal with a bottle of Vino Tinto, I’m receiving an anorexic fish and fries on my plate. Not very filling or satisfying.

 The other day, I decided to go Native. I ordered a supposedly traditional Portuguese meal of white bean stew with shrimp and mussels. By the consistency and taste of those creatures, I’d say they hadn’t seen seawater since the Truman Administration. The next morning my stomach was gurgling. Nothing debilitating, but annoying. 

That evening, I decided to forego surf for turf. I ordered a pork chop. (Might not be the wisest choice for a Jew). The other white meat had the texture of a baseball’s cowhide. A chainsaw would have been the tool of choice to dissect it. A nibbled on a few ends. 

The following morning, my gut was in full rebellion. I was losing weight and not in a good way. I paid a visit to the local pharmacy. I’m now downing Maalox tablets like M&M’s. I think I’m turning the corner to a quiet stomach. I hope so. That way I can return to those brilliantly lit Portuguese cafes, restaurants and bars. 

I’ll say this. I’m missing simple American bars. There, I’m an IPA sipping, burrito eating, chillin’ out Dude totally engrossed in watching a sporting event. I’m a Man with a reason for being alone. I’m not a Lonely Loser. 

Cheers from way down South and West in Portugal,

Jeff

A Different Sort...

of Camino. 

The Roto Vincentina consists of over 400 plus kilometers of marked routes in the Southwest of Portugal. 

It’s the brainchild of local merchants, hoteliers, restaurant owners and municipalities who woke up one Autumn Day to exclaim, “Hey! Where the heck did all those Euro spending tourists go now that summer’s over! Eureka! (Or the Portuguese equivalent of that). Let’s establish a trail system to get us through the lean low season.” 

Thus, the Roto Vicentina was born a few years ago. The locals traded the Bikini/Speedo crowd for the bearers of backpacks. So far, there’s not an awful lot of hikers. A smidgeon here, a dollop there and a few guided groups. From my observations the walkers are mostly European. 

It’s no Camino de Santiago. 

That’s a good thing. I haven’t seen a shell flopping on the outside of a backpack. I haven’t overheard any New Agey conversations where the concepts are as foreign to me as Quantum Mechanics. I haven’t had to say, “Pardon!” or “Excuse me!” as I hustle past. There are no Yellow Arrows to chase. It’s mostly scenic, sandy and quiet. It’s  a pleasant break for me. 

The villages and towns are virtually empty. Many restaurants and hotels are shuttered. The owners apparently are sitting it out until summer and the bathing beauties return. It’s off-season and I’m happy to be here. 

The Roto V is divided among three choices of hiking. There’s the “Fishermen’s Way” which consists of mostly seaside slogs through or over sand dunes. There’s lots cliffhanger walking too. It’s not easy or fast getting from point A to B. 

There’s the “Historical Route” which is more inland. It connects the small Portuguese population centers. The trails are Terra Firma. It’s easier walking. A Wanderer gets to breeze past cattle, cork trees, eucalyptus forests and hay fields. It’s quiet too (except for the occasional roadside walking). 

There’s also “Circular Routes” for the day hikers. 

All the routes are well marked complete with signs, painted arrows and 4X6 posts to follow. The Roto Vicentina Folks did a great job of putting this together. 

Before you book a ticket to Portugal, let me say this. It’s not Wilderness hiking. One is always close to a dirt track, a tarmac road or a cultivated field. Hey! It’s Europe! It’s been settled for a long time and there’s plenty of people here. It’s the European idea of two National Parks. 

I’ll take it.

Cheers from Almograve, Portugal 

Jeff

The last photo is the most ecstatically pleasing WC in Europe.