Finite

I finish The Flamethrowers as I am flying across the Bay of Biscay, hurtling toward home and normalcy with a mix of anticipation, sadness, and so much excitement.  It's a fitting end to a trip, finishing something so emotionally drawing as that book, but equally as emotionally inspiring. I'm not writing a book review, and won't labor that point, but to set the scene I'm a bit tritefully contemplative (tritefully isn't a word, but should be. It's the frightful feeling of sounding or being trite, but with full awareness of the fact.)  

Seven weeks.  About half of which has been traveling alone. For those who are not aware, purposely because I didn't want to worry anyone, I split from Nick and Ericka on and off but bumped up against them rather frequently, as our itinerary was planned on the same map. It wasn't a conflict of interest, clash of personality, or a mellowdramatic confrontation that distanced me, it was simply that being a group of three wasn't the most ideal traveling situation and I wasn't about to compromise my experiences for comfort in numbers.  Let me tell you, the loneliest I felt on this trip was while traveling with a couple. It's nothing against them, I adore both of then individually and equally, it's just a simple fact.  The "third wheel" is a very real thing, and turned out to be a powerful persuader to strike out alone. But even traveling solo, it was extremely rare when I felt alone. Hostels are a hotspot for meeting people, and rarley did I feel lonely- you can meet people everywhere you go as long as you're open to meeting people. And I find that good people find good people- call it law of physics... Or something like that. 

But now I am headed home and have never been more excited but I am also a bit sad. More excited that I can describe to see Wes at the airport, but equally nostalgic of that fact that seven weeks ago I was packing to backpack and explore the massively and imaginatively looming Europe.  I don't think I have to spell it out- it's sad to be ending this trip.  But it's equally as happy to be coming home. Home. Thank god for home. 

Lisbon, Lisboa, was the perfect place to land for my final three nights.  I always wish for more time, but I think that lack of time in each place has forced me to dive in with all I have- all my energy, attention, brain power and social skills, to walk away feeling like I even nibbled on the periphery of a place.  Traveling like this, two nights here or three nights there, forces you to be present- you can't afford to waste time because it's so limited.  Well, until I got to rainy Lisbon. Don't get me wrong, I explored and went to a Fado show, I tried Ginja and codfish (not together), I walked over 10 miles in a single day to Monsanto park- "the lungs of the city" and the place apparently no one knows where is located.  But I also enjoyed the hostel and didn't feel guilty for napping away an afternoon. I slept in and stayed out late. I vacationed. And it felt amazing. 

I walked all over the city. I really am suprised how much ground you can cover on foot when you decide that's how you'll travel.  This especially colorful skate park caught my eye.

As did this amazing piece on the side of an apartment building. One of my favorite things about walking around a city is how close you can get to all the street art. 

I wandered for a few hours through is massive park.  I went up and down hills, along creeks and muddy walkways, and found these colorful little guys on the way.

I picnicked at a table overlooking the city, but only took a photo of the food, not the view :)

I've become kind of addicted to marinated green olives, I absolutely love them. While I was sitting here, a young-ish girl in bright orange spandex came running up the hill after a scruffy dog, who made a b-line for the food. He was a super friendly little guy, and soon after Millie (the girls name, not the dog) and I were chatting like we'd known one another all along. She is a student from Germany but lives and studies in Lisbon. She offered to take me to the Metro and was just as sweet as can be.  Like I said, good people find good people. 

That night I joined my hostel for a night time walk through the oldest part of Lisbon, the Alfama, and went to a Fado show. Much like Flamenco in Spain, Fado is the folk music specific to Portugal- a mix of Spanish guitar, a mandolin and a deep voiced, passionate singer, either male or female. It was quite the night, although I was exceptionally tired. 

I finished the night by riding the historical trollys through the city, trollys that run 24 hours a day and only cost about €3 total, from one side of the city to the other, and back again.  It was my second to last night, and experiencing the city alone on the trolly was a beautiful feeling. 

The next night was dinner in the hostel, with all the portugese sausage, wine, olives and cheese you could eat. It was an impressive spread.

I feel like this has gotten too long, but I'll wrap it up with my final outing in Portugal- the flea market behind the monastery.  People were hawking everything from shoes and jewlery to furntiure and car parts.

I especially enjoyed watching these two

old men argue about the paper. And then argue with anyone who walked up. I wish I had tried my luck...

Just up from the monestary was a small chapel on a hill, overlooking the entire city. 

It was the perfect way to end my trip, sipping coffee overlooking Lisboa. It's been a whirl wind, and I can't believe it's coming to a close.  Thank you all for the support, and I can't wait to see you!  My final ciao from Heathrow (and hopefully the last photo of me with chipped front teeth!)