Is 3 Continents In 4 Days Too Much?
Traveling at a whirlwind pace across the world for the holidays
“I’m learning to let go and let God.
Show me how to be me.
I’m learning to let go and let God.
Show me how to be free.”
- Jack Cassidy’s song Let Go, Let God
(btw - this is my four-year-old grand-nephew’s favorite song and he shared it with me.
Good one, kid.)
Dear Reader,
Mostly, I don’t watch movies on flights anymore.
I tend to sort of doze off in a meditative, trancelike state while the person next to me changes their shoes for the fourth time and the duty free trolley rolls by.
That was before I landed in Canada last week.
The great white north.
You know you’re in Canada when you step off the airplane and there is a man who looks just like Paul Bunyan with a beard and red-checked flannel shirt and tied up logger’s boots sitting quietly in the corner of a coffee shop while two hockey games play on television, and then three people apologize to you for something they didn’t do.
“Yep, I’m in Canada now,” I thought, having ordered a much-needed cappuccino that was forgotten while a woman whom I didn’t know apologized to me for my wait while waiting for her own overdue coffee.
Then a man apologized for the blaring alarm that was disturbing us both and said, “Have a blessed day” to me in English.
Just three days earlier I was doing laps in my friend’s pool in the Ivory Coast of Africa.
A banana tree in the corner of the yard.
Push-up lizards showing off their moves.
Warm.
On the landing into Montreal everything seemed white except the gray buildings.
Though I had prepared a bit for cold weather by buying a new coat, hat, scarf, and gloves in Lisbon at the Vasco da Gama mall I still felt shocked by the absence of color.
Africa is colorful.
The people are colorful.
The clothes are colorful.
The conversations are colorful.
But the geography of North America in winter is not this way.
We are in a season of reflection, which often happens best in the absence of light and color.
When I left my friend’s home in Cote d’Ivoire, where she graciously hosted me, I flew first to Casablanca (which still sounds very romantic) and then to Lisbon.
But the trip to the Abidjan airport was itself an adventure.
My flight left at 4:20 a.m. which meant I needed to leave around 10:00 p.m. at night in order to get through traffic in time.
Traffic, in Africa, is an entirely different animal from what you’re used to in North America or Portugal.
Driving in Africa is like piloting a ship in a river with many boats or a playing a game of bumper cars.
It’s a free-for-all that sometimes has rhythm and sometimes has none.
Rodrique, who drove me, sat in one intersection for thirty minutes while perpendicular streams of traffic that looked like they would be snarled for life tried to sort themselves out around us.
On our way he told me the story of how we went from tailor to driver and now back to part-time driver, part-time tailor, which like many good stories, starts and ends with a father’s wishes for his son.
“If you give me your measurements,” he told me at the end, “I will do a blazer or some trousers for you and send them to you.”
Now, dear reader, you might be surprised by this, but one of my few possessions is a measuring tape.
I keep it in my First Aid kit.
It’s one of those random things, like swimming goggles, which do come in handy on occasion!
I told Rodrique about the measuring tape and when we finally got to the airport we found a corner by the bathroom and he took down my measurements in a French scrawl.
Then yesterday sent me this photo as an outfit to review.
What do you think?
In Casablanca, I dazedly stumbled to my gate and had an unusual breakfast of a flat egg tortilla with something spicy on top, yogurt, and a croissant that I wished so much I could eat.
I also got a skin care demo at my gate.
“You’ll come back for this,” the woman at the gift shop promised me as she told me that what my skin really needed was a little Prickly Pear cactus oil each day from Morocco.
I nodded agreeably while wanting to ask, “Have you heard of Arizona?”
It was overcast in Lisbon when our plane touched down, but warmer than I thought it would be for December.
In the 50s and 60s.
I showed my passport and visa to the Portuguese border patrol and customs agent and instead of asking the usual questions about alcohol, tobacco or gifts, he looked at my card and then at me and asked, “Do you like living here?” with a touch of insecurity in his voice.
“Yes,” I answered truthfully. “You have a beautiful country.”
Satisfied, he stamped my passport with panache, and I entered back into the country I hadn’t seen for 60 days, but felt in many ways like home.
My hotel for the weekend in Lisboa was The Moxy at Oriente.
It’s a favorite place to stay.
Here’s why.
It’s at Oriente, which is a mere four metro stops from the airport (which means I don’t have to navigate the crazy taxi and uber system at arrivals and it’s less than 2 euros to get there and back to the airport too).
Plus Oriente is a bus and train hub in Lisbon and the hotel is next to the Vasco da Gama shopping center. It’s convenient in many ways (though not in all ways).It’s affordable (around $120 a night with breakfast - which is actually a good breakfast with plenty of coffee options).
It’s fun. Pink abounds everywhere. Inspirational happy sayings are posted all over the place. The vibe is youthful. The staff is friendly and welcoming.
On check-in, I had a conversation with the front desk staff about how nice it was to hear an American speak Portuguese (and how few Spanish are willing to do the same - hahaha).
Before I left Africa, I donated most of my clothes to people I met there who could sell or use them. The hard physical training I put in and healthy living had paid off too. I no longer fit into a lot of them, but one thing I have learned in the past year is that things come and go, and when you can help someone with a thing, do it.
As I wandered into the mall named after the Portuguese explorer who was the first European to make it to India by sea, I felt like the character Jack Reacher from Lee Child’s novels who buys one set of clothes at each bus stop where he stays and then ditches the old set in the garbage, only in this case, I had a suitcase that needed room to buy presents for people at home, so I couldn’t over shop.
The shopping center was packed with Christmas shoppers, everyone either in the food court to get food or in line to buy something, but I quickly found a dress and coat at Pull&Bear, and then got myself together to see my friend sing in a Christmas concert at the Church of Our Lady of the Conception, which was in an entirely different part of the city.
Lisbon at night was decorated for Boas Festas, with lights and trees lit up around the city. Even though I could have taken the metro, I was happy to see the city during the Advent season by car.
When I arrived, I was five minutes late, but my friend had saved me a seat at the front of the auditorium because the church was packed, standing room only, to hear the choir and the guest soloists and instrumentalists.
As they started to sing, I started to cry.
Haydn. Mozart.
It had been a long journey to get there, and the beauty of it all hit me in ways I couldn’t help.
To be surrounded by music sung by such love and passion, and to feel so incredibly lucky to know one of the musicians involved made me instantly verklempt.
I’ve included a brief snippet of the concert below.
At this holiday season, I wish all of us the opportunity to become overcome with emotion, to feel the light and the dark around us and to see the beauty in it all.
Let go. Let God.
To know that we are loved, no matter the situation we are in, and to understand how lucky we are to be alive, at this very moment in time.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays,
Love,
Janelle
P.S. I do have a gift for you! It’s a Playlist to start your day called Good Day. If you need to feel good, start your day with music that lifts you up. I’ve curated songs that make me feel like starting my day right here on YouTube Music, but you can easily transfer the playlist over to Spotify too. Click here to listen.
P.P.S. I’m sure you have questions! I have answers, but not until the next edition. Thanks for your patience!
I like the suit:-)
I loved the pantsuit as well! I am happy you made it back for the beautiful concert. Merry Christmas 🎄❤️