The Vacation of a Lifetime - Part 1

Note: This is part one of a four-part series about my 2016 vacation in Portugal. This part focuses on the first days of our trip in Lisbon, Sintra and Cascais. Links to the other parts of the series can be found in the text and at the end of this post.

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Wow! Where to start?

In the past when I have written about a trip, I’ve tried – and usually managed – to find time to write about it along the way. My Swiss Journal and American Journal of 2014 were good examples of writing on the fly, so to speak. On my trip to the USSA earlier this summer, I wrote a few posts but never really finished. I got busy.

On this trip, I was too busy to even begin until I was on a plane flying from Ponta Delgada in the Azores to Lisbon on my way back to Ukraine. It was that kind of trip: constant movement, “go, go, go” from one unbelievable place to another, a continuous parade of once-in-a-lifetime experiences, a ton of highs and only a few minor lows. My mind was too occupied with processing everything I saw and did to have any neurons available for much else – even writing.

I am calling this the Vacation of a Lifetime, because it really left that kind of impression on me. This trip was, I believe, the most amazing and enjoyable vacation of my life. I struggle to think of a better one, although my “pilgrimage” to Ireland years ago comes pretty close. Of course, there is still time for one or more trips to come in higher than this one in the future, but it would be pretty tough. This was just epic!

We left Kharkiv by train the evening of 9 September and flew from Kyiv to Lisbon on 10 September. Our return took longer: We left Ponta Delgada late in the afternoon of 22 September and made it back to Kharkiv at mid-day on the 24th. Over the course of 12 days, we explored Lisbon, climbed to the heights of castles and palaces in Sintra; caught the sunset at the westernmost point in continental Europe; did a driving tour of Portugal’s south coastal and Algarve regions that included a number of phenomenal beaches and another stunning sunset; kayaked in and out of caves along the coast of Lagos; made a quick trip to Seville, Spain, and visited a remote resort in the nearby mountains; then spent four absolutely take-your-breath-away days on Sao Miguel in the Azores.

It was a wonderfully nonstop bombardment of the senses: sight, sound, taste and smell. And it was also 12 days of heightened emotions caused, in part, by all that stimulation of the senses. But the emotional part wasn't just about all the things I did, saw or tasted; it was about deep feelings and even deeper self-examination. I have a sense that it’s been life changing, but only time will tell about that.

So now it’s time to write about it all. In this part, I’ll focus on our time in the Lisbon area, including Sintra and Cascais. Next time, I’ll write about the Algarve, and in part three, I'll describe our short jaunt to Spain. Part four will be fully devoted to Sao Miguel in the Azores. But first, just a bit about the logistics.

Flights

I did not want to use a travel agency to organize this vacation; I really prefer to do this kind of thing by myself. So I booked all the flights, guesthouses and rental cars directly. For me, it’s the best way to go because I feel more in control. I’ve only done one prearranged, all-inclusive vacation in my life, and it was my trip to Turkey last year. It was OK, and it was the right thing for that moment, but normally, I prefer to handle the details myself.

The flights to and from Lisbon were booked through KLM and wound up being on its partner airline, Air France. There was nothing Earth-shattering to mention about the flights; everything was pretty usual. There were long layovers in Paris in both directions, but I had planned it that way to ensure we didn’t have tight turnarounds there.

The only minor hitch was a long delay on Azores Airlines (also known as SATA) for the flight from Lisbon to Ponta Delgada. Apparently they decided that they needed to change some tires on the plane. We had another “operational delay” for the return flight to Lisbon. But everything was OK overall.

The only thing worth mentioning about the flights back to Ukraine was that the Paris-to-Kyiv flight on Air France provided an unusually nice (and actually tasty) dinner. And free wine.

Lodging

We chose to stay in guesthouses for the most part, and these ranged from places that were essentially hostels to some that rival hotels for comfort. Most were good to excellent with only one small disappointment, which really isn’t worth mentioning.

Three places, however, really stood out. The first was a guesthouse run by an organization called ABLA. It was located in Carcavelos, which is close to Cascais, a well-known tourist city west of Lisbon. The ABLA Guesthouse was quiet and clean, and the staff was very friendly and helpful. It had a nice balcony and pool, and of all the places that provided breakfast as part of the deal, theirs was clearly the best. It was also located just a short distance from the ocean shore. We liked it very much and wished we could have spent more time there.

The second was a remote resort in the hills of southwestern Spain called La Posada de Cortegana, which offers a rustic get-away experience. It was a little hard to find, unfortunately, and I wound up scratching the car a bit in the process of getting there. Doing that to our beautiful BMW almost broke my heart. But the surrounding nature was fantastic, and it was just a nice place overall.

By far, the best place of all was Atlantic Home Azores (AHA) in Ponta Delgada on the island of Sao Miguel. I don’t have enough words to say how much we enjoyed staying in this place, and I heartily recommend it to anyone going to Sao Miguel. It is a guesthouse with seven private rooms on the 20^th floor (top floor) of the only high-rise tower on the island. It’s located right at the waterfront, across from the harbor and marina, and the views from our balcony were magnificent.

AHA was the cleanest, most modern and best-equipped place we stayed in. We had a spacious kitchen, so we were more inclined to make meals there. Imagine homemade spaghetti in a rich tomato sauce mixed with sautéed onions and carrots, and topped with cheese and chopped linguica (smoked pork sausage)! The owners and staff of AHA were extremely friendly and helpful. It was a pleasure just to chat with them in the evening, and they went out of their way to help with anything we needed.

AHA was also really convenient. The first floor of the complex is a shopping center, so there was no shortage of restaurants, cafes and shops close by. On our first morning there, we had booked a whale-watching excursion, and the boat sailed from just across the street. Our rental car agency was also located in the same shopping center. It could not possibly have been better.

Getting Around

In Lisbon, we used a combination of the subway system, buses and trams to get around. The most enjoyable was riding the famous, old-fashioned Number 28 tram around points in the historic center of the city. We bought 48-hour Lisboa Cards so that we could use public transport without having to pay each time. And the cards also allowed us to visit a number of sites at discounted prices.

We also used taxis a few times to get to and from the airport. The cars are excellent, and the prices are reasonable. Taxi service in Ponta Delgada was also great.

In planning the trip. I booked rental cars both for the mainland and the island. After a few days in Lisbon, where we really didn’t need a car, we went to the airport to pick up our car for the mainland. I had booked a “Ford Focus or similar” from Budget, but they didn’t have that, so they gave us a BMW 100 series instead. We had no complaints.

The car was a blast to drive. From the airport, we drove to the region around Sintra (northwest of Lisbon) to see the famous Castle of the Moors and Pena Palace. After those sites, we made our way to the coast to try and catch the sunset from Cabo de Roca, the westernmost point of continental Europe.

Time was running out because the sun was getting low, and we wound up taking some very windy back roads through the hills. Driving those narrow, curvy roads in the BMW was a driver’s dream, and I absolutely loved it. That bit of driving was one of the real highlights of the trip.

The BMW was a joy to drive on any type of road, and we absolutely loved it. It got us through some alleys in Seville that were so narrow it seemed that only a donkey could navigate them, but my travel companion managed to do it without a scratch. Later the same day, we were not so lucky.

I was behind the wheel when we got lost in the hills as light was fading and we were struggling to find La Posada de La Cartegana. Google Maps navigator – which had usually been pretty accurate  –failed us on that one. I got us caught up in a narrow dead end, and as I tried to maneuver out of it, I scraped the front corner against a stone wall that was partially hidden behind some grass. That hurt!

When we returned the car, the adjuster fixed things so that my damage payment wasn’t too much. Still it was sad to say goodbye to the “Beemer.”

I had decided that a convertible (cabriolet) would be fun to drive on the island, so I got the only one available, a Renault Megane. It wasn’t as much fun to drive as the Beemer, and we didn’t put the top down as much as I had hoped, but it was OK. We found a few quirky “features” of the car, like an annoying alarm whenever the roof was even a bit out of adjustment. I had rented a Renault (Scenic) in northern Italy in 2015, and this one reminded me again why I would never want to own one.

The only drawback to having a car in Ponta Delgada was parking. Parking is hard to find, unless you are willing to pay for a relatively expensive underground garage. We parked on the street at night (again, spots were hard to find), and I wound up with two parking tickets because we didn’t get to the car early enough the next morning. But that was a very minor thing.

Lisbon – Day One

We started from a guesthouse in the Barrio Alto district of Lisbon, one of the city’s most famous and interesting areas. There are beautiful squares with statues of famous guys, interesting narrow streets with fascinating different building facades, and lots of trams. The famous Number 28 tram ran right under our balcony, and we rode it several times.

Our place was on one of the main streets in Barrio Alto, and there was music and activity well into the night. In fact, it hardly let up at all. One thing about seeing Lisbon is that you have to be prepared for hills: up and down, again and again.

On our first full day, we caught a more modern tram out to the Belem district west of the center. We wanted to see the Jeronimos Monastery and Belem Tower, and we did – from the outside. The lines of tourists waiting to go inside were too long, and we are not exactly museum buffs, so we didn't bother going in. But the outside views were pretty fascinating, and we took a lot of pictures.

Next, we went into the Jardim Botanico Tropical (Belem Tropical Botanical Garden) and walked all around that beautiful place. In addition to the beautifully maintained trees and plants, there were peacocks and other birds who were all happy to receive handouts of sushka (a kind of hard, ring-shaped cookie from Ukraine). And we took a lot of pictures.

Finally, we got to the highlight of the day (for me): a visit to Pastaeis de Belem to taste the best pasteis in the world made at the place where they were allegedly invented. Pasteis are small, custard-filled pasties that are absolutely delicious. What we discovered was that the pasteis in Belem truly were the best that we sampled anywhere else in Portugal.

When we were done eating, we took a bus back to the central district and got out at Praca Comercio (Commerce Plaza), which is a huge square right on the waterfront. After taking some photos and dipping our toes in the water, we walked a bit and then took the Number 28 tram toward another famous Lisbon landmark, Castelo de Sao Jorje (Castle of St. Jorje).

It was a major uphill walk to get to the castle, but completely worth it. The castle itself is very impressive, but the views of the city from all sides are phenomenal. We spent quite a bit of time exploring the castle grounds, then we made our way back down the hill and got back on the Number 28 toward our guesthouse. And we took a lot of pictures.

That evening, we met a local Lisbonite I’ve known via the Internet for years. He and his Ukrainian wife met us at a little sidewalk café in a square near our place, and we chatted for more than an hour. They gave us some great advice about places we should check out, and we did our best to do that.

Lisbon – Day Two

We started the second day by walking through several beautiful squares to the most central part of the city. Then we rode the Elevador de Santa Justa (Santa Justa Elevator) to a higher level of the city where we had beautiful views of the Teja River estuary and the lower level of the central district.

After looking around the beautifully landscaped Praca do Rossio, we took a leisurely jaunt down one of several pedestrian-only streets back to the Praca do Comercio. From there, we caught the Number 28 tram again for a ride up the hill to an open-air café at Portas do Sol (doors to the sun), which our Lisbon friends had told us about. It was time for more pasteis and a cappuccino. Then we took a walk downhill through the winding residential streets of the Alfama district. It goes without saying that we took a lot of pictures.

As we walked through Alfama, we saw just regular folks on the street and around their homes, a few small streetside cafes, and one small square that was all dressed up for a celebration. We also made friends with a cat and a parrot. But it all gives you a unique feeling of the city. 

Exiting Alfama at the bottom of the hill, we got to a main road where we caught a bus to the Oceanario de Lisboa (Lisbon Oceanarium), a place I had really wanted to visit in particular.

The oceanarium was phenomenal. The diversity of fish and other marine life presented there is extraordinary, and they are provided with excellent habitats. There are several huge tanks with viewing windows from multiple vantage points, both high and low. In addition, they have separate habitats for species like sea otters, penguins and others. Visitors are led through the facility by a perfect arrangement of halls that ensures you don’t get lost and don’t miss a thing. It is truly a first-class attraction, and yes, we took a lot of pictures.

After the oceanarium, we took a cable car ride along the shore of the estuary to a nearby park – Jardim Garcia de Orta – where we found a truly excellent seafood restaurant with outdoor tables. The place is named Status with letters in a Roman style, and the food was perfect. After dinner, we took a leisurely walk around the park and the water's edge, then headed back to the cable car station.

The cable car took us back to the oceanarium complex, and then we made our way by bus back to the center. Once in the center, we walked to a café I had long wanted to try. It is called A Brasileira, and it has a long history dating back to the early 20^th century when it was a favorite meeting place for writers, poets and other creative people. I tried the pasteis and a cappuccino in the café, but I was a bit disappointed. Both were rather ordinary, and the place was pretty noisy. But at least I can say I had a cup in a place made famous by literary giants of the past.

In front of the café is a statue of Fernando Pessoa, a leading figure in Portugal’s literary history. I tried to have a conversation with him, but he wasn’t interested in listening.

That was pretty much the end of our tour of Lisbon. That evening, we rested and prepared to pick up our car and head off to Sintra and Cascais the next morning.

Sintra, Cabo da Roca and Cascais

The Castle and the Palace

On the third day, we checked out of the guesthouse in Lisbon and took a taxi to the airport to get our rental car. As I mentioned earlier, we received a "gift" of a beautiful BMW to drive for the next several days, so we set the Google Maps navigator to show us the way to Sintra, a place not far from Lisbon filled with history and breathtaking beauty.

As we got into the Sintra Mountains, it was already apparent that this was a special place. The roads began to wind through and around hills that were increasingly forested as we gained elevation. The closer we got to Sintra itself, the more beautiful the landscape became. 

There were a lot of other cars with tourists who, like us, were looking for parking as close to the main attractions as possible. And loaded tour buses added to the congestion. But we got lucky: we knew we were pretty close when we spotted an open parking place just ahead to our right. So we nabbed it, paid for several hours of parking and, of course, started taking pictures.

We walked up to the town and found a convenient bus that takes tourists on round trips up to the main attractions. We chose the tour to the Castelo dos Mouros (Castle of the Moors) and Palacio da Pena (Pena Palace). We got out at the closest point to Castelo dos Mouros.

Castelo dos Mouros was built in the 8th and 9th centuries by the Moors (Islamic invaders from North Africa who had conquered a large part of Portugal and Spain in the Middle Ages. It was taken by Christian armies in 1147 during the Reconquista and was rebuilt during the 14th century. 

The castle is a wonder of engineering and logistics, considering the technology available in the 8th and 9th centuries. It's made up of huge blocks of granite, and one wonders what it took to cut, move and place all that rock on such high hill tops and cliffs. And it is not a small castle; it extends quite far in many directions, so it was no small feat to build it.

We climbed hundreds upon hundreds of stone stairs to get finally to the highest point, and we were rewarded by magnificent views of the the countryside below and all the way out to the ocean. It really was something special - and, of course, we took a lot of pictures - but our next stop topped even that.

After making our way out of the castle grounds, we went back to the bus stop and got back on a bus to the Palacio da Pena. It is located on a hilltop even higher than the castle and is far more elegant. It was first built as a quiet chapel in the Middle Ages, and in the late 15th century, a monastery was built on the site. In the mid-19th century, King Ferdinand had the palace built on the site as a getaway for the royal family.

The palace and surrounding grounds are simply amazing. They had advantages of 19th century engineering technology, compared to the technology available 1,000 years earlier when the castle was built, but it is the artistry of the architecture and design that sets it apart. Courtyards, entrances, passageways, rooms and other areas are carefully crafted and elaborately colored. The various colors of the outer walls – reds, yellows, blues and more – give the place a real feeling of warmth.

Like the castle, the views from the palace are simply amazing, not the least of which is the view of the castle from the palace. After touring the palace, we walked through the adjoining gardens to the Valley of the Lakes where a stream had been impounded in several spots to create small lakes for the royal family and their guests to enjoy. Oh, and by the way... we took a lot of pictures.

Cabo da Roca

After leaving Sintra, we had to make our way quickly to our next guesthouse so that we could get checked in before it was too late. This was ABLA Guesthouse in Carcavelos, on the coast near Cascais. Once we got checked in, we jumped back in the car and tried to beat the setting sun to Cabo da Roca, the westernmost point of continental Europe.

I mentioned earlier about what a blast it was to drive those windy mountain roads to get to the coast. We drove through the Sintra-Cascais Nature Park, which as you might expect was largely forested and very green. As we made our way closer to the coast, the vegetation turned more to short trees and scrub, but it was still beautiful nevertheless. 

Our navigator suggested a road that would save us some time, but it was a lower class of road. We were really in a hurry because the sun was setting fast, so we took a chance on that road. We were rewarded with a road that was not only fun to drive (for me) but that also ran through more unspoiled nature than the better roads. 

We got to Cabo da Roca just as the sun was settling into the ocean. We managed to get a few good pictures, including a couple in which the sun appears as a ring of fire on the horizon. It was really a special moment.

We stayed on the peninsula for a while, taking in the power of the ocean below the cliffs and just walking around the area. Finally, as it began to get darker, it was time to head back to our guesthouse.

Cascais

The next morning we had the best breakfast of any of the guesthouses that provided a free morning meal. My travel companion had already gone for a run in the area, and after breakfast she decided she wanted a swim in the pool. 

Then we were off to check out the coast. She had spotted a few places along the beach near the guesthouse earlier, so we returned there and walked for a bit. Then we were on our way to Cascais.

Cascais is a popular tourist and recreation town on the coast west of Lisbon. In earlier times, it was a thriving fishing village, but now it caters more to visitors and recreational boaters. It also boasts several great beaches. We found a place to park and just walked around for a bit, paying particular attention to a fortress that has become a museum and especially the marina.

After some coffee and pasteis (of course), it was time to leave the Lisbon area and head south for the coast and the Algarve region. But more on that next time.

Impressions and Takeaways

I can’t begin to express how impressed I was with Lisbon. I have visited several other large European cities in recent years – Geneva, Vienna, Milan – and to a large extent, they all seemed sort of the same. A lot of grand buildings, museums, etc. that didn’t look all that different from each other. Each has some unique points, but to a great extent, one big European city seems pretty much the same as the next.

I admit, however, that this might just be due to the fact that I saw them somewhat superficially. I only got a superficial look at Seville on this trip as well, and I can’t say that I was terribly impressed. But if I had had more time for it, perhaps my impression would have been different.

But Lisbon just seemed to exude so much more feeling, more soul, than other cities I have visited. There was a certain vibrancy I felt there that I never felt in places like Milan or Vienna. There was such a great mix of so many different elements: expansive waterfronts, vibrant business areas working right next to cozy old neighborhoods that you could walk through comfortably, beautifully maintained gardens and parks, lots of history in a city that feels very modern, effective and easy-to-use public transport, great food. I could go on and on.

Among the things that really impressed us (there were so many) were the many building facades beautifully covered with exquisite tiles, most often in blue. And many buildings were also decorated with flowers - in addition to all the parks and gardens we saw. The care and effort required to create such attractive exteriors – and keep them clean – is amazing and speaks to the pride people take in how their immediate world looks. 

Also, so many of the streets and squares were paved with very exact patterns of stones and tiles that made walking along them a pleasure to the eye. Along many of the streets, not only the eyes were pleased, but the ears and nose picked up delightful sounds and aromas as well.

One of the best things, which we noticed everywhere we went in Portugal, was the warmth and friendliness of the people. Sure, people who work in service industries that cater to tourists need to be friendly, but when you’ve been around enough, you can spot “necessary friendliness” from the genuine item. And our impression was that in almost all cases, the warmth we felt in Lisbon was the real deal. The people are just plain nice.

It helped also that Portugal, and especially Lisbon, has a very high percentage of people who speak English – in most cases, quite well. We almost never found ourselves in a situation where we could not communicate with people. This was a stark contrast to our day and a half in Spain, where communication was a bit more difficult.

The food, coffee and wine we tasted almost everywhere we stopped in Lisbon were great, and I had a beer at one point that was really good as well. I fell in love with pasteis (obviously), we had some great seafood in Lisbon, but we found even better later in Algarve and on Sao Miguel.

One thing we failed to do was to go out in the late evening to find a place where we could listen to traditional Fado music. We had a thought to do it the evening of our second day in the city, but we were very tired and had an early morning the next day, so we had to pass. But if I visit again, I won't let that one slip by.

Lisbon is a city I would definitely like to visit again. I don’t often say that about places I have visited. There are many places in the world I would like to see and not enough time to see them all, so there would have to be a really compelling reason to return to some place I’ve already visited. But I would not mind returning to Lisbon at all. In fact, as you’ll read in the upcoming posts, I’d love to return to almost all the places I visited in Portugal, and perhaps see the north of the country.

A Final Word

Throughout this blog post, I’ve talked about my trip using the plural subject pronoun, we, and not the singular I. Those readers with sharp eyes for that kind of thing have no doubt deduced that I did not make this trip alone. I experienced Portugal with a very dear friend (yes, “just a friend”), who was the best travel companion a person could ask for. For the sake of her privacy, she will remain anonymous here.

We both can be a little headstrong, and as a result, over the course of two weeks, we got on each other’s nerves sometimes, had disagreements, and even a couple of arguments as emotions got the better of us. But that was the exception. Mostly she was a marvelous companion who brightened each day of the trip for me with her positivity and sense of awe about everything she saw and did.

I had my own feelings of amazement at the things I saw, but my feelings were heightened so much more by seeing the expressions on her face with each new wonder we were treated to (especially seeing the ocean for the first time). It’s completely true that sharing a awesome experience with someone special, even just a special friend, makes it all the more enjoyable for yourself.

This marvelous vacation of discovery would never have been the same without my friend. And I will always remember it for that reason as much as for the places themselves. So, to my friend I say, "thank you for making it such a good time and for the enduring memories."

In Part Two: The Algarve

In Part Three: Seville and Porto Covo

In Part Four: Sao Miguel in the Azores

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Paul's Restaurant Review: Paprika Sucks!

Being a single guy, busy and, admittedly, a bit lazy, I don't cook for myself much. I like to cook for others; in fact, one of my favorite things to do is to invite a good friend over for Sunday brunch with my special omelettes. 

But cooking just for myself is too much trouble. These days, the extent of my "cooking" is to make instant oatmeal for breakfast. For dinner I usually buy prepared food at the local store, stuff that I can eat cold or just heat up in the microwave. It's not the best, but it's easy.

Another thing I do more often than most people is eat out. On average, I visit restaurants or cafes several times every week. It's best when I have someone to join me, but sometimes I just want a nice prepared meal and can't find a partner, so I have to sit alone to enjoy it.

As a result, I've gotten to know a lot of places to eat in Kharkiv, from coffee shops and cafes to the most elegant and expensive dining establishments in town. In fact, as I begin this post, I am sitting in a sort of mid-level restaurant now, a place called Paprika. And it is this meal that has prompted me to stop work on my "guilt" story and write about restaurants.  

I thought I would write my impressions about some of the places I like or don't like in Kharkiv. Let's start with where I am now - Paprika - and why I will never come back.

Paprika - We're Done!

Paprika is a relatively inexpensive place that serves pizza, pasta and various other dishes. I've often liked to come here for salad, grilled salmon and a glass or two of red wine. It's one place where I don't feel strange sitting alone with my meal. Usually, I sit at a corner table and write on my computer during my meal - sort of like I am doing now.

Paprika is near my office, and I've been coming here for several years. Sometimes I come with a friend, but more often I am solo. I've generally liked the food, and the service has been good. For a long time, the wait staff consisted of the same friendly and quite efficient waitresses. Cute too! 

But things have changed recently. The previous two times I had been here, I was served by a guy - a dour and not especially friendly guy. Last time, there were no waitresses at all. And it's the same today. Very disappointing.

But that's not the worst. Today, the meal was an even bigger downer than the waiter. The salad was about a third smaller than in the past (for the same price, of course). And the salmon fillet was also smaller than in the past, and it was not particularly tasty. In fact, it was pretty bad. They served it with some kind of bland white sauce, which made it even worse.

And instead of being served with some green beans in a very appetizing sauce like in the past, the salmon was served with bad spinach. Now, I love spinach, and at another nearby restaurant, they serve a great salmon dish with delicious spinach. But "delicious" is the last word I would use for the green garbage I got today. It had sort of a burned taste, and it was very gritty, as though there were fine bits of sand in it. 

And to make matters still worse, I was swarmed by fruit flies (gnats) this evening. These annoying little varmints have irritated me at Paprika in the past, but this time they were even more evident than usual. I really don't know of another place that regularly hosts so many of these miserable flying mites.

Yuck!

Only the wine was good - and the music. But that wasn't enough to offset the rest of that depressing meal. Now that I think about it, even the music wasn't as good as usual. On my way out, I made a quick pit stop in the men's room, which smelled like it hadn't been cleaned since the last time I was in the restaurant. Breathe through your mouth, breathe through your mouth!

Coming here today was a bad choice, but it's a choice I won't make again. Paprika and I are done! I am "breaking up" with this place. I will leave in a few minutes, and I won't be back. It has become way overpriced for the bad food and poor service they offer. There are too many good places in Kharkiv to waste my time and money on a place that has fallen downhill so badly.

My Opinion

So, to any of my Kharkiv friends who read this - or anyone in town, for that matter - I highly suggest that you cross Paprika off your list of places to satisfy your hunger.  It pretty much sucks. 

Paprika gets no stars, just two slow-flying, bacteria-ridden gnats.

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Next time I write about restaurants, I'll discuss my favorites (much more positive). And in a few weeks, you can look forward to some reviews of places in Portugal.

A Story About Guilt - Part 1

At 15, Jason was not a bad kid but definitely angrier, more confused and more rebellious than most kids his age. It’s hard to say where it came from. He had a good family that was solidly in the upper middle class, so he wanted for very little. He lived in a very nice home in a good suburban neighborhood where he had his own room, his own computer and other luxuries that many of his friends did not.

But something had been eating at him since he hit puberty. The kind and gentle child his parents remembered had become a teen who never smiled, always seemed upset, argued with them at the drop of a hat, and made them worry until they were almost sick. Especially his mother.

When Jason was 12, his father got a big promotion at work that meant a lot more money for the family, but also robbed them of his time. Where father and son had spent a lot of time together when Jason was younger, now his father just didn’t have as much time for the family. And when his father was at home he seemed more stressed, less patient and had became more and more authoritarian.

Jason’s older sister by six years was not so affected by the changes that came about toward the end of her teens. When she started into her adolescent transformation she had more of her parents’ attention and support. And her personality was different: she had always been more self-assured than her little brother, a dominant force among her friends and classmates. It was always apparent that she was going places. Her father absolutely adored her, and although she and her mother quarreled at times, it was nowhere on the same scale as the bitter shouting matches that Jason started having with his mom.

How and why Jason had turned in this direction was a mystery to his mother and the saddest aspect of her life at the time. She was a woman ruled by emotion who took things deeply to heart. Jason knew this, and he used it to his cynical advantage. He would often say very hurtful things to her just to get her to back down and give him his way. He didn’t seem to care that his words were so painful; for him it had become about winning battles in some kind of personal emotional war.

Jason waged most of that war internally. Part of him still remembered and longed for the simplicity of his childhood: playing children’s games, imagining the wondrous things that only children can imagine, and basking in the warmth and security that comes from loving parents. Another part of him, a new and strange part, felt it necessary to push those “childish” thoughts and feelings away and forge a new path.

But he didn’t know where that path was, how to find it or where it would lead. It was more like he was wandering in a dark forest trying to find the right way. Still, he felt instinctively that he had to move away from his sunny childhood, no matter where it took him. And anything that tried to keep him mired in that sunny childhood, like the banal concerns of his mother, was something to battle against.

His father wasn’t around so much, but at least he didn’t treat Jason like a child. His mother, on the other hand, still called him, “Jaysie,” “Jayseroni,” “my baby,” “my little man,” and any number of other names that made Jason’s adolescent blood boil. While a part of him that was falling deeper and deeper away still wanted her to hold him and comfort him, the now-dominant part of him just desired to keep as far away from her – and from most of the world – as possible.

Jason’s refuge from the world in which he felt so out of place was his room. Like many teens, he sealed himself off in his room and took extreme indignation when anyone dared to even look through the partially open door. It was his inner sanctum – no one else allowed.

But this room was in his parents’ house, and although they gave him a lot of space and privacy, there was a point at which he had to conform to their rules. His father demanded that Jason keep his room tidy. “Orderly surroundings support an orderly mind,” he would say. But Jason generally ignored the orders, and his father almost never checked or followed up. For his mother, cleanliness was the issue. She felt that a clean room and bed were more comfortable, so she pleaded with Jason to keep his room clean. He seemed to take even greater pleasure in ignoring her requests.

One day, she had enough. She went into his room while he was out, stripped the bed and washed the filthy sheets and dirty clothes, cleaned up all the soda cans, empty packages that had once contained chips and other snacks, and removed the dried pieces of food that had fallen under the bed and in other places. She dusted, made his bed with fresh linen, and put all his clothes away neatly. She was taking care of “her baby,” and this made her feel good, motherly, needed. She was sure he would see how much nicer his room was after her efforts.

Of course, she was being far too optimistic, and she should have known better. “Nicer” was a concept that never entered his mind. He was absolutely livid that anyone – especially his mother – had dared to “violate” his sacred space, and he lashed out at her with a fury that even he had not displayed before. He exploded at her like a volcano. His face and neck flushed red, and his eyes bulged wide and penetrating as he tore into her with the intensity of a raging wildfire. And he let fly words he had never dared to utter in his parents’ presence before.

“You worthless cow!” he screamed. “You have no fucking respect for me, for my privacy. Why do you have to go snooping in my things? This is MY room, MY space. It’s the only place where I can be me, where I don’t have to put up with your bullshit and the bullshit from everyone else. Why do you still treat me like such a child? Can’t you see that I’m almost a grown man? I’m not your damned “little man” anymore. Why can’t you get that through your fat, ugly, shit-filled head? I hate you! I absolutely hate you for this. I wish I had never been born to a stupid pig like you. I wish I had never been born at all. I’d rather be dead than be your son!”

And with that, he grabbed his jacket and backpack and stormed out of the house.

His mother was too stunned to ask where he was going. She stood there for a moment in shock. Then she felt a growing weakness in her legs as she stumbled toward a chair. The weakness overcame her and she collapsed on the floor before she could make it.

It was at that point that her churning stomach heaved, her body convulsed, and she broke out into uncontrolled crying, her tears streaming sideways down her face to saturate the plush carpet that cushioned her head. She turned her face into the carpet and grabbed at it with her hands as if to pull herself into it. And she just wept with great sobs and enough water to float a small boat.

After a time, she managed to get herself up to her knees, and then with the help of the chair she had tried to reach initially, she pulled herself up, turned, and sat in the chair. She pulled her tear-dampened hair back from her face, wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, looked up toward the ceiling, and tried to gather her composure. Her heart was still beating a mile a minute, and her chest felt like a bear had been dancing on it. She needed a way to calm down.

As she thought about what had just happened. Every little hurt Jason had piled on her over the past few years came bubbling up and joined with the new trauma to completely overwhelm her with emotion far beyond sadness. She felt like her life was over. It was a complete emotional breakdown.

For a moment, she thought about having a shot of vodka, but she wasn’t much of a drinker. The last alcohol she had drunk was half a glass of champagne to celebrate New Year, almost four months ago. She decided to do the one thing that always seemed to calm her down: go out for a drive. It was evening, so there wouldn’t be much traffic on the interstate; a good time to just drive, think, and try to relax.

She pushed herself up out of her chair, found her purse, and fumbled through it for some Kleenex to clean her face a little better. She threw on a jacket, grabbed her keys, and went into the garage. After getting behind the wheel of her car and hitting the remote to open the garage door, she backed out into the driveway and headed off down her street.

It was raining. It had been raining for days, but it was coming down a little harder now. She wondered where Jason was, worried that he might be walking in the cold rain, and thought about looking for him. Motherly instinct. But then she figured that even if she did find him, he would just refuse a ride and probably hurl more epithets at her. She decided to head toward the coastal highway.

She never made it.

Between the water on the windshield and the water in her eyes, she had a hard time seeing clearly as she approached an intersection on a green light. It was dark, and she never saw the car hurtling through a red light from her left. The car smashed directly into the driver’s side door of her car. She was crushed by the impact and died almost instantly. Her final thought was that she loved her son and truly believed that in time he would snap out of his funk and everything would be all right. She was sure of it.

Her love for her son was the last thing she was ever sure of.

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Part two is coming soon (that's where the actual guilt comes in).

Spiritual Detox - Redoux

I originally posted this in mid-March. But after a few days, maybe a week, I removed it. Maybe I thought it was too dark. Maybe I didn’t like what it said about my state of mind at that time. I’m not sure, but I decided that I wanted to present a more positive view on this blog, and this post didn’t fit.

But as I’ve been having some writer’s block lately, I decided to look at some old posts for inspiration, and I came across this. I thought about what had led me to write it, and I realized that some of the same motivations were still at play, but in a slightly little different way. And my reaction has been different. I’ll get to that after the original post, but in the meantime, here’s what I posted in March:

17 March 2016

Today I began a five-day juice detox program. Each morning, I receive a bag with eight specially-prepared bottles of mixed juices, and I drink them at hour-and-a-half intervals throughout the day. Overall, it’s about two liters of juice to keep me going each day. I can also drink water and green tea. That’s all.

The idea is to cleanse my system of accumulated toxins, feel better and, of course, lose some weight. I did a three-day program a little over a month ago, and it worked pretty well. So I am looking forward to the results of this one.

This program is intended to cleanse toxins from the physical body, which is a good thing and something I need. My eating habits are certainly not the worst in the world, but they haven’t been the best either. So I know I have a lot of crap that needs to be flushed out of my digestive system, my circulatory system, my muscles and bones, right down to the individual cells.

But as I was walking home from work in the late afternoon, it occurred to me that what I need even more is a detox program to cleanse the various toxins that have accumulated in my soul. I think there may be more poison there than in all the cells of my body combined.

To the best of my knowledge, there is not a juice combination that can do that.

For more than a week now, I’ve been especially upset, nervous, depressed and angry. Actually, it’s been happening for a lot longer than a week; it’s just that the past week has been especially bad. I find myself being super judgmental toward the people I see on the streets; I see stupid people everywhere, and under my breath I curse them as idiots and morons. And I obsess in my mind about certain problems to the point that it almost makes me crazy.

Perhaps more than almost.

I have always liked to think of myself as a basically positive person and as someone with a spiritual nature. But lately I wonder if that’s just a crock of bull, a lie I’ve been telling myself along with a whole lot of other lies that just seem nicer than reality.

Sometimes I think I can actually feel the light that should be warmly shining out from my spirit being slowly engulfed by the cold darkness of this toxic tide. And it scares me. When the light is finally snuffed out, there will be nothing left. It feels like a slow, painful death.

And I try to understand why it is happening, what factors are to blame. Is it the nature of my life in this city, this country? I’ve written before that I’m sort of a fish out of water – a country boy living in a crowded foreign city. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe living for so many years in a different culture, with a different language, has affected me worse than I have ever realized.

Or maybe there is some unseen environmental influence that has been eating my insides away all these years here. It could be something in the air, the water or the food.

It could be my reaction to the changes I see in the world and our civilization (if we even have the right to call it that). I watch too much news, and that’s enough to drive anyone mad. As I see people around me being turned into dumbed-down, uncivil automatons staring mindlessly into mobile devices everywhere, I wonder what the future holds, and I am sad.

Maybe it’s just the loneliness of my own life. I work, I come home to a small apartment where I live alone, and my contact with the outside world is often limited to what shows up on a damned computer screen. That can’t be good. I have fewer real friends to turn to than I used to have, and there hasn't been a true love in my life for a very, very long time. Those are the things that help shield you from spiritual toxins, and I don't have that shield.

More and more, I think that the growing darkness in my soul is simply the result of my fear of getting older and all the little horrors that come along with that, horrors like the changes I see in the mirror or in photos and the slow, gradual breakdown of the body that had served me pretty well until recently. I look at what I’ve become, and I wonder what the hell happened! When did I become like this and how can I make it go away? I can’t make it “go away,” and therein lies part of the problem, one of the sources of the darkness.

Maybe it’s realizing that rather than accept all these things and learn to live with them, I deceive myself with impossible dreams – dreams of regained youth, dreams of finally achieving things I let slide for too many years, dreams of making a difference, and dreams of being loved. And when the improbability of those dreams rises up and smacks me in the face, a little more darkness invades my soul.

Recently I've been feeling like I am losing a special treasure, and I can't seem to stop it from leaving me. But it's a treasure that I really never had, which only exaggerates the frustration. And the darkness grows.

I don’t know what the source is. Maybe it’s all of those things and more. But I know that I do need a spiritual detox before it’s too late. I need to find a way to purge the dark toxins and let some light shine forth again. I need to get to a happy place.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about going to someplace like the west coast of Ireland and just spending a bunch of days simply sitting and looking out at the ocean. That sounds rather nice.  Maybe it would be a good start.

Spring is coming, biking is coming, and more sunshine. That will help. But I know I need to find something else. And it won't come in little plastic bottles.

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Back to the Present

So that was the original post. I felt pretty down last March, and I didn’t like my reaction to it. In retrospect, I know exactly what the catalyst was. All the things I mentioned in the original post played some part, but it was a disappointing personal situation that pulled me into the darkness. This is often the case because such situations can hit you at such a deep and personal level. But we don’t have to let them have such an effect on us. The fact that I did is my own fault.

The post caught my attention when I read it again the other day because almost immediately after I returned from my trip to the USSA a few weeks ago, I found myself hit with a replay of the same situation. But my reaction has been a lot different this time, and much better. This time, I have been pretty much able to just let it go. It bothered me at first, of course, but that “bother” didn’t last long, and it didn’t go deep. 

During my first weekend back, I was able to enjoy the really great company of friends for at least a part of each day for four consecutive days. Good talk and a lot of smiles raised my spirit and took my attention away from any negatives. Friends are perhaps the most important ingredient in a great recipe for a spiritual detox.

And that came on top of a relaxing and enjoyable trip back to spend time with friends and loved ones in Colorado. Every day was a (Rocky Mountain) high. I didn’t think about work or problems; I just enjoyed the time I had and the people I was with. Those two weeks of positive feelings around friends and family strengthened my spirit and made me more able to resist any negative influences. That certainly added some healthy ingredients to the recipe.

Plus, it’s summer, the weather has been good, and that always makes life better. Being able to enjoy the sunshine of late June and early July is worlds better than the gloom of March when winter is still doing its best to hang on. And I’ve been able to exercise in one way or another every day, from gym workouts to biking to just walking to and from work. Nice weather and exercise are more great ingredients for a spiritual detox.

But perhaps most important, this time I was able to simply choose to not let the situation get to me. I had the strength to just put my head in the right place. I was able to get to the point where I could just turn away, say, “I don’t care,” and let any negative feelings slide off my back. Maybe I finally had had enough, or maybe it’s just recognizing that there is no point in continuing to deal with a negative situation when there are plenty of positive ones to pay your attention to.

And we can make positive situations for ourselves. In fact, we should be doing this for ourselves all the time. The photo at the beginning of this piece shows someone getting some kind of spiritual energy from a rising (or setting) sun by the ocean. While that kind of inspiration may certainly help, it's not essential. Still, it can help, and being in such a place is an example of creating a positive situation for yourself. It's something I plan to do for sure this summer (experience a sunrise or sunset by the ocean). Ireland or Portugal are in my sights.

The point of reposting my March effort with the extra commentary is that happiness really is a choice. Choosing to turn your back on the darkness and just stay in the warmth and light is the best thing you can do. It’s not always easy, but it’s always worth it. It’s freedom, and freedom is always a good thing.

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It's a Mystery!

I just don’t understand what’s wrong with the local guys here.

Over the past three days, I’ve had the pleasure of having dinner or lunch with three amazing young women in their late 20s or early 30s. Each of them is beautiful, smart, funny, deep, and perhaps most important, each is a genuinely good person.

And each of them is single, which is the part that I don’t understand.

What in the world is wrong with the local guys that treasures such as these girls can go for so long without being discovered and “claimed”? Each of them is what we would call a “catch,” so why haven’t more guys been clamoring to cast their nets in these girls’ directions? I just don’t get it.

And it’s not just these three; they are just the tip of the iceberg. I know or have known so many girls here who should have guys worshiping at their altars and begging matrimony. In my close circle, these are just three of many. So again, I just don’t get it.

You might suggest, I suppose, that these girls are just very selective and – unlike a lot of women – are holding out for a man who is more than just “slightly better than a monkey.” And to be sure, being so selective suggests that in their hearts they know they are special – that they do have an understanding of their innate worth and know that they deserve the very best. But still, there must be plenty of guys around this city who are worthy of such women, can recognize how wonderful these girls are, and would do what it takes to make them part of their lives.

Some of these girls have expressed a certain amount of frustration and even sadness that they have gotten to the “thirtyish zone” and are still not hitched; they’re honest about it. And it saddens me when I see someone who dearly wants a family and is really a “catch,” but hasn’t been “caught” yet. This is all the more the case when I look around at the really bad ones who have started families, only to find turmoil and dysfunction in those families, much of which they create themselves.

On the other hand, I often hear some of these girls say things like, “Well, I am just really focused on work and my career, and I’m not ready for any permanent relationship anyway. So it’s all fine.”  Maybe so, but very often when we have encountered failure or frustration in something, we claim that we are really focused on something else simply as a cover. If something hasn’t worked out like we had hoped, it’s easier to just say that it wasn't important to us anyway.

But I can’t imagine anyone – especially an amazing woman like each of these friends of mine – NOT wanting to be loved, to have a partner she can rely on, open herself up to and be opened to in return, someone who would always be there for her when she needs it, but able to give her the freedom and support she needs to accomplish her own goals in life. I think almost all of us want a relationship in our lives that is like a safe, snug harbor from the stormy seas of life around us. We sometimes say that it doesn’t matter to us if we find ourselves alone, but I think that at some level – either close to the surface or deep inside – it does matter.

And it never has to come down to a choice between a relationship OR a career. The two are completely compatible. It only depends on the people involved. Those who really want it all and are ready to do the work can absolutely have it all.

For me, this is merely an observation. Unfortunately for me, I am too old to be anything more than a “friend” to girls such as these. So there’s not much I can do about it except to sincerely hope that each of these beautiful friends of mine eventually (but sooner, rather than later) finds precisely what she needs to be truly happy. Some others have, and I’ve been ecstatic for them.

But… I have to admit that when I spend time with some of these girls, look into their eyes, listen to them talk, and admire all the beauty they radiate – internally and externally – I find myself wishing that there was some way that I could be a much, much younger man. Then my only dilemma would be choosing which heart I would devote myself to winning. 

Well, actually it wouldn't be a dilemma; I DO know which it would be (but I'll never tell).

It’s a pity that the guys here who are in a position to do that “winning” don’t seem to realize what they are missing. If a burned-out old fart like me can see it so clearly, why can't they?

To me, it’s really a mystery.

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And so it Continues

Thursday, 9 June, 2016. I am just past the half-way point of this Colorado visit.  In less than a week, I’ll be on my way back to Ukraine. 

Jet lag has affected me a bit more than usual on this trip. It took me about four days before I could sleep pretty much through the night. And even now, I tend to wake up much earlier than I want; last night I woke up around 2 a.m. and was only able to doze from time to time until the alarm went off. I am sure that I’ll be fully acclimated by the time I fly back to Ukraine so that I can deal with the reverse jet lag all over again.

Hooray for Driving!

One of the things I look forward to the most whenever I visit the USSA is driving. I’ve written about the joy of driving several times in the past, especially in this post after a trip to Italy. On my past trips, I’ve had sedans like the Ford Fusion or Nissan Altima, but this time I have a Jeep Cherokee. The current version of the Cherokee is little more than a car. They call it a “crossover” SUV, but this thing could never go off road like the old Cherokee could. Still, it’s a little cooler than a standard sedan.

I don’t know how many miles I have put on the car during the past week, but it’s been a lot. One daughter lives more than an hour’s drive north of where I am staying, while the other lives about an hour south. Plus I tooled around in the mountains all day Monday. I’ve already refilled the gas tank twice. Still, driving is such a joy, that I don’t care how many miles I travel or how many gallons of gas I use. After this trip, I probably won’t drive again until the next time I return (or possibly in Western Europe).

The Lure of the Hills

On Monday, I took a drive up to visit old haunts in the high country. To me, the mountains are Colorado, not the Denver metro area. I drove by my old home in the mountain community of Bailey, but I wasn’t able to take a good look; the current owner was home and sitting out on the front porch. It was a bit disappointing to be able to do no more than just drive past the house.

Since I was already as far up as Bailey, I decided to go further and drive up to Kenosha pass, which is at an elevation of 10,000 feet and provides access into the large valley known as South Park (yes, the one made famous by the television cartoon). Even before I lived in Bailey, I used to camp and hike in a wilderness area just west of the pass.

Being in the mountains is always a high point for me. It’s what Colorado is all about. I got out of the car at several points, walked a bit, and just took in the feeling. If there is one thing that can really draw me back to Colorado, it’s being in the mountains. It’s a pity that I won’t have an opportunity to camp, enjoy sitting around a night campfire, and really live the mountain experience. Maybe next time.

Big America

Last weekend I went to two events where I was harshly reminded of why most of the world thinks of Americans as being grossly overweight. I am definitely overweight myself, but I saw a number of people at those events who made me feel positively skinny. I won’t get into insulting details about the people I saw, but several of them really amazed me – and not in a good way. And Colorado is consistently rated as the fittest state.

But it’s not like everyone is waddling around with the equivalent of an extra person attached. Although it’s clear that there are a lot of Americans who are very obese and in terrible physical shape, there are also many, MANY Americans who are extremely devoted to their health and nutrition. It depends on where you are and who is around you. While I did see a lot of out-of-shape people at the rodeo on Sunday, I saw far fewer yesterday in Boulder.

There is no doubt that some aspects of the American lifestyle – like driving everywhere, eating fast food, etc. – tend to create “bigger” and less healthy people. But there are plenty of people who take care of themselves too. Gyms and health clubs are big business, and there is a lot of awareness of health and fitness. And even beyond that, there are many who go the extra mile to develop themselves as top-flight athletes.

I attended a softball tournament on Saturday for girls 18 years old and under, and I was blown away by how good they were. They train, they practice, and they hone their natural talents. They are really dedicated to the sport and have an affinity for fitness that will serve them well all their lives.

Looking at Myself

For my part, seeing all those out-of-shape people over the weekend just reminded me of how badly I’ve treated my own body and how I don’t want to end up that far gone. I hope I still have a chance – at my advanced age – to pare off the pounds (or kilos) and keep myself in good enough shape to stay active for a few years longer. I know it’s possible.

To that end, I bought a sport watch yesterday. I needed a new watch anyway, and this seemed like a good way to go. I still have to learn all the ins and outs of it, but if it helps motivate me to move and work out, then it’s a good investment. I allowed myself too many “guilty pleasures” during my first week here, and I feel it. For the rest of my time here, I am shifting back: less eating and more moving. Yesterday was a good start – I began with cereal and blueberries and finished with a salad.

The City

Yesterday I drove into Denver to meet one of my daughters. I didn’t feel comfortable in the city. The heavy traffic on I-70 made me nervous, and once I got off the highway I felt like I was in a foreign place. I was in the north end of Denver, which is quite a bit different from the south suburban areas I’ve know for much of my time in the metro area. The streets and buildings are different, the people are different, the lifestyles are different, and the feeling is different.

I will delve into these differences more in a future post, but what it suggested to me is that I definitely would not want to live in the city. I know this to be true in Kharkiv too. I’ve grown accustomed to it, but not really happy.

I am a country boy, not a city person. If coming back to Colorado some day meant a return to a mountain community, closeness to nature, peace and quiet, etc., then it would be great. But if it was just replacing one city (Kharkiv) with another, it would make little difference. I would still be a fish out of water.

And fish die when they are out of water.

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