Why Convenience Inhibits Joy

How Portugal Taught Me to Appreciate Inconvenience

Casa João has reopened!

Unless you live in Portugal and more particularly in a summer tourist area, as I do, the joy inherent is the re-opening of restaurants has no context.

Let me explain.

Almost all the restaurants where I live in the Algarve close from sometime between the beginning of November-ish till the beginning of March-ish.

The ish is very important because like most things here it’s not a defined date on either end.

They do this to get a much-needed rest from the rigors of hospitality.

When I first moved here, and my brain was still naively in “American capitalism default program mode” I suggested that the expats and full-time residents could surely band together to ensure there was enough business to justify operating in the tourist low season.

“But when would we get to rest?” was the reply.

Indeed, don’t we all need a four month-ish rest every year.

If you want to live in Portugal you need to embrace the “ish”.

I’ll admit the first winter here was hard.  It wasn’t just losing the convenience of a local restaurant that I could walk to.  The entire area goes into a semi hibernation of sorts.  People don’t socialize as much.  The beaches are blissfully empty.  It’s very quiet.

But then March-ish comes and one by one places start to re-open.  It feels like Spring in more ways than one as we greet our neighbour restaurateurs and welcome them back to work.  The first creamy pepper steak of the season always tastes so good.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt similar emotions:

As a kid getting up on a Saturday morning to make sure I didn’t miss my favorite cartoon.

When I started to drive, and my favorite song would come on the radio.

When sweet corn was finally available in August or peaches once again graced the shelves of the grocery stores.

Waiting each week for the next episode of whatever my current favorite TV show was - and of course the devastation to miss it in the days before VCRs.

Waiting for J.K. Rowling to write the next book in the series.

When many expats move to Portugal and especially Americans their first lament is how inconvenient things are.  The entire country runs on “ish”.  I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve gone out to run an errand only to pull up to the store and realize I had arrived smack dab in the middle of their “closed for lunch window.”

Wake up and realize you don’t have an essential ingredient for your kids’ lunch? You are SOL finding a grocery store open before school starts.

You just can’t take for granted things being available whenever you want.

I won’t lie and tell you I no longer get frustrated but more and more I’ve discovered that these inconveniences inspire a presence and childlike joy that is priceless.

Since moving to Portugal, I’ve also discovered another scarcity favorite – the Jacaranda tree.  It has the most stunning purple blooms I have ever scene.  My first Spring I was overcome by the beauty that appeared out of nowhere…. and then a short 6 weeks later it’s over.  Not unlike the cherry blossoms that grace Washington DC – you can’t guarantee when they will arrive and then all too quickly, they are gone.

Dreamstime Image 16583990 Jacaranda Daleen Loest

Isn’t that a perfect metaphor.

Part of what’s challenging about mid-life is the recognition that time is moving a little too fast.  While I now look back on my thirties as “still being a kid” and my forties as having “so much possibility” my fifties have a different and not entirely enjoyable timbre.

I venture that I’m not the only 50-year-old shocked to be “this old”.  You blink and suddenly you’re not really young anymore.  How did it happen?

We all know we have an expiration date it just becomes a little more obvious after 50.

I suppose I’m confronting my finitude. 

Confronting is the perfect word ~ I can’t say I’m going gently into that good night ~ but perhaps here is a hidden gift in the struggle if I’m open to it.

In the movie Troy, Brad Pitt declares, “The Gods envy us because we’re mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed.  You will never be lovelier than you are now.”

There it is. We too are like the jacaranda blooms - here for a beautiful moment and then gone. We too never know when-ish we too will get a very long and unplanned rest from life.

I am grateful to Portugal for reminding me how oddly wonderful it is to not have everything available all at once.  I feel sad for my kids – for all future generations - that will never know that ironic pleasure.

As for me I’m working on embracing the scarcity of my earth walk and appreciating the greater value inherent in the diminishing time I have left.

I am eagerly awaiting the Jacarandas this spring and their gentle reminder to enjoy them while they are here since they won’t last forever.