One Month Later

It's weird how memory works, isn't it? When I had just come back, I could tell you exactly what I did every hour of every day of my last week. What time was when my friends Tomáš and Jara rang at my door, coming back from their trip; what we had for lunch the next day, when we visited Maria in Santarém; what we cooked on Valentine's day, what we had for lunch on the second to last day, how many glasses of wine we drank on my last night out. Now everything is starting to fade. 

Our first dinner in Alfama on 8th of September. You can read the pain in my eyes because Fado was being sung in the background (but the singer was actually good).

People keep asking me how is to be back and most of the times my reply is a plain: "kinda fine". It is true, though, that, most of the times I got this question, it was during a dream, in which I was back in Lisbon and the next question they asked me was: "so, when are you going back to Italy?" - to which I couldn't answer. So, yeah - I thought I was dealing quite well with being back home but my subconscious was not.

When I was still in Lisbon, I spent the last weeks trying to stop time from ticking away so fast, obviously failing at it. So I tried to get ready for my departure, and I failed at this as well. You can spend a lot of time getting ready for something and then, when the thing you were getting ready for actually happens, you are not; or, sometimes, you realize you have been all along. I can't say, yet, if I was ready for my departure from Portugal, or not - I guess it's one of those things you understand only as time goes by.

View from the Miradouro do Graça, 10/02/2018

The weird thing about being conscious that something is ending is that you are extremely aware of it any second of every day. So, weeks before I actually had to leave, I had started to say goodbye to all the places in the city that meant something to me, and, randomly as only real life is, I ran into people I knew in many of these. And then the real countdown started: the last weekend, the last night in Barrio Alto, the last pastel de nada. The last time I introduced myself with my name and my nationality. The last time I said "I'm an Erasmus student". The last time I avoided someone in the street muttering "não falo português".

I spent the last week with my friends Alice, Tomáš and Jara (Andrea was the first one of us who left), doing nothing but walking through the city, eating and hitting each other while throwing glitter around. (I know this sounds weird. It's how we show love to each other). 

"Look! I, too, have a certificate now!" Andrea and Alice at Teatro da Garagem, 8/02/2018

At this point, being with them, I felt less the impeding doom and more the realization that my Erasmus was almost over. It was a bittersweet feeling, at the same time I wanted it to be over because I couldn't bear to say goodbye to people anymore, but on the other hand I really didn't want to leave. My friends and family home were eager to have me back full time, and I felt selfish every time I said: "I'm sad because I am leaving" but, unless one felt their heart breaking when a plane took off because it was leading them away from a place or from people they loved, I don't think one could ever understand the shattering, draining, longing feeling of wanting to be in two places at the same time.

At least the weather matched my mood on my last day in Lisbon, 15/02/2018

I spent the last day doing my last university duties and packing (and whining because my garbage was too much and I had to give EasyJet even more money), and that was it. Suddenly I left the house for my last night out, locking the door with my keys for the last time. We had dinner in one of the first restaurants I went to when I arrived; I showed my friends one of the best panoramic bar spots in Lisbon, where I started to wander off because when I am too emotional I am like a five years old child who needs to be on a leash because if no one is keeping an eye on me I will just start running and the next time people will hear from me will be from Mexico. 

We went from Intendente to Alfama to Graça to Intendente again. Our second to last stop was the Miradouro da Nossa Senhora do Monte, the best view point in Lisbon. I hadn't planned to go there but we were on the way, so we stopped for a while to see the view; this is the miradouro I am most attached to because, every time I had something on my mind, or when me and my friends wanted to enjoy a nice sunset, that was the place we went to. It was very fitting, then, that we reached the top of this hill at the moment I was deepest down in my desperation (midnight had just stroke and I literally tried to run away from time, but I had to accept defeat, chased by Jara down a narrow hallway that smelled very, very badly).  

Last sunset from Nossa Senhora Do Monte, 13/02/2018

So I did what I do best when I cannot face the truth or something that troubles me, which is silently retreating from anyone else and be on my own for a while. So I did, sitting in the dark and on wet grass, contemplating the city below me and thinking about the time gone by and the friends talking just a couple of meters away, and those waiting for me home, and all the things that happened and those that have to come yet. And at one point it was like the city had released me, saying goodbye and wishing me well, and when I joined the group again I was feeling much lighter and happier than I had before, ready to enjoy the last few hours we could spend together.

It was sunny and warm when, the next day, I left Lisbon. My plane was in the evening, so I spent the day finishing to pack my stuff and chilling on the terrace of what used to be my flat, enjoying the sun and the silent company of my friends napping on the sofa. I had a last brunch, a last stroll in Campo Pequeno and then I had to call the cab and go to the airport (where I had to board a plane completely covered in glitter, but this is an other story).

Girls excited  because of Garlic Soup and Käsespätzle, 14/02/2018

I had accurately scheduled my next days in Italy, before leaving: people to see, things to do, everything that could keep my mind off post-Erasmus sadness; I joined (too) many projects, I started attending classes at university, everything is back to normal. I know that I have been away for a while because there are new shops and restaurants in town, some relationships changed and most of the times I find myself confused on which language I am speaking (Italian, English or Portuguese? Even now, sometimes words come to me in one language or an other); but, other than this, my Erasmus was so detached from my regular life that it seems like a long, weird dream that happened overnight; the good thing is, though, that, differently from a dream, I can say that it really happened because in my new reality there are remainders of it, friends, books, movies, pictures that come from my Portuguese life. And this is what makes me feel less sad and be aware that, soon, I will be dreaming people asking me: "when are you leaving again?"

So, this is it. It's probably the last Erasmus-related post you will see on this blog, or maybe not; who knows. I'm improvising life as it comes. And I know I said weeks ago that I was going to post something related to Broadchurch, but, well, I'm getting better and better at procrastinating. But it will come, one day.

Até logo, Lisboa.