A melancholy moment...

Oh yes, I’ve been away, and all I want to say is ‘Woohoo!’

And why am I saying ‘Woohoo’? Well, I’ll tell you now, because I bloody loved it. I loved being away. I’ve always loved travelling, but haven’t done it for a while.

I was overseas for two weeks exactly, and in that time, I travelled the world. I flew from Faro to London to Hong Kong and then on to Sydney. After a great two weeks, I then flew home again, via Singapore.

The travelling is something that needed to be done to get to where I wanted to be. It was mundane but doable.

Once in Australia, I met my Australian friend and we travelled north from Sydney. We travelled north to see another one of my friends, one of my oldest friends, someone I’ve known since I was eleven years old. It was his sixtieth Birthday.

My Australian friend and I stayed and enjoyed, but eventually, after a lovely relaxing time, we had to head home. So, that’s what we did.

We headed back down to Sydney, where my Australian friend went her way and I went mine. I took myself to the airport to fly home.

And therein lies the question: where is home for me now? Where is home for any of us? Is it simply wherever we lay our hats?

Well, as you probably know, home for me at this moment in time is Portugal. I bloody love it here. I love Fuseta, I love my life, love my house, love the people, my friends, both locals and foreigners. It’s just such a good place to be, and yet…

And yet, having had such a great time overseas, I do wonder what is the best way forward.

Since I moved to Portugal, since covid struck, since we all moved past covid, since the world opened back up again, I’ve just been so happy here.

But for the first time, as the plane touched down, I wondered what I was doing with my life. I wondered what is important to me.

As I sat on the plane and waited to be allowed off, I realised that I was surrounded at that moment by people I didn’t know, people that meant nothing to me.

As we left the plane, I stood at the top of the steps and stopped. Just for a second. I looked around.

Every time I’ve returned to Portugal in the past, I’ve done the same thing and smiled: blue sky, warmth, the knowledge that I was home. I’ve always loved it. But this time? Grey clouds, moisture in the air, forty plus hours of travelling behind me.

For the first time, I felt strange, I felt isolated. I stood on the steps and wondered: ‘What is really important?’

The sky was a weird mix of grey and orange. It wasn’t what I was expecting, and nor was how I felt. I felt sort of hollow. For the first time in Portugal, I felt lonely. I felt alone.

But why was this?

Because my Australian friend was eighteen thousand kilometres away, because I was here on my own, because I was returning to an empty house?

Mmmm… lots to think about.

I walked down the aeroplane steps, entered the terminal and was soon through passport control. I then collected my suitcase. After grabbing a taxi, (I can hardly believe it myself) I was back In Fuseta just over an hour after landing. ‘Not bad at all,’ I was thinking.

Once home, I checked the house out, checked the plants that were planted by my Australian friend (they weren’t looking good, obviously, having been away for a couple of weeks), grabbed something to eat and headed to bed. Soon enough, I was asleep.

Travelling from Australia, that tends to happen. Your body has no idea of what time it is any more, and so, I fell asleep.

At 3.30am, I found myself wide awake. Three hours later, I fell asleep again. Bloody hell. Time differences really tend to mess you up.

I awoke once more at 10am, late I know, but I was catching up on nearly two days of travelling and very little shut eye.

In the morning, my Australian friend and I Facetimed, and then I called my dad, back in the UK. We chatted. He talked about the fact that he wanted to drive around the country once more, to see friends, but that the weather wasn’t looking good. He talked about my brothers, he talked about his car going into be serviced. He then asked me about my trip and seemed happy. After all, the money I’d used to travel had been a gift from him.

And then he put everything in perspective for me:

‘I’m really glad you enjoyed it, David. You’ve always loved traveling, and in the last few years, all you’ve done is move between Portugal and the UK. It’s about time you enjoyed it once more.’

I think he said it, because it was something that he really wants to do himself, but now that he’s ninety, it’s not so easy. I think that he was saying: ‘You have one life. Get out there and enjoy it.’ And he’s right. That is what we all need to do.

So, what does the future hold? Where will home be? Well, who knows? My Australian friend still has a child of school age, so nothing will happen over the next couple of years at least. After that, nothing’s off the table.

Anyway…

Excuse me for a moment. Someone’s knocking at the door.

It’s my friend Nigel. As I open the door, he peers in: ‘I wasn’t sure if you were back. Fancy a quick beer?’

God moves in mysterious ways. I immediately feel my reverie and melancholy lift:

‘Of course!’

And off we go to O Pescador to make the most of what Fuseta has to offer, to do what two old friends do best – drink and talk bollocks.

Right now, I’m home.