Where We're At

An iPhone shot of the field from last week. Not a
bad place to start most days from.

This morning I set up my tripod in the fairground area across from our house for what is likely the last time I shoot a landscape in Europe. It wasn't in a famous location or a spot that is particularly remarkable in the German countryside. Instead, it was to shoot a view of home. It's a view of a big hill on the other side of the river with the fairground field in the foreground. This field is where we've been walking our dog for the last 3.5 years. The view of that unremarkable field and the unremarkable hill across the river has been the view from our house, a view we've had in our lives longer than any other. It was important to me to capture it during a sunrise. In a month we'll pull away from this house and our street and this town and we'll probably never see that view again, at least not at that time of day. I think we often take these types of places for granted and sometimes we see them so much we forget that there might come a time we will never see them again and then we may forget them. I've lived in a lot of places and I have photographs from all of them. But, they're mostly all snapshots. It wasn't until we moved to Europe that I thought to document the towns and homes we lived in with a little more care. So, this morning I officially closed out my European photographic journey with shooting a place that means a little more to me than some bright city or sweeping landscape elsewhere. It isn't that exciting compared to all those other places I photographed, but every time I looked out a window at home at this view or walked The Dog in the field, I said a little thanks for being given time to live in this beautiful, simple place.

After I came inside this morning, I packed up most of my equipment. Saturday morning we're flying back to the US. We're going for a week to finalize our housing in Akron and take care of a lot of logistical stuff. We're also taking The Dog back and he will be hanging out with my parents who graciously offered to care for him until we finalize the move at the end of next month. That way we will be able to take Cats 1 & 2 in the cabin with us on that last flight instead of putting them in the hold. The Dog will be riding under the seat on Saturday's flight and my computer, backup drives, all of my cameras, lenses, and other misc gear will be riding under the seat next to him. The "powers" that be in Washington are threatening to make passengers check their laptops on flights from Europe to the US like they did earlier this year with flights coming from Muslim majority nations. I want to get my laptop out of here before that goes into effect. We have a moving company shipping nearly all of our belongings, but I certainly don't want my equipment crossing the ocean on a tanker or in the hold of a cargo plane. So, it all has to come back under the seat on Saturday. No important equipment will be checked, of course. All that will remain in Germany to use during our last few weeks here is my X70 and a Gorillapod.

These next few days I'm going to be cramming in as much editing from our trip to Zermatt as I can and I'll probably continue to work on that while we're in Akron next week. But, we have a lot to get organized for the move too and time will be tight. Whatever I don't get to is going to wait until we are done with the move. I'm not going to have my computer for 3 weeks! So, there's a good chance this will be the last blog post for a while, but I'm hoping to keep posting with my tablet right up until the end. There's definitely going to be a lull in new photograph uploads to the website, though. I hope you'll bear with me!

After we return next weekend, we'll be in Germany for three more weeks. They will be shipping nearly everything we own right after we come back from Akron so we'll be sharing an air mattress on the floor with the Cats and eating a lot of carry out on paper plates. It's going to be like camping in someone else's house because it won't feel like ours anymore. In fact, it doesn't feel like home anymore now. All the art is off the walls, we have piles of stuff everywhere- some for the boat, some for air cargo, some to take back next week, some to donate/throw out (massive hassle on that front, by the way), and some to keep here. It's a mess. International moving is like regular moving except about ten times more stressful. Every single thing has to be kept track of, accounted for, and organized- right down to the toilet paper and cat litter. It's hard to believe that by the end of Summer this will all be behind us and we won't have to move again for hopefully a very, very long time.

So, just wanted to touch base, but I really need to get back to editing. Time is short.

Wow.

Halftime

I love August.  Well, I mean I love August in Germany.  I don't remember it being particularly pleasant in Ohio due to insane heat, the usual drought, and the sense of melancholy that comes with the approach of Labor Day and the end of summer all together.  However, here, even if you have to go to work, it feels like a month of vacation.  Germans, by law, have to have 30 days vacation.  Some can even manage to eke out a little more depending on other variables.  Some choose to spread those 30 days out through the year.  Others take a big lump all at once, usually in the summer, and head off to the Alps or the beach for a couple of weeks.  Oh, and they have to take these days according to the law.  The worker certainly has a pretty sweet deal here, in my opinion.  This, of course, doesn't apply to people like us who are expats with contracts from a non-German company.  Personally, I think companies should give their expats the same vacation days as their native co-workers during their assignment because being the only person working most of the year is pretty taxing.

On the plus side, during the month of August a lot of people are out of town on vacation so being at home actually feels like a holiday too.  The shops are less crowded, no one is is around to dig up the roads (or, unfortunately, fill in the holes they made in July), and the people who are around are just a bit more chilled out.  It's really nice.  The weather is pretty great too.  While we've been here the heat always hits in July and then tapers off come August.  This year it's been downright chilly, almost Autumn-like.  So, here I am sitting on our balcony with a view of the river as I punch out this update.  The only sounds are church bells and birds.  It's a pretty sweet deal for us too.

We've always treated the month of August as a holiday too, just in a different way.  We don't go out of town at all.  With everyone coming and going from the office, this month is a perfect chance for my husband to get a lot done at work.  It's also a chance to get some things sorted out and planned for the rest of the year.  We use the weekends to get things done around the house that we've been putting off, doing some cycling, and exploring the local area a bit more.  I too have been taking August off from a lot of photography, preventing a burn out that would no doubt hit if I ran around at breakneck pace all year.  I might do a little on the weekends or within a quick bike ride of the house, but for the most part I just focus on catching up on some reading, doing a little digging through whatever backlog I have, updating the Zazzle shop, or organizing my files.  It's nice to put down the camera for a bit and see the world with my eyes for awhile.  Keeps me sane.

I decided to kick off this break a little early this year with our trip to Lake Como last month.  Well, circumstances decided a little bit for me, but I'll get to that in a bit.  My husband and I decided to stay at our favorite hotel to celebrate our 10 year wedding anniversary in July.  We stayed there in 2013 on the way back from a trip to the Riviera.  We were only there for two nights on that trip, but we fell head over heels in love with the place and promised ourselves and the proprietors that we would return.

View from hotel at dinner.  We decided to climb it later that week. 

So, for this trip we decided to spend 8 days there.  Our plan was to do a little photography, a lot of hiking, and even more relaxing.  For once, this was going to be a proper vacation.  Strolls, naps, and afternoon ice cream cones were going to be regular occurrences.  We never take trips like this (the last one was in 2013 to the Riviera, actually), and we definitely needed one.  It's been a long year.

I did want to get out a couple of times for some early morning shooting because, obviously, we were in a prime landscape location.  However, we discovered upon our first attempt that the hotel locks the doors until 6:00am, thus trapping us well after the July sunrise.  At first I was really upset and contemplated asking if we could make special arrangements.  But, I realized that it was actually a good thing.  We both wanted to make this trip more about spending time together and relaxing than getting up at 4:00am and rushing to a location every morning.  I was going to be ok.  It turned out to be exactly what we needed.  We both felt 10x better after the trip, relaxed and ready to face the rest of the year.  I imagine the dinners at the hotel restaurant every night had something to do with that.  The owner totally spoiled us with perfect homemade pastas and local specialities every night.  It was pure heaven, even on the days it rained.

View from the top of the mountain.  Blessed with a clear day
after quite the climb up there.

I really think breaks are important.  Athletes have off seasons, kids get summer vacations, why shouldn't creatives step back for a bit once a year too?  Sometimes I get so wrapped up in photography, I can't even contemplate something else.  Laundry can pile up, I don't get enough sleep, and the cats come in my office periodically to make sure I'm not dead (ok, they may just be there to remind me it's their dinner time).  I admit, I get obsessive.  So, stepping back for a short time is definitely something I need to do.  While we were in Italy, not being able to worry about getting the next shot or chasing the light everyday forced me to focus on the trip and have a really great time.   We did do a lot of hiking and walking, plus we climbed a 8,560ft mountain on a whim.  We weren't exactly sitting with an ice cream all day every day.  But, not having the next shot goal permeating all my thoughts made it possible to have a really relaxing time.  It wasn't work, it was vacation.  You know what?  I was totally ok.  It was ok not to get shots every day, or only have a couple of the two of us (and The Dog) on the card for a change.  It was like coming up for air.

So, I do have a couple mini projects for the rest of the month, but we don't have another photo trip scheduled until October.  In the meantime, check back at my Zazzle shop regularly because I am using this time to add some new products.  If you're already in the market for a 2017 calendar, they are now available!  Next month, is the hallowed home leave trip back to Akron, so you can expect some more cat photos and misc hometown whatnot in my feed pretty soon.  But for now, I'm going to sit back and enjoy this lovely view we've been blessed with, read a little more of Susan Sontag's On Photography, and maybe think about working in the garden.  Maybe.

Oh, I almost forgot!  The name of our favorite hotel is Hotel Europa.  Remember, it's the one in Sorico at the northern tip of Lake Como.  If you are passing that way, there isn't a better place to stay.  At least make sure that you stop for dinner!

Seeing the Spirals: The Power of a Photograph

The photos from our ten day visit to Ireland are currently being uploaded to my website.  I'll be writing about this trip in more detail next week.  I'll be talking about the locations more specifically and also will give some travel recommendations for those who have Ireland on their bucket list.  This week, however, I want to touch on a more personal aspect of this particular trip.

Ballycarbery Castle

Ireland has fascinated me since I was a child.  Unlike most children, it wasn't Ancient Egypt that piqued my interest in archaeology, it was the more obscure culture of the Celts.  The Celtic peoples of mainland Europe and the islands of Britain and Ireland are rarely touched on in American schools, if at all.  The main reason for this is that they weren't conquerors in the traditional sense nor were they literate.  All they left behind were ritual sites and material culture.  I'm not really certain how I discovered them in my youth.  But, I have a distinct memory of coming across references in several modern retellings of the Arthur legend.  It didn't take long to discover that the culture mentioned in these stories was real, and I turned away from fiction to legitimate research to learn as much as I could about these people who seemed relegated to the mists of history.  My investigations, conducted through library books, began with the Urnfield peoples, then jumped over to the salt mining community of Hallstatt, then the shores of a lake in Switzerland, then it quickly spread all across Europe including pre-Roman France, Spain, Portugal, Germany, Belgium, Luxembourg, Northern Italy, Austria, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, and Hungary along with bits of ancient Romania, Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Bulgaria, and even Turkey.  I learned that when the Apostle Paul wrote his letter to the Galatians, he was writing to Celts.  Of course, as my research progressed I encountered the Romans, who quickly chased out or absorbed the continental Celtic peoples.  I followed the roads of Rome in my readings meeting the Celts in Britain, and hints of their existence in the never Romanized lands of Scotland and Ireland.  When Rome finally fell, eventually becoming a deadened husk propped up in Constantinople (Istanbul), most of the Celtic speaking peoples of Europe were no more, now considered just plain Romans who overrun and absorbed by the Germanic peoples of the east.  Their story ended on the continent, but it was far from over on the hinter lands, the areas known today as the Celtic Fringe- Ireland, Wales, Scotland, Cornwall, and the pointed tip of France, Brittany.  Following the trail of the Celts led to a lifelong fascination with the Celtic Fringe nations, especially that completely Celtic island of Ireland.  I poured over photographs of its Neolithic and Celtic sites.  The iconic imagery of standing stones, mounds, ring forts, and tombs pulled me in.  They told a story, one which fascinated me to no end.  Here, in Ireland, the Celts were still very much above the surface.  They never left, they just progressed, and the ruins of their ancestors were the most visually compelling I had ever seen.  They weren't the cold, orderly structures of the Greeks and Romans, the overwhelming and bombastic remains of Egypt.  They were rings and structures of raw stones.  They were fit together like pieces of a puzzle, not straightened and squared.  What was scrawled on their surfaces were evocative spirals and shapes. These people were different.  They loved their landscape and what they left behind melded with the landscape.  The ruins of Ireland were sites that captured the imagination.  The pictures I found in books compelled me to learn more and that led me to archaeology.

Newgrange UNESCO World Heritage Site

Unlike the Egyptians, Assyrians, Greeks, and Romans, the popular choices for archaeological study, the Celts prior to Roman rule are entirely reliant on the archaeology to tell us who they were.  They never wrote anything down.  There are no great pre-Roman Celtic texts.  Even after they encountered the literate Romans, very little is mentioned about them. Except for a few writings of Caesar and others like Tacitus, historians can't really flesh out their tale.  The Romans, as conquerors, were certainly rather one sided in their documentation. So, in discovering the Celts, I discovered archaeology.  Initially, as I entered university I wanted to pursue an archaeological career that focused on Celtic studies.  Other things eventually took my interest, and even though I did go on to earn my degree in archaeology, it was in the studies of a more accessible time and place- the 19th and early 20th centuries in Ohio.  Eventually, my road went in a completely different direction.  Or did it?

For there I was, right back where I began.  Instead of looking at a photograph of a neolithic site in Ireland, however, there I was crafting my own.

It was just after 5:00am.  It was a little windy and quite chilly.  The sky was just getting that look, the one it gets on mornings when there are passing showers- purple, blue, and pink.  Before me, on a bizarre plain of exposed limestone was a prehistoric monument.  There wasn't a soul around except for a few cows.  And, then it hit me.  If my 13 year old self could see me now, she would go crazy.  She would have gone crazy multiple times over the last week.  We had spent several hours at places like this one- Cahergall Ring Fort, an obscure wedge tomb tomb high above the landscape of the Dingle Peninsula, and multiple castle and church ruins from the Middle Ages.  This spot, the Poulnabrone Dolmen, was the last location, and for me the most stirring.

The Poulnabrone Dolmen wasn't built by the Celts, but they probably used it.  It was, in fact, built by a different people, the original inhabitants of Ireland, sometime around 3600BC.  They were the same people of Ireland who built the massive sites of Newgrange and the other complexes at Brú na Bóinne.  It served as a tomb.  Excavations revealed the remains of about 30 people underneath.  Except for the collapse of one of the support stones in 1985 (which was replaced) the dolmen's simple structure of four standing stones supporting a large capstone has stood the test of time for over 5,600 years, longer than Stonehenge and the Pyramids of Giza.  It stands in a dramatic landscape of grooved and channeled exposed limestone of The Burren in County Clare.  It's an incredible place.

There I was, standing before one of the most visually arresting neolithic sites of Ireland.  It was dawn, and we had the place to ourselves. We were able to stay there for over an hour as the light grew and changed and the sun rose over the stones.  The place was ours.  It was an incredible morning.

Photographs are powerful things, and perhaps I didn't realize their true power until that morning.  It was photographs of places like the Poulnabrone Dolmen that created a love in me of prehistoric places and spaces, and the narratives of peoples otherwise gone from the landscape.  The photographs led to a interest and eventual study of archaeology which led to a whole host of other choices and relationships in my life, which eventually brought me to that dolmen at dawn, holding my own camera.  At one time, I had hoped to partake in study and excavations of such a place, but I realized that it wasn't the study of data provided by bits of bone, ceramics, and stone that I loved, it wasn't even the archaeology.  I no longer wanted to strip away the layers to see the thing in charts and graphs, I wanted to appreciate the place as it is now and create images of it.  The point was the imagery itself.  For it showed me who these people were, gave me a glimpse into their souls, more than an archaeological report ever could.  It was with a camera that I was intended to explore these locations, not with a trowel.

Cahergall Ring Fort

Life isn't necessarily a straight line, leading from one event to the next.  Instead it often resembles the emotive spirals found in the art of the neolithic and Celtic people of Europe.  One moment or idea branches into many journeys and ripples.  Each journey is unique, but centered in the same place.  A photograph studied as a child captured my imagination, which rippled for a time into the study of archaeology, which spiraled into a completely new phase, a journey that brought me in an unexpected way to the place of original inspiration.  The photograph I stood there to create was in turn inspired by that original image, but also by a life long study of the ancient peoples who shaped the land I was standing in.  Everything up to that moment had been the work of a photograph.  And, now I was creating my own.

That is pretty incredible.

Magic City

It's time to talk about Lisbon, and I'm a little hesitant to do so.  Why?  Well, we landed upon a place so perfect just the way it is, I'm not real keen on adding my voice to the growing chorus.  Once more and more tourists start coming, it's going to lose some of that magic.  I really, really want Lisbon to stay just the way it is.

We didn't really know what to expect from Lisbon when we landed there last week via a late flight from Frankfurt.  It was close to midnight when we hopped on the subway at the airport for a trip underground towards the city center and our hotel.  You can't tell one city from another on a subway.  They all look the same, the same people ride them.  At that time of night, they're either heading out to party or they're heading home, exhausted.  We popped up onto a silent street thirty minutes later and as we walked the final steps of the days journey, I started to realize that we may have found ourselves in a really special place.

Looking down in Lisbon

Usually, sidewalks are like subways.  They're about the same in every city.  Not in Lisbon though. The main walkways, the squares, even the not so main walkways are paved in blocks of black and white marble.  Some are done in such mesmerizing patterns, you find yourself staring down more than up!  As we rolled our suitcases down one of these sidewalks for several blocks, we commented that if the sidewalks were anything to go on, we were in for a visual feast over the next five days.

But, I had problem.  Something evil had been growing in the lawns back home on the banks of the Main River, and I was experiencing the beginning stages of allergic conjunctivitis, a nasty condition which takes itchy eyes to a whole new level of misery, blurs vision, creates sensitivity to light, makes you cry all day, and the lids swell up.  I was uncomfortable and self-conscious.  And, of course, I was worried that it was going to prevent me from taking photographs.  I had picked up some drops and pills at the pharmacy before we left and had hoped that my eyes would start clearing up thanks to the meds and being away from the grass of northern Bavaria.  That wasn't to be.

Alleyway

Our plan for this trip was to be spontaneous.  All we needed to do was wander, there weren't going to be dinner reservations, fado shows, or anything else that pinned us down to a schedule.  In my research before we left, I came to the conclusion that Lisbon is one of those cities that lends itself to aimless exploring and with five days available, my goal was to do just that.  Since we came in so late the night before, we slept in our first day and took a relaxing morning and afternoon wandering around the area near the castle and the Alfama neighborhood.  Besides the sidewalks, my eyes were drawn towards narrow views down alleys, hanging laundry, and street scenes.

Lisbon is a city full of life.  Unlike most of the old city centers in Europe, which are populated by tourists during the day and no one else, Lisbon's old neighborhoods are still lived in.  Besides the aged former glory of the streets, which revealed themselves around every corner, everyday life is happening in vibrant gusto.  Groups of children played football in the streets, people hung out of windows calling to friends down below, people were bustling to prepare for the Feast of St. Anthony which started the following weekend.  Everywhere we turned, things were happening.  There were still plenty of tourists stumbling around in a confused stupor, paper maps unfurled and fluttering before them like sails.  But, all around was life, real life.  There was also a vibrance to that life.  Latin culture is certainly very different from that of the more somber northern Europeans.  People were smiling, nodding greetings, children joked for the camera, and every person we spoke to had a warmth about them, a genuine friendliness that was so refreshing, we were asking ourselves why it had taken us so long to come here.  Part of the morning was spent seeking out an open pharmacy so I could get some more allergy medication.  That day was a holiday, so many were shut.  As we puzzled over a list of supposed open ones that was posted in a window, we were joined by an elderly gentleman.  He immediately asked us if we needed help, and then, in perfect English, gave us point by point directions to a pharmacy.  We didn't ask for help, he just offered it.  I can't remember the last time someone did that.  This wouldn't be the last time we were warmed by the hospitality of the Lisbonians.  The entire day we wandered, walking far more than we planned and wearing ourselves out.  But, we were having a fabulous time.  With no schedule to worry about, we stopped for coffees when we wanted, grabbed a snack (more on those later), or sipped a glass of wine.  Then, we'd wander some more, never knowing what would reveal itself around the next turn in the road.  As the daylight began to fade over the city, we stood in a park with a grilled chicken takeaway dinner, snapping a few shots from the Miradouro (viewpoints not to be missed).  Someone was playing a guitar under the trees, people were laughing, and we were feeling like we'd found a chest of buried treasure.  We'd fallen fast and hard in love with Lisbon and it had only been 24 hours.  However, my eyes were getting worse and it was to the point that I was going to need something more than over the counter drops if I wanted to see anymore of the city for the rest of the trip.  I was in misery by the time we got back to the hotel.  The evil grass allergens were back in Germany, but I hadn't counted on the wind in Lisbon.

The first evening.

When Friday dawned with the sound of garbage trucks in the street and road workers getting their equipment up and running, I barely open my eyes because the lids were so swollen.  When I did, they were an angry bright red.  The bathroom light was excruciating.  The only relief was laying in bed with a wet washcloth over my eyes.  It was time to find a doctor.  I was, as they say, gutted.  Our experiences with doctors in Luxembourg were overwhelmingly negative.  The few times we've had to visit one, we were humiliated or insulted.  Their hygiene left something to be desired too, dirty exam rooms with no sterile equipment.  They didn't even use gloves.  It was like going back in time to an age when medical care was more likely to harm you than help.  Since Luxembourg is one of the wealthiest nations of Europe, we couldn't figure out why the medical care was so unregulated, let alone antiquated. We haven't been to a doctor in Germany yet, mostly because we're afraid of encountering yet another quack.  Also, actual medical practitioners seem to be a rarity in these parts.  All the doctors around us are in fact homeopathic doctors.  That makes sense since homeopathy started in Germany.  However, when I'm flat on my back sick, the last thing I want is some person with debatable credentials telling me that the real problem is that I'm an wussy American and I just need to go sit in the sun and drink some tea.  If I'm at the doctor, it's pretty darn serious and I'm way beyond the tea stage.  With the jury still out on the effectiveness of homeopathy over 21st century medicine, I'll stick to the medicine, thank you very much.  Anyway, the point is, we try to avoid doctors as much as possible.  I was not looking forward to going to one in Lisbon.  Portugal is not one of the most wealthy countries in Europe, pretty far from it actually.  One of the biggest areas affected by the austerity cuts in Portugal during the financial crisis was healthcare.  When the concierge at the hotel advised us to go the hospital instead of a doctor nearby, my heart sunk.  Hospitals tend to be awful no matter where you are.  I was already envisioning a day spent in a waiting room, exposed to God knows what, with the end result being a poke and prod from an angry, overworked doctor who only spoke Portuguese. We got on the subway to head to the hospital, steeling ourselves for a long, miserable day.  Nothing could have prepared us for the reality.

Lisbon's Santa Maria hospital is a massive, imposing structure on the northern side of the city, about 30 minutes away from the main center.  That Friday morning it was already humming with activity.  We entered the main reception hall, which was already quite crowded, and tried to decipher where exactly we should go.  Do we take a number? Do we go directly to the ophthalmology department?  Thankfully, written Portuguese is similar enough to Spanish that we are pretty good at reading everything, but we still didn't have a clue what the procedure was.  From the looks of things, we just needed to stand in line at the info desk and ask.  So we did.  Imagine our surprise when we were greeted by a downright cheerful woman who not only wasn't bothered that we didn't speak Portuguese, but was also "happy to" speak in English.  She was smiling, even sympathetic.  Never in my life has someone working a desk at any hospital I've even been to been so friendly and helpful.  Even though she said I needed to go directly to the ER, which was definitely not the answer I was hoping for, the fear of the whole situation started to melt away.  When we entered the ER, it happened again!  The woman at that check-in desk was so nice, I almost wanted to tip her or something.  Once again, speaking English wasn't given a second thought, no dramatic sighing, no stern looks.  I could be wrong, but she behaved like she actually enjoyed helping people.  She took down my information, lickety-split, and we only had to wait about 5 minutes before we were called back.  I won't give you the point by point of the entire process, but, folks, the whole experience was honestly the most enjoyable hospital visit I've ever had.  By the time I was sitting in front of the ER ophthalmologist, I wasn't worried at all.  I was in good hands with this staff.  They showed me so much kindness and compassion, never once making me feel inferior for being a foreigner.  The doctor immediately diagnosed me with a chronic allergic reaction and prescribed four different medications (composed of real medicine), promising me with a pat on the arm that in a day or so I would be feeling much better.  Everything was going to be ok.  I walked out of the hospital, heading for the nearest pharmacy in a daze, less than an hour after talking to the first woman at the info desk.  Not only was I getting the treatment I needed, it was given by the some of the kindest people I had ever met.  I couldn't help but feel relieved that of all the ER's I could have ended up in, I ended up in that one.  I know for a fact I wouldn't have had such a nice time at the ER back in Akron, it would have been a nightmare.

And, the doctor was right.  In a day, I was feeling much better.  My eyes wouldn't cause me any noticeable trouble after that.  We were able to enjoy the rest of the trip without any other problems.  I'm still on the medication now and hiding from the evil Bavarian grass allergens, but my eyes are completely clear and feeling and working great.  I have to give a huge shout of thanks to the staff of the ER at Santa Maria and that sweet woman at information.

So, we were now free to enjoy the rest of our trip, and it wasn't even lunch time yet!  Over the next two days, we walked our butts off.  We took the subway out to the aquarium one afternoon to give my eyes a break and we popped into one museum, but other than than we were outside enjoying the incredible beauty and laid-back vibe of Lisbon.  We spent one evening sipping verde wine and snacking on cheese on a terrace overlooking the incredible classic view from the Miradoura da Senhora do Monte.  A man playing classical jazz guitar provided the soundtrack as we set up for some blue hour shots.

The day started out at the hospital and ended here.

Normally, when we go to cities, I have several locations I want to shoot in the same morning or evening and we end up running around from spot to spot.  I don't always take the care with the image that I should, and I get pretty stressed.  We both do.  This time I only had one spot per evening that I wanted to shoot.  That way it could reveal itself slowly to me and I would watch the light play across the scene, shooting as time passed, so I would capture the moment that was the truest to the feeling I wanted to in my image.  That time spent watching the light in the sky go out and the lights of the city come on could be classified as a perfect photographic experience.  There were a few guys running about with their tripods, flailing around with straps and settings, but my husband and I were able to just chill with the wine and the guitar, watching the light.  It was one of those times that creating the photograph wasn't about the camera.  I had set up with plenty of time and knew what I wanted.  This moment could now be about the image I wanted to create, the gear took a distant back seat.  It was relaxing and exciting.  There was no stress, no worries.  Maybe it was the wine or the guitar.  I don't know.  It turns out, we were serenaded with music every evening while shooting on this trip.  I would like that to become a thing, please.  What I do know is that I finally figured out something.  It was more effective and enjoyable if I didn't worry about getting a bunch of shots.  I just pick one, and stay in that location, taking the time I need to get what I want in composition and light.  It was calming.  I didn't end the day wondering if I had walked away with anything I would be happy with.  I knew I did.  I had found my groove for my landscape photography, one that was purposeful and patient.  In a city like Lisbon that has endless places to create beautiful images from, it was easy to get overwhelmed.  I just had to accept I wasn't going to get everything and that if I tried to get as much as possible, I wouldn't walk away satisfied.  I wouldn't do the place justice, and worse, I wouldn't do myself justice.

That doesn't mean I only took one picture a day.  I was shooting all day.  The street scenes in Lisbon were incredible, and inspiring.  Street photographers, go to Lisbon! It was so much fun shooting I felt like I did when I first starting using a camera with some sort of seriousness, but now I had the benefit of a little more education and experience.  Everything was an inspiration.  I took more shots in Lisbon than I have on a trip in a very long time.  The more my eyes' health improved, the more I shot.  I just let the city reveal itself as we walked, instead of forcing scenes.  Left to its own devices, Lisbon revealed plenty.  From the fabulous sidewalks, to Art Nouveau doors and windows, to the tiled facades of apartments (oh, the tiles!), to quiet corners of dead end streets; all were a revelation.  If we had been there much longer, I would have needed to pick up some more SD cards!

Having the freedom to find different perspectives

Staring at walls.

Finding doorways.

Just being there, and seeing Lisbon. 

Watching and capturing it unfold.

Almost every second was magic.  I'm telling you, this city is magic.  Our last day was Sunday, and we wanted to take full advantage of the day.  The day before we turned in a bit early.  I didn't do any location shooting the night before, and just stuck with handheld scenes that we came across.  We planned a very early morning the next day and wanted a long night's sleep before.  My goal for Sunday was two blue hour locations, one in the morning and one in the evening.  The morning location was the Cais das Colunas, two historic docking posts off the Praça do Comércio, one of Lisbon's main squares.  I wanted to get a long exposure of the columns just before the sun came up.  We had to get a taxi from our hotel to the square because the subway wasn't running yet, and tearing through the sleeping streets of the city at top speed was a surreal experience without having had any coffee yet.  We arrived at the location while it was still dark and I walked around the spot for a bit.  This is a pretty iconic location for Lisbon and the traditional composition is from the ramp, with the ramp in the foreground, then the columns, and then the Cristo Rei statue and a bit of the Ponte de 25 Abril in the background.

Cais das Colunas

But, the water flow isn't very dynamic here and wanted a little more movement in the scene.  There wasn't any real wind that early, so the clouds weren't going to be of much help.  As I've learned, sometimes all you have to do is walk around a little more.  We hopped below the terrace onto the beach and found a position that I found to be more satisfying.

Dawn at Cais das Colunas

It wasn't the traditional view, the background is just the horizon, but the water lapping on the beach created the movement I wanted.  Once again, taking plenty of time at the location allowed me the freedom to coax out an image I felt was true to the spot.

We wandered north after the sun started to climb, finding rays of light beaming down alleys, interesting reflections in puddles, and watching the morning stirrings of the city.  Around 7am, we were more than ready for breakfast and happened upon a corner cafe tucked down side street.  The case was full of fresh pastries and hot cups of coffee could be seen being passed over the counter.

Here's my chance to tell you about the wondrous things you will find in a Portuguese cafe or bakery.  The star of the show are the pastels de nata, lovely little pastry cups filled with egg custard.  I was suspicious, not being a big fan of custard usually, but these little babies became a bit of an obsession.  I've already told my husband he should look for some on his next business trip to Luxembourg, which has a large Portuguese population.  I'm kinda miffed we didn't discover these little pastry perfections while we lived there.

Pastel de Nata, aka. A Tasty Revelation

One of Lisbon's historic trolleys. They look like more
fun than they really are.

After our breakfast of pastries and coffee (the Portuguese know their coffee, by the way), we headed back out on the streets.  Other cafes were in the process of opening and people were starting to make their appearances in windows, doorways, and sidewalks.  I just kept snapping away, finally nabbing a shot of one of the iconic trolleys that I had been after the last couple of days.  It was a fantastic morning, that I think I'll have a hard time forgetting.  Our favorite times on trips to cities are when we get up just before dawn and wander the streets.  This particular morning more than made up for the ones missed because of my eyes.  I was feeling ten times better, the good light was lasting, and the lazy morning just slowly unfolded without a care in the world.

The plan was to head towards the Mercado de Campo de Ourique for lunch.  The fastest way there was via one of those famous trolleys, and we happened to just barely nab two spots on one before it filled up to the maximum.  The trolleys are pretty cool looking, yes, but I gotta say that riding one is the only unpleasant thing we experienced in Lisbon.  It didn't have anything really to do with the trolley itself, it's just that every single tourist in Lisbon has a trolley ride on their must-do list and so they fill up quick and no one ever gets off.  There are some trolleys that exist purely for the tourists, complete with audio guides and whatnot, but the one we were using is part of the public transport system.  Lisbon doesn't keep the trolleys only because of their charm, but because they are the only things that can maneuver the twisting streets of the old neighborhoods.  So, there are people, like us, who get on because they need to go somewhere.  But, when the trolley is full of tourists who aren't headed anywhere in particular, it means no one else can get on.  Our driver ended up foregoing making the rest of her stops and sped on to the final one, telling everyone they had to get off there because that was the end of the line.  Thankfully, the last stop is near to the Mercado, so that wasn't a problem.  But, would you believe we were the only ones who got off?  Everyone wanted to take the ride back to the center.  Anyway, we escaped a little worse for wear and headed up to the Mercado, an indoor produce and eatery market similar to the Borough Market in London, but on a smaller scale.  We've had a thing for these types of markets for ages, the defunct West Point Market in Akron was a favorite spot for us back in the day, and the West Side Market in Cleveland is something special.  We've learned that they are perfect spots for a delicious meal, especially if you're feeling a little adventurous.

We were excited about this foray since Portuguese food is some of the tastiest in Europe (sorry, France).  When we arrived it was still pretty dead since everyone was still in church, so we headed to a small park near a church to do a little reading and catch a cat nap.  We ended up being treated to a four man football game, which, in my opinion, was far more entertaining to watch than any of the pro games you can watch on TV.

That little guy on the right had some serious skills.

When the match broke up, we headed into the market.  It was just getting lively as the church goers started filing in.  We settled into a little gluttony, getting several small meals from different vendors and turning them into a tapas lunch.  Barbecue pork, cod gratin, little clams, and the best steak I've had on the continent.  Normally beer drinkers, we opted for the wine in Lisbon.  That was one of the best choices we made on the trip.  We ended the session with a little gelato.  I never pass up ice cream or gelato when the place serves mint flavor, a rarity in Germany.  I don't normally take photos of my food, but this experience warranted them.

In our opinion, Mercado de Campo de Ourique is one of the best places to eat
in Lisbon.

You can also buy ingredients for your dinner at home.

The central stands serve up fast, gourmet meals for a perfect midday meal.

Salted cod is a traditional Portuguese food, this gratin was a unique use of
the famous bacalhau.

When you're this close to the sea, get the seafood.

When you're in Portugal, get the wine.

Red meat is recommended too.

Just a wall, but more than a wall.

Full and happy, we trotted out of the market and headed in a lazy way down towards the water and Belem district.  This area is home to the massive Jerónimos Monastery, the Monument to Discovery, and the Belem Tower, you know, your classic tourist locations.  It was where I wanted to take my last evening photo of the trip.  We walked most of the way back towards the river bank, passing more interesting visual treats (and tiles), before hopping a bus for Belem.

I wanted to shoot the Tower and I wanted the evening to do it.  Once again, as I set up, music played in the background.  There was a huge music festival going on in the park near the tower.  The area was packed with people drinking and eating.  We relaxed at the tower for hours waiting for the light to do its thing.  The salty air made my eyes feel better than they had the whole trip, though I'm not sure how my cameras felt about it.  We relocated a couple times due to the rising tide, before finding a nice sport tucked between the gangway to the tower and the observation terrace.  I wanted movement from the water here too, and found it, crashing against the posts of the gangway and the stairs down to the water.  It was another perfect ending to a more than perfect day.  Instead of taking the bus back to the center and then the subway to the hotel, we opted for a taxi again.  As we headed back, we agreed that this had been a perfect trip, including that ER visit.

The Tower of Belem.

Lisbon taught me a lot and it gave me a lot.  It taught me that less is more, more time to take in the city, have a conversation, and listen to the jazz guitar.  It taught me that an morning in the ER can introduce you to some amazing people that will add a little happiness to a trip.  It taught me that you don't need a reservation at a four star place for a great meal in the city.  It taught me you don't need tickets at the stadium to see a great football match.  It taught me that it's ok to sleep in, that it's ok to call it a night without setting up the tripod once.  It taught me that if you are willing to peer past the obvious places, great moments will happen.  It taught me that custard can be really good, and that sometimes a glass of white wine is better than any beer could be.  It reminded me that there are still places where it's totally ok and enjoyable to talk to strangers, and they don't care that you're not from around there.  We learned you can hear amazing fado just walking down the streets and catching it through open doors and windows.  It was a place full of perfect moments for the camera, which if I didn't know better I would think had been posed.  It was as if Lisbon was going out of it's way for me.  Those five days introduced me to a flow for shooting that had me enjoying the process of photography more than I have in a very long time.  It's a flow that requires a day without a photo quota, so I can get a sense of the vibe and the light.  It's a flow that means taking hours to craft a single image, hours watching light and life.  

Lisbon has my heart.  We've been to many cities in Europe, and while Paris has its magic, Lisbon's is of a different sort.  It's based more around the life of the city, its people and its culture, than it's visual aesthetics and heritage.  We honestly didn't expect that.  I knew it was going to be a beautiful place, I just didn't know that the beauty went deeper than views and squares.  It transcends every part of that city from the sidewalks, to the food, the music, the lively banter of cafe waiters, the conversations between laundry laden balconies, the cracked tiles of old houses, the sips of ginjinha bought for a euro in doorways, the action of the lively Saturday flea market, the tidal course of the Tagus, and the antics of children in the twisty old Alfama neighborhood. Lisbon was a breath of fresh air, a world apart from the one we're used to in Germanic Europe. Like when leaving Iceland, we were heartbroken to get on that plane back to Frankfurt.  I wouldn't hesitate to return if given the chance.  I believe we could happily spend our entire vacation day allotment in Portugal, if its capital is anything to on.  This is a place that changed things a little and will stick with me for many years to come.

The people make Lisbon the magic city.

To see the entire photo collection check out the Lisbon Gallery, also stop by Street Photography, and Cultural Vignettes for more glimpses of the Magic City.