I have absolutely no excuses. I came home to Valencia nearly two weeks ago and am still landing. If I wasn’t such an unpacking freak my backpack would still be half emptied in the middle of the living room. But there’s nothing I love more than to unpack the exact instant I put my key in the lock of my front door. Mentally though, the backpack is still full, the pile of laundry collecting dust and my usual procrastination queen crown is back in its usual place, right on top of my head. I’m an expert in the procrastination business, especially when I am still in the process of coming home after months away.
Living in Valencia, I soon learned one important thing: I do not want to be here in July and August because that is when you literally melt. Everyone else seems to think the same way so in summer the city becomes a pretty boring empty place to be. So I plan other things in other places. This summer brought me lots of time in nature with very different intensities and states of mind. Dancing at Nowhere festival in the desert, long, lazy beach days with my love and six glorious weeks in the green lushness of Portugal.
I turned 35 at Nowhere and as always, I love getting older. Age is no big deal for me, yet for some strange reason 35 has always been a thing. Maybe because it’s the start of a new 7 year cycle or as a womb bearing human this is the famous age to have all the kids you didn’t have time to have before because infertility kicks in fast after 35. Doctors love to remind me. Anyway, I couldn’t have been happier to celebrate this new year on earth doing the things I love so much: dancing at a festival surrounded by friends, sipping on espresso martini and dressing up in all glitter.
I’ve written plenty about my stay in the north of Portugal and how I spent so much delicious fingerlickin’ time in nature I eventually turned into a tree. Some sweet friends came to visit me, and my love flew over to turn into a tree with me. We did and it was wonderful! To make the transition back to city life smooth as silk, we went to Porto for a few days.
How good is Porto? That city oozes romance, nostalgia, if you ask me: all the feels that belong to autumn. And autumn is my favourite season of all! From a (near to) naked life in nature we dressed up our city best and a fluffy sweater on top because we arrived in a cloud of mist and mystery. We drank wine overlooking the water and the coloured houses hiding behind a layer of grey and decided right then and there we were in love with Porto.
Every alleyway we got lost in, every empty building, every hand painted tile had my eyes and jaws drop to the floor in awe with their beauty. As Patti Smith once wrote - not about Porto but it sounds fitting to me - “these streets are a poem to be hatched.” The impressions of the city still linger.
Ryanair did that thing where they cancelled our flight so we got to linger a day longer. Back in Valencia I was so happy to be home, kiss my love bye see you in a few hours at a gig where we will dance our sore legs off, put that key in the lock and unpack all in the next minute. The bags are stored away, clothes are clean yet my mind is still there, wandering those streets, each one a different poem to be hatched.
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