Let there be lights
Let there be lights
COVID, kitchen renovations, electricity, plumbing, speaking the language.
We have electricity in the casa pequena (aka the little house aka the guest house aka the quinta) but have continued using rechargeable lights and candles to light the casa grande (aka the big house aka the palaceta). With the purchase of an industrial strength, industrial length extension cord and a goose neck light with cool/warm options, we now have light in the palaceta. As well, today when I went over to the quinta to check on progress - having recently discovered the ceiling of the lower floor kitchen was nonexistent behind a sheet of drywall, the floor of the kitchen on the top story completely collapsed, so we had a lower story cozinha with a 24 foot ceiling for awhile - I found a welcome surprise, an actual flushing toilet. I wanted to hug Paulo but could not as the h has come down with COVID after attending Web Summit, the biggest event in Lisbon. With more than 70,000 attendees I suppose it was inevitable. Or maybe it was the crowded train rides to and from, the h reporting lots of hacking of lots of little kids. 'Tis the season.
When I tell Tiago that the h has COVID so let's not stand too close, he nods. Couragem! he says. I think I know what that means, and he repeats it into his phone and shows me the translation.
Courage!
Courage was required when I saw the extent of the work needed on the quinta. In addition to the collapsed ceiling/floor, when the slapped-up drywall was removed, it revealed walls with such extensive dry rot it made me wonder how the house was even standing. The h had a peek behind the drywall when we were first looking at the place, so was not as dismayed as me. It turns out our gardener and his dad are also expert carpenters. Now, with just one week of work, the lower story quinta kitchen features a beautiful tongue-and-groove wood ceiling.
Once the dust settles from the wood repair/replacement we will install new windows. The h made an appointment with the electric company to install the heating/cooling split in the downstairs unit in the first week of December. Soon we will have lights, flushing toilets, and warmth all under the same roof, which gives me couragem indeed.
With the h sick, I have had to venture forth alone to manage errands. I went to the farmacia and requested medicamento for entupido (a great word for a stuffy nose) and the pharmacist didn't bat an eye, just reached behind her to grab what I asked for. I then asked if they sold COVID tests, to which she replied 'quantos precisa' and I responded dois (pronounced doy-sh) and I practically skipped out of there. Then I bought some groceries and reeled off my NIF without having to look it up or hold my phone for the clerk to read it off the screen and enter it. It's not a big deal to say nine numbers in Portugues but I felt accomplished.
Today the Amazon guy brought a special package we've been waiting for - real maple syrup! I went out to meet him, warning him to keep his distance (estou doente). I haven’t actually tested positive but I don’t want to take any chances passing the h’s illness to anyone else. Jake bounced up to him and he flinched back - there are a lot of dogs in Portugal but mostly small ones, and people are timid of Jake's size, so much so they don't see the obvious friendliness of his ears and tail and his sideways walk. Ele e amigavel, sempre, I tell him. Ele quer ter amigos (he is friendly always, he wants to be friends!) Since the pandemic Jake is enthusiastic about all delivery men and delivery trucks, as most were carrying treats during that period, which Jake remembers as pure heaven. The man relaxed and patted Jake, who thankfully did not emit his big booming Got Treats? bark which tends to make people jump back in fear.
What's your name, he asked, and I gave it and he said "You have a Portuguese name? You are not an American!" He said this as though he was making a compliment so I accepted it graciously.
Yesterday I had another speech breakthrough, after more than 300 attempts in 90 days I got through the SEF telephone line, which usually plays a bilingual message that is very reassuring that someone will come onto the line soon, and may repeat three or four times before an irritating British accented voice says regretfully, Sorry we have not been able to take your call, please check out our website!
The SEF website is, if anything, in a greater state of chaos than the phone system. It's more than the usual bureaucratic chaos - the SEF (Servicio de Estrangeiros e Fronteiras, or Border and Immigration Services), having transitioned to the AIMA, or Agencia para a Integracao e Asilo, or, Agency for Integration and Asylum.
This transition has included a whole new computer system, which ground work nearly to a halt for a few weeks - I know, because I had my Temporary Residence Card meeting in the midst of this transition, and the agente was apologetic in that tense but resigned way people are when they know it's not going to go well but are hoping for a miracle anyway. We *almost* got the miracle too - I was on the very last step of the TRC process when the system apparently hung up, and after thirty minutes of him staring at the screen while I looked around the stuffy room with its tiny desks, an agent behind each, a residence hopeful in front, the walls lined with bulletin boards crammed with HR-type notices about the unacceptability of racism and how every applicant would be treated with human dignity and equality.
What's the Portuguese word for slow, I asked the agent. I know devagar (slowly) but it seemed not to be the right palavra. Lenta, he sighed, which is the same in Italian.
Something appeared on his screen that was like a balloon popping, and he told me with finality he wouldn't be able to complete the process. We'll call you in two weeks, he said. I waited the two weeks before I started calling four times a day, after one month getting through exactly once.
No, said the nice lady on the other end of the line. There are no appointments. None at all. You'll have to just keep calling back, one may open up at any time.
Do I call just once a day? I asked her.
A good question, she said with some surprise. Since a meeting slot can open up at any time, you can call as many times as you are able. Her tone suggested that this was the best route.
When I finally got through again - more than forty five days later - the man on the other end informed me that a new appointment had actually been set up for me, but I had not received an email, not did I get a phone call, facts he helpfully noted for me. (It was also not noted in my portal which showed only the original September meeting.) After an interminable wait with no hold music, he set up a new appointment. The old-new October 28 appointment is now the new-new appointment on April 5. On the plus side, though he spoke good English, I tried out my Portuguese on him.
"Your Portuguese is excellent," he said. "Congratulations." (Parabens!) He had a deep radio DJ voice and was flirting shamelessly with me, calling me Sandra Bullock, though he surely must have seen from my personal data that I am not of an age that anyone wants to flirt with. Maybe it's because, like my mom, my voice on the phone sounds much younger than I am. The Portuguese can seem a bit distant sometimes, but no more so than the natives of any country eyeballing a person who is about to challenge them with a language they do not speak or understand. When you make a sincere attempt to speak the language, people warm right up.
For example, at our regular cafe there was a cranky looking lady ringing me up. She asked me a question I didn't quite catch - my ear is lenta - and another girl, who speaks English, called out, "She speaks English!."
Mas, eu entendendo! I said (But I am learning!) and the cranky looking lady begrudgingly repeated her question mais devagar em Portugues (do you want your coffee with your food now, or after?). The Portuguese way is to eat your pastry and drink your juice then go hover near the register until one of the clerks sees you and gets your coffee - which is not as inconvenient as it sounds, they almost always see you coming and have your coffee ready.
I didn't fully understand the clerk but I did catch the word agora (now) and so knew the gist of the question. Sim, queremos agora, I told her and she gave a tiny smile. The nicer English speaker came over to chat, asking me how many days in a row I have on DuoLingo (605), which impressed her. However a side note must be made - I also study Drops, another app, plus a You Tube channel with two native speakers. And a visual dictionary. DuoLingo teaches only Brasilian Portuguese, which has a totally different accent and many different words than European Portuguese, and often the sentences you learn are not something you're going to say in a million years.
I asked what language she was learning, and she replied Japanese. Um lindo pais, I said. Mas muito caro! (a beautiful country but very expensive).
That's why I'm going to Sweden first, she said, laughing. To get rich, so I can afford to go!
Domo arigato, I say and the cranky looking clerk does a double take.
Our neighbor Alberto texted me to ask after the h. O mesmo, I tell him (the same). He brings us a traditional Portuguese lunch of chunks of beef grilled on a bamboo stick, with soft rolls and lettuce and onions from his garden. It is absolutely delicious and the h perks up considerably after eating.
Alberto advises what medicamento to take if there is a fever, and if I need anything to just tell him.
Couragem!