It is a cold and windy
day. The rain is so intense that I cannot see the mountains anymore.
My old dog seems to have
emphysema. He walks little, stops every 10 meters and gasps for air. After all
he is more than 100 years old, in human years. These days he reminds me of a
famous Jacques Brel song lyrics “Les
Vieux” (The Old Ones) where he describes the decrease of mobility among
the old as “… from the bed to the window/
then from the bed to the bed”,
Yes, my old dog is now in
the “du lit au lit” phase of life.
He did not want to go out
today. So, I turned the gas fireplace one and he curled in front of it. I made
strong coffee and sat in front of the fireplace checking what is on TV.
Interestingly, the movie that was about to start was based on a book I had read
“Night Train to Lisbon”.
… I traveled our globe
almost non-stop from 1978 to 2010. Mostly for professional reasons, I found the
opportunity unique to meet people and discover that we all have the same fears
and that it is the daily simplicity that fills us with calm. It is indeed that
simplicity that we remember about these days.
I have a very few places,
if chance wants me to revisit, that I would love to do so. Among these few are
Portugal and her people. I was born on the Mediterranean and Portugal is not
even close to that bluest sea. But its people, especially in the south, look
like the people I grew up with. More, they think, they express, they love, and
they let you go just like the people I grew up with.
… So, with the winds
gusting at 40 miles an hour and lashing bands of rain against the house; my dog
breathing heavy in front of the fireplace; and now my mind revisiting the
streets of Lisbon and Oporto, I decided to watch the movie.
I read the book more than
a decade ago because of its popularity and because it dealt with philosophy,
Portugal and poetry. There are memorable lines by the author Pascal Mercier,
mostly attributed to the central character of the novel, Amadeu de Prado, a
Portuguese doctor, during António de Oliveira Salazar's dictatorship in
Portugal. The one that I have found most eloquent, pan-human and
unavoidably haunting is:
“We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place. We stay
there, even though we go away. And there are things in us that we can find
again only by going back there. We travel to ourselves when we go to a place. “
For a chronic traveler like
me, these lines sounded like the truth we discover in train stations, on
balconies or smoke filled cafés on the Iberian Peninsula and beyond. These
lines always reminded me of houses when I was growing up. There seemed “ancient
air” kept behind the heavy curtains, and when the windows are cracked open that
air filled with memories of each room comes out to caress our memory.
Like that air, we indeed
stay in places we have left.
… The visual power of the
movie was delightful. The camera traveled the streets of Lisboa as I often did.
The graffiti, the cafés, the cobble stone narrow streets, and the unhurried people
took me back more than once in the 90 minutes I remained glued to the TV,
having my dog’s snoring cadence and the rain salvos on the windows as
background.
There is a scene that was
also most delightful when Stefania and Amadeu escape to Spain and in the car
parked at the cliff over the ocean Amadeu says:
“..We will invent a language
only you and I understand”
But Stefania says
“I cannot do it. You are
asking from me more than I can ever give.”
Amazing! That immediately
reminded me (again!) of Jacques Brel and his most famous poem/song “Ne me
Quitte Pas” (Do Not Leave Me):
Do not leave me
I will invent for you
Words of fools
That you would understand
… It is still raining. The
movie is over and I had to write my first impressions.
PS/ The photo is of a Fado singer in Lisbon. I took it in practical darkness with a 1950s Leica III camera and ASA 60 film.
February 4, 2019
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2019
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