How to Do Business With Your Friends

“ Never do business with your friends, “ my father warned me as I set up my new business in the USA many years ago. After losing a dear pal of many years in Portugal when we tried to mix the two, I decided my father was right. However, last week I tried my luck once more time. This time I stepped into the fray cautiously. I emailed the woman whose friendship and business savvy I had compromised last year. I wrote, “ Would you consider seeing me again for business only? ” She answered, “ Yes, let’s try.” So last Monday evening I went to her home with my two business items carefully outlined, plus a check. After an hour and thirty minutes, we had finished the business part. She said, “ Is that all? “ “ Yes, and how much do I owe you?” I responded. I paid, we had a glass of wine and chatted like the dear friends we used to be. So, it’s possible to do both. Just have your boundaries tight and come with a chec

More Confessions of an Ocean Swimmer

I admit, with some shame, that December 31 was the last day I entered the lovely ocean. Until today. The bright sunny skies lure me to the paredao to walk beside the sea, but tales of very cold water temperatures put me off during most of January. On that final day of 2011 I met a very interesting fellow swimmer, Piers , from Ireland. I have no idea of his age but his body shape suggested a man in very good physical condition. As he put on his rubberized top and bottoms (as opposed to my 2-piece lycra bathing suit), he said, “ I’m training for a triathlon.” He also revealed that his black bathing cap, of special silicone, was the most important part of his gear: “ Keep the head warm and the body stays warm too, “ he said. I’m lucky to have a thick set of curls which I though would keep me warm, but Piers told me otherwise. So last Friday I went to Decathalon and bought a “proper” cap for swimming, but not the rubberized suit. I wanted to feel the water on my skin, unprotected by some artificial outer gear. (I didn’t tell the triathlete that.) As I entered the ocean in this third week of January, I experienced the familiar rush of winter water: bone-chilling temperatures balanced with exhilarating excitement. I walked for five minutes and let my legs adjust to the icy water. Then, I plunged in and swam for about five minutes. When I exited, I headed for my towel, changed into warm clothes and basked in the January sun. In two week’s time I’ll head for India. My next column will contain tales on my swims in the Indian Ocean, considerably warmer than the Atlantic and possibly host to dolphins. In March, no more than a week after I return, you will find me again regularly in the waters off the Praia de Conceiçao beneath the Hotel Albatross, Want to join me? patwestheimer@gmail.com

Mom?

Now I understand why women have children in their 20′s and 30′s. In the week between Christmas and New Year’s I had three of my Gd children staying with me. Except for nightly squabbles over the best bed in the house, the atmosphere was generally peaceful. I even softened and invited J’s boyfriend to dinner two nights ago. He’s a controversial kid and one I had made some judgements about long before I spent much time with him. But T. turned out to be kind, if also a bit antsy.  My kids are the best mannered young people you can imagine. After every meal they did the dishes, cleaned around the table and made beds each morning as neatly as in a 5-star hotel. I only lost my cool once when one of them came back home 35 minutes later than agreed upon. I got scared imagining her walking around Cascais on her own. She’s leggy and pretty, and while she’s with me I’m legally responsible for her. Except for that blip, the week went well. It’s just that here I am on January 1, at 9 pm, snuggled in my bed with my MacBook Air and enjoying the silence at home.One of the boys said he might back in later, but he’ll have to find his food alone tonight. I’m just too tired to move until the morning.

Sleeping with Ben

Some might find it perverse that a middle-aged woman gets so much joy spending the night with her 16-year old poodle, but I make no apologies for my indulgence. Ben used to snore which was mildly annoying, but with age and weight loss, the snoring has stopped. Now all I hear is his light breathing and an occasional cry from a bad dream. The vet told me that with age come unsettling dreams in dogs. I always wonder what he’s seeing: is a big German shepherd chasing him? Is a car coming near? What could cause his otherwise peaceful sleep to erupt into these occasional screams?  As soon as I hear him, I pet him gently. Then he settles back into his sound sleep, comforted by the heat from my electric blanket beneath him. When Ben was a puppy, he always woke up early, demanding a pre-dawn walk. But with age, he’s sleeping longer, sometimes until 9 or 10 am. I crawl out of the bed in the morning, sometimes hours before he does. But like an anxious mother, I leave the bedroom door open so I can hear him when he awakens and wants to walk. Once I missed his signal and he jumped off the high bed alone. He made it to the floor, but his arthritic bones suffered and I don’t want that to happen again. Sometimes I envy Ben for his ability to sleep long and hard. My nights are more like my father used to say, “ in chapters.” I wake up three or fours times, make sure Ben is fine and then return to sleep. When I was young I could stay in bed, like Ben, into the late morning. Now I get up early, but my soul is still in the bed with Ben.

Joaninha

I met Joaninha when she was 5. She became my Portuguese Gd daughter that day, and I have loved her ever since. Some say we look alike, but that is only a compliment to me. She was called ” Little Joana” in those days because she was thin, small boned and shorter than her sisters. Now all that has changed. Joana is almost 20, tall, slim and a head turner. But it’s not her looks that attract: it’s her ever-present smile, her care for others and her determination to succeed, no matter the challenges. And she has had many. Last night she went with me to a holiday party. She knew no one but smiled and did her best to speak some English. She sat and waited while I talked to some long-lost friends and helped me navigate the narrow streets of Estoril on our way home. When we came in after midnight, Joana said, ” Thank you, Pat.” In truth, the thanks was mine, not hers, to give.

Pai Natal Golf Tournament

I love golf, but I’m still a relative beginner, considering that most players at my club have been at it for more than 20 years. I have no idea why I waited so long, but one weekend in the Algarve the hotel offered a free lesson to guests. A friend and I went, and I fell in love with the game straight away. Of course several years followed with basic lessons and lots of whiffs. And then I met Fernando, the gold star caddie from our club. Fernando taught me the subtle points of the game, and  most of all, how to putt. There’s a saying in golf: “Drive for show and putt for dough.” Today in the tournament I must have been on a putting streak. Except for a few holes, I became the designated putter because I manged to sink more putts close up and at a distance than the others. Of course that ingratiated me to the three Portuguese gentleman with whom I was paired. After my first few duffer shots I imagine they wanted me off their team. But then I got warmed up and managed to connect decently with the little white ball. And most of all, I manged to clinch many birdies and pars for our team with my putts. So by hole 10, I was no longer shunned by my team mates, and they even started to joke with me. Then I know I had made it. After we finished, we all went for the Pai Natal ( Father Christmas) lunch. The food was delicious but even better was the prize-giving ceremony. I had the sense that we had done fairly well, but when the Chair announced that our team had come in second, out of 20,  I was truly thrilled. We four walked to the front of the room to receive our prizes, but best of all came with the Club photo taken with the three guys and me. Finally, I felt part of our team, even if only for the day.

Gifts from Santa

Fifty-six children at the SOS Village in Bicesse will receive the presents they asked for on Christmas Eve. That’s due to the generosity of our Americans in Portugal and International Community efforts. At our annual Giving Luncheon yesterday people piled up their gifts for the children beneath our Christmas tree. One woman bought an older teenager a mobile phone and even gave the dedicated SOS Director money for one year of moderately priced calls ( 10 Euros a month). The girl’s phone had been stolen last month. The generous giver even asked to meet the girl and see what else she could do for her. Others went to Toys R Us and bought ball, skates and dolls. I just received an email from an friend who will give cashmere shawls to the heroes of the Village, the Mothers. In a period when people are talking about tough times, economic constraints and world upheavals, the lunch and the donations confirmed my belief that we are basically good people in our souls. I hope children will know they same when they open their presents.You can find photos from the Giving Lunch on our Facebook page: Amp Portugal

Don’t let me move again!

What’s worse..living in a mediocre space or moving to a better one? Of course I’d choose the latter, but after this last move I’m making my friends and family hold me to this promise: I’m not going to move again! Here I sit in a beautiful, spacious and garden attached apartment big enough for my 3 foster children to live here, big enough to teach in and spacious enough to entertain, write and even work out in comfort, privacy and style! Real estate professionals say the 3 most important aspects about a real estate property are location, location, location. This apartment has it all! For someone who cooks only mediocre food ( though I’ve just enrolled in a cooking class), this property is ideal. To my left is a well-known Indian restaurant with my favorite dish, Chicken Saag ( cooked with spinach and spices). To my right is an upscale cafe serving home made Portuguese food ranging from breaded fish to my favorite, spinach and cheese lasagne. It even has a table for dining outside on balmy days, like we’ve had this week. The smokers usually get to the table first, but we’ve also managed to snag it a few times this week for late lunches. Maybe I’m eating out a lot to avoid the inevitable: unpacking boxes, hanging curtains and pruning the garden. But I have time, lots of it. Remember, I’m not moving again. Your moving tales: patwestheimer@gmail.com

Two Winter Swims

I managed two swims this this past week. Once the water was quite turbulent, and a fierce wave knocked me back to the shore. I decided to be more careful. I felt like a lion tamer in the cage with ferocious animals. They take big risks and I did too. I won’t do that again. Then on Thursday I walked along the sea and even managed to catch some rays of early winter sun. The water was smooth with gentle waves, so I ventured in. I swam parallel to the shore, near the Hotel Albatroz. Finally, when my hands started to go white, I decided to get out. Now I bring a thermal top to the shoreline and discretely disrobe then dress again. In seconds I am warm. On my walk home from the beach I feel renewed and refreshed. The joy of winter swimming lingers into the evening. Today, Sunday, I ventured out again toward the beach only to be met with torrential rain and booming thunder. The lion tamer went to a friend’s home for Sunday morning tea, came home only to wait for a gentler day.

A Tourist At Home

Today I swam in the lovely ocean. In fact I haven’t missed a day all summer. That sounds strange because October 22 is not really summer, but it still feels that way. The beach ( my favorite: Praia da Conceiçao) was dotted with sunbathers and a few ( crazy?) swimmers. I have the same ritual every day. I walk to the beach, read the newspaper and then get up my courage to swim. As I enter the chilly water I play a trick on my mind, telling myself ” It’s so hot. It’s burning my skin.” Then, I plunge in. Once in the water I’m not cold at all. I start to swim really quickly moving parallel to the shore and then swim back the other way. I stay in 15-20 minutes and only come out because I think I might be getting too cold. But the truth is that I’m never really cold once I get out. I change clothes discretely on the beach and let my body bake for about 20 minutes. Even the fall sun seems to give warmth. Then I walk into town on my way home. Today I stopped and watched a very clever marionette show and ate my first chestnuts of the season. ” Only 2 Euros the vendor said. I haven’t raised my prices this year.”They were meaty and delicious giving added warmth to my slightly chilly body. Tourists from Russia to Rome strolled the downtown streets of Cascais. And for the moment I imagined I was one of them. Then., as I walked to ward home I realized that someday they have to go home. But I don’t. Lucky me!