Saturday, 19 September 2009

Saturday Photo: The Carmo Ruins in Lisbon, a City Where I'd Hoped to Be

The plan had been that tomorrow Lee and I would go to Portugal for a couple of weeks. I'd gone there in May to do research for my next book, Making Waves: The Portuguese Adventure, but he had stayed behind to take care of our 22-year-old cat Calie.

His reward was a trip to Belgium with Elin when she went to fetch her new viola da gamba, while I had kitty duty. But we really expected that the Mouser would have gone to that great catnip field in the sky by now.

She still is among us, though, and not suffering at all it seems. Her world is limited to the kitchen where she spends most of her time either eating or sleeping in front of the hot air exhaust coming from the refrigerator. That means that for the duration we will be staying home since she is far too much trouble to wish on even Lukas, Elin and their partners who are as fond of her as we are.

Perhaps I'll get to show Lee Portugal next spring when the jacaranda trees will be in bloom again, as they are in this picture of the Carmo ruins, on a hill overlooking the center of Lisbon. A beautiful city, a fascinating country, an enormous world heritage.

1 comment:

lagatta à montréal said...

Please pet dear old Calie for Renzo (a mere tomkitten of 13) and me!

Hmm, not promising anything now, but perhaps in the spring I could make it over there a couple of times a day (your house is only ten minutes from mine by bicycle) and feed, pill and clean up after Calie, or perhaps work there on my laptop, work permitting, if it gives you an "Avril au Portugal" holiday.

Avril au Portugal

by Yvette Giraud

Je vais vous raconter
Ce qui m'est arrivé
Sous un ciel où l'été
Histoire d'amoureux
Voyage aventureux
Que pour les jours heureux
Je garde
Un grand navire à quai,
La foule débarquait
Deux yeux sous des bouquets
L'amour devait rôder
Puisqu'on s'est regardés
Et que mon cœur s'est mis à chanter ...

Avril au Portugal,
A deux c'est idéal,
Là-bas si l'on est fou,
Le ciel l'est plus que vous,
Pour un sentimental
L'amour existe t-il
Ailleurs qu'au Portugal
En Avril.

Le soir sous mes yeux clos
Glissant au fil de l'eau
Je vois par le hublot
La rive
Des voiles de couleur
De lourds parfums de fleurs
Des chants de bateleurs
Tout ça berce mon cœur
D'un rêve de bonheur
Dont les regrets ailleurs
Me suivent,
L'amour devait savoir
En nous suivant le soir
Que j'aimerais un jour la revoir...

Avril au Portugal,
A deux c'est idéal,
Là-bas si l'on est fou,
Le ciel l'est plus que vous,
Mais sans penser à mal
Son cœur attendra t-il
Que j'aille au Portugal,
En avril.