O Fantasma do Mosteiro do Espinheiro

Here's a book that I picked up at the Convent in Evora on our last trip. I mean, seriously, there must be tones of ghosts in Convent!

Now I just need to learn enough Portuguese so that I can actually read about the ghosts in the Convent.

Girl on the Porch

 One of the biggest obstacles to Janet and I moving to Portugal is, well, Vermont itself. We both love it here, and as much as I gripe about living in the cabin throughout the winter, it's still a pretty sweet life. I'm very blessed.

And the best moments are usually the quietest ones. Here we are on the front porch, enjoying the apple blossoms, and enjoying a pre-Whammy Bar (more on that soon) drink on porch on another slow Friday evening in the wilderness.

Tanta Casa Sem Gente

 I took this picture when I was roaming around Evora on our March trip to Portugal. Janet was hanging around the Convent writing and relaxing, and I Ubered into town to look around. In rough Portuguese this bit of graffiti translates out as "too any houses without people, too many people without houses." I almost wrote, "for some reason this really spoke to me," but I didn't write it because it's more than a bit of an absurd statement: I know exactly why it spoke to me. The crime of the gross inequality of the world has always driven, and will continue to drive, my political and religious beliefs. This semester in my Secularism class we read Charles Taylor's book A Secular Age and, among a thousand great points, he proposed that there are three statements in any American argument that (rightly or wrongly, but mainly always wrongly) trump all other and end the debate. One of them is the word "freedom." You can be discussing any issue and if the other American says the word "freedom" it is supposed to tramp all arguments to the contrary and we're supposed to sit quietly and thank God for that freedom. Of course, this is preposterous - not Taylor's point, but this fact. A life where the vast majority of people lives paycheck to paycheck - and ration healthcare - and can't leave their job for fear of losing healthcare - and live in substandard housing, in not one of freedom. My students from my Marxism and the Movies class would immediately point out Althusser's Ideological State Apparatus (ISA), and I would respond, "You had me at Ideological State Apparatus."

Winter Rains

 Just a picture I snapped of our cabin on a particularly dreary/beautiful day out here in the wilderness.

As NY sang, "When the winter rains come pourin' down on that new home of mine, will you think of me and wonder if I'm fine?"

Capela Dos Ossos

 Now that I've decided to lead another student trip, this time to Portugal, in March 2025 I'm starting to think of all sorts of different ideas. I was talking to my dear friend, boon traveling companion, and titular little sister Cyndi yesterday about different things to do on the trip (of course, she, as my titular little sister, cannot imagine not going on the trip, which means she will). As we bounced around ideas I began to rethink the entire experience, which why, among many other reasons, she's such a great travelling companion on these trips. My initial thought was to spend close to a week in Lisbon and then catch a train over to Sintra for a couple days. Now I'm thinking that maybe I'll drag the students to Evora to finish the week instead. The class is, among other things, about identity, and I would argue that the interior of Portugal is more authentic to the Portuguese identity than the palaces of Sintra (although Sintra is amazing). And I'm sure they would love the Chapel of Bones. Here are some pictures I snapped on the March trip. It was our second visit to the Chapel, and if anything I loved it more on this trip than the first (which is really saying something).

And Another Student Trip - Why Not Portugal?

 And why not Portugal, indeed? One of the problems with my March 2023 trip to Jordan was that it was only my twelfth student overseas trips. Given my proclivity for prime numbers I should have stopped after the eleventh trip. This means I have to run a thirteenth trip, and if I go beyond that then it means I'll have to keep running them until I've hit seventeen. Or nineteen, I guess. I'll never live long enough to get to a twenty-third trip. And one I decided that I wanted to run another one - and, after some deep soul-searching, determined that I do think I can pull it off physically - then where do I want to go? There's no place I love more than Jordan, obviously, but considering the situation in the Middle East at the moment I can't imagine I'd be able to convinced enough students, let alone the college, to sign off on that one. I love India, but I refuse to go back there while Modi is in charge. I can't actually vote in India, but I guess I can vote economically, and I simply won't support an India under his control. Zanzibar is always a possibility, but those are always difficult challenges to put together. And then I thought of Portugal - well, obviously, I'm always thinking about Portugal. So, thought of a cool Portugal trip centered around Fernando Pessoa and I've begun to do the planning. And if I get tired, well, there's always a cafe waiting for me . . .

This Year Or Else

 OK, so I've made this promise before, but this time I mean it - or maybe it's just that this year I'm positioned to supply the superhuman effort it will take to finish my Epics book. Janet and I aren't heading out of the country for three weeks this summer (and when is this ever a good thing?) and (so far) I only have two preps for the fall semester, neither one of them new. More importantly, however, I may simply be ready to finish it - and by that I mean that I'm sick of thinking about it. Janet, who is actual real writer, says that this is an essential stage in finishing any book. I've been writing for hours every day and it's definitely coming into shape. Can I pull it off? As I'm famous/infamous for saying to students on overseas trips, "We can sleep when we're dead!"

If I can whip the Ramayana into shape I think I can actually pull this off . . .