Irascible, tired, peaceful, tired, happy in Lisbon.

Lisbon is a very attractive city, but for some reason dragging my suitcase up and downhill inevitably lost does not bring out the best in me, so arriving at 10 at night to my hotel only to not even be able to find a glass for a drink of water from the tap in the copious kitchen,  I was not at my best, but by the following morning I was ready to tackle the hill and metro to sign on for my first ever intensive satsang. 

I felt lucky to recognise and know a couple of the staff on duty and after the first session was happy enough but tired from the up and down up and down to get to the event.  I struggled to keep up with the topic feeling like a real newbie in a language class, who discovers all the other students can already speak the language, but Saturday I felt more tuned in and by Sunday I was positively floating. I had dropped out of the morning session to visit what I had stupidly thought was the art gallery of Antiga till I realised it was the Museum of National Antiques a sort of mini British Museum that had some stunning images of the Madonna and child from the Netherlands, but also many artefacts demonstrating how far and wide Portugal's empire and sphere of influence had been before the British took over many of its colonies.    I took this step as I knew there would be two further sessions with Mooji later on and I felt that things might click more if I took a step back a bit. Certainly that Sunday afternoon session I felt a major shift, whether it was because I was nearer the front or just more awake, I really felt a shift from the drugged feeling of earlier in the week to one of complete openness and peace.  After the session I just was happy to sit and be quiet, just like many other people who flopped on the grass all around me.  But as the last session was up and rocking Bhadjans it was lovely to have this quiet time before just enjoying oneself.  All the singers were brilliant. Nirmal especially almost levitated with energy.

But how does one sustain this kind of happiness, it feels almost too intense whenever I feel out and out happiness. I also felt leaden with tiredness and also greatly more self conscious as if having thoughts was now an issue by the time Monday came around. In fact, I absented myself from half of the afternoon session only coming back in in time for Mooji to declare it is enough.  However, I do understand that this is a process, and one I am not really familiar with so I was very happy and lucky to go out for a meal with another attendee and just share bits of our history and knowledge of Mooji and similar retreats. It was also just nice to be with another person and have a lovely meal.  I was hesitant about where to go at first and then remembered the area near Rossio which has some enticing looking places. I was initially thinking we were going for something really tucked away and Lisboan, but we happily allowed ourselves to go with the patter of a friendly waitress and allowed ourselves to be talked into dorada in a very touristy but also very Portuguese restaurant.  It was a great night out.

And then all too soon is was over.  I ducked out of the morning session,  and headed to the beach and the peace of the waves but was happy to attend the final session.  However, it was mostly a Mooji farewell, and then that was it we all just went over to the four corners of the globe.     I am still processing it and trying to decide if it resonates with me or not, but I am very glad to have attended and seen Lisbon on a sort of day to day basis.  Having a breakfast at the hotel set me up and the local supermarket sold hot soup and sausages and chicken so it was easy to provide simple food without having to go to a restaurant all the time, then for the last night I treated myself to a day in Sintra and a night at the lovely Palace of Spices hotel.    This place just made me laugh out loud with pleasure, greeted by the "owner" of the house,  and encouraged to partake of Ginja and help myself to cake it was just fabulous and as the rain poured down I sat in the Palace library and finished my book. Heaven.

Spain

Being away for almost two weeks felt like a really proper break. My first week I was in a nice warm Spain,  starting with an evening in Malaga, but mainly focusing on two days by the coast followed by two days in Seville.

When the coach heads out of Malaga, there is a depressing plethora of bars promising the best night in Spain,  Irish bars and British breakfasts.   But by the time they thin out things seem a bit more Spanish.  The bus deposited me, not as anticipated at a coach station, but by the side of the road, luckily very close to a sign for my hotel.  It had taken me weeks of going back and forth to the Avanza website to try and get details for this bus journey to ensure that having booked to stay on the coast that I could, the Avanza site never worked properly in the end, but the actual journey turned out to be easy and I even arrived an hour earlier than expected.  My pension was just a nice simple Spanish building, run by a nice Irish woman.    I had a nice basic room and bathroom and the whole place was my sort of place. Out of season San Pedro was also my sort of place. I met my friend, Liliana, a few minutes after my arrival and we talked and walked to the coast and then sat in a nice restaurant to really catch up.  Our meal was really simple starters of olives and prawns along with a glass of wine and a delicious pepper salad.   Meal over we returned to our respective homes and the plan for the next day was to meet later on in the posh resort down the coast, but I do not know if it was my timing or her speed but we missed each other which is a shame as it is a nice walk.  However, we met up again in the evening for a cuppa.  It is very nice on a warm February evening to just be able to go out of an evening and enjoy a cup of tea and then potter back to one's hotel.
                   

Tuesday morning I was back by the side of the road and again had an easy journey this time to Seville, so early that we seem to arrive before we had left Rhonda - the en route stop off  As my phone had not changed time I had spent the first three days adding an hour to get the right time each time I had looked at it.  When I waited for the San Pedro bus to Seville I added an hour to get to the bus stop at the right time, yet, when I got to Seville all the clocks were showing 2.30 which was the same time on my phone.  I still do not understand it.   Suddenly my phone was showing the right time, it was very disorientating and very hot.  And as I arrived at a different coach station to the one expected even more confusing. However, getting on the tram line heading in the right direction and using the helpfully placed street maps I finally got to my hotel which was very near to the art gallery, which very helpfully was free to EU citizens.      They had a lovely display of Murillo pictures, and I popped into the museum both nights I was there. As it was still warm I pottered out and found a street cafe and ate a very nice plate of beautiful Spanish jamon on bread, which was surprisingly expensive, but still nice.   The following morning my attempts to get a simple breakfast were slightly flawed by not spotting the "breakfast" menu till after I had been tempted into Spanish omelette. However, as the latter,with mayonnaise was delicious, it was a nice mistake. One of the joys of travelling is that even in theory simple things like ordering breakfast can go array.   It was freezing that morning so I was happy to watch the whirl of people coming and going, having a shot of coffee and then out again into the cold.  But by the time I had had a second leisurely Americano it was beginning to warm up.  I had spotted what seemed like a very important place to visit and decided to head over to the park in which I thought from the description it was located. This meant trundling past the queues for the cathedral and another building, which I thought was the place I was heading towards but which was therefore not where I expected it to be.  Huge queues even for the booked places left me scratching my head as to how one was supposed to get in so I decided to carry onto the park and still check out that area.  The sun had brought loads of people out and the park was charming.    The stamp of feet and the plaintive sound of Flamenco attracted me and I was happy to be able to watch buskers promoted their evening show with a freebie for visitors to the Plaza de Espana, set in the Maria Luiza Park.  I was happy to wonder through to one of the museums, which was being re-jigged. It has elements of Moorish style in the architecture, which is why I had clearly confused it with the place I had really been trying to get to, which had been next to the Cathedral. I decided to re-check all the tourist info on this place, The Alcazar Palace on my return to the hotel, but in the meantime it was so warm I was happy to stop for a cup of tea and a delicious tapas of freshly cooked chick peas and spinach in the little park outdoor cafe.  Heaven.  I then happily wandered back to my hotel, via a nice Bodega and more tapas,  where it became clear that I somehow could not book the palace so would either have to forget it or go out very early to be the first in the queues.

   As I awoke early on the Thursday morning,that is what I did. I got there about 8.50.  It was very cold, and I was the only person there except the staff putting out the barriers, but it meant that I was sure to get in. I did have to wait for about a 100 pre-booked people to get in first and I could not visit the royal apartments as they were fully booked for the day but for two and a half hours I was able to happily immerse myself in Moorish and Royal Sevillle.   Definitely a treat.   It is a delightful mix of Moorish architecture and Spanish. The tiles were especially attractive and of added interest was the filming going on in the gardens despite the large number of tourists.

 My plan was to spend the next 8 hours going ot LIsbon recovering  from my early morning. However, by the time I had stopped chatting to the nice American Mexican woman who I sat next to we had crossed over into Portugal without even noticing it and even got to LIsboa early.   I felt a bit dazed by how much I had done in a relatively short time.   In contrast my plan for Lisbon was Mooji, Mooji and more Mooji.