Selling a house should be regarded as just a transaction. That, at least, is what one of our more unsentimental friends told us. Yet, as we packed up our now-sold townhouse in the mountain village of Antraigues-Sur-Volane in Southern France, we found that the cardboard boxes stacked in our living room represented more than mere containers for transporting objects. They were, in fact, inadequate vessels for what we were truly attempting to pack: Almost twenty years of lived experience. The real estate listing described our house as a "charming two-bedroom property with traditional features," but it failed to capture what this place actually represents. This has not just been our vacation house. During the last many years it became truly our home away from home as the seasonal rhythms of our visits created a peculiar form of belonging. Though we were never full-time residents, the village baker would greet us warmly upon our arrival each year, and the neighbors woul...
Yesterday, our journey along Lisbon's shores took us from decay to delight. We began the day by walking along the crumbling warehouses and abandoned factories at the Cais do Ginjal, and we ended with golden sardines and moist monkfish at the Ponto Finale restaurant, experiencing some of the cur.ious contrasts this city has to offer. Cais do Ginjal - the waterfront across the river from the city proper - were once thrumming with activity, but now they stand empty as a relic from Portugal's industrial past while slowly succumbing to rust and decay. Wandering past the locked warehouses with their peeling paint and cracked windows, one could almost hear the ghosts of ships being loaded years ago. Wildflowers sprouted from brickwork worn by salt air and time. Graffiti swirled vibrantly across deteriorating walls in attempts to reclaim these forgotten structures. In one warehouse, an entire wall had collapsed, exposing rusty pipes and machinery ...
Yesterday, I crawled through muddy, dark Roman-era tunnels below Lisbon, which are normally filled with groundwater and only accessible to a few visitors each year. The tunnels were carved during the reign of Emperor Augustus, and for centuries, they directed underground rainwater while the empires above rose and fell. Eventually, they were completely sealed off and forgotten, only to be rediscovered by chance during the rebuilding after the 1755 earthquake, which had turned most of Lisbon into rubble. Today, the crypts are pumped dry on a couple of days each year, and the only entry to the below is through a narrow shaft in the middle of the busy Rua da Conceição, right between the rails of the 28 tram line. The stairs leading down are steep and risky, and when you finally reach the galleries, a few lights illuminate the void that had stood in complete darkness for more than a Millenium Some of the tunnels are so low and narrow that you have to climb through t...
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