carapito

cabelo e carapito de um longo trancelim de algodão.

calçinhas de chita

todas as senhoras ( a minha mãe tambem) com quem falo de chita dizem que faziam as suas trousses (ajudem-me... acho que não esta bem escrito) de chita. fiz umas para a saloia.

a cara

sempre o mais dificil...

small things

I made a little "bola de trapos" as a present for my new nephew. I got the idea from an old art book on popular art in Portugal. I will get the full title and authors and post later. (sorry) I have some ideas for "marjubantes", the saloia word for dolls (c. 1858). I hope to get one done this weekend???!!

Tomorrow will be one week that I met Fatima, little Laura (8 mos.) from London and Maria Adelaide, Fatima´s mother, who lives in Mangualde. Fatima came for the weekend to be with her mom who lives by herself on an acre of land with hundreds of olive trees. We met for "lanche" in Lisbon. It was very wonderful.

When Fatima´s daughter was born she wanted to buy her a special doll . She did a search on the internet and found Rosa Pomar´s. Like many of us she became a fan of Rosa´s blog and once when reading it she saw me mentioned in a post. The fact that I was born in Boston and lived in Portugal caught her eye. Once she commented that she saw the "rancho" that I danced in dance in the late eighties, early nineties, and that we most likely we crossed paths then. Since then we have emailed and talked on the phone. I was lucky to meet her and her family last Saturday. Mundo pequeno mesmo.

She also has a fascination for Portugal and has lived many of the experiences I have growing up in a mixed culture. We consider ourselves very lucky for this. She also understands the nostalgia that I have overdone this week on my blog! Yikes!

This past week has left me a little "abalada", with earthquakes and all. It will probably be Christmas before I see Lucas. Something wonderful to look forward to. Have a great weekend everyone.

forgive the nostalgia

In the mid 1970´s my parents bought expensive flaming orange crushed plush sofas for our living room. They were matched with Italian ceramic statue table lamps (the tables were glass with faux marble), and a rust and cream colored carpet. The walls of our living room were wood panelling. My parents took the plastic off their sofa, though. I was thinking of them because my father sent me a CD with photos where my sister is sitting on her really nice, plain but pretty sofa.

The flaming orange sofas were used only once a year...on Christmas Eve. We would open our presents here. The rest of the year these sofas were for decorative use only. (We used the basement for daily living where there were actually more normal sofas.)

Sometimes, I ask myself where all my corniness comes from?? I think it has little to do with the fact that although I was born and raised in a typical American suburb of a major American city, in fact, I grew up in a typical "aldeia pequena Minhota." The street where I lived until I was six years old had about 30 apartments 2/3 of which were occupied by Portuguese immigrants, all from the same geographical area of the deep northern Minho region (Arcos de Valdevez, Ponte da Barca etc.).

In the few square miles of South Norwood (a part of town) lived a small community of Portuguese people who liked to know eveything about everyone when they got together at the Portuguese American Club for the big Saturday night dinner and dance. Dances that were to the tune of Marco Paulo or Quim Barreiros or even better the "concertina".

I could easily distinguish a Portuguese immigrant´s house from among the many houses on any given street. Hanging in the windows were the lace and organza-with-cutouts-of-flowers-or-butterflies-or-both-curtains...Made in China. These were sold in shops owned by Portuguese immigrants as were the sofas and lamps and tables that my parents bought.

The house of a Portuguese immigrant usually had vinyl siding, meaning that it was not a house where you saw the wood or bricks. The siding was usually of bright colors....white, yellow, greenish blue. But the major clue that it was a casa Portuguesa was the statue in the front yard. Usually, it was the Lady of Fatima but it could be also be Stº Antonio or Jesus. Sometimes it was just a decorative garden statue like a deer or a donkey. Here is an example that Sushiesque captured in Somerville, a town near Boston with many Portuguese houses.

I forget what happened to those sofas. I remember them fondly. I remember remember and miss them fondly.

growing family

hello :)

Peneda-Gerês