My greatest accomplishment, thus far.

I have managed to live in a foreign country. I have finished tasks, done errands, and ordered food without understanding a single spoken word. I have learned some Portuguese. I have had conversations in Portuguese with complete strangers and actually understood them. I have successfully navigated myself through a major city. I have learned to make new foods. I have adjusted to a new and different way of life.

I have learned and accomplished many things since moving to Portugal.
However, my greatest feat is found in none of these.

I, Tiffany Michele Hodge, have learned to drive a stick-shift!

In the words of Hodge, "Don't you just feel
cooler driving a manual?" Yes, I do!

A couple months back, my very sweet and VERY patient husband started giving me driving lessons. The first time was filled with grunts, complaints, and several expressions of "I can't do this!" The next time was a little less grunt-y but just as frustrating, on my end. Even though Hodge never gave up on me, I decided to stop my pathetic attempts after trying one or two more times, convinced that I would never successfully drive a manual. 

Then, last week happened. And o, what a glorious week!

We both decided it was necessary for me to learn. So, we continued my training in a large gravel parking lot near our house, going back to the basics. Taking off, switching gears, stopping, and backing up. This time, I forced myself to remain calm when I made mistakes. And as he did in the past, Hodge encouraged me whilst explaining how the gears worked. This time, it made sense and stuck. After many minutes of practicing had passed, Hodge was even nice and brave enough to play the "random pedestrian suddenly stepping foot on the crosswalk" as I practiced not hitting him.

When we moved to the streets, I had to work even harder to remain calm, but that tactic proved its value. A huge smile would splash across my face every time I started off smoothly or maneuvered some kind of challenging obstacle. As I made it to fourth gear for the first time on the long road running parallel to the ocean, I felt very proud of myself.

Hodge kept asking me how it felt to work
alongside Vin Diesel and Paul Walker
in the Fast and Furious movies.

The car and I settled our differences
and became friends.

When all is said and done, I think Hodge is just happy to be chauffeured around after having done so for me the past several months. My next challenge will be to "head out on the highway, looking for adventure and whatever comes my way," born to drive manual!

"Home"

Last week, our colleague asked the question: "Do you feel at home, here in Portugal?" The answer practically fell out of my mouth. "Yes!"  I then gave a rapid answer to my rapid response. But now as I sit at a cafe in a small town that isn't really "home," I reflect on why I did give such a rapid response.

My reasoning does not lie in the fact that I love this place. I mean, I do love this place. The people are wonderful, our little community has been very welcoming, and while the language can be difficult, I actually find it quite enjoyable overall, and... well... Do I really need to say it? We live 50 yards from the beach! As I count all these appealing factors on one hand, I then look to the other hand. The hand that holds those days when I don't want to hear another word of Portuguese. Those days I would rather stay in, watch American TV while I eat my American burger with American mac and cheese and dream about all the places I want to go once I am back on American soil. Some days, the culture and "the way things are done" here drive me crazy.

So, I look at my hands. But then I see bigger hands. I see the hands that have put me in this specific place at this specific time. I see the hands that have shaped my life and my heart and have brought me to this moment. To this season in life. I see the hands of a God so powerful and so perfect and so generous as to allow me to share in His work here.

I am not here because I want to be away from family, friends, English, comfort, or convenience.

I am here because God has called us here, and I am here because I believe He has made us for this.

And the reason I answered so rapidly is just this: I feel so "at home" because I have never felt so close to God. I have shed tears over missed relationships, and I have panicked over doing things that would be so simple in the States, yet requires so much effort in a foreign country. But in the midst of it all, in my very vulnerable state, He has allowed me to see more clearly my need and my desire for Him. I feel as if He has awakened my spirit by first bringing me through a state of desperation for the things I once thought I needed to a state of complete contentment and joy in Him alone. He has brought me to my knees and to His Word. And while there are still days that I fail to completely trust Him and I remain as sinful as ever, God continues to displays his unconditional love for me in many ways, but mostly in the fact that He continues to teach me and allow me to grow in my faith. 

"For we know that if the earthly tent which is our house is torn down, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For indeed in this house we groan, longing to be clothed with our dwelling from heaven... And knowing that while we are at home in the body we are absent from the Lord - for we walk by faith, not by sight."
1 Corinthians 5:1-2, 6-7

And so, my feet go forward in faith, and my heart is at home because I am walking with the Lord, and that is the closest thing to "home" that I am going to get on this earth.

If a picture says a thousand words, I just wrote a novel.

I thank my husband for editing and taking several of these pictures :)

It seems I need some inspiration from The Little Mermaid

One aspect of Portuguese culture that I just can't get used to yet is the very typical European-styled greeting. Two kisses on the cheeks, right first and then left, without missing a beat. And the persistence of the Portuguese to keep this practice alive is quite amazing. In a room full of people, a single cheek will make its way around the entire crowd, even if it takes 5 minutes. If you have a personal bubble, forget about it in Portugal.
This is where I am at.
When first meeting someone, I stick out my hand hoping they don't go for my cheeks first. In some instances, it works. In others, I am not quick enough. And as they lean in for the inevitable, half the time I am so uncomfortable that I go too fast and knock cheeks rather than gracefully touch.
With many people, I can just tell them I am not quite used to the whole kissing thing yet. Some are understanding and give me my space. Others make sure I get used to the custom real fast.
What makes we wary, as well, is the range of kissing styles. Let me explain. When cheek-kissing someone for the first time, you never know what you are gonna get. With some people, mostly adults and young adults, it is more of a slight touch. No real kissing besides imitating the mouth and making the "pop" sound. With older ladies, it is much more forceful as they pull you down to their height and give you those kisses with no shame. And let's just say the young kids are still learning. Most Sundays, I literally have to hide from one particular little boy at church who seeks out the American missionary to give her two full-blown, sloppy kisses on the cheeks.
So, next time I enter that crowd or meet someone new, I will just imagine Sebastian from The Little Mermaid singing to me:

"There you see them

Standing there across the way

They don't got a lot to say

Cause the language is not the same

And you don't know why

But you wanna run and hide

Instead of kissing the Portuguese

Sha-la-la-la-la-la

Don't be scared

Their cheeks are all prepared

Go on and kiss the Portuguese

Sha-la-la-la-la-la

Ain't that sad

It's just two kisses, not that bad

Go on and kiss the Portuguese

You've got to kiss the Portuguese

Why don't you kiss the Portuguese

You gotta kiss the Portuguese

Go on and kiss the Portuguese."

Thank you, Sebastian.

A Day in the Life

It is 7:35 in the morning. As we start the 30 minute walk to the metro, we practice our Portuguese with one another. The walk isn't so bad, really. Even the cobblestones beneath our feet look interesting. That's how I would describe Portugal. Interesting. Around every corner, there seems to be just one more thing that catches our interest... The aged buildings, the people, the numerous fruit stands, the alters at seemingly random places which include statues of saints or an agonized-looking Jesus, the pastry shop windows full of deliciousness. Even the fields of grass and weeds look interesting. Walking, we pass numerous coffee shops that I promise myself to stop in one day. As we get closer to the metro, we pass the same old man who tips his hat to us and responds likewise, as we say, "Bom Dia!"
While waiting for the metro, we make simple conversation in Portuguese and English to Sergio (our friend who works at the metro stop). We then board, find seats, and study until we hear the lady on the intercom announce our stop. Before going to class, we stop by a cafe that we have been frequenting. The lady behind the counter recognizes us now and anticipates our order. The same thing almost everyday... Croissant misto and meia de leite for me, carioca com leite for Hodge. I smile as she gets the order ready because I only used to dream about becoming a "regular". And now in Portugal. Crazy.
The rest of the morning and early afternoon are spent in language class. Our teachers instruct us in grammar as well as give us the low-down on Portuguese culture and ways. Classes are quite enjoyable, but by the end, we are drained of just about every ounce of energy that we had when the class started. After class, we stop in a mall because we have time before the next metro back to Vila do Conde. This stop often includes visiting "The American Store" (a small shop that carries, mostly food, products found in The States)... where we have also become regulars. No shame... I guess the appropriate phrase here would be, "Proud to be Americans". There, we talk with Sara, the girl who is always behind the counter. Because she speaks no English, our conversations usually end in laughter when we get to that point where we can't understand each other and just kind of give up until the next time.
Soon after that, we find ourselves on the metro. Metro rides are mostly quiet with many eyes staring in our direction as we are clearly not from around here. We settle in for the hour ride home, and eventually, the steady movement of the back and forth rocks us, and my eyes become increasingly heavy. A ten minute snooze is just enough to give enough energy for the walk that awaits us once we get off the metro. The afternoon walk is generally more pleasant and relaxed, especially when the sun has made an appearance. And this is when we explore. We go into shops we haven't before, while stopping into many of the ones we have to say hello to people we have met. Several of them have agreed to help us with the language, so we take advantage of that.
The afternoons prove themselves low-key, if plans have not been made. We rest our minds from Portuguese for a bit, and at some point, our feet make their way to the beach with an anxious dog. Standing on the sand, breathing in the fresh, salty air, watching the waves crash with the vast ocean behind them. In that moment, it is difficult not to marvel at where God has brought us, both spiritually and physically. A type of spiritual renewal that is desperately needed.
As for evenings, they vary. A couple of nights each week, we go out to one of the restaurants in our little town. Anything to meet people and try new food. And as we return to the places we (and our pockets) like, the people working there recognize us. It is kind of easy to with our light hair, light skin, and English tongues. Plus, we normally arrive about an hour or two before normal Portuguese dinner hour, which is closer to 9 or 10. The people working allow us to practice Portugese with them as we stumble over words and take several minutes to say simple phrases. But it is always a good time, and we are thankful for their patience. 
A few evenings have been spent with new friends, and still others have been spent inside with a cozy fire and a cup of tea. And of course, most nights consist of studying. We crawl into bed late, and our eyes close on yet another day. Days that are sometimes tough, days that are often full of lessons on humility, but days that God has given us for a purpose.

I guess I do look like a Tourist with my camera, backpack and blonde hair.

As we continue to get to know Porto, our days typically lead us into adventures. A couple of afternoons have been spent in downtown Porto and the Ribeira (riverfront). Our language school just so happens to be in a convenient location to access these areas. So, we explore, we look like tourists, and we discover Portugal.

Camara Municipal i.e. City Hall

Avenida dos Aliados "Avenue of the Allies"
with Camara Municipal to our backs.
Otherwise known as... huge tourist area! Along
with the rest of downtown Porto.

The train station's walls are splashed with Portugal's history.

Standing in front of the train station,
the river on just the other side of those buildings.

A 17th century Monastery. It took
72 years to build due to a lack of
funds as well as Spanish invasion.

Only a small section of the Douro River
to the left of a pedestrian bridge...

...and to the right.

Porto Cathedral, one of the oldest
monuments in Porto.

 

The cathedral was built on a hill
that overlooked the land.
The Torre dos Clerigos can be seen in
the background as well as
from various points in the city.

A closer look at the Torre dos Clerigos (tower
of the clergy) and the church.

We found Costa Coffee! It's no
Starbucks, but it did me good :)

The Palacio da Bolsa (The palace of the purse).
Also known as the stock exchange.

Statue out front of the stock exchange
that commemorates Portuguese explorer
Prince Henry the Navigator.

Riverfront housing.

It's game day!