Things to do in Portugal? Take pictures of doors. A lot! Here's a little photo diary of Portugal's doors combined with some short stories.
When you're in Portugal you'll notice it right away. Doors. Everyhhere. And even if you want to take pictures of things people usually take pictures of, you cannot focus. Why? Because you want to capture all these doors on your camera. The diversity. Old, new, ugly, pretty. Some doors where their owners took good care of them while others left or just never had time for maintenance.
I live in this cage for quite a while now. My owner decided to buy me one day. It's a small cage but let me tell you, it's better to sit here and watch people than to spend all my life in a shop. My owner is a nice, old lady. Her husband died a few years ago. She's all by herself. On the other side of the alley are also some birds. We could live a better life, I agree. But at least it's warm, people walk by, and I have some friends to talk to.
You're gone. I try to to struggle alone, all by myself. But, I am not succeeding. Over the years they smashed my windows. They climed up, invaded. You were not here. Haven't you seen what they have done? They took your stuff with them. Had you left anything here anyhow? I cannot remember. I am here, demolished, but still strong.
"Why have you left me behind?", says the door. "Now I am old. There is no one here to take care of me. No letters anymore. Only advertisement." "Maybe, one day, somebody will come back", says the postman to the kids. "Nobody lives here anymore, say the kids who spray the house. They shake the door, they want to get inside. But it stays closed. Waiting and waiting for its owner to return. After all these years he might come back. Only he has the keys.
"We do not want a visit", says the mother to her little daughter. "Place all flower pots you can find in front of the door." We are only going to use the rear entrance from now on. "But why are we doing this?" "Because our life is not playing in front of the curtain. We are not actors. Our life is not intended for the public. We must live according to our roles, my love."
This is where I live. The lion almost cannot await until guests knock on the door. They are coming by every now and then. I cannot complain. It is beautiful to become old, after all. And although sometimes I have a pain, I have to deal with it. It is a gift to be old. And this is so much more worth. You forget the pain soon. So, I am sitting down and I wait until the pain is gone. The pain is starting with cramps in my tighs, going down all the way till the calves until my foot. I start to rub my legs. First, I put cream on them and then I rub them. That's the only thing I can do. It must help, I can sleep the whole night without having any pain. That's worth a lot. But when the lion knocks on the door, I know there is someone waiting out there who wants to see me. Someone who cares about me. Isn't that beautiful?
I have to stop. It's a saying we heard too often. We hear it and at the same time we don't believe it anymore. It became a saying, not a feeling. But this hand which clasps the sign, I suddenly believe it again. I wish so much, that every one of us will find such a home sweet home one day. It does not have to be today, sometime. I hope so, for all of us. Obrigada Portugal for giving me that feeling for a few days. Obrigada e até logo. See you soon again, I hope.
The stories above are all fiction. Where
have you seen the most beautiful doors in Portugal? Is there any other country in the world which has such a diversity in doors? Let me know in the comment section below. Thanks for