Best Screenplay Award, Beach Life, and Plumbing.

Remember when I told you The Tattered Book had been nominated for Best Screenplay at the European International Film Festival? Well, it won! Can you believe it? It’s a nice feather in my cap for sure. I got a very pretty laurel too ;)

Today is our anniversary. We’ve been married 38 years. We celebrated by having a pastry for breakfast and for lunch our friends from Lisbon came to visit. Antonio’s son is sixteen years old now. That seems amazing to me… I remember when he was twelve. He’s so tall. Martinho and Antonio are getting married next week in Martinho’s tiny village he was raised in. They showed us pictures of the venue on a small river running through the forest. It looks beautiful. There’s going to be 150 people there! I wish we could make it, but it’s too far and too difficult to get to.

We found a beautiful restaurant way up on the hillside. We could see it from the beach, so we wandered around until we found it. What a great view! From up there you can see the frenzied work being done to prepare for the busy season. It looks like they planted an orchard of umbrella posts. Based on the other umbrella orchards nearby, I’m sure they will have a great crop soon. After we said goodbye to the boys, we walked up there for a glass of wine and a beer. Tonight I’m making filet mignon and potatoes for our dinner. Maybe the neighborhood cat will join us again. He’s definitely friendly.

This Airbnb in Sesimbra is a love hate thing. We love the location near the beach. I can see the ocean from where I’m sitting right now. Marco, the host, is very nice. We have a functional little kitchen and living room with a good size bedroom. The bed is too hard, but I put the big, fluffy comforter under the sheets and now it’s cozy. The bathroom is nice looking with a good shower. Unfortunately, it has a leak… from the sewer line. Need I say more? It smells horrible and I have to put down towels to contain it. Marco has done everything in his power to fix it, but you can’t get a plumber in this little fishing village at a moment’s notice. The guy came and worked on it, but it still leaks. This weekend is the “Popular Saints” festival, so my toilet is very low on everyone’s priority list so we have to wait until next week. We’ll live. Just have to keep the bathroom door closed. Shrug. Oh yeah, the AC is still broken but they’ve ordered parts for it. Can you imagine how stressed-out Marco must be?

Today is windy and a little cool. Joe got a haircut and then we came across an Italian guy we’d met yesterday. We sat at their table (he and his Portuguese girlfriend) and had a conversation in Portuguese, Italian, Spanish, and English. He’s from Verona, so of course we talked about the movie. Backing up a little, a couple of days ago an Italian man, Tiziano, stopped at my porch (actually a step) to visit. Somehow we hit it off. He sat next to me on the step and we talked using the translator app. He was our buddy from that time on. He was staying at the place across the alley. Without the app, we were incapable of communicating, but we somehow became friends and were introduced to his other Italian friends.

Sesimbra is very clean. People litter, especially their cigarette butts, but they have a clean-up crew working all the time to sweep the cobblestones on the streets and the promenade. They even have a big water truck with a long hose for pressure-washing the sidewalks and streets. It’s a full time job.

Our laundry-line is in the alley and at ground level. I went and bought one of those round things with clothespins to dry your underwear. I hung that inside to dry… I just couldn’t bring myself to have my undies hanging at eye-level as everyone walked by.

Speaking of alleys, we have a favorite fish restaurant called Remos. They seat you in this super-narrow alley and give the best service. They even removed the bones from the fish right at your table. So far we’ve had the Sea Bass for two and the Sea Bream for two. Yum. The only strange thing to adapt to is the pounding of hammers as the guests crack their lobster. Where I come from in Northern California, we use a tool like a vice. It looks like a large nut-cracker. Here, they lay a napkin over the shell and whack at it with cute little hammers until it’s edible.

Final Movie Meetings in Florence, On Vacation Now in Sesimbra

Calm. You may wonder how I could write an interesting blog about a soothing, calm experience? Sesimbra is so mellow and normal after the fancy-pants Italian culture. Though, right now I can hear a marching band performing on the oceanfront promenade around the corner. When I went for my speed walk this morning I watched them dragging old fishing boats onto the sand at the base of the fortress. A few people were in costume, so I guessed an event would follow… I was right. We’re going to head out and see what’s up.

It turns out that it’s Fisherman’s Day in Sesimbra. Every year on May 31^st, they re-enact the culture in Sesimbra during the mid 1900’s. A lady explained it all to me as we stood watching the activities on the beach with her Portuguese family interrupting her constantly to share some other tidbit with me. There were several groups represented; The fishermen, the widows, the wives, the girls who worked in the canneries, and the tourists. Even the donkey, an ever-present pet of a local, was present. It was actually pretty amazing to be here for such an important day.

I promised I’d recount the meetings on the day before we left Florence. We took the train to Prato and were picked up by one of the film-studio execs. He whisked us down every back road to the studio. This is not so much a filming studio but more a film preparation and post-production place. We were shown into the room with the artists creating costumes, then a room displaying some of their more famous costumes from the series; Medici.

We sat at a long table and discussed the production of The Tattered Book. The head of it all turned his laser eyes on me and asked me to tell him about the story, but don’t take too long. Hmmm… I’m still working on my pitch and I felt like it came off okay—not good, but okay. They expressed an interest in being hired for production. They asked for a copy of the book. Mark and their team discussed tax credits and rebates and other mysterious stuff. Finally we were whisked back to the train station and almost got hit by an SUV. Trotting through the tunnel (because we were late as usual) we got stopped by the police and were told to produce our passports. We don’t travel with our passports. Thankfully they accepted our driver’s licenses.

Back in Florence, we hoofed it to the next meeting using the app on my phone. This time was with a young woman who right away asked me to describe the story. I was still panting and sweating, but I did it. This time I finally found my rhythm. Instead of telling her the story, I said, “Imagine a magical book where the main character fell in love with the reader. What if it was about you—what you need, desire, yearn for. For everyone who reads it, the story is different. In this case, Cassi, a shy introverted woman, reads about a handsome detective in Florence. She dreams about him and Marco begins to fall in love with her during the dreams. When she reads the book, she sees herself in the story. Naturally, this makes her question her sanity, but her elderly friend encourages her to not take it so seriously… just enjoy the book while she can. Cassi gives him her email in a dream, and voila! They have a real connection… if only they could meet in the real world.”

Anyway, she liked it and was interested in producing it. She also asked for a copy of the book. I’m finding most of them are interested in getting paid to produce it. I don’t mean that in a cynical way, but it is their business. They make movies. However, they seem to want to make sure it’s something they want to be associated with. So far, it looks like I’m going to have to change the location to either Lucca, Pistoia, or Prato.

We said goodbye to Mark Holmes on Wed morning and we went our separate ways—us to Portugal and him off to Greece. Now we’re in a cute little house next to the beach in a fishing village. Part of the charm of Sesimbra is the difficulty in getting here. It keeps it slightly off the beaten tourist-path. We took an Uber from the Lisbon Airport for fifty bucks. Otherwise you have to take a train, a bus, and a walk. As it was, our Uber driver had a hard time getting us close to our place without scraping the side of his car on the narrow streets.

Sadly the air-conditioner is broken. The fan they brought over rescued us at night, and the mornings are fresh. We open all the windows like our neighbors and I sit on our step with a cup of coffee. As the locals walk past on their way to pastries I greet them with, “Bom dia.” Now I’ve wormed my way into their lives and they greet me, even if it’s somewhere else. The lady who cleans our street was stunned when I greeted her the other day. She just stared at me. Now she greets me first. She’s also on intimate terms with every dog in the neighborhood. They get so excited when they see her with her electric trike and bucket.

Joe goes to the beach gym and I go for my walk, then we pack up our backpack and head to the beach for the day. It’s absolutely lazy. The ocean street is one-way and can get busy. What amazes me is how patient people are. A van will stop in front of a restaurant to offload its product and the cars behind it just sit there… no beeping horns, nothing. It’s rare to hear a car horn, but there’re plenty of situations that would elicit that in the States. If someone walks by with a boombox, I can guarantee you it’s not a Portuguese. The only time you hear them being noisy is when they’re talking. It sounds like a fight, but it’s not… also when a Portuguese soccer game is on. Then it’s really loud.