Between two worlds

The action, the result, and everything in-between.

As I rode the bus back from Lisbon, the scenery changed. It was urban at first, then rural, and at the end it was home; steep hills, gorges, broad mountains, winding roads, the odd tunnel and the odd bridge. I began to experience that feeling — as comfy as an old leather boot — of being at home. It took a while to feel at home here, but now I feel as though I’m a part of the place, I learn to know the hills and valleys, and the people too, the new ones like me, and the Portuguese who were already here.

By knowing the place, I also love it. Conversely, by knowing the place, I am afraid of it. Readers of this newsletter will know roughly how I feel about land and how it is used, how it should be used. There are some who see this place and imagine it to be a pristine wilderness, or look at the endless plantation, the fact that Portugal is half forest, and consider it to be a miracle in a world plagued by deforestation.