I created this place months ago now, and I created it out of what at the time felt like necessity. I didn’t come back for a long while though, and as I remembered today that this existed I felt that same need again. It’s odd, and it may not make sense to create a need just to then have the pleasure of satisfying it.. but. well.
It’s not entirely clear what I have to say, only that I need to say it. And you shouldn’t feel like I write for your benefit – you may be disappointed.
I’m occasionally reminded of my ability to feel overwhelming nostalgia. Saudade, as it were. Recently, it’s been like Christmas in rita’s nostalgia land. Pearl Jam have come back to me from the depths of my teens, stronger than ever. They’d never really left but they were a pale version of themselves (in me, note) for the last 4 or 5 years, and I’d miss them, and I miss 1996. I even miss Philly and that only happened a week ago.
And then I miss my Porto. I’ve been missing that for a while, which you can guess from the title of this blog. I miss it to the bone. But it’s no longer home. I came to see this as I was driven by the unique Douro vale yesterday. It’s familiar, and it warms my heart, and I could not bare a life where I couldn’t come back to it at will and drink it desperately with my eyes. But it’s no longer home.
I tell you what else I miss. I miss Scotland, and I miss Edinburgh. I want the hills, the whisky, the ceilidhs, the haggis and the friends. And that, is home. I didn’t see it coming, not really. I don’t mean home in a sense of attachment, I mean home in a sense of identity. I am those hills more than I am those vineyards – I most definitely did not see that one coming.
I’m also reminded that things only happen once, and that’s the sad warmth that comes with saudade. It’ll never be 24th or 25th of November 1996 again, nor will I stay up all night in Ribeira for the first time again, nor will I ever again climb down from a Munro not having done it before. And that’s OK. Some pleasures are repeatable, and infinitely needed and comforting every single time. But let us dedicate this space, or at least part it, to those other ones. And to new ones, shared with the people we love today and with the absolute certainty that if something is not going to cause deep, warm and almost painful nostalgia tomorrow it’s not worth writing about today.