It’s a beautiful, sunny morning, golden and warm, but with a hint of coolness. Like so many mornings that I’ve woken to here in Porto, Portugal. The apartment is quiet as I get dressed, take the woven shopping bag off the wall, and slip out the door. Down forty-seven wooden steps to the street. The air is fresh as I open the door. Clusters of people are already venturing into their day. A few cars rumble by on the cobblestone street. Always the sound of seagulls laughing overhead. I pass the Seventh Day Adventist Church, where the tinkling chords of a piano hymn are floating through the open doorway, welcoming the churchgoers who wander through the stone portico in their Saturday best. The China shop is already open across the street. Its marquee advertises in both Portuguese and Mandarin. Like so many similar shops in Portugal, its shelves are packed with a dizzying variety of cheap, useful goods, like an overstocked Woolworth’s. The café next door is also showing signs of life, with workers setting up tables and big, red umbrellas.
The end of the block. I cross the white strips of the crosswalk and then a wider street. The doors of the produce mercado are wide open. I study the vegetables and fruits on the street and select a few brightly-colored nectarines before venturing inside. When I leave, I have a bag full. Cucumbers, peppers, cut watermelon, banana, plums—everything is beautiful. I’ve paid less than four Euros. Obrigada, bom dia, I say, doing my best with the language I’m learning.
Next, the bakery. It smells like heaven. Rows of pastries, breads, rolls, and croissants line the glass cabinets. I wait my turn and select a large, round loaf of bread. It’s heavy and still warm. I pay a little more than a Euro. My bag pulls on my arm as I head for the coffee shop. The coffee there is our favorite so far in the city. I order a cappuccino and an Americano for take-out. Then it’s the dance home, walking smoothly with my heavy bag and the two little paper cups, trying to keep the coffee under the lids.
Back up the stairs and into the sunny flat. Slice the bread with jam and butter, cut the fruit, sip the coffee, plan the day. Write a set list for a show, work on the script for a video. Later, filming. All the time with the joy of it all.
Life is an adventure. Take a chance on the path that is in your heart. There are many noble paths, but they may be just a little off the radius of what you are meant to do. And the longer you walk along them, the farther away you get. Find your radius. That’s what I’ve learned these past few years.