As I’ve previously written, I had reason to visit the Azores, a small archipelago of nine islands in the Northern Atlantic Ocean.
In 1979, I threw a corked bottle containing a letter about myself into the Atlantic Ocean. That bottle was found in 1981 by Mr. Antonio on the tiny island of Santa Maria. Neither speaking nor writing English, he had a co-worker pen a reply. I responded to his note, but as life goes, we lost touch.
Fast-forward almost 35 years: I was moved to try to find Mr. Antonio, and the concept of The Art of Living Lost was starting to take shape. I couldn’t imagine a better place to get lost than in the Azores. Little did I know that I’d find myself in a paradise where I would be the least lost I’ve ever been in my entire life.
Now, if you were current on the BLOG, you’d know months after writing generic letters to several “Mr. Antonio’s”, I received an e-mail message from Andre, the “original” Mr. Antonio’s grandson. The e-mail included details of his family, a lovely photo, and an invitation to visit. How could it be that we were connected in 1981 and found each other AGAIN in 2016? Curious, I started my research.
The Azores are surprisingly easy to reach, just a 4.5-hour flight from Boston’s Logan International Airport. I simply cashed in 40,000 frequent flyer miles and booked my flight to Santa Maria via São Miguel. I reserved a room at the island’s only hotel and planned to rent a car. When confirming my travel plans with Andre, he told me no car would be necessary, as he and Mr. Antonio would be my guides. Did warning bells ring? Maybe, but was I so cynical that I could accept a kind gesture? New life, new leaf, it was time to find out.
Travel plans set, I drove to Boston and, as I stood in line for security, I wondered what the purpose of this trip was. Why was I destined to meet this man? My heart raced; I sent a crazed text to a friend and told her that waiting to meet Mr. Antonio was like opening presents on Christmas day”.
Upon landing on São Miguel, the largest and most populous of the Azores, I nervously collected my bags and was welcomed into Portugal. Cleared through customs, I boarded a second plane to Santa Maria. I don’t know how I got to baggage claim; all I remember is the sliding doors that separated me from Mr. Antonio and Andre.
Nervously, I rolled my bag through the doors and charged towards someone about the age of Mr. Antonio’s grandson. Fortunately, realizing my mistake, Andre quickly moved forward with a sign listing my name and showing a picture of a bottle on the beach. I nervously shook his hand and saw alongside him Mr. Antonio exactly as I imagined him, part Anthony Quinn and part gentleman. Pounding heart aside, I knew this was where my epoch adventure would begin!
Over coffee, we spoke of the letter in the bottle and the universal purpose of our connection. Mr. Antonio said that if he were 20 years younger, he would have come to America to find me. I didn’t realize it at the time, but surely if I were 20 years younger, I would have stayed on Santa Maria.
Our bottle was found on the beautiful Baía dos Anjos, or Bay of the Angels. Mr. Antonio explained that while fishing one evening, he saw the bottle sitting upright on a mass of volcanic rock. He picked it up and quickly broke it to see the letter. That evening, finding the bottle and writing to the young American girl would become a legendary story to be shared with generations to come.
Santa Maria has an interesting history. From Baía dos Anjos, we drove to Nossa Senhora dos Anjos, the oldest chapel in the Azores, renowned for hosting a fateful visit by Christopher Columbus in 1493. Legend has it that Columbus vowed to attend Thanksgiving mass in the church if his lost ship, the Pinta, was returned from the harsh, raging sea. The Pinta was spared, and Columbus kept his promise, celebrating mass in the tiny chapel.
While admiring the church, Mr. Antoniobrother came to say hello, and I was introduced as the bottle girl. We were spirited to their welcoming home, where I was treated to homemade blackberry cordial and cookie ears. The kindness and generosity of Mr. Antonio’s family were boundless, and I knew I was blessed to have met them.
Full of cookie ears and relaxed from the blackberry cordial, I met the newest member of our adventuring team, Marta. Magical Marta (aka Andre’s girlfriend) was smart, funny, and unbelievably tolerant in answering my “less than elegant” questions. Thrilled to have another crew member, we settled into the car and continued our journey.
Now I’ll say it takes a lot to shock me, or maybe surprisingly little? Traversing the winding roads of Santa Maria, I noticed the lanes turned from flat golden farmland to rich green hills. In the blink of an eye, the view went from cow-filled pastures to dark, lush mountains. We stopped at the highest point on Santa Maria, Pico Alto, where I was treated to views of the cow-speckled yellow lands to the west and dense green forest to the east.
As we continued to travel across the island, the panoramas of the sea were beyond my imagination. Part Pacific Coast Highway, part Positano, Italy; the views were all serene, clear, and magical. The cliffs were a sheer mass of volcanic rock, plummeting into water bluer than I’d ever seen. They say, “Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” I was breathless. Clearly moved by my abundance of fortune, I conceded to the suggestion of a nap.
After two hours of coma-like sleep, Andre escorted me to his folks’ home so I could meet his family. To say I was fondly embraced would be an understatement; I was kissed, and kissed by Mr. Antonio, Mrs. Antonio, Andre’s parents, Carlos and Suzete, and his brother-in-law, Pedro. I was treated to a special glimpse of the beautiful Lorenzo, who is Mr. Antonio’s first great-grandchild. While Suzete and Marta prepared dinner, I was offered a tour of the property.
Carlos, a worker in the local school system, is also a bit of a farmer. Being of Italian descent, I understand that, for familial farmers, any patch of land can be made suitable for tomatoes and cucumbers. However, this was no evening salad; instead, it was a real, innovative growing system. Potatoes, tomatoes, onions, peppers, cucumbers, and pumpkins gave way to rows of melon seedlings and fruit trees. So while the family was casual, loving, and kind, the farming operation was massive and precise. Everything I consumed that evening, from the dinner (fresh caught fish and home-grown vegetables) to the dessert (brownies) to the after-dinner drinks (lemon and blackberry cordials), was locally sourced and made by Mr. Antonio’s family. Andre’s mom, my hostess for the evening, was something of a kindred spirit. She is a teacher by trade and runs an immaculate household. She orchestrated the evening enchantingly while attending to her family and her strange guest. The care she extended to her mother-in-law reminded me of my own life, and I felt at peace knowing I was where I was supposed to be.
Now it’s 23:00 local time, and I’ve been awake for 37 hours, but if you think we went home to sleep, you’d be mistaken. Instead, we went to celebrate the launch of the 2016 Santa Maria Blues festival, an event that’s coordinated by Mr. Antonio’s youngest son. Andre, Marta, and I threaded through a crowded art hall to the outdoor theater where the music was playing. Along the way, I made new friends and said hello to the family I know. It has become customary for me to kiss newcomers on both cheeks and gratefully hug the people I’ve already met!
At 2:00 local time, 40 hours from the start of my fateful trip, I finally settle into bed.
On Sunday, I couldn’t imagine what was left to see on the tiny island. As it turns out, today’s adventures were dedicated to my education in Portuguese culture, specifically sports and religion, although not in that order.
Every year, Azoreans celebrate a religious custom called the Feast of the Holy Spirit, where it’s customary for a secret patron, praying for help or salvation, to host a meal called the payment of promise, FOR THE ENTIRE ISLAND! Weeks in advance, the patron sources the beef and vegetables, bakes the bread, and produces the juices and wine. Large cubes of beef are simmered for days and served with a broth seasoned with mint and dill. The imperial soup, as it’s called, is ladled over large hunks of bread until the concoction is soft and stew-like. You can choose to drink red wine or juice. I had a large glass of red wine and can honestly say I’ve never been more content with my life.
You may be wondering, how do you fit the entire island into one room for a meal? Not surprisingly, they have buildings within the respective parishes dedicated to this celebration. About 50 people are whisked in and out at intervals, depending on the individual guests. Everyone sits until the last person finishes eating. At the end of the meal, you are asked to pray for the Holy Spirit, and you yell, “VIVO!” You pray for the emperor (the person who paid for the meal), you yell VIVO! Finally, you are asked to pray for the people who’ve prepared the meal, another VIVO, and you exit with a sweetbread dessert.
I guess my VIVOs were heard because I was treated to another glimpse of heaven! At this point, I’m seriously wondering if I’m dreaming. Beautiful views, delicious food, and amazing company, what more could I wish for?How about wine, water, and ducks? I’ll call it the vineyard, waterfall, big duck adventure. Staring at a ton of colorful ducks, unimaginable rows of wine vines, and a cavernous waterfall. I didn’t know where to go first! I fed the ducks, I climbed the stairs to the vines, and I hopped stones to the base of the dramatic waterfall. Andre took photos while Mr. Antonio and Marta wondered when I would run out of energy. I ran out of sweet bread first. It was a religious experience.
Now, what I know about American Football infinitely surpasses what I know about “futbol” or, in this case, soccer. As it turns out, the European soccer team Benfica, the passion of Mr. Antonio, Andre, and Marta, was in the finals. Four teams were playing two games; if Benfica won their match, they would win for Lisbon. If they tied the match, they would win for Lisbon; if they lost, they lost. The twist? Andre had tickets to this exact game, which were hard to get and widely coveted. So what was he doing here with me, the bottle girl? Winning baby! I had the joyous honor of introducing Marta to the American slang term three-peat! Benfica beat Nacional 4 to 1 and are now 1st in the Primeira Liga! It was an entertaining, new experience for me and a happy mood enhancer for Mr. Antonio, Marta, and Andre.
So where could we possibly go next? Sunday dinner Azorean style!
It’s common for local Azoreans to have a beach house 2 or 3 kilometers from their primary residence. In this case, we were back at Anjos for a dinner with even more family! In addition to the folks I’d already met, I was lucky to dine with Andre’s beautiful sister, Claudia, and Mr. Antonio’s daughter and son-in-law. I was treated to a BBQ with chef Pedro, who refused to share the exact ingredients in his delicious spicy mixture. HEY PEDRO, I’ve almost cracked the recipe!
On my last day in Santa Maria, I ran around the island taking photos and shooting video footage that I will share over Social Summer. It was an exhilarating experience as I easily navigated the island on my own and documented my adventures to share with friends and family. Yes, I was a bit somber as I contemplated traveling to São Miguel without my new friends, but I was definitely up for the challenge.
As we made small talk at the airport, I wondered when I would see my Azorean family again. Did they feel the same passion for the adventure? I can certainly say this: I didn’t pick this journey; it picked me. I was plucked from my beautiful life and transported to a place where everything I love was abundant, and I lived a dream well beyond my imagination. I cried a 1000 tears but emerged light and free, exactly like the 14-year-old girl who threw that fateful bottle into the ocean. Maybe that was the point?
I loved fulfilling this long-time dream, and challenge you to pick a dream of your own and just do it!
Have an AMAZING summer,
If you’d like to learn more about the Azores, check out Visit Azores.