Getting lost ... and finding myself

I like adventures. I like unplanned days. I don’t mind getting lost. If given the choice between the usual and the unusual, I’ll choose unusual every time.

I don’t always get to decide these things and, as a rule, my life is pretty organized. But maybe it shouldn’t be, at least some of the time. 

This trip is so many things to me. The opportunity to slow down. The opportunity to reconnect. The opportunity to let go and “get lost” in the adventure.

Today, my heart sister and I travelled to Sintra with the intent of visiting a palace and kicking around the historic centre.

We talked about visiting Pena Palace, the biggest tourist attraction in Sintra — about a 45-minute drive from where my heart sister and her husband live. We had GPS. We had each other. What more could we want?

We got lost. Multiple times. Mostly because we neglected to listen to “Bitchin' Ben,” the GPS voice telling us where to go. Some of it was our conversation and some of it was fits of giggles when Bitchin' Ben's Terminator voice came on and told us to “chill out ... speed trap ahead."

We might’ve gotten lost because I was busy getting Portuguese lessons in how to curse properly. I did nail down a very sexy Portuguese version of “kiss my ass,” so that’s something.

But we got lost. A lot. And that’s OK because we saw so much more by getting lost. We drove by beautiful homes and lush views which made my heart sing. We saw public water fountains and filling stations that were made in the 1800s and tiled beautifully. We saw ... we saw ... we saw ... beauty everywhere in everything.

We arrived at Pena Palace and were discouraged by the throngs of people waiting to enter. This is the palace the guidebooks recommend you visit. This is what you want to see.

But ... do we?

We pulled out our phones and took a look at the other palaces in the area. My heart sister had visited them and told me about their unique features. One of her favourites is Quinta da Regaleira. In addition to the beautiful gardens, unique grottos and stunning waterfall, there are the Initiation Wells. It intrigued me and I was game to discover this gem. 

We set off ... and while we didn’t get lost, there was no parking and, well, that was a different adventure. We ended parking in a lot by a completely different castle and flagged a tuk tuk to take us where we needed to go. And as we zipped along the streets of Sintra, hair blowing in the wind, laughing our faces off with our driver, I felt free. I felt good. I felt like the world was right. 

Our palace visit was remarkable. It was full of history and architecture, both manmade and natural in the grottos. It was romantic and unusual. All of it was lovely. Every step was lovely. 

My favourite part, though — the part that spoke to me — was the Initiation Well with the spiral staircase. It was a lot of walking to get to — a lot. And I’m not as young as I used to be. But we pushed up and, when we got to the top and I entered into the foyer of that 27-metre spiral staircase, I knew the climb was worth the effort. There’s a story behind the well and the staircase — a fascinating story — but I used the climb down to reflect on my own story. What it meant to look down and see the view and know the effort was worth it. 

For me, that’s what this widowhood journey has been: climbing up, making my way down, different challenges, different opportunities. There have been times my staircase has been darkened by shadows and often it has been flooded by light. But the balance of both — the beauty of both — has been something I’ve learned to appreciate. The climb up. The stepping down. Neither is easy but, like I did today, I have the hands of so many people who love me, so I’m not doing this alone.

We reached the bottom safely and with our own story to tell about walking the Initiation Well staircase. We took lots of pictures and, for me, this was the best part of our visit.

We finished up the day by having waffles — fully loaded waffles as we walked 10 kilometres (thank you very much!)

I’m pleased to report we listened to “Ben” (although his tone was still a little bitchy) and we didn’t get lost.

But we DID get lost in Sintra ... and it was a beautiful day.