Ancestor Work. Visiting the Azores Islands.

 

 

My family is from the Azores Islands. I am a first generation, born in California, American. I speak a little Portuguese, but not enough to have the most philosophical of conversations. I recently took a 3 week vacation to the islands. We Visited Pico Island, Prainha Du Baixo is the Village my mother is from and we stayed In Angra Du Heroismo on Terceira to visit the Island my father is from.  I was able to take my 14 years old son Joseph, and we had a wonderful time. Bear with me, these are taken from my journal, I figured, I should get them out now while I have them!

 

 

On the first day of arrival, I sat on the roof of my parents house in Angra listening to the birds and feeling the wind gently caress my skin. The Sun was just coming up and I could get my first daylight glimpse of the grapevines crawling over walls and the smell of the pineapples and all sorts of flowers dancing in the wind. I hear the roosters chorus for the dawn, and I breathe in the sweet perfumed air as the sun turns its' face upwards as if to kiss the clouds. The moon is smiling in the dawning sky, while the stars give their last farewell of the night. I am reminded that everyday is a miracle. Every sunrise is a gift, enjoy every moment, and make it beautiful, of course, this is easy to say when you are on vacation!

 My son and I soon visit the caves; Gruta do Natal and Algar do Carvao. These have changed very little since the last time I was here. You are handed a hard hat, and given free reign throughout Gruta Do Natal. Gruta Do Natal translates to "Christmas Cave" Mass is held inside every December 25th, and there is an altar inside. Everywhere on the island has some kind of spiritual significance to the people. As I soon find out. The cave is classified as a "Lava Tube" and the hard hats are welcomed, you get into tiny crawl spaces and there are many stalactites to bump your head on. For the trip through Algar Do Carvao, you are immediately gazing up at the cone from the inside of the volcano. It is one of the only places where you can walk on the inside of a dormant volcano. And further on you see beautiful colors on the cavern walls, and once in a while they have concerts inside because of the awesome acoustics. This is also considered a lava tube, but giant bubbles of lava made this cave a lot less "snug" than Gruta Do Natal.

 Soon we took the Santorini Express for an inter-island trip. Our destination is Pico, the Island My mother was born. We were to help my grandmother with her Promissa. This is a promise she made, for my Aunt Fatima. When Fatima was a child, she got very sick and my grandmother was afraid she would die. So she went to the church and made a promise, my aunt did survive that time. So this is a fulfillment of that promise made years and years ago. She promised a Festa "Party" for her whole village, she would provide all the food, wine and entertainment for the party, and there will be a procession to church for mass. I had never seen such a thing, so I wanted to go. But back to the boat voyage: The whole time on this boat there was music, we had drum circles on the outside and on the inside the big brass bands would play. People found their sea legs and were dancing everywhere. I took video, but eventually all the time I was trying to capture these moments really did not capture the energy of what it felt like.

 

We stopped at one island briefly and I'll never forget the majestic cliffs and beauty of Sao Jorge island. It looked like a fairytale village  with the sun setting in pink and purple hues across the mountains above Velas. The streetlights looked like Christmas lights strung throughout the town. Pastel Hues boarding lush green cliffs, and the fog rolls in off the cliffs of Velas creeping up like a blanket, getting ready for bedtime. I wanted to stay for a little while, and find those hard to find villages perched on cliffs and in places only accessible by hike. As our boat thrusts itself back into deep ocean waters You see houses perched on cliffs, and just wonder, "How did they get there?" I look towards the west and see the overcast and dark Pico Mountain in our path. We arrive Pico and night has fallen. The waters are like a rough obsidian layered wih white lace. Spots of lights peek out through dark clouds and rain is falling from the sky. The air is warm, the sky black, this is Midnight. The rain awakens me, I *love* the rain. The island is very dark, there really are not many lights here, but it also has the nickname of Ilha Preta, meaning "Black Island" so I guess it makes sense.  The entire population of Pico is around 16,000 but the island is only 173 sq mi . My parents had taken their car on the boat, and we drive about 20 minutes to Prainha do Baixu which is the town my Mothers-Mothers- Mother is from (I actually have no idea how far back it goes) I just know they lived here.  My uncle has an Adega there, right on the ocean side. I would always hear my mother tell stories of Seeing an Adega one day, and then the next morning it was washed away by the waves. But, this one has been here for at least a hundred years, I try not to worry myself. Our time on Pico is blessed by abundant thunder and Lightning, the sky is having its own party. The Night before my grandmothers big day, all the women sit at the Adega and drink Homemade wine from 100 year old ceramic bowls. They are mostly speaking Portuguese, but planning the logistics for tomorrow. We needed four Queens to which I and my mother volunteered. Two other Queens came from the Village.  My son carried the flag my Aunt Ana Made in America for this event, and my dad was to carry the flag from the community center to the church. We had mass inside the Church,  Soon the queens where  asked to come forward. The Priest said some words here and there, we had incense smoked around us, It lasted for a few minutes, and then all of a sudden I feel hard things being thrown at me! Well, the ending of this involves all the children in the village throwing hard sugar candies in our crowns. With giggles and till the candy was gone, my crown filled up with little white sugar candies. The candy blessing, I'm not sure exactly what it meant, but for me it was a simple, "May sweetness come to you" and to get all churchy, "May it also be with you" . I did not have any hesitation in being part of this ritual act in a church that is on top of the graves of my ancestors. I was surprised that I was asked to be a Queen, just because I am not a Catholic any more, but it was definatly a memorable and unique experience I would never give up! And Now I will totally being thowing candy at people sometime soon!

 

 

In Terceira, I was able to hang out Sandy, Sandy is good times for sure. We visited tombs, and churches, and some random, "lets just see what happens" kinds of places.

Christie, Sandy and I had decided to hang out in Angra for a while, the streets of Praia where packed with kids and families and we lost patience quick. I asked my dad how Port do pipas was after it was destroyed by the storm last year, and he said that it was rebuilt, but it is a very shady area now, lots of drugs and strange occurrences. Challenge Accepted. So we stopped at Praca Velha, then walked to the Cais and decided to check out our old hangin spot; Port Do Pipas. It looked dead from The Cais but we figured it would be an adventure, and it would be our first time walking there since we got to the island. It was dark, but they do have some streetlamps and lights from the main street. To give you a visual, it is a port, with boats , some in storage and some on the water, there are clubs that stick out, it used to be a really bumpin' spot, all kinds of music, and LOUD. But the storm destroyed much of the port, and it was rebuilt. Unfortunately many of the businesses left for good, so there is one Bar and one club there now. People still go fishing off the very end, but it is fenced off, so I imagine there is some other "shady" stuff happening around the fence too now.

We decide to not walk on the street, because we could see the light of cigarettes being smoked from behind the shadows, and they puffed long and hard as if they where really focused on us. We walked close to the water on the landing. This is a place I have visited my whole life, and it has gone through major transformations. They have the one room Sailor/fisherman houses lined up on the street, these are new, but they still have the old dilapidated stone houses with their darkened windows and doors. We immediately look at each other, and say, "It's a fucking Ghost town"  and continue on, we see the little lights of cigarettes get thrown on the ground, and hear the whisper of Cat Calls coming from the shadows. The sound of cat calls around the Azores seems to be something like if you make the Shhhhh sound and move your lips open and closed very fast. I call a cat to me in a similar way. And then men start to come out of the darkness, not getting close, but just watching, like maybe they wanted to rob us, or maybe they thought we were prostitutes, Maybe they just wanted a closer look for all of the above reasons. Who knows why, but they do not follow us to the bars. We sit down for a beer, there is one group next to us, and all other tables are empty. Christie and I remember this bar was once a club. We try to recall the name, but settled at "The place where Monika threw up on the floor, then danced to get the mop, and then, as she sang and danced to the music, mopped up her spew" We laughed, tis was so weird. We sat with our beers and reminisced a bit, telling Sandy how great this place was. We could hear the club on the end of the pier and it was so loud, there was no way we were going near it without earplugs. Then we saw a police car pull up, and 6 policeman come out one by one , reminding me of a clownmobile. We could not stop laughing! This was a little car! I think deep down we were grateful for the presence, but also for the comedic value of it. They stood there and dutifully waited for people to attempt to drive home drunk. Unfortunately this is when the Drunk guy at the bar globbed onto Sandy and wanted to talk with her all night. She politely answered and Christie and I giggled as we thought of ways to remove ourselves from the Situation. We finished our beer and started to walk to the end of the pier. The drunk guy goes in to tell everyone that there are Cops outside those "Secanas" And "Filha Du Putas" are waiting to put you in jail! Eh, we find this our chance to take off, back the way we came, past the shadow smokers and creaking boats with mystery devils and lost souls. Sandy got a great picture Of Portu Pipas: