Just weeks away until the AL house is ready and the difference is massive since the last update! Along with the house being a place of relaxation and tranquility for our guests stay, we are trying to prepare the surroundings for a sensory lift.
Here’s the first floor entrance back in January…
And now…
The ground floor entrance when we first moved into the property…
Now we await the front doors and Juliet balcony…
Upstairs where the stairs will be…
And from the end of today, still waiting for the stairs but the surrounding areas are finished! We have tried to keep as much of the original character of the building as possible so the walls remain exposed.
The next update should be the very finished article which (hopefully) will be in a couple of weeks. Stay tuned!
A visit to a restaurant is an event for me. I save myself from over indulgence throughout the day in order to savour the dishes that I might order at the restaurant. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. From pub grub to michelen star, I want to eat my meal all to myself.
As I sit in the sunshine waiting for a menu at a modest pizza place with a couple of friends, the dreaded question was said by one of them…
“Shall we get a family size pizza to share?”
Dude. Do you even know me?! I thought. Are you my friend?
Those who know me would know that I can eat a family sized pizza to myself. And no fish toppings or pineapple, no half and half or thick crust. I want a sloppy Bolognese with lots of cheese and a side order of fries and I don’t want to share it. Do you want a straw my friend? You can slurp on my coke while you’re at it!
I might be in the minority here. It seems increasingly popular to share food at a restaurant. And if I were to try to add fairness to the debate, I could say that my friends were paying equally. It’s not like they were stealing what is mine. It’s just that I want my own and I will pay for my own. I’m happy for the waiter to be frustratingly hovering over our table at the end of a meal while we try to work out who ordered the extra dough balls.
But splitting the bill down the middle is never fair. I pay for my third but I’m still left hungry. Throughout the whole meal I am trying to nibble on my slice of pizza so that I don’t race off and eat what is meant for somebody else. The problem is they’re so bloody slow! I’m Hank Marvin guys! I’m not interested in your visit to Porto. Keep up and eat your fucking bit of the pizza!
But they don’t. By the end I look at the table and all that remains is one slice of pizza and a few fries. They’re not mine. It belongs to Porto guy but does he actually want it? He’s been talking about the architecture of some library for the past fifteen minutes and his slice remains untouched. Untouched by humans anyway, but the flies have had a good investigation of it and the ants crawling up the table leg seem interested.
When is it acceptable to ask if he wants it? Will I have to pay extra if I just slide in there and eat it? Would they even notice? Maybe they haven’t been counting their slices. I wouldn’t want to have to pay extra or be called out for eating more than anyone else. But there’s no way that slice of pizza is being taken away by the waiter. Even the five skinny fries have given up on being eaten by him. They look cold and hard. But if I could dip them into a bit of mayo I could spruce them up again. Fluff them up to their former, delicious glory. I’d save them.
You see, ordering my own food allows me to eat what I like. There are no social rules. I order it, it arrives, I eat it and I pay for it. No awkwardness. It makes me happier. My wife has figured out eventually that, on takeaway nights, I order three chapatis for my curry. Not three chapatis with a bite taken out, not two and a half. Three whole chapatis. This ensures that I can be generous with the chapati dipping of my curry. And any chapati that is left over can ‘mop’ the sides of the dish to avoid wastage. And if I run out of chapati then I can wipe my chips through the sauce to do the same job. Yes, chips. My chips. Not once have I asked my wife for a spoonful of her basmati rice and I never will.
However, some good news on the restaurant visit! The slice of pizza was eventually offered to me and our other friend. I held out my hand towards the slice to invite our friend to have it. He thought about it for a split second and then said no. Result! I’m not sure what reaction I would have given if the greedy bastard had reached over for it.
We all sat back in our chairs patting our full bellies. And then, as the waiter took our plates and asked if we wanted dessert, my friend stated, “I’m really full but I’d be happy to share one.”
Seeing flyers around the town of Sertá for salsa dancing makes me want Lou and I to book a session for one evening. Unfortunately, with two young children, we aren’t able to get out of an evening just the two of us. And I can just imagine, if we were to take them along and asked them to sit quietly for a couple of hours as they watched their dad shake his hips towards their mum, they would never speak to me again.
But the thought of salsa dancing does bring back memories of our honeymoon in Cuba. We were at a club watching the professionals on the dancefloor. They were all in traditional dress and it was amazing to watch. Little did I know that, during the interval, Lou had asked one of the ladies to whisk me off my feet to join in with their performance.
Perhaps Lou expected me to modestly follow the dancer, embarrassed at the hundreds of watching eyes, and sheepishly tap my feet like a teenager at a school disco. No. I didn’t. The rum and coke was strong that night.
What happened next was a blur. According to my account, I blew them away with my ‘living la Vida loca’ moves. In reality, the bald man with the trucker tattoos probably looked more like Ricky Gervais from the Office than Ricky Martin.
Overnight, in a small corner of Cuba, I had become famous. Other holiday makers and locals would all approach me, shake my hand, and congratulate me on my performance. Maybe the word is infamous. I dunno.
I like dancing. I move uncontrollably rather than have any decent choreography. Growing up listening to Oasis probably didn’t help my dancefloor moves. During the 90’s I would enter the nightclub like Liam Gallagher. Hands clasped behind my back, I would slightly lean forwards as if I were stooping for a microphone. By the end of the night I’d be a backing dancer for Take That, shirt ripped open singing Relight My Fire.
Youth eh? I don’t miss it. But older age certainly has its challenges. Just like my parents will have gasped at the lyrics of Marylin Manson coming from my bedroom we now have the same issue with Doja Cat lyrics. My kids love the Paint The Town Red song and Portuguese radio is very different to UK radio. They don’t blank out any of the swearing. Instead of listening to Paul Gambuccini’s pick of the pops from 1983 we’re listening to Doja Cat effing and jeffing.
Perhaps my biggest memories of dancing are well in the past. Or maybe as the kids get older and Lou and I are able to begin a class, my best dancing memories are yet to come. I just hope, by then, my hips do lie.
Firstly I’d like to apologise. I haven’t been posting as much in the last week or so and there are a number of reasons.
It’s quite hectic at the moment with building work deadlines on our property and it is the school holidays too. Having a sit down and a moment to myself has been rare, but when I do I often look past my phone screen to admire the views. However, my phone is never too far away and when I’m using it I’m trying to get back into using the Duolingo language learning app.
Back in the UK I would use this app for at least 30 minutes a day and it really helped with my Portuguese language. Duolingo, though, only teaches Brazilian Portuguese. It didn’t deter me. First of all the app is free with ads and I find it the most engaging of language learning apps. I’ve tried plenty. It’s only when I arrived in Portugal and people would correct my accent and grammar that I decided that continuing with the Brazilian format wasn’t helpful to me.
But I’ve felt the need to start again. The main reason for this is I now understand when someone is speaking in Brazilian or European Portuguese and, therefore, become much more adaptable in my own verbal communication. It was 5 months yesterday that we landed on Portuguese soil and the locals in this central part of the country don’t speak any English. That has helped me in learning European Portuguese quickly. After all, language is developed through a need for us humans to survive.
So seeing as I can now differentiate between the two types of Portuguese I don’t feel that the Duolingo app will be an issue.
It is a bit like American English and British. Diaper and nappy, trash and bin. It’s different, but still easily understood. I mean, I lived in the north east of England for a few years and struggled to understand the local phrases much more than when I’ve spoken to an American!
So there we go. I’ve finished my coffee and the sun is going down. I’ve had my 20 minutes peace and I’d best get back to the family. I didn’t get to do Duolingo this time, but I’m glad I checked in with you all.
It is the age old question in the gym in regards to what is the best type of training for weight management or, as is commonly known as, fat loss.
“Should I use weights?”
“Do I join a high intensity class or go on treadmills?”
“Is it high reps or low reps?”
These sorts of questions are the most frequently asked to a Personal Trainer in a commercial gym.
The correct answer, of course, is never that simple. Every individual is different, yes, but generally all of the above are perfectly fine ways to manage weight for the average adult.
To elaborate on these answers I could also suggest going for long, frequent walks, preparing your meals and counting calories for a short period of time or taking the stairs instead of the elevator. (That last suggestion isn’t meant to sound flippant or facetious. It is my attempt to encourage a more active outlook in one’s daily routine and we often miss these opportunities in order to get somewhere quicker or for convenience.)
So when we break it all down into these different training techniques, ways of moving and positive lifestyle changes we get the bigger picture. One which promotes weight management. And as long as these can be incorporated there will be success in one’s fitness journey.
But it all starts with a spark or a thought that leads us onto actually adopting these positive things into our lives. And if you have read this article up to now, I am assuming that you have already begun the thought process.
Indian philanthropist and businessman Pankaj Patel once said,”It is the sum of the parts that make up the whole. So excellence comes from how one undertakes to do something. It all begins with the thought process which is creative and exalted to produce something out of the ordinary.”
To make up the whole, it is said, you need all the little components to complete it. The thought process, or the planning, is a vital component.
In regards to a weight management journey, the whole needs planning, but this planning must include all the factors that I have spoken about. Frequent walks are just as important as making It into the gym. Why? Because it is an important part of the sum that creates the whole. Many people have found their motivation, inspiration, their plans, their passions and indeed themselves on a long walk. It cannot be underestimated. It’s also a great exercise.
There are no magical processes that can guarantee weight management (whatever you want to manage it to be). But there are a number of methods that, when put together, can give you the best opportunities. Many of them I’ve listed above.
I will often give my clients a little bit of homework. I ask them to write down four or five ways in which they can achieve their realistic body weight target. And when they have actually thought about it, they come back to me with the answers I have listed above. This is because we are not reinventing the wheel here, as many influencers would have you believe, we are simply adding simple methods to your life and tweaking things that need a bit of change.
It is the sum of the parts that you already have at your disposal. And when you use them correctly, you begin to have access to the whole.
Shay is a personal trainer, CBT therapist, meditation guide and owner of Pinheiros Tranquilos Bem Estar in central Portugal.
Social media would have you believe that you need to be ready for the catwalk or the front cover of Men’s Health magazine to be successful in the gym.
I also believe that we can get anxious when we see other people’s Instagram posts of them on holidays in some wintery wonderland to visit Santa, sat by a pool in an exotic location or having their picture taken with Mickey Mouse. I’ve done it myself. After seeing someone’s snaps of them and their children in Lapland I suddenly felt inadequate that I wasn’t taking my kids to see Santa in his homeland. I then checked the price of such a holiday and quickly clicked on to Wish to buy a Santa costume. The kids won’t know the difference.
But it isn’t the fault of the parents who put the photos on Instagram. They just want to show their social media friends what a great time they’re having. We rarely see ‘influencers’ taking a selfie on the days they’re feeling bloated and our Facebook friends are not as quick to post the videos where their kids are having a tantrum. No. We all prefer to show the world our best side.
And I am conscious about what I post online, especially since our move to Portugal. When I first mentioned that we were moving to Portugal, most of our friends and family would be like ‘ooh! I don’t blame you with all that sunshine’ or stuff to that effect. Throughout winter I’ve posted pictures of us dining out, in swimming pools and even having a BBQ on Christmas day. The weather, albeit not our greatest motivation for making the move, can be lovely.
But already this week in March we have had to shelter from the heat. Even the Portuguese builders were happy to find jobs to do that were in the shade during the hottest parts of the day. We are beginning to understand the need for siestas. This is where shops and cafes close for a few hours, usually around 2 until 5. People start to pull shutters down on their windows and the streets and roads empty.
As a Brit who hasn’t had this issue before, however, it can be frustrating. We need the builders to get the job done, we need builders merchants to be open for supplies and Lou and I have 20,000 square metres of land to clean before the summer. And even the amount of land would bring about comments on ‘how lovely for the kids’ it is to have so much land. It is, absolutely we will make it wonderful for us and our guests. But at the moment it is a tinder box waiting for the spark. We don’t want a few hours break in the afternoon. Daytime is when we have always got stuff done, while the kids are at school! It’s irritating, but we will have to change. Coming into spring and with summer just around the corner. We’ll need to find different moments in the day where we can work outside. One way or another we need to get it done. Time, as we are discovering, is money.
So in true form, I won’t be posting a picture of Lou and I panicking about the budget of our project. Instead I’m showing you our homemade irrigation system for our vegetable patch. The veg patch is an old chicken coup and, although we discussed having chickens in the future, we decided to use it to grow vegetables for now instead. When we moved into the property there were lots of useful hosepipes hanging around the place and several water taps and bore holes. Cutting a length of pipe and drilling holes into it has provided much needed water for our lettuce.
By the end of the day, and I guess the whole point of this blog, as we sat in the (slightly) cooler evening we talked about how satisfying it was to be creative and, most importantly, to do it together. That might sound silly. After all, we haven’t gone our separate ways to go to work etc for the past 6 months. Lou and I have done everything together. But writing a business plan, filling out VISA forms or putting furniture together isn’t as rewarding as planting some lettuce and providing them with water.
It’s part of our dream. The vision. It’s what we talked about almost every evening in the UK. The sort of veg we would grow and how self sufficient we could become is part of the package on this journey. It’s important to us. And, yes, so are the VISA forms and the flat packed book shelf, but that doesn’t excite us.
I make no apologies for showing you my punctured bit of hose pipe. For now, that’s my Lapland. It’s the ‘look at me with Mickey Mouse in Disneyland’ moment. So the next time I see the lovely pics of tinterweb friends and influencers on social media, I’ll remember my great moment making our irrigation system. Sometimes it’s just the little things.
Nature had an idea when it decided that it should prepare me for getting older. It made me start receding at 18. Even younger maybe. In fact my jesting mind allows my memory to believe that I looked like Phil Mitchell as a 3 year old.
Nature prepared me well. I became not at all bothered about losing my hair. I embraced it. On a practical level I have saved thousands of pounds on the barbers and my short morning grooming routine meant I had more time for a cuppa and a couple of ciggies while watching Big Breakfast before running for the bus to get to work.
So, at 45 I am now totally accepting of the ageing process. The morning groom has changed and, in a cruel twist laid on by nature, I do have to deal with hair now. It’s just that this hair grows from my nostrils and out of my ears. I first realised that these hairs were noticeable to others when I got a nose hair strimmer for father’s day a few years ago. It made a change from socks, I suppose.
Today our stuff arrived on pallets from the UK. Luckily the builders were on hand to help lift everything off of the lorry with us. One of them, Thiago, commented on all of the gym equipment. I replied that I am a Personal Trainer and I aim to continue here in Portugal.
“Ah ha!” He exclaimed as he looked me up and down. “I thought you looked good.”
My face made that weird look that it always does when I’ve been complimented but trying to play it down as I also sucked my belly in a bit more (the fresh bread is too nice here) before he went on to continue his comment…
“…for your age.”
For my age. What does that even mean? Do I look good or not?!! He doesn’t know my age!
If he thinks I’m 65 then I probably do look pretty good for my age.
Another thing came in the pallets today. A mirror. I’ve enjoyed not having a mirror in the house. I even had to use my phone camera to look at when it came to shaving my follically challenged head. Other than that I’ve not felt the need to check myself out all that much. I was looking at myself in the reflection of a cafe the other day to find a couple weirded out by some bald bloke giving them a blue steel look. But now I have a full length mirror in the bathroom and my gym stuff I’m sure to be doing the thorax pose daily like I’m an extra on Pumping Iron.
I haven’t lifted anything heavy for months now and I can feel that my body is ready to take on a deadlift or two. Despite all the wonderful bread that keeps finding its way into my mouth I have been sticking to a nutrition plan of sorts. Decades of calorie counting has ensured that I don’t need to sit and work out what every meal adds up to as I can calculate it in my head simply enough and I know I stay within my weight maintenance limits. It means that the jeans I packed last October and arrived today still fit me.
But my joints and muscles have suffered. They’ve not been working as they’re used to. My gym equipment couldn’t come soon enough.
And it won’t be long until some unwitting couple sat by a cafe window will see me strut towards them, pouting and flexing, and say “He looks good….for his age.”
Someone call the fire brigade, this guy is hot! (For his age)
Some books have chapters that are just a page or two long. Others can be twelve or more. But generally, with the more contemporary styles, we see chapters at around five pages. This advice is what many novice writers are given as a guide and it equates to about 5-6 thousand words.
I like that there are no set rules to the size of a chapter in a book. I’m not good with rules. Of course, I’m not a total anarchist. I follow most rules. I would, for example, respectfully follow the rule that I had to wear a gym shirt belonging to the commercial gym that I trained at even though I didn’t work for them. A silly rule, I thought, but I towed the line.
I stick to speed limits on the road, I pay my bills on time and I push the toothpaste out from the bottom of the tube. Ok. That last one is my wife’s rule and it’s an important one.
And then there’s the GNR. That is the name of the Portuguese police. If they pull you over in the car or stop you in the street you must have your documents on hand to prove that you are able to be in the country. They can be quite intimidating. Their uniform is much more military and their role isn’t the same as the police in the UK. You won’t see the GNR dancing at a street parade or being questioned by a youtuber calling themselves an ‘auditor’. If they want to see my documents, it is not the time for me to start questioning their rules. I know the punishment for questioning where I squeeze the tube of toothpaste from, I dread to think of what the consequences are for arguing with the GNR.
But if I were to write a book about my journey over the past year, I would make the chapters short, snappy and to the point. That would be my rule. The law, in fact. For example, if I were writing the chapter on my current situation, it would read something like…
“The builders came, renovated the guest house and left.”
There. Chapter done. Move on. Otherwise it becomes boring and tedious.
But this chapter is never ending, it seems. I’d like it to be over so that I can continue with my story. The novel ‘The Passenger’ has a chapter that weighs in at a mighty 62 pages. This arrives at chapter 5 in the book.
Maybe my life is a chapter 5. Sure, I feel like a passenger as I eagerly wait to begin renting out the guest house and promoting my fitness events. This anxiety compounded in the knowledge that I need to start making an income very soon. Chapter 5 has become extremely costly.
If this story continues similarly to the careful planning that was undertaken long before pen was put to paper, then I know that this chapter isn’t forever. It’s a means to an end. Every story must knit together to make any sense. Perhaps a lengthy chapter is often a middle bit that is necessary in creating the beginning, middle and the end. It is a summary of how the story began and the direction in which it will end. Therefore, my chapter 5 must be a vital component in the whole telling of the story.
But I’m becoming impatient.
My one rule break right now would be to create a story with one page chapters. At least to get to the exciting bits. I have so much to be grateful for and my blogs, had they acted as chapters of a book, kind of tell the story of my journey to my readers so far. But this chapter seems different. This is the part of the story that either makes or breaks the leading character.
Chapter 5 is a long road which has to be accepted as part of the journey (or story) for a complete ending to be written. Without chapter 5, we wouldn’t know the ending. So what’s the point in any journey (or story) if we can’t endure a chapter 5?
I have met many people on their own personal journeys who seem to call on me when they get to their very own chapter 5. They feel a bit stuck. Like, they know where they wanna be but can’t find a way out to the other side. And as I tell them, exactly as I tell myself, it is quite normal. Sometimes we all feel like a passenger when we want to be the one in control. Chapter 5, as long assed as it might be, leads only to a new chapter as long as we keep on reading. And we keep reading because we know the ending can be good. Not just good but life changing.
But being the main character feels different from the observer looking on. It’s like when we scream at the TV screen to the character being chased in a horror movie. We give them sensible, logical answers for the character to escape. But the character, in their emotional state, never thinks straight. Decisions solely based on emotion can sometimes lead to poor judgement. As Alfred Adler said, “Follow your heart, but take your brain with you.”
Now is a good time to remember that quote as I drudge through chapter 5.
If you feel like you’re stuck in chapter 5, ask yourself how you can develop your story for the next chapter. If you can create a positive narrative to it, the ending of your story could be a real page turner with a great ending. You’re the author. Chapter 5 doesn’t have to last forever.
“The gem cannot be polished without friction, nor man be perfected without trials.” Confucius.
It doesn’t matter what passions we develop in life, there will be moments when we lose our focus. At the moment I am learning a language. My day to day conversational speaking is becoming more advanced and my learning apps are telling me that I am ready for the next level, but I have recently hit a wall. Then I remembered my own advice. It’s what I tell my trainees.
Sometimes we need to rediscover the reasons why we wanted to take on a particular challenge in the first place.
In the past week or so I have become overawed by the task in hand. I felt daunted by the long, in-depth skills needed to speak to Portuguese builders, bank and VISA staff or my kid’s teachers. Imagine the robot or a computer with steam coming from it. That felt like my brain. It all became too much.
So I put on YouTube and literally typed in ‘basic greetings in Portuguese’. I watched short fun clips of people telling me how to say and pronounce ‘bom dia’ and slowly counting to 20 in Portuguese. I knew it. I knew it well. This is all the stuff I listened to in late 2022. It felt good.
Now let’s take a look at your fitness journey.
The timing of this post is not coincidental. Traditionally, the gym membership numbers go up in January and we see more runners in parks and on pavements during this time too. But by early March, in my experience, people are beginning to doubt themselves and the goals that they’ve set themselves.
The issue we have is that we tend to want everything now. I want to be fluent in Portuguese, we want to stream the latest movie or series, we want to turn on 24/7 news channels for the latest headlines, we want to order a convenience meal at the tap of a button, we want to post our holiday selfie the moment we take it and we want to lose body weight today. And because things don’t always happen instantly we become frustrated by the process.
But this isn’t advice just for the new year resolutioner. It doesn’t matter when you began your fitness journey. When the wall hits, it hits.
I spoke earlier about taking my language learning back to basics. I focussed on something that I knew that I could do. I simplified the process and made each session shorter. I made sure that I watched fun clips and not just somebody sitting at a desk with boring graphics. In a previous post I said that I am going to attempt to be a beginner every day. That is because I want to develop an attitude where nothing should be seen as ‘easy’. I learnt Portuguese numbers a long time ago, but it is only this morning that I mastered the finer details of how to say them. Knowing the words is one thing, but saying them in an accent that is understood is another.
When we have gone to the gym for a while it is normal to attempt a heavier lift or a longer, enduring set or session than the previous day. It is, after all, what we are told is progression. Anything else would be classed as failure or a waste of time. But as a personal trainer with hundreds of successful training programmes I can tell you that this is nonsense. Some of it anyway.
Almost every one of my training programmes has included periods of regression. And these don’t have to be written in blood. If a trainee is telling me that they have hit a wall, meaning either physical or mental fatigue, then I will factor in a period of regression straight away.
Regression isn’t designed to be ‘easy’. It still requires commitment, but it is different to the usual routine. In regards to a fitness goal, this could mean using more machines in the gym instead of free weights, going for a walk instead of lifting, running, or an intense fitness class. If you still choose to lift, you could work at a 50% weight of a one rep max instead of your programmed 80%. Or if you still want to join in the fitness class but choose to go at a less intense pace, then inform the instructor at the beginning. If they don’t understand the concept then they shouldn’t be instructing a fitness class.
Being committed to anything shouldn’t have to mean devoting every bit of your time and energy into it. This can create resentment. And I mean anything. Your partner, children, friends, work or your gym goals. Give something back to yourself now and again.
And when you do, you might find that you become a better partner, a better parent, a better friend, a better worker and a better trainer.
I will never truly know the forest, but I get the feeling as I walk through it, that it knows me already.
I aim to wander through this dream every morning. I call it a dream because it reminds me of a quote by Turkish novelist Memet Murat Ildan when he stated that “You can walk in a dream while you are awake. Just walk in the misty morning of a forest.”
And also before I have two cups of coffee I am hardly classed as awake, so one could argue that I am still slumbering through my morning walk.
I see something different with every walk. Most of the time I’m not even walking. I stop, listen, look up at the tallest pine trees and breath. The deeper into the forest I go I can lose my mind and find my soul.
But I am mindful that I am entering nature’s home. I bought the land but I am only a guest. I’ve already had snakes slither across my path with no harm to them or me. I’m sure I can come up with a similar understanding with the wild boars. It might seem naive, but I’m learning to become a part of my new environment.
I carry with me a long stick. I was advised by the locals in my Portuguese village that if I walk in the woods I should do so with a long stick. Apparently the wild boars, which come out at dusk and can charge if they feel threatened, make their dens in the forest. I don’t know what to do with the stick if I were to be confronted with a wild boar. Duolingo never taught me how to say “What the fuck do I do with this?” in Portuguese.
My aim is to wake up willing to be a beginner every single morning. Like I say, I will never truly know the forest. But if I enter it with the wide eyed care and attention that it deserves then I can make new discoveries each day.
I’m just a beginner at everything. Even stuff I’m qualified in. I’m a personal trainer but every visit to the gym is another chance to learn. I can’t possibly know it all.
At the moment the forest is my gym. Another day to grow, learn and become a part of something special.
Never Give Up PT 