Last autumn, my friend and I decided to visit the Azores Islands. Both of us wanted to escape to a little-known place, far from the business world and family obligations. I also felt the need to put my budding author career and preparations for publishing my third book, On the Edge, on hold.
We meticulously planned this trip and realized we could only visit two of the nine islands. Although we had ten days, it was quite difficult to lose a day traveling by plane between two islands. Additionally, March was off-season, and we could expect unfavorable weather.
Upon arriving at the first island, São Miguel, I hurriedly began checking off every place we needed to see, much like a businessperson. The rush and attention to detail were critical to ensuring we considered this trip profitable based on our experiences. However, experiencing meant seeing, not necessarily feeling what we were experiencing. The time difference and impatience caused insomnia, and I woke up more tired than ever. When we reached the second island, Terceira, the sudden temperature changes, wind, and my respiratory sensitivity led to a sinus infection. Despite consulting a doctor who prescribed medication, I had a fever and was bedridden for a day.
I could do nothing more than look out the window at the storm outside and watch Netflix. I was frustrated. The efficiency of this trip was decreasing because, despite the weather, I could have been outside seeing something. When I felt better, I went down to the dining room. It was lunchtime, and the receptionist was warming her food. I spent the next hour talking with her and learning more about Terceira and her life. There was so much warmth in this communication, and I was curious about how people could live in such weather when the Atlantic Ocean was raging. This memory is probably one of the most beautiful I have from the Azores—the warmth emanating from our conversation. This was the moment I realized that the unique experiences I was seeking could be had through a simple conversation over tea in the dining room of a guesthouse with Laura. The soul of the island lay in people like her, and I was living the experience of my life, watching the storm through the window and enjoying the impressions we shared together. In conclusion, I was not in control of anything, not even my body, yet I was living one of the most beautiful moments in the Azores. I wasn’t checking off boxes; I was simply existing.
