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The day before yesterday, I decided to combine business and pleasure. Having said that, I realise that most of my life is a combination of business and pleasure. I honestly believe that we must live in the NOW. Yesterday is gone, tomorrow will come. Eventually. But we have to live right now, and enjoy each and every second of each and every day. After all, the only certainty we have in this life is that we can’t survive it. And once the time has gone by, it doesn’t come back. I have decided already a very long time ago that I will not let my past ruin my present. Unfortunately, far too many people are not living right now, but are still stuck somewhere in their past. Ok, so be it.

As I had a couple of new clients where I had to deliver new safes, and as they were all situated in Alentejo, one of the most beautiful regions of Europe, I decided to carry out these deliveries myself. Normally I hire a transportation company who does this kind of job, but I wanted to keep some contact with my new customers as well. So I loaded my van on Tuesday, and left home early on Wednesday morning.

All deliveries went very well, all the customers were very satisfied, and if they are satisfied, I am even more satisfied. Having finished the deliveries, I decided to take some very small roads on my way back to the Algarve. I had my camera next to me. I stopped on various places, walked through little villages, saw some old ruins, and fully enjoyed each and every second of that day! As a matter of fact, it was just a perfect day. Only too bad I didn’t spend it with you.

Anyway, the pictures below give a nice idea of the region.

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This morning, I received a list with 40 life lessons from a very special friend of mine who lives at the other side of the pond. I went through the list a couple of times, and because there is a whole lot of truth in each and every point, I decided to publish it over here. The list was originally written by 90 year old Regina Brett, of The Plain Dealer, Ohio, United States. “To celebrate growing older, I wrote this list of different lessons life taught me”, she says. Apparently, it is the most-requested column she’s ever written.

As I said, I liked the different pointviews, so that’s why I just put them in this blog. So here it goes:

1. Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good.

2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.

3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.

4. Your job won’t take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.

5. Pay off your credit cards every month.

6. You don’t have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.

7. Cry with someone. It’s more healing than crying alone.

8. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.

9. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.

10. Make peace with your past so it won’t screw up the present.

11. It’s OK to let your children see you cry.

12. Don’t compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.

13. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn’t be in it.

15. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.

16. Get rid of anything that isn’t useful, beautiful or joyful.

17. Whatever doesn’t kill you really does make you stronger.

18. It’s never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.

19. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don’t take no for an answer.

20. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don’t save it for a special occasion. Today is special.

21. Over prepare, then go with the flow.

22. Be eccentric now. Don’t wait for old age to wear purple.

23. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.

24. Frame every so-called disaster with these words ”In five years, will this matter?”.

25. Always choose life.

26. Forgive everyone everything.

27. What other people think of you is none of your business.

28. Time heals almost everything. Give time, time.

29. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.

30. Don’t take yourself so seriously. No one else does.

31. Believe in miracles.

32. Don’t audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.

33. Growing old beats the alternative — dying young.

34. Your children get only one childhood.

35. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.

36. Get outside every day.  Miracles are waiting everywhere.

37. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else’s, we’d grab ours back.

38. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.

39. The best is yet to come.

40. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.

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Earlier today, I was going through some random pictures I’ve taken over the past three months, say during the spring of this year. I selected a couple of them which I like to call some of my “random favourites”. Some have already been published over here in earlier posts, others have never been published before. But even the ones that have been published in this blog before do deserve their place over here.

I hope you’ll like them as much as I do.

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It’s been a while since I last put some pictures in this blog. A couple of days ago, on one of the many official Portuguese holidays (incredible how many official holidays do exist in this country, they have them for oh so many reasons, and I am pretty sure that the Portuguese would even invent reasons for having public holidays), I was walking around the aria where I live and couldn’t resist taking some pictures which I like to share with you. They were all taken within the range of 15 minutes walking from my house. Sometimes, when the sun is shining (and I must admit, on average that happens some three hundred and thirty [330] days a year), it’s really enjoyable to live here in Southern Europe.

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Golf. Although I had sworn never to play it, I took it up somewhere in 2001 or 2002, during the last two years when I was living in Belgium. In 2003 I moved to the Algarve, one of the best and most famous regions in the world to play the game. Obviously, my golf clubs came with me, as I had really started to like the game. I played a couple of games, mostly together with my Irish neighbour, who is really addicted to golf. Well, he’s a Brit, so that’s pretty easy to understand. But, starting up a business in Portugal was not easy, and I stopped playing the game for some time. Until a couple of weeks ago.

A Belgian friend was visiting, and he wanted to try to hit some balls. I had to find my bag with golf clubs and off we went, to a local golf club’s drivers range. Although I hadn’t touched the clubs in more than five years, I was surprised to still be able to hit some balls perfect (ok, I am honest, some balls, not all of them). We spent a nice Saturday afternoon on that drivers range, and had a lot of fun. And obviously, we found the 19th hole on a little roof terrace in Cacela Velha, so that went just perfect as well.

Since then, I have left my golf clubs next to the front door, so everytime I walk in or out, I see them. I might take them today, and go and shoot some balls again. As I have been invited to go and play a game on one of the new golf courses we have in our neighbourhood. But I told the people who have invited me that I needed a bit more practise before meeting them on the golfcourse.

I have always wondered how the Brits have been able to invent a game like this. Yesterday, I found the answer to that question. The answer was given by Robin Williams…

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Shortly after I arrived in Spain I met a man called Juan. He came to see me because he wanted to train his dog. It turned out he did not need me at all. Soon we became friends and Juan taught me some very important lessons. What struck me when we first met was the way he saluted me. He used to put his right hand on his heart while bowing slightly forward with a broad smile on his face. No one else in the village did that.

It took a while before I could understand him because my knowledge of the language of Cervantes was still very basic in the early days. After a few months he invited to come along to his chabola. Not wanting to admit I did not know what a chabola was, I got in his old Skoda pick-up truck {called a bakkie in South Africa} and off we went for a long trip. After many turns over small roads the track got smaller and smaller until it almost became invisible.

Close to a deep gulley Juan stopped the truck, got out and walked away. Following him what struck me was the stillness of the place. I was surrounded by rugged mountain peaks, saw huge boulders at the bottom of the gulley and a few stark bushes trying to grow in the hard and dusty soil. Juan gestured me to come closer to what was obviously his chabola. It was the back part of a lorry pushed against the rocky face of the gulley.

Here my friend was living, without the use of tap water, bathroom, kitchen or electricity. However he proudly showed me a small plot where long-stemmed plants were growing. Don’ you recognize it, he asked. I didn’t. He smiled at me and said he used it for porros. It took a while before I understood it was his personal stock of marihuana.

This lovable man had come to see me because he wanted to train his dog. What could I possibly teach him?

His request seemed strange because according to me he did not need me at all. The way he lived with his dog enabled him to do what no member of my dog training centre could do with her/his dog. Not one pupil could walk her/his dog off-leash although they were constantly yelling HEEL. But whenever I met Juan in the village his dog was always staying close to him although the animal never wore a leash. When Juan went for a drink in a bar, his dog would simply wait outside. When he was doing the odd job for a client, his dog would wait in the back of the old truck. Juan Domingo never had to say, let alone yell, anything at his dog. Man and dog fully understood each other without the use of words. They were a team, just like the members of a canine pack in the wild are a team. Juan’s dog was for me the clearest example of a very happy dog.

A year later I got a phone call from a German person asking for help with a problem dog. Arriving for my appointment I found an estate surrounded by a very long and high wall. At the massive wooden gate, I rang the intercom and announced Bruno der Hundeman. The gate opened purring like a contented cat and I drove my small van inside. At my right hand side was a vast and immaculate lawn surrounded by flower beds and palm trees. At the end of the drive-way I stopped in front of a huge and magnificent mansion. A maid came down the steps and said her master would soon be there.

I did not have to wait long before an impeccably dressed gentleman welcomed me with an extended hand. Over the following weeks I got to know him quite well, along with his wife and his young, gorgeous Saint Bernard dog. The huge dog was not a problem dog at all. He was simply bored stiff. Yes, theoretically he could run over an endless and immaculate lawn, but he was alone and did not do it. Yes, he was living in a fabulous mansion, but no other dog was ever playing with him. Yes, his owners were wealthy but were not interested in walking him. Yes, his owners were dressed in tailor made clothes but they did not want to throw a ball for their dog.

In other words, the dog was not only bored but unhappy. For weeks on end I visited the mansion and for each visit I brought along my own dogs. That was the best remedy for the ‘problem’ dog. As soon as my pack jumped out of my van they did not have any problem running, sniffing, peeing and pooing. Each time I was picking up their droppings the lord of the manor would say I did not have to do it. The gardeners would clean it up, he said.

At the end of each session I was invited inside the mansion for a chat. I very much liked the delicious cups of coffee, served in a set of famous German porcelain, accompanied by heavenly home made cookies. One day my client asked me if I would like to see his hobby. Could I say NO?

He took me to the back part of his mansion. In a garage that was tidier than my study has ever been, he proudly showed me an old Bentley cabriolet. I said hhmm and hhmm but did not have the courage to tell him his dog did not give a damn about the Bentley.

One rainy day I arrived at the huge wooden gate for another session, rang the intercom and…… the gate did not move. I called my client on my mobile but nobody answered. After a while I left. Later I was told how the business empire of my clients had suddenly gone to the…dogs.

Anyway you must have grasped the point I am making. Haven’t you? Juan did not have a mansion. He lived in a chabola and his dog was a very happy dog.

The young Saint Bernard was living in a beautiful mansion, but he was a very lonely, bored and unhappy dog.

See what I mean when I say how dogs are my teachers?

Kindest regards from Brunothedoglistener
Well-educated dogs are obedient dogs.
Obedient dogs are stable dogs.
Stable dogs have stable owners.
www.brunodogs.com

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Maybe you know already that I like walking with my dogs. Sometimes I wonder: Who doesn’t? But then I think of the millions of dogs that live their lives behind closed doors, gates and fences. For me to walk with my dogs in the beautiful valleys of the Spanish hills is god’s gift. Having done it for many years I discovered that the best walk is for me the walk in complete silence.

What happens during a walk in complete silence is that my dogs are paying attention to me. Preferably I have them in front of me because that allows me to check where they are and what they do. But if one of them stays behind I walk on without saying anything. Of course, I can only do that when I am walking in areas where there is no traffic at all.

During the walk my dogs are paying attention to me and I am paying attention to them simply by looking at each other. They know when I stand still, go left, go right , walk on or walk back. This way of walking is a clear copy of what a pack of canines do on their walks, which are course not ‘walks’ but hunting expeditions. Do you think the members of a pack of wolves are chattering away when they are chasing a deer? The answer is obvious.

As my dogs are my teachers, my walking experience with them gave me an idea for a Sunday morning walk with the members of the local chapter of the University of the Third Age. Before we start I welcome the newcomers and repeat that each member of the group is responsible for her/his dog. Meaning that whenever there is the need {car, cyclists, joggers, etc…} each member of the group calls her/his dog to come close and wait for the release signal.

This time I added something. I asked the group for help with an experiment. My suggestion was that we would walk as a group without uttering a word during five minutes. Off we went. Most of the members stayed quiet but a few could not even keep their mouths shut for that short period.

After five minutes I stopped the group, jumped on a rock and commented on what we had done. According to me we never before had, as a group of human beings, been as close to our dogs as today. During these five minutes we had really been hunting like a natural pack that communicates through body language.

The most exhilarating part of my experience was that a few members had also noticed something. They had noticed that their dogs were paying more attention to them. That was great. For once we had not walked as a noisy, chattering group that is not paying attention to anything else but the sound of their voices.

You can call a silent walk with your dogs a spiritual experience, as it not only allows us to fully enjoy the natural environment, but also to listen to our own soul. A noisy, chattering group on the other hand is a perfect reflection of our society.

In our society we are being bombarded with sounds and images. If you are 65 years old today, you have on average been sitting in front of a TV-screen during 15 years. If you are 18 years old today, you have on average been bombarded by 250.000 different TV-commercials. Is that brain-washing, yes or no?

In addition to TV, there are the noise and the images of the movies, the computer, the computer games, the mobile phones, the car radios and the walkman earpieces. We fill our minds with so many images and so much noise that we cannot listen to our souls anymore. No wonder there are millions of children suffering from what is called ADD or Attention Deficit Disorder.

Animals do not live like that. They do not know what ADD is. Neither do our dogs know what that is. They still know what it is to communicate in silence. When one of my dogs starts sniffing in a more intense way, the others come close because they know she has picked up a special scent. When one of them sprints away fast, the others know she has seen a rabbit and follow her.

Somewhere I have read the following:

Silence is the language of the universe. Everything else is a bad translation.

Isn’t that beautiful?

Just give it a try. If you have a dog, next time you walk with your pet, go to a quiet area and walk with her/him without saying anything. If you do not have a dog go for a silent walk on your own or with a friend. Listen to your own soul, listen to her/his soul and listen to the voice of the universe.

See what happens and then send me a message about it.

Good luck with your silent walk.

Kindest regards from Bruno Goffin

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Fawlty Towers still exists! It is no longer a hotel, but it has become a restaurant in the area where I have my office. Somewhere in the “Greater Almancil Area”, somewhere in the Portuguese Algarve. Earlier this week, I went there for lunch, together with a friend. Upon arrival, we saw a blackboard, announcing a two course lunch for 0 €! We looked at each other, and laughed about the bargain we were going to get. After having  parked the car and while walking towards the front door, we saw the other side of the blackboard, announcing the two course lunch for 10 €! Still a bargain, but obviously, the one person that had written the announcement didn’t know exactly how to spell 10 €!

Anyway, Bazil Fawlty has now become Baziel, a fat French cook in his early forties. He was constantly sniffeling underneath his armpits while talking to himself in a mixture of English and Portuguese with a very funny, undefined accent of which we couldn’t understand a word. Both my friend and I are pretty fluent in French, so we decided to address Baziel in his own language. We told him we wanted the two course lunch for the price that he had announced outside. It took a while before we could convince him to go and take a look at the blackboard. Baziel returned running in the unique Bazil Fawlty style, calling for Manuel, the assistant. Manuel has now become a young Russian girl, who must have arrived only very recently in Portugal as her Portuguese is still very poor. Baziel sent this girl outside to change the announcement.

Anyway, we took a seat, and as an aperitif we ordered two red Martinis on the rocks. It took a while before the girl had understood what kind of drink we wanted, and off she went. It took ages before she returned. Guess what? Martini had been sold out. No more Martini in the whole house! So we decided to have a beer, in order to keep things simple.

A little later, Baziel came to our table (we were the only guests), apologizing for the incapability of this poor little Russian girl that had come all the way from Siberia, blaming the European Union and all other incapable politicians for letting all these foreigners into the country, and he wanted to take our orders. We hadn’t received a menu, so there he started… ratteling down everything that was available. Both my friend and myself didn’t understand a word of what he meant to say, so we asked him to write it down on a piece of paper as it had become clear and obvious that a normal menu didn’t exist inside the whole restaurant. We also asked him to turn the music a little bit down, as we were sitting underneath some loudspeakers which were at least at volume seven or eight. Baziel is not good at computers, as we found out when he was struggeling with the volume. Him switching the computer system that controlled the music in the restaurant off and on felt like explosions in our ears.

While Baziel was at our table, another customer came in wearing shorts, sandals and socks. He came to our table, and asked if we liked his socks! We didn’t. Baziel then started a whole lecture telling this poor bloke which socks go with which trousers and shoes… Incredible! We witnessed all this at our table, while trying to order a two course lunch for 10 €!

We ordered, and were served a very nice meal. The starter was ok, and the main course was nice as well. However, when we were about halfway the main dish, the Russian female Manuel came to our table with the two Martinis that we had ordered in the first place. Of what we could understand, she had been sent by Baziel to the little café next door to get our two Martinis.

Both my friend and I couldn’t stop laughing when we were paying the bill. As a matter of fact, I am still laughing out loud!

This week, Portuguese reality was even better than the very popular seventies BBC-sitcom that was written by John Cleese.

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It is the month of June, somewhere at the Portuguese coast. A small town sits next to the shores of the Atlantic Ocean. The weather has not been that excellent, and the small town looks totally deserted. These are tough times, everybody is in debt, and everybody is living on credit.

Suddenly, a rich tourist comes to town. He enters the only hotel, lays a 100 euro bill on the reception counter, and goes to inspect the rooms upstairs in order to pick one for the night. The hotel owner takes the 100 euro bill and runs to pay his debt to the butcher.

The butcher takes the 100 euro bill, and runs to pay his debt to the pig farmer.

The pig farmer takes the 100 euro bill, and runs to pay his debt to the supplier of his feed and fuel.

The supplier of feed and fuel takes the 100 euro bill and runs to pay his debt to the town’s prostitute that in these hard times of economic crisis, gave her “services” on credit.

The hooker runs to the hotel with the 100 euro bill and pays off her debt to the hotel owner for the rooms that she rented when she took her clients over there.

The hotel owner then lays the 100 euro bill back on the counter, so that the rich tourist will not suspect anything.

At that moment, the rich tourist comes down after inspecting the rooms saying that he did not like any one of them, he takes the 100 euro bill and leaves town.

Nobody earned anything.

However, the whole town is now without debt, and looks to the future with a lot of optimism.

Somehow, that is exactly how the European Governments are doing business today.

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Earlier today, I had a most interesting conversation with one of the Portuguese governmental organisations that still owes me money. My company had made an agreement to deliver a pretty expensive safe over there, and we had agreed for a thirty day payment. The conversation went as follows (in Portuguese obviously, but I am giving the English version right over here):

“Good morning, this is X (governmental organisation), how can I help you?”

“Good morning, my name is Gino, I’d like to get an information if that’s possible”, I replied the receptionist. “Who is the big boss of the financial department within your organisation please?”

“That is Senhor Doutor Nuno C.” the lady answered.

Having lived in this country for almost six years, I know by experience that it is pretty difficult, if not impossible, to get a “big boss of any department of any governmental organisation” on the telephone, so I asked the name of his assistant as well.

“That is Donna Cecilia R.” she answered again.

“Ok, thank you very much. Could you please connect me with Senhor Doutor Nuno C. please?” I kindly asked.

“Who can I tell that’s calling?” she wanted to know.

“Tell him Gino needs to talk to him”, I replied.

I always use my first name, so the secretary might think that I am a good friend of her big boss so she doesn’t ask any more questions and puts me immediately through to him.

Guess what? After having waited at least three minutes with a phone ringing on the other side of the line, the secretary got back to me. “I am very sorry but Senhor Doutor Nuno C. is not available right now” she said.

“That’s not a problem, could you please pass me on to Donna Cecilia R.?” I kindly asked her.

Almost immediately, I got Donna Cecilia on the line.

“Good morning, how can I help you?” Donna Cecilia asked.

“Good morning to you as well, Donna Cecilia. My name is Gino, may I ask you one tiny little question please?” I gently asked her.

“Of course Sir”, she said.

“How long does thirty days take in Portugal?” I asked her.

The line went silent. I could hear her thinking. “I am afraid I didn’t quite understand your question Sir”, Donna Cecilia told me.

“Well, the question is pretty simple. How long does thirty days take in Portugal?” I repeated.

Complete silence at the other end of the line. After a while, she again told me she had not understood my question.

“Well, let me explain a little bit”, I continued. “My company, Gifoa Internacional Lda, and your governmental organisation have made an agreement together. Gifoa was supposed to deliver a pretty heavy and expensive safe to your services, and I had agreed on a thirty day payment, something I hardly ever agree on. Normally, my customers pay COD, because I have to pay my suppliers upfront for all the safes Gifoa imports to sell to the Portuguese market. But then again, there are always exceptions.”

“So we carried out our part of the agreement, and we delivered the safe on March 26th of this year. I have especially waited until April 1st to make up the invoice. I know that 1st of April is widely known as “April’s fools day”, but this was not my idea. If however I had not done this, I would already have been obliged by your government - your department! - to pay the VAT on my invoice to your government, as the accountability closes the first quarter of the year on March 31st, and you know as well as I do that VAT has to be paid to your government by May 15th. Meaning, I would have been obliged to upfront your money that I have not yet received.”

I was getting pretty well in form, so I gently carried on in my best Portuguese: “So… thirty days, counting from April 1st meant that I should have received my money on May 1st. I haven’t. Despite the fact that I have already made several phonecalls, only to hear your people promise to call me back, which they haven’t done so far, and despite the fact that I have already sent four letters, of which one with registered post, to remind your services that you still owe me money, I haven’t received any answers yet. So today we are June 9th. If my maths are correct, that means that since April 1st, already seventy days have gone by. So I was just wondering how long thirty days in Portugal really take, meaning, when can I expect to see some money from your department?”

“I now do understand your question Sir”, Donna Cecilia gently replied. “May I have your invoice details and VAT number, so I can check it for you.

I gave her the information she needed, and after a couple of minutes, she got back to me. “Well, your invoice will be paid no later than June 23rd” she told me.

As a conclusion, thirty days in Portugal really mean eighty four days. But in the meantime, I have to pay my invoices as well.

Doing business in Portugal, from time to time can be a pretty challenging activity!

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