Day 2

Day 2: yesterday we had our "first encounter" on our way from the airport to the city of Mytilini. There were some refugees camping on a roundabout underneath some trees. We soon started to understand who was a refugee, who was a tourist and who is a local. Refugees carry sleeping bags , tents as big backpacks. They are wary and a bit scared but you can see the slim relief in their faces for being here. 

We had the day off today and went around the island for a walk. We headed to the port. There were many scouts collection rubbish bins and cleaning the beaches. There were tents all around the port. People using every bit of shade possible and any wire as a clothes line. We still can't figure out this place. There were big queues outside the ferry office. Many people trying to get on the next ferry to mainland. 

Right next to the port there's a private beach fenced off and only accessible for tourists. It's a weird clash of realities. There was an ambulance helping a kid. It's Sunday and the clinics and hospitals are closed for some rest for the volunteers. 

Further along the street there were rubber boats all over the beach. 

As we walk we count many many life jackets on the side of the street. 

We sit and observe this empty beach full of cues regarding what happen there. Many cars drive past and try as spot something but we can't figure out what. There was a guy driving alone that came last many times and I think he was waiting for us to leave. There were people with binoculars also driving past. Were they looking for new boats? We don't know. 

We walk through the port on our way back. We don't know what to think. There's so many people. We finally stop near a cafe and rest. A woman (possible Romanian?) comes to us with a baby in her arms and asks for money. We say no and offer some water. Guilt and shame all over me. She turns around and asks for money to some refugees. They give it to her. More guilt. More shame. I have long decided not to give money to beggars. But why? My moral scales are so messed up. What's right? What's wrong? 

We try and say hello to everyone on the street. Some smile. Some ignore us. There's a lot of refugees taking photos of themselves and their family. We hope one day these photos become part of a happy album that tells the story of how they escape war and were welcome in Europe. It's hard to tell if the worst part is over or not. What's next?

Tomorrow we head to the camps. We have no clue what to expect. 

Day 1

Day one: we have arrived to Greece. We are scared and anxious. It has only been one month since the day we really talked about coming here. After a full day watching the news about the refugee crisis in Europe, we felt powerless and had to act upon our desire to help. We were in the "perfect" situation. No job, no house, no commitments. We decided to contact a few organisations and see where that would lead. 

We received a tip regarding one organisation called Doctors of the World. We got in touch. Several emails and two weeks after, we receive the green light. We had been chosen for a mission in the island of Lesvos, Greece. Now was the time to decide whether to go or not. We were in Cambodia at this point. Our head was a mess. What do we do now? We said yes. 

And here we are. 

Love letter #1 / Carta de amor nº1

Hauraki Gulf - New Zealand

(Em português no fim)

I'm not one for long emotional messages. 

But somedays, like today, I feel like pouring my heart out with words. 

I feel like writing a love letter to everyone that I love, to people I see on the street and to life itself. 

Yesterday I got news about a dear friend passing away. She was only my age, which only made everything more tragic.

photo: Jack Lewis

Esta semana celebramos 5 meses na Nova Zelândia. 

Parece que chegámos ontem mas já vivemos em 5 lugares diferentes, temos um carro, construímos mobília, fizemos uma roadtrip de quase 3000km e temos 2 ou 3 amigos. 

É difícil explicar este país, mas tão fácil de o entender. 

Tenho tantas maneiras diferentes por onde posso pegar o assunto que não sei por onde começar. 

As coisas boas toda a gente as sabe: Toda a gente vê as fotos das praias fantásticas, dos lugares bonitos e das cidades à beira mar (e quem não viu, pode ver aqui.) Mas há coisas que não fotografo, que não falo, que não sei como introduzir no meio de uma chamada telefónica para Portugal enquanto falo sobre a minha semana. 

Duas vezes por semana eu e o Jack fazemos voluntariado numa instituição que na verdade não é uma instituição.

E assim se passou o Natal e o Ano Novo. Ufa! "Ja so falta a Ilha Sul" pensam voces. Naaa... entao e todos os bocadinhos da Ilha Norte que nos passaram ao lado?

(para abrir na página "certa", clicar aqui)

Recentemente pediram-me para escrever uma crónica para a revista anual do Curso de Design de Produto da Escola Soares dos Reis, do qual fiz parte! :)

Se alguém tiver curiosidade, aqui fica na integra e o link no fim para verem a edição completa:

Tenho que começar por vos contar um segredo: Nunca escrevi a minha reflexão do 3º período no 12º ano e sempre soube que um dia a reflexão me viria bater à porta e dizer "é hoje!". Pensei em escrevê-la quando acabei o meu primeiro ano de universidade em Inglaterra, quando acabei o curso, quando estava naquela fase estranha em que tenho uma licenciatura e não sei o que fazer com ela, quando cheguei à Nova Zelândia... e nunca aconteceu.

É Domingo e estou a escrever à secretária num quarto verde deslavado, com uma textura na parede que só posso descrever como “o jantar eram ervilhas e o miúdo não queria come-la por nada deste mundo. Atirou-as à parede do quarto e esperou que ninguém notasse. Lá secaram e ficaram”. O Armário range quando é aberto, existem bibelôs na mesinha de cabeleira, as cortinas e as cadeiras são forradas com o mesmo tecido “tie dye”, as colchas já estão em altura de serem mudadas e no entanto somos felizes aqui.

Vivemos agora numa pensão. Chegámos há 4 dias. No hall de entrada existe uma canto cheio de panfletos e cartazes com coisas e ideias para fazer em Hamilton e por toda a Nova Zelândia. “Passeio de barco com os golfinhos” “Explora as cavernas” “Excursão a ilhas paradisíacas”. Parece tudo tão fora de lugar, numa casa onde ninguém me parece estar aqui para esse tipo de “aventuras”.