Chapter Twenty-Four
Zephyr
What a wild ride Porto is. Like absolute madness but in the best possible way.
I’ve met all sorts of characters on my adventures over the last year but none quite as fun as the members of the Little Porto Book Club.
It’s like when you find the exact right book at the right time, a novel that changes your perspective on the world, when you look up from the pages, you see life through a different lens.
The story indelibly shifts who you are as a person, makes you view things from another angle.
That’s what meeting the book club has been like for me.
I’ve just slotted in, we all have, without any concern for who we are, or God forbid, how we dress.
What we believe in. Sure, there’s some back and forth as I help old Albert navigate life in the twenty-first century but that’s totally normal for a grandpa pushing eighty.
A year ago, I left the sunny shores of Queensland in a bit of a rage. No one understood me. Or the angst I was feeling. My worries about life in a small town where I felt so caged, so contained, like I couldn’t breathe.
I’d turned up for the usual family Sunday lunch, they were all aghast that I dared wear black lipstick, it was panic stations all round.
Over lipstick? And my boots, just what was I playing at?
There was fear, as if I was one step away from summoning a demon.
I didn’t bother telling them that I was also conflicted about life, who I am and where I fit in this big wide world.
Not if they couldn’t get past the lipstick.
I sprung my news about my adventures on them instead.
My big solo backpacking trip. A way to throw off those shackles and leave a town where nothing ever changed.
A place I felt like I didn’t belong – not even in my own skin.
It was goodbye to Emma, and hello Zephyr.
In mythology Zephyrus is the Greek God of the West Wind, who represents spring, bringing warm gentle breezes that indicate the end of winter, when flowers bloom, sunshine abounds, and so the name felt right to me, almost like a rebirth, a renewal.
A fresh start. Maybe I could bloom in a different environment? Under a new name. A new patch of sky.
What I didn’t expect was to be lonely whilst surrounded by so many people. Faces change so fast in hostels. The disconnect only grows bigger. What if I’m destined to always feel alone? Always on the sidelines? Where do I fit, if not here?
Existential crises are hardcore. Books have been a comfort, a safe place to shut off the noise and think, really think, about what it all means.
What my purpose here on earth is. Like isn’t that so heavy?
And I don’t have an answer, and probably won’t ever know for sure, but since joining the book club, I can catch my breath.
They get me, get my introspection. No one is judging me on my lipstick choices, maybe on my book choices, sure, but that’s to be expected.
Is Porto the place I was always meant to find?
Viviane said something that stuck with me.
To paraphrase, it was something about books having the ability to shape you as a person and indelibly change your life.
If I put that into the context of this journey, it feels much the same for me – in that the right people, like the book club members, have the same ability to shape my life, give me new perspectives, make me look at the world around me differently.
Even old Albert, who is helping me see that maybe my family back home weren’t being closed-minded to hurt me, they just didn’t know what I needed, and how could they, when I don’t even know?