BLISS

It’s that time of the year again...

Leafs start to turn into all shades of vibrant brown, red, and yellow and slowly start to fall. Leafs get crunchy as you walk past them, the air is fresh, the sun is out and you gradually start to take your winter clothes out of the closet.

Who cares if the calendar says that Autumn doesn’t start until the 22^nd of September?

You can feel it in the air. It’s Autumn alright. One the most beautiful seasons of the year. There’s just something special about Autumn and maybe that’s because the part that everyone loves about it doesn’t last long.

We cherish it more due to its short lived beauty.

This Summer was particularly different from the other 3 I have experienced whilst in the UK as it lasted longer and it was also more periods of hot weather.

On my first entry blog I described my experience since landing in the UK for the first time and how different the temperature felt. It was August and I was wearing my winter Zara coat whilst everyone was wearing t-shirts and looking at me like I was some sort of weirdo.

I remember being beginning of October 2013 when I had a panic attack over the cold I felt. It wasn’t freezing but my body wasn’t used to the type of cold I felt and the type of cold I was feeling so it entered something I like to call “safety/panic mode”.

This happened during a 5 minute walk from the bus stop to my house. I never experienced anything quite like that before. All of me was freezing and as soon as I walked in my housemate pushed me against the radiator, placed blankets on top of me and then asking me “It’s only October mate, how are you going to survive Winter?”.

I had no idea.  I went on to have a hot shower as my body was struggling to cope and I was unable to warm myself up.

Summer in Portugal is dry. In England is moist. Almost tropical, hence, after a few days of heat, the inevitable storm follows. It’s disgusting. You’re always sticky and feeling gross.

The Winter in Portugal is also dry, you can feel the cold reach your bones. In England is something that after 3 years I still can’t exactly describe. I couldn’t feel my hands, it was horrible.

I was given a great piece of advice back then: always wear a hat or carry a hat on your bag. Apparently our body loses heat from the top of our head first and by using a hat, the chances of keeping yourself in the right body temperature increases massively and end up feeling less cold as well. It actually works. I am now the proud owner of a few wool hats which I use on a daily basis like a fashion accessory. 

Like shoes. You can never just have one pair or two. Simply doesn’t work that way.

I have to admit that I have been resisting to the best of my abilities to turn the heating on. I think I did amazingly well this year as it was only last night that I turned it on for the first time since the beginning of Summer.

My boyfriend was out and I was on my own cuddled up in my blanket re-watching Gilmore Girls on Netflix . I am a huge fan of Gilmore Girls and in case you are to, be prepared for a new season coming up soon!

But back to the subject: I was eating a proper Autumnal soup which I’ve made myself: Sweet potato with rosemary. Delicious, nutritious and definitely fits well in the season.

I felt extremely comfy and happy. For nothing in particular, it’s the magical aspect of the season. You are relaxed and feel comfortable and there’s this warmth in your heart for no reason at all. You are happy just because you are happy.

Autumn is also the time where you feel like you want a duvet day.  Spend the day in bed watching movies with a nice cup of tea and some chocolate but at the same time you also want to put your wellies on, your wool hat and go for a nice walk in the park and appreciate the beauty of the season.

Autumn is great. It’s like in-between nostalgic moment, where you are transitioning from Summer to Christmas and it’s amazing. 

You remember your happy childhood moments and you are in a safe moment in your mind. I remember when I was still in kindergarten and used to take a blue blanket with me every day. I would walk around on my own with my blanket enjoying the colors of the leafs in a little bush they had there. It was by a river and an abandoned house which we used to say it was hunted and where only a witch lived in. Perfect scenario for Halloween right? Thankfully, I would go home at the end of the day as I am sure that I wouldn't find it as beautiful during the evening!

I also remember that I had a vintage poster in my bedroom of a little girl with a see-through umbrella posing outside during Autumn. I believe it to be one of many famous photos by photographer Kim Anderson as it fits perfectly in his work but can't say for sure.

And walks in the park when my nana used to do cross-country running and take me with her. Finally, a painting at my grandparents house... My grandparents have an original oil painting in their living room of a forest during Autumn with a golden vintage frame. It's a beautiful painting that captures the true essence and colors of the season. You can get lost in the details. It's huge and takes pretty much most of the wall. It's not painted by anyone famous, probably worth close to nothing but I have always been in love with that painting.

Take a deep breath and smile. Aaahhhh Autumn... Welcome back my friend.

Duvet days and walks in the park. Gert lush. Can’t get more Bristolian nor perfect than that :) 

Photo by Kim Anderson

Memórias de uma vida diferente

Hoje a meio da tarde li um artigo relativamente ao aumento do salário mínimo. Acabei por partilhar o link no meu Facebook e desabafar (mais uma vez) a minha frustração e tristeza com o estado do meu País juntamente com a minha confusão com a indiferença do povo Português. Já estou em Inglaterra há mais de três anos e quando olho para trás, visualizo dois cenários completamente diferentes. Numa tela vejo como a minha vida mudou, o quanto aprendi, o quanto cresci, o que vivenciei em Inglaterra. E na tela que representa Portugal não vejo nada. Tudo estático. Nada mudou. E isso custa-me. Pela minha família, pelos amigos, por aqueles que parece que não têm voz ou a quem a voz se esgotou porque os gritos de desespero por ajuda para aqueles que nos deviam servir não tiveram qualquer efeito.

Eu compreendo. Toda a gente tem o seu limite. Uns resignam-se, outros juntam-se a eles e outros, como eu, emigram.

Mas adiante. A minha Mãe comentou no meu post e mencionou a minha situação de há uns anos quando estava grávida em que, muito basicamente, fui despedida da TvCabo, onde na altura trabalhava a full-time.

Um pouco de background à situação. Comecei a trabalhar para a TvCabo quando tinha 19 ou 20 anos. Foi o meu segundo trabalho a sério, o primeiro foi no 1696 na TMN.

Comecei como muita gente, no call centre. Estava na linha de retenção.

A linha de retenção é aquela linha dedicada que quando alguém contacta um serviço a dizer que quer rescindir, fala com um menino ou uma menina muito simpático/a e lhe é oferecida uma oferta ou um desconto para que a pessoa mantenha o serviço. Eu era uma dessas meninas simpáticas e foi lá que conheci o Pai da minha filha que também lá trabalhava.

Passado uns anos, abriu uma vaga para o Departamento de Auditorias onde eram avaliadas as chamadas dos operadores de diversas linhas de apoio ao cliente; eu consegui a vaga e transferiram-me para esse Departamento.

Problema? Deixava de estar empregada com contracto apesar de continuar empregada por uma agência diferente (Reditus) MAS teria que começar a passar recibos verdes.

Ora bem, eu na altura tinha talvez uns 21 anos e recibos verdes para mim não significava grande coisa. Existiam algumas notícias que davam conta dos “falsos recibos verdes” mas a informação era escassa e para ser sincera isso estava completamente fora do meu radar, por ingenuidade minha achava que falsos recibos verdes é para quem trabalha para empresas que não são de confiança. 

Acima desse Departamento, só os altos quadros. Isto significava progressão de carreira. "Bora lá", pensei eu.

Aos 23 anos, resolvi ir para a Universidade. Fui mais tarde que o normal por motivos pessoais mas na altura a minha vida estava estável o suficiente e tinha o apoio da minha família então candidatei-me e entrei. 

Entrava na TvCabo cedinho de manhã, à hora de almoço ia para a Universidade e depois voltava ao final da tarde e trabalhava até tarde. Perdi conta às vezes que saí daquele edifício à meia-noite… Mas o meu trabalho não dependia de ninguém e a minha chefe concordou que não havia problema em eu dividir o meu horário assim desde que o trabalho aparecesse feito. (Obrigada Su, és especial. Beijinho.)

Entretanto, houve mudança de chefias e eu engravidei. Estava grávida de 3 meses sem saber. Dia sim, dia não ia ao hospital porque me sentia super mal. Exames de gravidez? Negativo. Testes ao sangue? Tudo bem. Ecografias? Tudo fantástico e maravilhoso. Cheguei ao ponto de achar que tinha um tumor no cérebro por causa das náuseas e tonturas constantes. Mas não, era “só” a Diana que os médicos não conseguiam detectar!

Tive muitos problemas durante a gravidez e isso forçou-me a ter que parar de trabalhar aos 5 ou 6 meses de gestação.

Foi aí que percebi da pior maneira que o termo “recibos verdes” significa que direitos é uma palavra que automaticamente deixa de fazer parte da tua vida.

Juro que sentia que estava a viver um pesadelo. Tentei falar com chefias que podiam fazer alguma coisa (como empregarem-me para que eu pudesse receber ordenado durante a baixa e quando a Diana nascesse), mas em vão. 

Pessoas que se sentaram a 5 metros de mim, na mesma sala durante 2 ou 3 anos, com quem convivi fora do trabalho e que quando chegou a altura de provar o tipo de ser humano que eram, simplesmente ignoraram-me.

Lembro-me como se fosse hoje. Abordei uma colega que hierarquicamente era superior a mim e pedi-lhe ajuda. Ela já era Mãe com três filhos, achei que como Mãe ela seria compreensiva. Expliquei o que se passava e que não queria perder o emprego (algo que ela já estava a par). O desconforto na cara dela era notório. Não porque ela não pudesse fazer nada mas simplesmente não quis ajudar porque não era a responsabilidade dela.

Perdi mesmo o meu emprego e fiquei de baixa médica sem direito a nada, sem ser o apoio à natalidade implementado pelo José Sócrates que na altura era cerca de €146 por mês. Esse incentivo foi entretanto abolido porque como toda a gente sabe, Portugal tem abundância de crianças! Passei mal nessa altura. Bem mal! E a minha fé nas pessoas ficou bastante abalada.

Claro que investiguei tudo sobre recibos verdes, algo tinha que estar errado e descobri que eu era um caso de falsos recibos verdes por variadíssimas razões. Tentei avançar com processo em tribunal mas também isso em vão. Fiz queixa na Direcção Geral do Trabalho mas nada aconteceu. Ninguém queria saber. E eu estupefacta.

Depois de uma gravidez complicada e que inclusivamente me obrigou a estar internada, a Diana nasceu via cesariana em Dezembro. Tinha ela 3 meses de idade quando a minha Mãe me disse que precisava de ajuda na escola dela e que considerando que eu tinha contas para pagar, se eu queria ir trabalhar com ela. Aceitei. Levava a menina comigo todos os dias de manhã para Lisboa e lá passávamos o dia as três juntas.

Meses muito complicados mas de alguma forma, com a ajuda da minha família, lá superei, lá me levantei, lá voltei para a Universidade e lá me formei.

Isto tudo para dizer que a Diana vai agora fazer 8 anos. E em 8 anos, Portugal continua podre. Corrupção em todo o lado e é o País onde políticos roubam sempre daquele que menos pode suportar perder nem que seja €1.

Eu agora vivo num País onde isto seria impensável acontecer e caso acontecesse, o empregador estaria em muitos maus lençóis. E eu receberia uma grande compensação financeira.

Fico parva com as notícias que me chegam. A UGT a fingir que se importa com os trabalhadores e a pedir um aumento de salário mínimo para os €565 mensais e o Governo a dizer que os empregadores não conseguem suportar esse valor.

É como se estivesse a assistir a uma peça de teatro de fraca produção com péssimos actores a quem me apetece atirar ovos para cima e exigir o meu dinheiro de volta. O problema é que esses ovos são provavelmente o almoço e o jantar de muita gente e a cortina fecha-se comigo incrédula de como é que isto continua a acontecer num País que supostamente pertence à UE e em 2016.

E depois espantam-se de eu ser a favor do Brexit. Encher mais o cú a essa gente mesmo estando aqui? Não obrigada. Sim, porque o dinheiro que Inglaterra paga à UE é fruto dos impostos que aqui pago. Estive perto de passar fome pela ausência de protecção para mim e para a minha filha por parte do Governo. Já tive a minha dose.

Finalizo com uma questão que continua a pairar na minha mente: como é que há pessoas que deitam a cabeça na almofada ao final do dia e conseguem dormir sabendo o mal que fazem a milhares de pessoas diariamente? Não consigo compreender.

O lado triste de quando emigras e ninguém te diz

Quando és inicialmente confrontado com a ideia de emigrar, das duas uma: ou sabes que é temporário e que eventualmente voltas para o teu País ou então vais com a ideia de “vamos ver no que dá”, sabendo perfeitamente que a possibilidade de te instalares permanentemente no estrangeiro é real.

A forma como estas duas possibilidades são abordadas tem um grande peso na forma como te relacionas com os teus amigos. Não digo família, porque tradicionalmente nós Portugueses somos bastante chegados à família e isto não acontece. 

No meu caso, emigrei com a segunda ideia mencionada acima. Vim para Inglaterra sabendo perfeitamente que a ideia de regressar a Portugal era bastante diminuta. No inicio foi complicado, admito. As saudades de casa e da comida custavam mas acima de tudo fazia-me falta o conforto psicológico que é saber que estava na minha zona de conforto. 

Perdi tudo isso a partir do momento em que o avião descolou. Deixei de pertencer a Portugal mas na verdade também não pertencia a Inglaterra. Fiquei quase como órfã e não consigo evitar sentir-me assim mesmo que pouca gente o compreenda. 

A realidade inicial era que os meus amigos metiam posts no meu Facebook, comentavam as minhas fotos a dizer que tinham saudades e para eu voltar; quando eu ia a Lisboa faziam questão de me ver e as conversas mantinham-se inalteradas.

Depois, sem eu perceber muito bem como, tudo isso mudou. Os comentários nas fotos passaram a ser apenas um Like ocasional, as mensagens passaram a ser recebidas com semanas de intervalo.

Quando emigras apercebes-te que começas a perder aniversários, baby showers e nascimentos mas vês tudo isso acontecer através do écran de um computador. Perdes casamentos porque um convite nunca chegou. Porque naquele momento, a tua amizade já não é importante nem forte o suficiente para festejar um evento que (supostamente) acontece uma vez na vida. É-te dito que foi preciso fazer escolhas e tu manténs a postura mas por dentro ficas na merda porque sabes que se fosse ao contrário, nao haveria sequer escolha possivel sobre a presença de A ou B.

Não passas duma memória distante prestes a desaparecer da mente daqueles em quem tu ainda pensas quase diariamente. Porque afinal, foste tu que te foste embora.

Tu continuas num País que nao é o teu. O teu coração mantém-se em Lisboa e em Lisboa, a vida continua sem ti. 

Os teus amigos continuam a fazer jantaradas e almoçaradas, continuam com o dia a dia e com planos para o fim de semana, vida essa da qual tu já nao fazes parte. Continuas a testemunhar as amizades que se mantêm e começas a observar que há pessoas novas nessas fotos que tu não sabes quem é nem nunca ouviste falar.

Quando finalmente, sim FINALMENTE estás de férias e sentes que finalmente vais poder respirar de novo porque estás em casa, fazes de tudo para estar com os teus amigos e mostrar que a amizade se mantem. Tens coisas que queres partilhar e queres saber as novidades. Entristece-te quando eles pouco ou nada tentam porque o diariamente continua e é complicado planear coisas com 3 ou 4 meses de antecedência.

Mas tu precisas desses 3 ou 4 meses meses para conseguires um voo com um preço mais acessível e porque precisas marcar ferias no trabalho. Gostavas de um pouco mais de compreensão mas ao final do dia foste tu que te foste embora.

Vai chegar o dia em que as mensagens que já tão raramente acontecem, vão cessar.

Vai chegar o dia em que vais estar de férias mas tu própria já não vais enviar mensagens de grupo a avisar que estás por perto e que adoravas ver aquelas pessoas que fazem o teu coração ficar quentinho. Porque mais uma rejeição daqueles com quem cresceste vai doer e já custa a dor que sentes diariamente num País que não é teu.

Vai chegar o dia em que tu há muito que és uma memória distante e que vais ter que aceitar a nova realidade em que te encontras.

Vai chegar o dia em que vais ter que aceitar que és de nacionalidade e criação Portuguesa mas que a cada dia que passa começas a ser menos e menos uma emigrante e cada vez te misturas mais com a cultura Britânica. O sotaque já não soa Americano porque aprendeste Inglês a ver filmes; pedes desculpa e obrigada 40 vezes por dia. Sabes que definitivamente algo mudou em ti quando ficas solenemente irritada com a falta de cortesia de algumas pessoas em situações mundanas como a ausência de um acenar de mão quando cedes passagem.

Vai chegar o dia em que aqueles com quem cresceste vão ser uma memória distante porque para atenuar a dor e não largares tudo aquilo que tanto lutaste num País que não é teu, não tens escolha.

E para deixares de te sentir órfão, tens que fazer uma escolha. E a escolha apesar de difícil, e aquela que te vai manter no rumo que escolheste para ti, para a tua vida e para os teus. Se estás no mesmo barco que eu, força! Porque para a frente é que é caminho.

Guest blogger - Brexit: the aftermath

As the whole world knows by now, the UK has decided to leave the European Union. Due to all the recent and shameful events that have been seen all throughout the UK, I am still unable to write an entry on my blog that will do justice to the reality of events and an entry that doesn't sound too emotional.

Facebook is Brexit, newspapers is Brexit, Twitter is Brexit, people talking on the streets is Brexit, go the pub and all I hear is Brexit, leave the pub out of frustration; get home to watch some TV only to find out that apparently nothing else is happening in the world apart from Brexit. Brexit this, Brexit that. Brexit! Brexit! Brexit! Brexit! Honestly, I can't stand it anymore.

I am a tax paying citizen in this country but I am here as a guest. I have the utmost respect for British people but I can't help of feel that I must remain silent. I have justified my point of view on a previous entry in this blog and in countless posts on Facebook that I proactively joined or was almost forced to respond once the results were known. I stand by what I said. I still believe the EU (organisation) is rotten from the inside and requires change. I still believe the people's voices would not be heard if the country had voted to stay. There would be no consequences for the elites and the corrupt system that is now the EU. Business would carry on as usual whilst a few members would relish on the result only as an excuse to steal a bit more.

For now, the country is divided, we are all grieving. Many people have seen a side of their own friends they have never seen before. The racism and xenophobic attacks have spread like the worst epidemic catastrophe that one could have ever imagined. People are grieving, communities are divided. I am speechless.

I have requested another blogger, Adam Tavener, if I could use his words instead. Adam also lives in Bristol (hence my request to him), he's a businessman and the Chairman of his own firm Clifton Asset Management. I believe that mirroring the words of someone who is a British national and who was on the side of the Remain campaign allows me to be unbiased at the moment; which I feel I must remain at the moment. 

I will, however, say this:
There is a big difference between Europe (the continent) and the European Union aka EU (the organisation) and how the UK relates to them. It's important for people from other countries to know that.

Owen Jones, placed it beautifully in his "Grieve now if you must – but prepare for the great challenges ahead" article published in The Guardian when he said "Threats that you will lose everything mean little if you already feel you have little to lose."

Maybe that's why the UK's vote was not only a cry for help from the poorer communities but as Glenn Greenwald said: "Corrupt elites always try to persuade people to continue to submit to their dominance in exchange for protection from forces that are even worse. That’s their game. But at some point, they themselves, and their prevailing order, become so destructive, so deceitful, so toxic, that their victims are willing to gamble that the alternatives will not be worse, or at least, they decide to embrace the satisfaction of spitting in the faces of those who have displayed nothing but contempt and condescension for them.
There is no single, unifying explanation for Brexit, Trumpism, or the growing extremism of various stripes throughout the West, but this sense of angry impotence — an inability to see any option other than smashing those responsible for their plight — is undoubtedly a major factor. As Bevins put it, supporters of Trump, Brexit, and other anti-establishment movements “are motivated not so much by whether they think the projects will actually work, but more by their desire to say FUCK YOU” to those they believe (with very good reason) have failed them."

Here's Adam.

Anyone else feel weird?

"At age 54, having started work at 17, being part of the EU, in its various forms, has been all I have known in my adult life. 

Although it never really dominated my thoughts or business decisions (we are a largely UK-focussed business) it was always there, in the background, a small but continuous noise, like some sort of bureaucratic tinnitus.

Like most of us (I suppose) I have felt many passing emotions towards the EU. Admiration at superb, largely empty French motorways.  Annoyance at the level of debt needed to fund the building of said superb motorways. 
Frustration at seemingly crazy bits of legislation designed to shape the behavior of 28 very different member states, and huge appreciation for the way that youngsters from Spain, France, Germany, Italy and the rest seemed to be able to go out and enjoy themselves in the evening, consuming alcohol responsibly and never causing the slightest trouble. Compare that to the war zone that is the centre of my home city of Bristol on a Friday and Saturday night, and you have to wonder where our kids learnt to behave with such breath-taking stupidity.

So it was always there, sometimes a talking point, but in Britain, particularly, it didn’t impinge much on daily life, and elections to the European parliament were almost completely ignored. 

For most Brits the biggest impact was probably being able to go through the ‘EU Citizens’ immigration channel when going on holiday, and being able to buy cheap fags and booze in greater quantities than was previously possible.

Then everything changed. I went to bed on Thursday last thinking that the Brexit campaign had proved their point, people were frustrated with the issues upon which they based their campaign, and something needed to be done, but ultimately caution would win out, and we would, by a small margin, vote to continue our relationship with Europe. Big mistake.

The decision that we took left me with an odd sense of bereavement in that something that I had simply taken for granted for so long would no longer be there. It didn’t mean that everything would automatically be awful, I didn’t buy all the project fear stuff, or better, I narrowly voted for remain as I found some of the Brexit economic arguments less than compelling, but absolutely, profoundly different.

If you will indulge me in an anecdote, I think an incident in my somewhat unruly youth sums up how I have been left feeling about this. Candidly I had a fractious and difficult relationship with my father who had the unenviable task of bringing up three of us single handed. By the age of 15 my rebellious spirit (and complete lack of caution or brains) got the better of me, and after a particular disagreement I announced that I was going to leave the family home and go and live with my mother and her new husband (uninvited, I might add, and much to my new stepfather’s utter dismay). This was the Tavener family equivalent of a defection from North Korea to South, a kind of treachery that could not be forgiven. Or so I was to find out later.

So off I went to live with the two of them in a pretty village in South Wales. After a couple of weeks I realised that I missed pretty much everything about my original home life. Whilst I was in the midst of it nothing felt special, but once it was no longer there I suddenly appreciated all of it - brother, sister, pets, garden, the lot. So I did the obvious thing and wrote a letter to my father explaining to him that I may have been a bit hasty, and that, on reflection, I was ready to come home now.

The reply I received was simply life changing for me. I was informed, in no uncertain terms, that I had made my bed, so I must lie in it, and was thus not welcome to return home, or even to visit.  Furthermore, and to rub salt in, I was told that things had been a lot more pleasant subsequent to my departure, and that the remaining family unit were having a whale of a time without me. In conclusion, I read, we wish you well, but you are absolutely on your own; actions have consequences.

At 15 years of age I have to say, this was a slap in the face that shocked me to my core, and I certainly spent the next few months feeling a deep sense of grief and loss. My fault, absolutely, actions do have consequences, but wow, what a short sharp life lesson that was.

The point of my sharing all this is that, for many of us, myself included, our sudden exit from the sometimes frustrating but ultimately comforting bosom of the EU evokes precisely those feelings, loss, and a slight fearfulness of the unknown. The comparison ends there however. Things did work out ok for me in the end, although it took quite a few more hard lessons to knock all the crap out of me. But the UK is different. We were, and are, one of the world’s most successful economies. 

We have an unrivaled history of blazing trails in almost all areas, commerce, arts, science, you name it. If you doubt me then you really should read what Bill Bryson has to say about us remarkable Brits. There never was a nation that punched so far above its geographic and demographic weight, and, once the new normal sinks in, I really believe that we will continue to do so.

In the short term there are a few things that urgently need to happen. The name calling must stop. We had a democratic vote, yet once again the side that lost won’t accept the result. To me that is profoundly undemocratic, indeed it verges on the dictatorial - ‘we will keep having the vote until it goes the way we want’. Not a good advertisement for our supposed intelligentsia. Various devolved administrations should stop banging the opportunist drum about breaking up the union. Grow up, by creating more uncertainty at this point you are actively harming the people you represent.

But most of all we need leadership. Now. Not after party processes that are months away. We need the confidence that there is a plan, and we are getting on with it right now. 
This businessman didn’t vote to leave, but we are where we are, and I believe we do have an opportunity to prove once again what a world beating place the UK is. Now that it is done I will do absolutely everything I can to make the new reality a huge success. Yes, it’s a big change, but it’s also a real chance to come together and demonstrate that our characteristic attributes of decency, tolerance, entrepreneurial spirit and hard work are just as effective, possibly more so, outside the EU than in it."

The EU referendum: a view from a goldfish bowl

As I write this, we are only just a few days away before the UK votes to either Leave or Remain as a member of the European Union.

I decided to write this post as this is a subject that has attracted a big deal of attention on the media (obviously) and I have spent quite a significant time in understanding whether the UK is better off in or outside the EU.

One of the things I came to realise is that both the media and the Government aren’t really listening to the people of Britain and their concerns. This referendum is lacking in planning and in providing accurate information or even giving the British people the re-assurance they need in key points.

I will highlight what I have been seeing to be the biggest problem with the referendum and why everyone is so confused with how the polls are moving. If only a few months ago it was preposterous to even imagine that the UK would vote in favour of leaving the EU, now the scenario is completely different. Same with the American elections and Trump’s increasing popularity.  I have also come to realise that the polls show something very different from everything I read and sometimes listen. The media says one thing, the betting websites say something similar, but the people who use the internet to raise their voice say something different.

Just out of curiosity, I have found the Leave campaigners to be much more passionate about the subject than the Remain ones. Surely if you think something is best for you and your country, you’d try to educate your family/friends/colleagues to what you feel is best instead of keeping quiet and keep your opinions to yourself. But I have only seen this (or mostly seen this) with the Leave campaigners.

Honesty moment here: my car radio is 99% of the time tuned in at BBC Radio 4 and when I get home and do some cooking the BBC iPlayer app is also usually tuned on Radio 4 (yes, I am boring like that. No, I don’t listen to The Archers. Well, actually I do… Only sometimes though. Anyway, moving on!).

In my defense, if you’re a politics/economics geeky sort of person like me, what is brilliant about Radio 4 is the amount of quality content you can get every single day – in the mornings you have John Humphrys interviewing politicians from all sorts of ideologies and parties  (in my opinion JH is just the best journalist in the world! That man has an ability to be unbiased, make the questions that no one else dares to ask and actually pushes for an answer. Top quality!) and in the afternoon you have debate programs with all sorts of different types of guest with different perspectives and opinions. What’s not to love?

Obviously, the last three or four months have been extremely focused on the referendum so I had the chance to listen to a lot of people in favour of the Leaving campaign and a lot in favour of the Remain campaign.

Now, before I go ahead, I think it’s important to clarify that I am NOT allowed to vote on the EU referendum. In order to clarify who CAN and who CANNOT vote, in sum, if you fall under any of the following, you are ALLOWED to vote.

“British, Irish and Commonwealth citizens who live in the UK, along with Britons who have lived abroad for less than 15 years, are eligible to vote.”

If you are not any of these, you’re left out. Like me.

If by now anyone is wondering my personal position on this matter, if I was allowed to vote, I would vote Leave. And I am happy to explain why but not here as it’s really not the point here.

By reading comments on forums, by engaging with friends on Facebook and getting involved in discussions, I came to realise that there are a few main points that are causing for the citizens of the United Kingdom wanting to leave the UK. As I am unable to state them all in just one post, I have narrowed it down to the following three:

• Citizens of the United Kingdom want reassurance that their voices are being heard in the EU and their interests are being protected;
• Citizens of the United Kingdom want to know EXACTLY where the so broadly spoken £350million/week are being sent to and WHY;
• Citizens of the United Kingdom want control over their borders.

Let me jump straight away to the last point and clarify something. A lot of people are currently being called racists and xenophobes because they defend control of the borders in the UK. If that was true, I would be facing a lot of abuse on social media and other discussion forums I have been engaging with. That hasn’t happened not even once. And my boyfriend (who’s English) still hasn’t dumped me over my nationality and he’s in favour of leaving the EU as well. Just to clarify that just because you see people saying they want to Leave the EU they are not Nazis, they are not Britain First or UKIP supporters and they do not want to leave the EU JUST because of immigration numbers.

Still on this point though, I heard one girl saying on TV in a Q&A session that she is not opposed to emigration but considering we talk so much about equality these days, why does a Doctor or a Nurse from outside the EU (which is a much needed resource at the NHS) needs to go thought an extensive visa process and someone with no skills at all, just because they live in the EU, is allowed to come in to the country?

I mean, I have to say, she does have a point. I won’t even start on the benefits system because I think it’s just ridiculous that someone who has never contributed to the country and has never paid a penny in taxes can literally land in the UK and as soon as they walk out from the airport, they can make a request for benefits (housing, jobseekers allowance, child benefit, etc.). It’s like winning the lottery when you think about it. Free money for doing f**k all. Fan-tas-tic!

Speaking a bit more broadly now, the EU is currently failing to address concerns that are spread throughout all the countries. The migrant crisis is a real problem, there are real people who are climbing on boats trying to save theirs and their children’s lives and this is something that is affecting all of Europe. Not just the UK. What is being done about that? Turning our heads the other way, won’t make the problem go away.

In Portugal, it was reported by the newspapers that the Government was in conversations with banks in order to use the houses that were repossessed by the Banks (worth mentioning these houses were from families that were unable to keep up with the repayments due to the recession), so these empty houses could be used to house refugees. This caused a national outrage. 

Portugal is very family orientated and most people don’t ever leave the area where they grew up. We have very strong family ties and like to be close to home.

A lot of people lost their homes upon the recession as they lost their jobs and the interest rates increased ridiculously to the point where a family previously paying €350/month on their mortgage was now facing a monthly payment of €800/month. It’s worth mentioning that at the time the minimum wage was around €486/month. In case you’re wondering, it hasn’t increased much since then and in case you’re wondering how we cope, we don’t. You either are forced to move in with your parents or in-laws like a lot of people did. Mind you, these are people who also have their own families and moved together with their spouses and children.

For these people to know they’ve always paid their taxes, worked hard and lost everything due to an economic crisis they had nothing to do with and were greeted with no mercy by banks and the government itself in relation to their situation, now knowing that their home, their dreams (yes, in Portugal owing your own home is a big deal) were going to be delivered in a gold platter to people from other countries was the last drop. Not because they don’t sympathise with them; not because they don’t want to help but because they feel betrayed by their government. Politicians elected by the people that should work FOR the people; who SHOULD act in their best interests instead of trying to look good on a international picture that doesn’t mean anything in real terms. 

Oddly enough, in Portugal we have a common saying that translates to “Only for an Englishman to see” which is commonly used to explain hypocrisy or in this scenario as it tries to hoodwink people into thinking Portugal is a great country when actually, Portuguese people, eight years after the start of recession are still struggling massively. 

The question you commonly hear is “We can’t afford to feed our own, how can we feed others?” As much as Portuguese people know that we are talking about other human beings that experience pain like you and me; That bleed like you and me; That have feelings like you and me; That were unfortunate to be born in a less peaceful place. “How can we afford to help if we can’t help ourselves?”

And this – whether you like it or know, whether you believe me or not – is the ugly, naked and raw truth of Portugal.

Brits want re-assurance that their voices are heard and want to know what is happening with the money that is being sent abroad rather than being spent in their country with their people.

As a member of my Church, a while back, I helped in the food bank in the area I live in. Food banks are depending on the charity of the people on those communities to help those who need it the most. Some of the stories are heart-breaking. The Europe where we live now is not a pretty sight in that regard.

The EU was created as a system for economic and political support between the nations. It was created with the best of intentions and with a great purpose. Is that purpose being fulfilled at the moment? I’m afraid I will have to say no. The previous President for the EU Commission was Jose Manuel Barroso. This person was Portugal’s Prime Minister when he was elected in 2002. He basically abandoned the country half way his mandate in 2004 when he was faced with the opportunity to join the EU. It’s a no brainer, really. “More money, more power, of course I’ll accept it! Fuck Portugal and their problems.” He did an impressive job with Europe same as he did with Portugal. He helped ruin something that was already fragile due to its nature.

Britons also want re-assurance that the NHS won’t be privatised and although Cameron is trying for the UK to be exempt from mandatory privations under the TTIP no exemption has been granted. If you’ve never heard of TTIP there is information about it out there. Don’t just take my word for it but make some research on your own.

For the sake of trying to show something unbiased, I have selected this article but I would suggest anyone to do their own research. It is scary stuff and there is a lot of people that simply isn't aware of it!

http://www.independent.co.uk/voices/comment/what-is-ttip-and-six-reasons-why-the-answer-should-scare-you-9779688.html

Just out of curiosity, ever since 1996 (there is no data previous to that), the UK has voted 55 times against a Directive from the EU (a Directive is legally binding to all member states and must be implemented in full) that would jeopardise the country and in all those 55 votes, the UK was over-ruled. This means that in 20 years, nearly 3 times a year the UK representatives said no to something that ended up having to be implemented against their will. It may not sound like much but keep in mind that these have a long lasting effect. And why shouldn't countries be able to decide what is best for them?

There are many reasons why I believe the UK would be better off leaving the EU. Do I speak against myself considering I am an immigrant? Maybe. But I like to think I am a fair person and I speak what I feel is right.

And to be honest, the Remain campaign hasn’t really bothered to refute the Leave campaigners, their numbers and the information they’re passing on to the millions of Brits who will be voting on Thursday.  In a nutshell all I’ve heard from the Remain campaign was “We have to stay because the UK is better in the EU (nothing else is added to that) and the Leave campaigners are racists.” Oh and the threat of an “emergency budget” by George Osbourne saying he would make cuts to the NHS, schools and increase taxes was the ultimate sign of desperation. Like when you see a teenage couple breaking up and one of them as an final act of despair (very Shakespearean kind of thing) makes a ultimatum trying to keep his lover. Perfect for Shakespeare, simply embarrassing if you’re the Chancellor.

But all is well as even members from his own party said they would never allow for such “emergency budget” to pass in the House of Commons and if he even tried to do that, I would probably think he’d be in need of professional help because that would be political suicide.

In all fairness, leaving the EU would be like a divorce. It’s painful, of course it’s painful. But the reason for the divorce to happen is because things aren’t working anymore and the short pain of the legal proceedings will provide the opportunity of lasting happiness for both parties. The most amicable it is, the better. It means all parties are adults and worry about one another rather than trying to rip each other heads apart.

If we decide to leave (I say "we" because I live here, pay my taxes here and the outcome will have an effect on me), there are risks associated, and is someone thinks otherwise is deluded. But if the UK decides to stay, there will not be another referendum anytime soon and the EU will be glowing and carrying on being administrated as it has been.

No matter what the outcome may be, one thing is certain. This referendum showed that the British people are not happy with the EU and its current policies as they stand.

Are people actually willing to do something about it?

I guess we will know the verdict when we wake up on Friday.

Mortgage - Part 2

So here is the 2^nd part of this story as I previously (tried) to start talking about my part-time job and then got carried away about all the issues relating to the housing market and taxes, etc.

I will do my very best to keep focused this time.

Going back just a little bit in time, when I first moved to Bristol, my first job was in a pub as a barmaid in the city centre. I worked countless hours earning minimum wage (£6.19/per hour at the time) but it was good fun and I got to meet a lot of people which helped to forget the fact that I was all alone in a foreign country and away from my family.

About 6 months later, I started working for an Insurance company during the day but still my wages weren’t enough for rent, food, clothes and the occasional flight to fly back to visit my family, so I had another job at a restaurant on Friday and Saturday evenings to help me top up my salary and get by. I never asked for any type of benefits for the reason that I felt that some people had it far worse than me and if I was young, fit and healthy to work, why should I rely on the Government instead of myself?

So I worked in a restaurant and only had Sundays to rest. As my career progressed I would still go to the restaurant but purely because of the people that worked there. The restaurant manager Piyush (an Indian guy) was absolutely amazing and we always had a blast at work. He was an incredible dude! Always with a huge smile in his face, with a friendly word if I was feeling down for some reason and would always make me laugh.

Apart from everyone else who was Thai – it was a Thai restaurant by the way – we were the only two “outsiders” but everyone single one of the staff was lovely. They would try to make me speak Thai and because I can’t roll my tongue in the way they do, my words would come out in a weird accent and they would be in tears. To be fair, I laughed when they tried to speak Portuguese too! All good banter!

At the end of our shifts we were entitled to have a meal and my stomach doesn’t tolerate spicy food. Every evening the Chef would ask me what I wanted for dinner and cook me a different meal from everyone else’s as they would ALL eat spicy. I have learned that Thai people are warm individuals who value friendship and family and are appreciative of what they have. Some of the girls who worked there were at Uni and came from wealthy families and didn’t need to work but out of principle they would. They would be waitressing in a restaurant because they wanted to earn and spend their own money, not their parents, even though they didn’t need to and with Uni lectures and assignments to do in a foreign language. Hats off to them and I have to say, that’s good parenting right there.

Apart from the odd customer that would turn up inebriated and say a few words no one would quite understand, all customers were polite and friendly to us. I stayed there for nearly 2 years purely out the joy it would give me working with such bunch. I only ended up leaving as the restaurant closed doors and was eventually sold. Piyush moved to Birmingham and then to Manchester where he now lives.

I decided to stop working weekends and have some rest time. I confess I didn’t know what to do with myself for a while but ended up embracing the great delight of doing absolutely nothing and I loved it. 

On the other hand, the desire of owning my own house started to get to me. I started to do the math and it would be absolutely impossible for me to save enough for the deposit only on my current salary. It's not a bad salary but it's far from enough for amount I need. 

So I decided to start looking for a second job again but nothing would come up. Either was far away or the hours wouldn’t match what I was looking for; there was always something. Until one day I went for a meal at a pub close to town and saw a sign saying they were hiring. Spoke to the manager, went for a trial the next weekend and 2 hours later I was told that the job was mine. Ended up doing a 6 hour shift that same evening.

On my second day (Saturday, lunch time), the place was packed! I won’t say the name for obvious reasons, but this is not exactly like your local. It’s a bit of a posh place and a mixture of pub with restaurant. There’s an outside area with chairs and tables and the view and the place itself is lush. The staff is also lovely! I have been blessed in that regard! Manager, colleagues, everyone is lush and there’s a really good atmosphere within the staff.

So on my second shift I was serving a couple. As I said, the place was packed, I was on a fast pace and I didn’t sat down for 4 hours. Allow that to sink in. FOUR hours, non-stop. Almost running and always serving food, going back and forth. So this couple rightly complained about their starters as they didn’t came out exactly as it should because of the cheese. I apologised, explained what happened (after speaking with the Chef who gave me a flash lesson on cheese so I could pass the information on) and offered to replace the starter with a new one and take that item off their bill. They were polite and said thank you but requested only for it to be taken out of the bill as the mains would be coming out shortly so no point.

Shortly after serving their mains, rushed back again inside to pick up more food for other customers when I was stopped by the guy who said his girlfriend’s food was cold. I was livid. Considering this place is a bit posh, I was expecting to deal with customers who are used to a certain level of service and for them to be a bit posh as well.

However, nothing prepared me to see him throw the plate with the food at the bar, cursing and shouting at me that now he had to give his burger to his girlfriend so she could eat something. I asked my manager to come and help me sort the situation as I’m not used to be cursed at and I believe it’s unnecessary.

To my  surprise, my manager spoke very calmly, picked up the plate, said he would be removing it from his bill and walked away. I swear I didn’t know what to do at that point! Do I stay here and continue to speak with the customer and apologise again or do I follow my manager?  

Considering how rude he was and because I was in no mood to be cursed at again, I walked away and followed  my manager all the way back to the kitchen whilst watching him making an effort not to explode and respond to a customer on the same tone.

He was sticking his fingers inside the chicken pie, looked at me and said “This is boiling. Feel it.” – I followed his lead and placed my fingers on the pie.

And yes, it was boiling and considering it was a proper summer day in Bristol that day it was close to impossible for the pie to be cold. I looked at him and shake my head not knowing what to say. He looked at me with his shoulders straight, a serious face but with the utmost integrity, looked at me and said “Sometimes, in this industry you simply can’t win.”

I couldn’t help of remember a part of the Maid in Manhattan movie with Jennifer Lopez (I’m a fan and yes I’ve seen that movie more than once that’s how I know this part Lol) when Lionel (her manager) says to her: "To serve people takes dignity and intelligence. But remember, they are only people with money. And although we serve them, we are not their servants.” This was a reality check for me and the ugly truth that money doesn’t buy anyone matters.

Next time you go to a pub or a restaurant, remember to be respectful to the person who’s serving you. One of my colleagues is a French Science teacher who moved here only for a few months simply because he fancied a change. In September he will be going back teaching. Remember you are dealing with people who also have red blood running through their veins and have feelings and are made out of flesh and bones.

Tip your waiter or waitress. Not because you have to, but because it’s a sign of your personal appreciation for the service you just received; because people who earn minimum wage struggle and that can make a difference on their lives. Because you don’t know if the person standing right in front of you has their legs shaking from standing up so many hours and yet they make an effort to smile at you.

If you can’t afford to tip that’s ok. But at least be kind and respectful. That doesn’t cost you a penny. Just like the smile of your waiter isn’t being paid for. They smile because they want to. Remember that.

Me and my sweet friend Piyush

Trabalhar no Reino Unido - a minha história

A última vez que aqui escrevi foi há pouco mais de dois anos. Desde essa altura, tanta coisa aconteceu. Tantas mudanças, tantas pessoas já cruzaram caminho comigo e saíram da minha vida quase tão rápido como entraram. Não por algum motivo específico mas apenas porque às vezes a vida é assim mesmo.

Estou em Inglaterra há quase três anos e cada vez que penso nisso fico ligeiramente boquiaberta porque não parecem três anos. De certa forma parece que estou aqui há mais tempo, mas por outro lado parece que foi ontem que aqui cheguei.

Da última vez que escrevi, estava a trabalhar para uma seguradora. Odiava aquilo. Detestava o trabalho em si e ficava super longe da minha casa. Tendo em conta que na altura não tinha carro, demorava horas a chegar ao trabalho e horas a voltar. No entanto, os meus colegas eram absolutamente incríveis – o que tornava o dia bastante melhor, diga-se de passagem – e  fiquei bastante próxima com alguns. Passámos de colegas a amigos.

Foi através desse trabalho – e através do meu então chefe – que tive a oportunidade de voltar a trabalhar na minha indústria – finanças – mas desta vez, e pela primeira vez em terras de Sua Majestade. Ele sabia o quanto eu estava infeliz a trabalhar com seguros e quando soube de um trabalho na minha área e mais perto de minha casa, enviou o meu currículo e acabei por ser chamada para uma entrevista. Consegui o trabalho mas infelizmente, poucos meses depois, esse projecto foi transferido para Londres e como eu não estava interessada em deixar Bristol (assim como todos os meus colegas) rescindimos amigavelmente.

Desse projecto, consegui entrar para os quadros de um dos maiores Bancos mundiais. Estive lá durante 1 ano e meio e enquanto procurava por novos desafios, candidatei-me a um cargo numa PME (Pequena e Média Empresa) que se especializa numa área muito específica de investimentos. Optei por me candidatar a esse cargo e, eventualmente, aceitar a proposta que me fizeram por dois motivos:

1.        Ao trabalhar num Banco tão grande, o meu trabalho passava despercebido e não há forma de fazer a diferença (acreditem, eu tentei e não acabou bem). Para além disso existem pessoas com egos demasiado grandes cujo único propósito na vida é alimentar o ego através do abuso a funcionários que na estrutura hierárquica estão abaixo deles. Já não conseguia aguentar aquilo e como estava a entrar numa espiral super depressiva vim-me embora.

2.        Trabalhar para uma PME oferecia-me a oportunidade rara de trabalhar num nicho de Mercado onde não existe abundância de pessoas qualificadas. Isto permitia-me uma diferenciaçao no que diz respeito a especializações nesse tipo de investimentos.

 

Infelizmente - como vim a perceber rapidamente - pessoas com grandes egos e mentes pequenas podem surgir independentemente do tamanho duma empresa. Trabalhar ali, revelou-se uma autêntica decepção.

Trabalhei inúmeras horas sem pedir horas extras porque realmente acreditava que o mais importante era ter orgulho na minha ética de trabalho e garantir que os clientes receberiam o melhor resultado possível para os pedidos, considerando as taxas elevadas que a empresa cobrava aos clientes (e além do mais existem prazos legais a ser obrigatoriamente cumpridos).

Fui estúpida, não fui? Eu sei, mas pronto… Vivemos e aprendemos. Apesar de estúpida, se há algo que não conseguiram roubar de mim, foi o sentimento de voltar para casa, deitar a cabeça na almofada e sentir-me bem comigo própria. Saber que eu fiz por alguém, aquilo que eu gostaria que fizessem por mim se fosse o inverso. E isso não tem preço. Trata-se do meu próprio orgulho e há coisas que o dinheiro simplesmente não compra nem nunca vai comprar.

Mas adiante. Infelizmente, ter ética do trabalho não leva ninguém muito longe se tivermos que trabalhar com grandes egos e mentes pequenas; Por esse motivo, 6 meses depois voltei ao mercado de trabalho.

Vale a pena mencionar que as pessoas com grandes egos não eram sequer uma mão cheia. No entanto, o efeito negativo que esse tipo de indivíduos podem causar a longo prazo em organizações é substancial.

Neste momento estou a trabalhar para outra PME – no mesmo nicho de mercado tal como a anterior (com algumas diferenças, especialmente em relação ao tipo e natureza dos investimentos que o cliente pode escolher, mas não vou entrar em detalhes técnicos e jargão financeiro porque não é esse o objectivo deste post) e estou posso confirmar que estou muito feliz.

Trabalho com pessoas que estão focadas no cliente, no serviço, que estão comprometidos em trabalhar em equipa, em crescer profissionalmente, focados na construção da empresa em conjunto e, mais importante, aqui preocupam-se com os funcionários.

Nunca fui abusada verbalmente (sim, isso existe por estas bandas e ao pontapé), nunca me fizeram sentir que a minha opinião e ideias são inúteis ou despropositadas e reafirmam sempre que o esforço que eu colocar no meu trabalho não passa despercebido.

Cerca de dois de meses depois de começar a trabalhar onde estou, completei dois módulos de formação para funcionários de outros departamentos, tenho um plano de carreira concebido pelo meu chefe e que está em constante evolução e a forma como ele conduz a equipa tem um efeito transversal a todos os departamentos da empresa. Todos os departamentos trabalham juntos com o mesmo objectivo em mente: o cliente.

Tudo acontece por uma razão. E neste momento sinto-me super abençoada por estar onde estou agora.

Há uma conhecida expressão que diz: "tive que beijar muitos sapos antes de encontrar meu príncipe encantado"; acredito que o mesmo pode ser aplicável à minha situação de trabalho actual.

Às vezes páro para pensar como a minha carreira foi catapultada em menos de três anos. Está a anos-luz de distância daquilo que poderia ser impulsionada em Portugal, a menos que eu tivesse o factor C involvido. Aqui, quem trabalha com afinco e dedicação, vai longe. Aqui, os trabalhadores sao efectivamente, recompensados - a menos que surjam pessoas com grandes egos e mentes pequenas! Nesse caso, provavelmente enfrentamos uma série de desafios como paredes de betão armado daqui ate a Lua e portas a fecharem-se abruptamente na nossa cara sem qualquer tipo de problema. 

Já agora, se alguém que estiver a ler isto, estiver nessa situação, aconselho vivamente a sair. É um desperdício da tua dedicação e energia. Ao final do dia, nao vale a pena.

O Reino Unido (em relação a trabalho) é um pouco como a América (terra da liberdade e terra das oportunidades), mas num estilo europeu. E provavelmente com um pouco mais de classe. Ah, e com chá. Uma quantidade exorbitante de chá!

Neste momento, estou a juntar dinheiro para comprar uma casa. Para tal, arranjei um part-time aos fins de semana. Qualquer pessoa que queira pedir um Crédito Habitação por aqui, precisa - em media - cerca de 10% do valor da casa e em dinheiro vivo para abater no valor inicial. Os Bancos so financiam 90%.

Comecei o meu primeiro turno este fim de semana e tendo em conta que a minha vida às vezes parece uma novela Mexicana, é certinho como o destino que já tenho histórias para contar! 

Mas vou deixar essa história para outro dia :)