The Last Family Holiday

by Caitlin Doran-Read (New Zealand)

I didn't expect to find Portugal

The Last Family Holiday The smell of cigarette smoke everywhere while sitting down for breakfast, it lingered over, something you wouldn’t find back at home, only in Europe, where every second teen has a cancer stick between their fingertips. Espresso in tiny cups, a hit of energy, alongside a Pasteis de Nata or two. A lick of golden paint washed over the narrow houses, the lights in the streets immerged, kids, holding on to their mother’s hands while crossing the street. Washing hung on the sides of buildings out windows, with no shame at all. Lisbon was the third leg of our family trip. We had witnessed our first winter Christmas, and now it was time to bring in the New Year. I was yearning for a fresh start, being in a foreign country I thought everything could change for the better and I could become a new person. But sometimes I have too much wishful thinking on my mind. Lisbon’s blue skies and sunny days were an uplifting sight after being stuck under the grey skies of Ireland, as beautiful as it may be, there’s nothing compared to sitting in the sun, by the water, with a margarita. Being in an unfamiliar place feels as though I’ve been thrown into a pool where everyone else can swim and I’m still learning. People are patient but still want you to move to the edge of the pool and watch, to get better. When travelling, I sometimes forget that I’m in someone’s home, the streets they know so well, the food they eat all the time and the places they always go. These are new to me but are everyday occurrences for some of the people who live there. On arrival in Lisbon, I was mesmerised by the colourful buildings and stretch of blue sky, the Portuguese on everyone’s lips. Getting swept up in the moment I whipped out my camera to capture the scene out my window; the warm sun over the neighbouring buildings. “Has everyone seen this view!” I took my canon film camera out of its case, took off the lens cap with a bit of a struggle, only to find the lens protector had been smashed on the journey over from Dublin. The shattered glass hit the floor and fell around my bare feet. I took a few photos trying to ignore the bits of glass and the now naked lens. I guess some things happen for a reason. Ironically, I bought a lens cap back at home to act as a shield, only for the lens protector to still crack underneath. Similarly, in life, no matter how hard you try to protect yourself from getting hurt by creating a hard shell around yourself, the softness on the inside can still get fractured. The trip continued with a somewhat broken camera but no loss of encouragement, taking photos wherever possible. I grew to like taking extra caution when taking photos, as though my camera could die and this would be the last shot. Travelling with my family can be both exhilarating and disheartening. If you can’t be yourself around your family, then who can you be yourself around? I sometimes just want to be on my own, and I regret feeling that way towards my family because I know that there will come a time when someone won’t be there, and it’s frightening to think about. These photographs I take will act as a reminder to myself of this precious time with my family that will probably be our last overseas trip altogether. My sisters are always in different places at different times, my parents are getting older and don’t have as much interest in globe-trotting anymore. On New Year’s Eve, my family and I sat on the steps leading down to the salty water amongst the crowds of people and waited for the fireworks display. Lights from boats could be seen edging closer and closer together, forming a ring, a black ocean with golden lights. We stood up as the countdown began, loud, joyous singing in Portuguese. Then the cracking sounds and huge sparkles shot up into the sky. The dark sky was now glisteningly bright.