“I’m in a Hurry,” My Father-in-law Said

I looked up from my coffee as if someone had just announced the Pope had taken up kickboxing.

In a hurry? Him? The calmest man I know. A Frisian from Heerenveen. Technical. Precise. Patient. The kind of man who studies a tiny screw for five minutes before tightening it. Basically my complete opposite.

When he explains something to Elyas, something beautiful happens. Phones disappear. Time disappears. The noise of life disappears. The two of them sit bent over some technical thing that loses me after about three seconds. Wires, systems, clever little solutions.

Elyas hangs on every word. And “Pake” (grandfather) stays perfectly calm. One hundred percent attention. One hundred percent love.

I love watching it.

Because he gives Elyas something I can’t really give him myself. Or maybe something I simply am not. Patience. Calmness. Technical understanding. The art of focused attention.

But now he says he’s in a hurry.

He’s 71 and sees more and more people around him passing away. Fifty-six. Sixty-four. Far too young. Suddenly time becomes heavy. “Later” starts to feel dangerous.

So four times a year they drive their camper all the way from Heerenveen to Portugal. Days on the road, yet always smiling when they arrive. As if the sun here quietly fixes something that slowly freezes up back home.

And Beppe? She has fallen in love with Portugal too. The kind people. The relaxed atmosphere. And of course the Portuguese wines that somehow always taste better on a sunny terrace.

And secretly, they are dreaming out loud about buying a house here…

Because honestly… where is it easier to enjoy life than in Portugal? (Photo: Pake & Elyas at Thai Tavira )