The Hillbilly Viking

Nordic Wanderlust. Appalachian Apathy.

Graceland

If you were to take the state of Tennessee, spin it clockwise 90 degrees and squint, you’re looking at the basic size, shape, and orientation of Portugal. That thought experiment also puts Memphis (and Graceland, “thank you, thank you very much”) in the northwest corner, right on the Atlantic. That’s precisely where we are looking to find our own private Jungle Room near the coastal city of Viana do Castelo.

In a related note, Viana do Castelo is actually the official sister-city to our current hometown of Dunlap, Tennessee. Hahahahaha. I’m kidding, of course. If Dunlap even had a sister city, it couldn’t be more than a half-sister thanks to multiple baby daddies, it would not be located halfway around the world (more likely in the unincorporated, trailer park community just down the highway a spell), and it would also have to be co-branded as it’s cousin/wife-city because that’s just how us hillbillies roll.

But seriously, the terrain and climate between the two isn’t dissimilar. Dunlap is in a mountain valley eroded into existence by the Sequatchie River. Viana do Castelo is a delta valley created similarly by the Rio Lima. In both places, scenic lookouts and grand vistas abound. There’s even an ever present aroma of BBQ joints (restaurantes do churrasco) in both regions. And considering I oftentimes can’t understand a slow southern drawl any better than the rapid, staccato of Portuguese, if I close my eyes, it’s pretty easy to blur the two.

_{Is it Portugal? Is it Tennessee? Impossible to know.
One thing’s certain: I am out standing in my field.
(Thank you. I’ll be here all week.)}

So, why leave? Good question. Despite the literal insanity of the current administration and the rapid evaporation of everything our founding fathers spent big, Costco-sized bags of quill pens creating, I certainly don’t hate the US. I still root for it. It’s been good to me. (Being a white male there surely hasn’t hurt either, but that’s another post entirely.) The simple fact is that when Patty and I take honest stock of the decreasing amount of unexplored trail remaining in front of our metaphorical team of horses, adventure and quality of life easily trump (ugh, that word) notions like tradition, tribalism, blind patriotism, and the inertia of robotically doing it the way everyone else has. And an environment where seemingly basic concepts of food integrity, sensible healthcare, science-based public policy, and community responsibility exist seems like a reasonable place to reboot our second act, whatever that might be.

Oh, and we both really like bidets. So there’s that, too.