SPLIT, CROATIA, March 15, 2022 – This story begins with three elements: a café, an ocean, and a song. Together, over the course of a few rain-soaked days in early 2022, they conspired to give this blog its name.
The Café
Tavi Confeitaria da Foz sits like a jewel in Porto’s Foz de Douro neighborhood. While its pastries melt in your mouth and the coffee is wonderful, the café’s true magic lies elsewhere—in a dining room embraced on three sides by expansive windows that frame Porto’s magnificent Ingleses Beach and, beyond it, the infinite expanse of the Atlantic Ocean.
The Ocean
If you’ve grown up along America’s eastern seaboard, you understand that the Atlantic holds a special claim as the most majestic of oceans. Yet on the morning of January 6, 2022, I struggled to appreciate its grandeur.
I’m slightly embarrassed to admit it now, but I was growing increasingly frustrated. My pastry had long disappeared, my coffee cup sat empty, and the waiter—a gentleman whose exact European heritage remained a mystery—continued to glide past my table without acknowledging my existence. Didn’t he realize I had already spent three whole days in Portugal? I had an itinerary to follow, sights to capture, experiences to collect. Unlike the other patrons, I couldn’t afford to squander precious vacation time.
The Lesson
But before my impatience could manifest as rudeness, something made me pause and observe the other guests. Curiously, not one appeared bothered by the unhurried service. Some engaged in intimate conversations, others lost themselves in books or typed thoughtfully on laptops. Many simply gazed through the windows, captivated by the eternal dance between waves and shorebirds, their faces reflecting remarkable serenity.
As I absorbed this scene, I felt drawn into their collective rhythm. A realization washed over me like the tide outside: there was nothing I needed to accomplish in that moment that couldn’t be fulfilled by looking through those same windows, allowing myself to simply be.
The Interlude
The song wouldn’t appear until later. First, I had more urgent matters to attend to.
I spent another forty-five minutes watching raindrops race down glass panes until the shower subsided. Then I walked the length of the beach, photographing waves crashing against stone, weathered fishermen casting lines into surf, fearless surfers navigating the cold Atlantic swells, intricate patterns left by dogs and seabirds in wet sand, and the haunting silhouette of an ancient fort emerging through coastal fog. When rain returned, I tucked my camera away and continued until I discovered a small beachside restaurant where I savored fresh fish paired with local white wine. A profound sense of harmony and goodwill permeated everything I encountered that day, lingering well into evening.
The following day unfolded similarly. I wandered Porto’s beaches and cobblestone streets without agenda or destination, yet everywhere felt inexplicably like home.
The Song
On the third day, the final piece fell into place. Perhaps I’d caught fragments through an open doorway, or maybe it surfaced from memory unprompted—suddenly The Beatles’ “Fixing a Hole” played on endless loop in my mind.
You likely know it: “I’m fixing a hole where the rain gets in, and stops my mind from wandering,” Paul McCartney sings, about “taking the time for a number of things that weren’t important yesterday.” And most significantly, he declares:
It really doesn’t matter if I’m wrong, I’m right
Where I belong, I’m right
Where I belong…
It’s not Shakespeare, but I’ve learned to embrace inspiration in whatever form it arrives.
The Mantra
rightwhereibelong has become both my mantra and aspiration. Its simple spirit has informed my every day since then, and I remain convinced that the more I can cultivate those feelings of acceptance, surrender, and purposeful purposelessness that washed over me at Tavi Confeitaria da Foz that rainy morning, the more truly I will be right where I belong.
Welcome to rightwhereibelong.net. May you find your own belonging in the journey.
