Good news bad news who knows

Last week I visited Portugal for the first time. Lisbon to be precise.

It was the best kind of trip - completely random and unexpected - when the publishers of the Portuguese edition of my novel, The Storyteller of Auschwitz (or A Contadora de Historias de Auschwitz as it’s known there) invited me to come to Lisbon to talk about the book.

Wanting to share the fun, I invited my lifelong bestie along. Little did we know the shock twist the trip had in store for us, but more on that later…

On our first full day in Lisbon I introduced my friend to the concept of flaneuring - wandering the streets of a city with no particular destination in mind and drinking in the surroundings instead. 

Whenever I go flaneuring serendipity seems to become my sat nav, guiding me to magical sights and encounters, and in Lisbon it was no exception. 

We found beautiful tiled houses down winding backstreets. A gallery’s worth of incredible street art. A cafe terrace dripping with sunshine. A tiny perfumery that looked as if it belonged in another century. And a market full of stalls crammed with treasures.

Lisbon flaneuring

When I first started my nomad life last year I came up with the idea of buying a piece of work from a local artist in each of the places I travelled to. Then when (or if!) I have a permanent home again I’m going to dedicate a wall to this art, and each piece will bring back a happy travel memory. 

I also made the rule that I had to meet the artist, so that I’d remember them as well as the place when I looked at their work.

Perhaps I’ll find some Portuguese art for my collection, I thought to myself as we browsed the stalls, and sure enough, a stall crammed with bright and cheery pictures came into view. 

It turned out that the artist was just as bright and colourful as his work and he was also really helpful, telling us some places we should go and see in Lisbon.

I bought a couple of pictures from him and we connected on Instagram. Then my friend and I continued on our wanderings.

Lisbon art by Gaudio

The following day it was my book event, which took place in a store called FNAC.

I’d been picturing a quaint little bookstore down a cobbled side street but it turns out that FNAC stores are huge, selling way more than just books.

My event took place in the cafe inside the store - the perfect venue for a Q&A hosted by my publisher and the Portuguese bookfluencer, Dora Santos Marques.

Loads of people turned up - including the artist I’d met the day before! When I saw his face in the audience it was like seeing an old friend.

my new artist friend, Gaudio

We all had a great conversation around the book, talking about the importance of never forgetting the Holocaust and the power of storytelling as an act of remembrance, inspiration and resistance.

One of the audience members who’d already read the novel said she really enjoyed one of the fables featured in it, called Good News, Bad News, Who Knows?

This is a fable my dad told me a few years ago and it’s about how we shouldn’t be so quick to frame things as good or bad and that often, with the benefit of hindsight, things that seem bad at the time, turn out to be good news in disguise.

I explained the moral of the fable to the rest of the audience, laughing with them at how annoying it’s been at times when I’ve told my dad about something really bad that’s happened to me and he’s just looked at me sagely and said with a shrug: ‘Good news, bad news, who knows?’

Having this phrase drummed into me by him has really helped though. And maybe never more so than this week.

Once the book event was over, my publishers wanted to take my friend and I out for dinner.

We took an Uber to the restaurant they’d booked  but while we were waiting for our table to become ready my friend was taken ill.

I’m not going to go into details here, apart from to say that for a few horrible moments - that seemed to stretch on for hours - I thought that I’d lost her.

Thankfully, we were surrounded by angels that night, angels in the form of Portuguese people, who I have to say are some of the warmest, loveliest people I’ve ever met. One of them had medical training and took over, and in what felt like nothing short of a miracle, my friend regained consciousness.

The next day we cancelled our plans and went and sat in a park by our hotel. My friend still wasn’t well and it all felt like very bad news indeed.

We had a hug and she said something so lovely to me it reminded me all over again why she’s been my best friend for 46 years and the thought of losing her hit me like a punch to the stomach.

Later, back in my hotel room, I remembered the conversation from the book event the night before, and I could just imagine my dad saying, ‘Good news, bad news, who knows?’ so I started searching for reasons why what had happened could possibly be deemed good news.

It took a while but I was able to come up with a couple.

Firstly, the whole experience reinforced how much I love my friend and treasure our friendship, and being reminded of that feels like such a gift.

And secondly, what happened could be interpreted as my friend’s body giving her a warning sign. In the fullness of time it could actually be seen as making things better rather than worse.

I hope my sharing this helps you reframe any ‘bad news’ you might be struggling with. Even if you can’t see how it could possibly be good news right now, is there a way it could be with the fullness of time?

Until next week, sending lots of love,

Siobhan