(This is a close up…. I was at least 100 meters away)

We’ve been moving around a lot lately, it seems, in search of warm dry weather. We moved from Castro Verde to Porto Covo – think Ballycotton in April, it was a bit grey with showers of rain and sleet and gale force winds. Then we moved just down the road to Vila Nova de Milfontes, where the weather was better (it was better everywhere, we just happened to be there.) That’s where I got lost trying to find the post office and the cobblers.

(Stormy Porto Covo)

I’ve brought a lot of clothes on this trip… but all I needed was a fleece (warm) and boots (warm and rain proof.) The boots had begun to object from over use – the sole had separated from the upper and was starting to trip me up. I asked the lady at reception and she was delighted to show me where to go. On the map. Turns out I’m not good with maps…

(The blue and white is very Porto Covo)

But I love maps. I love to know exactly where I am… and how to get to somewhere else. It comes from my childhood. Our Dad taught my brother and me how to read a map and how to give directions to the numerous tourists visiting out town. He ran the local petrol station and we earned money working there during our teenage years We had strict instructions when giving Americas directions not to send them on the wrong road to Kilkenny. Send them on the main road, they like big roads and they won’t get lost. I remember often explaining to people who really wanted to go on the small road that they wouldn’t like it!

(Not the cobblers. The river Mira flowing into the Atlantic Sea. Hello M(o)ira!)

Anyway, I went in (completely) the wrong direction and found myself with a beautiful view. I found the cobblers the next day and with the help of one of his friends I got the message across that my sole needed gluing and he got the message across that it would be ready in the afternoon.

(Shout out to my brother who is doing a triathlon called (I think) The Power of a Torn Knee. My sister-in-law sent me this photo of him, doing some training. Go Lar!)

Sometimes it’s good to get lost, Mairead.