Braving the castle walls…

April 4, 2018April 4, 2018 | Mairead

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(One of the gates into the town)

We’ve moved about half an hour east and we’re at a new location, just outside the town of Serpa. We have never been here before. There’s castle ruins and the old part of the town is surrounded by a wall with narrow gates. Oh and there’s an aqueduct. We do seem to be finding very cute locations this year. Moving slowly for short distances seems to help. We have been in the region called Alentejo since leaving Lisboa and it’s full of atmosphere.

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(There be dragons!)

It’s not just the towns, I love the countryside as we drive through. It’s mainly agriculture. We’ve seen wine growing (well… vines) and olive groves and cork trees with sheep grazing underneath. There’s newly ploughed fields and rows of unidentified plants starting to grow. There’s drains fed by lakes and barragems to bring water to the fields.

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(Decorated by nature)

I went to visit the castle when we arrived and walked the narrow streets. I was immediately reminded of home. Back at the Rock of Cashel there was a lightening storm in the early 60’s and part of the (already in ruins) cathedral fell down. It was never moved and it sits to this day outside the cathedral door. Well something similar seems to have happened here, although it could have been an earthquake…

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(I walked under that! Portugal makes you brave!)

You have to walk under the balanced rock to get to the castle gates.There’s a museum with artefacts they found at the site, going way way back in time. I’m going back again tomorrow to see the original entrance, but I’ll still have to go under the balancing rock.

Do they have earthquakes in Portugal? Mairead.

Bubbles and Connection

April 2, 2018April 2, 2018 | Mairead

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(The tiles are like wrapping paper)

Yesterday I went off exploring the town on my own with my camera. I took some pictures. I sat under a tree. I took some more pictures. I sat in a square. I walked on. I stopped to take another picture. If you had gone out at the same time with the same camera on the same streets you would have taken different pictures. Even if you took pictures of the same things you would have focussed on a different section. Or you would have zoomed in or zoomed out.

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(More wrapping paper)

I’ve been thinking a lot about the different bubble of knowledge/experience/emphasis we each bring to whatever we do and wherever we go. My bubble is different to yours and each of our bubbles today are different to what they were yesterday. Going for a walk with my camera was the perfect change of scene to disrupt my thinking and disrupt my bubble.

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(Street name)

I was thinking that when we communicate with another human being we are communicating across bubbles, that can distort the communication even when we are speaking the same language. But then sometimes we connect with a person and it’s almost like we pushed an internal button that aligned our bubble with their bubble and we’re talking the same bubble language.

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(On top of a column)

Then at other times we are irritated by someone and it’s like we pushed a different button and now our bubble is fizzing and popping and no matter what they say it’s irritating. Recently I met someone who irritated me. My bubble fizzed and popped in a way that was distasteful… (I can’t believe I’m sharing this with you) I went on and on in my mind about how silly she was, how annoying, how childish. Then something about the word childish stopped everything.

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(See the fields and mountains in the distance)

It was me who being childish. The fizzing and popping had stopped. She reminded me of me! The same mean voice that criticises me was criticising her. I knew which side of the hostilities I wanted to be on. I pushed the internal button, my bubble aligned with hers. At first nothing changed, then she seemed nice and then I wanted to connect. Turned out we didn’t have much in common and we’ll probably never be friends but she taught me to notice my bubble fizzing and popping.

Morto, Mairead.

Yum, Yum, Yum!

April 1, 2018 | Mairead

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(The restaurant was closed this morning when I went to take a photo so you won’t see how lovely it looked when the lights were shining, but remember the Portuguese Cafe God? The architecture is Art Deco)

We had a lovely restaurant experience last night. I forgot to bring my camera and I forgot to take pictures of the food with my phone. It was just lovely and now there’s no proof. I found the restaurant on the internet and even though it had a strange name I got a good feeling from the reviews. It’s called Art Deco Cafe and the reason became clear when I went back to the a picture of it today. But back to the reviews, they weren’t all good in fact one was very critical but the owner replied to the reviewer in English and in a quirky way. So I was in.

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(This is a different cafe celebrating 125 years in business!)

I’m reading another book called Getting Messy: A Guide to Taking Risks and Opening the Imagination for Teachers, Trainers, Coaches and Mentors (long name!) by Kim Hermanson. It’s really interesting and it talks about becoming more aware of how you feel when you’re reading something or talking to someone because that’s feedback of your experience and that’s where your wisdom lies. So for instance, when I was reading the review for the restaurant, I could be wondering if the critical reviewer was a better judge of food than me. But what’s more useful is to notice what I’m feeling as I read the review (and the reply). I was feeling even more curious about the restaurant than I had been. I felt it might be worth visiting.

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(Spring is here)

It was worth visiting. It was a tapas restaurant and as we can’t read Portuguese and we didn’t recognise any of the options we asked for suggestions and they were great suggestions. We started with a sheep’s cheese from northern Portugal that was melted with olive oil and some herbs and the top of it was crusty – yum. Then we had a baked sausage that was soft like a pie with toasted flaked almonds on top served with an apple sauce – yum, yum. And finally we had brochette with sardines and tomatoes on top – yum, yum, yum. I hope I’m getting across that I loved it and Denis did too.

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(Love the streets)

It wasn’t just a food experience there was music too. One wall was covered with LP covers and there was a mixture of jazz and Leonard Cohen playing in the background. The furniture was also interesting, I’m guessing it was from whenever Art Deco is from but it could have been from the 70’s. There was also a little entertainment. The only other diners, a young couple were having a heated discussion and as luck would have it their language in common was English. The music volume was little too high and Denis was talking non stop about a Mars expedition so the details of their discussion escaped me. They did leave hand in hand, though.

I will definitely trust my feelings when I read a review from now on. Mairead.

For the Love of Portugal

March 31, 2018March 31, 2018 | Mairead

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(The cows have big horns here!)

Two years ago when we first came to Portugal we stayed in campsites whenever we could. This year we only stay when we really need electricity or a shower. Today we have arrived at a campsites we stayed in for ten days that first year. It’s nothing to write home about, as they say… but since I am writing home about it… maybe it is? It seems like it’s been here forever. The electricity points aren’t as conveniently placed as they could be. The driving surface is very uneven. The toilet/shower/clothes washing (hand washing not machine!) block probably dates back to the seventies. The parking spaces are not marked so it’s hard to figure out where we should position ourselves and it’s on a slope.

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(Looks like wood but it’s some kind of rock)

So why do we love it? And we do love it. It reminds me of a book I used to read to my children (what should I call grown children?)… when they were children. It was called Awful Arabella by Bill Gillham and was illustrated by Margaret Chamberlain. I think I could possibly recite the whole book I read it so often but basically the story is of a little terror of a girl who came on a visit. She was very naughty but in the end in spite of all her naughtiness everyone was very unhappy when she left.

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(I love this tree out on it’s own in the field)

I think it’s the thing I love about Portugal. It’s ok with how it is and that’s really attractive. It changes slowly the things it can change but it accepts the rest and gets on with planting, weeding and watering vegetables and people. I know I’m simplifying an entire nation and making huge assumptions while being unable to read the newspapers or understand the television, but… it’s different here and I’m having such a lovely time making sense of it all.

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(Beautiful weathered door)

Each time we arrive in Portugal we’ve been travelling for days through two other countries, France and Spain. France is different to Ireland in so many ways and Spain is also so different to Ireland. Then we get to Portugal and it is very different to Spain and France! Even though it’s so very close in distance. But, and here’s the odd thing, it’s very like Ireland. Ok not the weather. Or the cost of living. Or the language. It’s something less tangible. Could it be that Ireland was joined onto Portugal in the ice age? Could this be why we are so disappointed by our weather?

Is anyone up for towing Ireland down here where it belongs? Mairead.

Have a Good Friday!

March 30, 2018March 30, 2018 | Mairead

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(There’s a castle over the next hill)

It’s Good Friday today so I thought I might retell the week in the life of an Easter story…

(This is the view from the castle walls)

My Diary:

Sunday: Everyone loved me today, they think I’m the best so much so they were waving palm trees and singing to me.

Monday: Quiet day.

Tuesday: Think I’ll organise a party for the lads.

Wednesday: There’s a lot of work in a party, but I have the venue and the food sorted and Peter’s taking care of the wine.

(Things got scary quick, I went up some stone steps and now I’m on a ledge)

Thursday: The party is going great! There was a bit of unpleasantness with that one person (you know who I mean) I thought he was a friend but he’s gone off somewhere now so all good. I feel so close to the lads, that’s why I wanted to take care of their feet.

Much later on Thursday night: I have a bad feeling about something, I need some air. I feel really lonely and I’m afraid and so tired. I have a weird sense something awful is about happen… Hey he’s back and he’s got a gang of angry-looking people with him. Where are the lads?

(More steps but theses are safe)

Friday: No one likes me. Someone’s been making up stories about me and the Gardai are involved. It’s painful on so many levels. I feel ashamed. But at least my Mam is here, but she’s crying, this is probably not going to end well. It ends… badly. Something dies in me.

Saturday: Everything stops, I feel like I’m in limbo.

(Old stone carving)

Sunday: Hey the sun is shining! Maybe things aren’t so bad. I met some of the lads on the road, we went for a meal – they realise I’ve changed. I got to help some other friends with their work and they don’t even seem to recognise me. Maybe it’s going to be alright. I think it’s time to leave this area, start a new job, maybe get a haircut? I’ll visit some of the lads to say goodbye and give them a little gift, maybe some tips I once found useful…

Hope this is a good Friday for you, Mairead.

Road Trip

March 29, 2018March 29, 2018 | Mairead

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(There was an amazing sky last night)

We went driving around the countryside today. That wasn’t the plan but that’s what happened. We woke early and my plan was to go take pictures at the beach 2km down the road. Off we set at 9.30am and we were still driving at 10am. We missed the turn. We arrived at a golf resort, a very pretty gated community. We eventually did find the beach and I took the pictures and then we returned to the town with the castle, Alcacer do Sal.

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(The beach at Comporta)

We planned to stop at the free aire in the town but it was closed off, possibly for some festival or market for Easter. We had a coffee by the river to re-group. The coffee I like is an Americano but I have not (until today) known what it’s called in Portugal. I have managed to order it each time using hand gestures and knowing the word for water and milk (with extra nose wrinkling for no milk, thank you) The very happy cafe owner told me, without using any English, it’s called solo. I will need to road test this at another cafe but for now I think it’s correct.

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(The peaceful barragem)

We found a new place to go. A barragem. That means a dam, seemingly there are lots all over Portugal and they usually allow overnight camping. We drove for about 30 minutes from the town and then pulled off onto a narrow road and arrived at a place in the middle of nowhere, buzzing with camper vans. There was a cafe and even toilets. When Denis turned off the engine and I opened the door the sense of peace was huge. I went off to soak it up and take pictures and Denis started work. When I got back it turned out there was one thing missing… internet.

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(Pretty flowers at the barragem)

We said goodbye to the neighbours from the Netherlands who had great English (and German and Spanish and probably Dutch…) naturally. We’re in a new town, there’s a castle 20 minutes walk away and a cafe approximately 70 meters away. It’s not as peaceful here but it does have internet.

From Peaceful Portugal, Mairead.

Storks deliver babies, right?

March 28, 2018March 28, 2018 | Mairead

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(A pair of storks)

We’ve moved closer to the sea. Haven’t seen the sea yet today but we are in a near-the-seaside town. There’s a lot of blue and white-painted walls and houses. I went on a fact-finding mission. Wandering along the streets gives you a certain amount of information about a place. Where the cafes are, the restaurants, the little grocery shops, the GNR (police), the craft market (yes, there’s a craft market here this week!)

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(Fresh water… not sea)

But it also brings up a lot of questions. This town is different and I’m not sure why… the road out-of-town in the direction of the seaside has blue and white gateposts. Was this town off-limits at some time in the past? There are quite a few stork nests in town. The storks always make their nests on the highest perch… like electricity pylons or factory chimneys. I was looking at one nest when I spotted another near a cross on the top of a building. I thought it might be a church or a house with a cross on top, but my way to it was blocked and each new road I thought might lead there was a dead-end. Why is the church hard to find?

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(Beautiful blossoms near the church)

Eventually, there was an open gate onto a sandy road and it seemed to be going in the right direction but the gate… maybe it’s private property? A dog may be preparing itself to take a bite from my nether regions. In the distance I saw the church door open, almost calling me forward. I risked the (potential) dog bite and walked on. It was a church. The door was open. I went in. It was cool. Looks just like the other churches. No questions here. No dogs either.

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(Splash of colour, cute up-cycled table from window)

After church I had a coffee and wrote in my journal. A car stopped on the corner. Another car came up behind it and beeped the horn. This is the first time I have noticed cars beeping at each other. I have noticed that they are very patient and accepting of a sudden parking decision and they just pull around the stopped vehicle. Not here, not today. The second car pulls up beside the first and a loud conversation with much gesticulating ensues. A third car coming in the opposite direction blocks the second car and joins the first two in beeping. A fourth car arrives and joins in, all cars move closer to each other. More beeping. Then silence. The first beeping car reverses and everyone goes on their way one at a time. A knocking sound makes me look up. A stork is clapping his beak, it sounds like one of those wooden clapping toys. It’s all go here.

Sigh, Mairead.

Free things… Free things…

March 27, 2018March 27, 2018 | Mairead

(Good girl, waiting for the lights to change. Safety… free✔)

Besides the idea that is gestating slowly in my belly (!) I had a previous great idea (no, Grahame, not the photographing people one, another one). It came to me before we left home and I want to share it with you now. It’s an ebook of our travels in Portugal. Basically the blog posts all together in one place. It will be a very simple ebook journal of our time in Portugal. There won’t be any pictures, mainly because I haven’t seen an ebook method that does pictures well. So it doesn’t seem worth the mega-byte size the ebook would become just to add pictures and display them badly. The blog will still be available and will continue to have the pictures and there will be links from the ebook.

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(A little parcel of tinned fish… not free✖)

Of course taking out the pictures will mean the text may not always flow so I’ll be editing the posts to fit this format and I’ll be fixing the typos. I’ll also be adding an introduction and some notes about how we live and travel in Ruby. It will take a little time to set it up after we get back, let me know now if you want to to get a copy when it’s ready. The ebook will be free in exchange for your email and if you are interested in making a donation to charity, that’d be a bonus, absolutely no pressure.

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(Looking out at the view… free✔)

Last year when we were in France we visited a few war memorials and it had an effect on me. (I wrote about it here) Added to that it turned out to be a very bumpy crossing on the way home from the French trip. Denis slept through it as always but I was awake hearing every sound and roll and all I could think about was an email I had received the previous month from the charity, Medecins Sans Frontieres. It told the story of a baby called Christ born in a boat in the Mediterranean. I was in a huge ship. I was tucked up in a comfortable bed. I was safe… and I was scared. Baby Christ and his mother were on an overcrowded boat when he was born… kinda put things in perspective. (Tap here for a link to the Medicines Sans Frontiers site where you can donate or just read the story)

Anyways, since then I’ve been thinking of ways to support their work. Mairead.