camper van

Another Day in Bragança!

| Mairead

(From the walls of the castle in the old town)

Yesterday was hot in Bragança but as it’s Portugal (thank you, Portugal!) there are numerous picnic tables placed near the camping car parking. As they are all placed strategically under olive trees (not actually trees but that’s a different story) it’s possible to move from one to the other as the sun moves and stay in the shade. That’s what I did.

(More scary stairs to climb)

First though, I went to the supermarket, we are down to emergency supplies again. This time not because we weren’t taking every opportunity but because we are moving in the early morning every day and pretty much occupied when we arrive. Also we are staying in small towns and villages. There hasn’t been an opportunity to go to a supermarket. Fortunately, there is a small one just across the junction from here so off I went with my list.

(I counted six old crosses in the short distance between our parking and the old town walls)

When we started travelling one of our favourite things to do was go to the supermarket. Yes, quite strange. (One of my least favourite things to do while at home…) They were interesting, so many odd looking products, so much art on the sardines, so much food we’d never seen before. Then we got used to them. We recognised the food, we became familiar with the layout and we stopped being in awe.

(Statue of D. Fenando outside the walls of the old town)

Except… when we go into small local supermarkets. For one thing they are often in darkness or at least dimly lit, so you have to strain your eyes to see what you’re looking for. It becomes like looking for treasure in a cave or sea glass on the beach. Also, the layout is totally different and it might even span two or three separate rooms. The products are totally different too so you have to pick up more tubs or jars or cans and examine them closely to see if they really are butter or tea (the green tea has finally run out!)

(Flowers in the streets of the old town)

To top it all some of the products are behind the counter and you have to ask for them. This doesn’t happen at the big supermarket. There you can be anonymous and never speak a word until your farewell obrigado as you leave. Here in the small dark supermarket you have to make a stab at communicating. It always turns out well. Mainly because each of us is highly motivated to be understood. I want the food and the shopkeeper wants to sell me the food. It’s a perfect match.

(Narrow gate into the old town)

I got tea, butter, bread rolls, and water all by myself but had to ask for cheese and ham from behind the counter. Way back in Santiago de Compostela (you remember that’s where I got to meet my friend?) in a small shop where everything was behind the counter, I was asking for cheeses but couldn’t make myself understood. I couldn’t see any cheese so pointing wouldn’t work instead I had to look it up on my dictionary app. The shopkeeper took my phone to look at my app because I was doing such a bad job of pronouncing it. Then she taught me how to say cheese in Spanish. I remembered and this is another great thing about Portugal if you know any Spanish the Portuguese will be able to understand you.

(Imagine. I love this balcony)

Cheese is queso in Spanish, I was pronouncing it queso (qway-sew), it is pronounced kay-zzo. The shopkeeper in Bragança understood me.

Our cupboards are full, Mairead.

(Bragança, free parking, motorhome facilities, toilets nearby, great location near the old town. Great restaurant just inside the walls.)

The Old Town of Bragança

| Mairead

(The castle inside the walls of the old town)

We have arrived at the town of Bragança. We are tired. We have been pushing on to make time for later. We loved this town last year and we promised ourselves we would stay longer this year but this seems unlikely now. So I will enjoy each moment that I am here and perhaps a future visit will be longer.

(Wild flowers flourish nearby)

The weather is warm, the birds are singing and I am sitting on a perfectly placed bench under an olive branch. Fitting… possibly. Behind me is the old town, in front of me the hilly countryside. If I lean a little forward and look left I might see Spain.

(Winding walking path around the old and new town)

This feels like a perfect moment to be mindful. I might have passed all this by if I didn’t realise it was only here for one day, that it is passing. More like we are passing but this experience in this particular town on this particular day is passing. We are also passing and we are passing through. Maybe we are passing ourselves out.

(Farming views)

Every experience changes us or gives us the opportunity to change, the opportunity to do something different or differently. But we do not need to be travelling, seeking foreign lands to have experiences. Every moment is an experience.

(Shady spot inside the town walls)

There’s an opportunity waiting for me here. If I stay awake I will see it. Or hear it. Or feel it.

Don’t pass it by, Mairead.

Optimistic Outlook

| Mairead

(Bad…? Not too bad…?)

The following morning we left early but not before Denis spilled his coffee. Every morning Denis makes a travel mug of coffee and sips it throughout the day.

(Sunset in Torre de Moncorvo from our parking spot)

In the early days he used a Nespresso machine but that won’t work with the solar electricity (I don’t understand why…) so now he uses an AeroPress. It’s become a bit of a ritual with him. He boils the kettle, assembles the parts of the press, measures exactly one scoop of coffee with the special scoop, pours in the boiling water, takes the special stirrer and stirs for a precise time.

(Breakfast with a view)

Then he takes a little circle of filter paper, wets it and places it in its holder, then screws the holder onto the press. Another precise amount of time passes and he inverts the press onto the mug. Pressing firmly on the AeroPress shoots the hot water (now turned into coffee) through the paper filter into the mug. Never a problem… until this morning.

(Can you see the tower? Torre?)

I was alerted by the, oh shit!

Are you ok?

I’m fine, just spilled my coffee.

Oh no, is it a big mess?

No, it doesn’t look too bad.

Yes it did look bad. I think this might be the definition of the difference between an optimist and a pessimist. At least it smelled good.

(Sunset makes everything look soft)

Our next stop for the night was the town of Torre de Moncorvo. They have a lovely camper van stop on a hill overlooking the town. We had planned to eat out that night but I was concerned about the gradient… it looked steep. Downhill all the way to town but uphill on the way back. Besides, we had plenty of pot noodle left in the larder. Denis, on the other hand, was looking forward to dinner out, it’ll be a pleasant 25 minute stroll.

(Forty-three!)

As well as the distance and steps I walk my steps app tells me the number of flights of stairs I climb. Our pleasant stroll was the equivalent of 43 flights of stairs…

I was not wrong about the gradient, Mairead.

(Torre de Moncorvo: Free Parking, toilets, motorhome facilities, picnic tables under shade,. Restaurants a pleasant 25 minute stroll downhill.)

Olive Oil and Wine Tasting

| Mairead

(The road north)

We have travelled a long way since Castro Marim and the Algarve and we’ve seen huge changes in the countryside. This eastern area of Portugal is not as well know as the west or the south but it is truly spectacular. We’ve been speeding through it (not actually breaking any speed limits…) and it deserves much more time and attention.

(Getting closer to the clouds)

Our next stop was the small town of Freixo da Numão which promised wine tasting and olive oil but no mention of the amazing views on route. The E802 road runs up the east of Portugal and it’s mostly free with amazing countryside views. From time to time you can see little villages or vineyards perched impossibly on a hill side. Or there are enormous rocks like giant’s playthings just strewn around.

(Can you see the road below?)

The sat-nav directed us off the main road with no indication we were about to go up into the clouds. As we wound round and round the hillside we got higher and higher every now and then able to see the road we’d just been on far, far below us. I was torn between awe and frozen fear. Meanwhile the locals thought we were driving too slowly and kept overtaking us on winding bends with sheer drops.

(Shaded seating in the center of Freixo de Numão)

Eventually we reached the top and the town. Parking for the night was beside a sports ground surrounded by wild red poppy plants. Wine tasting would be happening in the evening, there was work to be done first. I had a plan bubbling away inside my head about compiling the trip’s blogs into an ebook and Denis was busy with client work.

(That’s a barrel of port)

At six-thirty there was noise outside, the time had arrived to taste the wine. We followed the other campers to a shed under the sports stands. Our host had little barrels of port, boxes of wine, olives and olive oil. The other campers were French and Belgian and our host had lived in France for a few years so French was the common language.

(The olives were amazing)

We were a little out of our depth but Denis bravely tried the wine and even the port. I tasted the olives and they were so good I found a way to purchase them in French. I also accidentally purchased 5 litres of olive oil… the precise volume required getting lost in translation.

Anyone for a share in my olive oil barrel? Mairead.

(Freixo de Numão: Parking €5 includes electricity and water. Small shop and bakery about 15 minutes walk down the hill. Wine tasting each evening around 7pm)

Bird Song and Frog Croaks

| Mairead

(Park here… this one’s in Spanish but the picture is always the same)

Sunday is the day we travel the longest so from Évora we travelled three hours to a camper van parking spot called Penamacor in Benquerença which is in the middle of the countryside. We passed through small mountain villages, along narrow roads following parking signposts.

(Lovely lavender growing wild)

When we arrived it was full of camper vans and motor homes and there was a spot for us beside the river. The temperature was high but there was shade. With the solar panels we don’t normally park in shade but as we’d been travelling for hours our battery was full.

(Can you hear the frogs?)

We parked up and went for a walk. There was a little bar on the other side of the river over a foot bridge. I’ll remind you this was in the middle of the country, nearest tiny village probably 5km. In the height of summer the river gets diverted and you can swim here, there’s also a playground. There were plenty of people inside the bar and on the deck outside. The waitress had no English but we managed to be understood.

(Sun-bleached table)

Afterwards we walked along the deserted country road and a dried mud lane to another bridge. This is olive farm land with small holdings and what looks like hand-ploughed fields. The only sounds the birds singing and the frogs croaking.

(Wild flowers by the side of the road)

Denis barbecued chicken outside and we were asleep before ten. Next morning we left early.

Note to self: Spend longer here next time. Mairead.

(Free parking, free motorhome facilities, free rustic toilets and shower, near bar.)

Weird chapel in Évora

| Mairead

(The Chapel of Bones)

Next morning we drove up the road to Évora. It was a hot dry Sunday and we were on a mission. Two missions really. Denis had heard about the Chapel of Bones and wanted to see it. I wanted to find a souvenir to remind me of storks when I was at home.

(The words above the door: We bones that are here are waiting for yours...)

First the chapel. Of bones. Yep real bones and skulls. Thousands of them. The chapel was built and decorated in the 1600’s. Seemingly it was a popular thing to remind the living that they would be dead soon. There are words over the entrance that read, We bones that are here are waiting for yours.

(Cute knitted Christmas scene)

Upstairs is a little more jolly. There’s a huge collection of Christmas cribs from all over the world. Some are adorable. I particularly liked the ceramic ones and the knitted ones. Évora has been a town since Roman times and there a Roman ruin in the center along with plenty more recent cathedrals and churches.

(And a ceramic one. This is my favourite, the parents can’t take their eyes off their baby)

After the bones it was time for my mission… a stork to take home. First of all it was not easy explaining to the various shopkeepers what I wanted as the word stork is not Portuguese and I didn’t know the Portuguese word. Fortunately, I have hundreds (very slight exaggeration) of photos of storks on my phone and I was able to show them pictures. Ah cegonha… (sounded like the actress Sigourney Weaver) they would say, followed by, No.

(View of Évora from the roof )

No stork souvenirs. I tried nearly twenty little tourist shops and then gave up. On the way back to our parking spot we stopped for an ice cream and while I was sitting there I noticed a shop I hadn’t tried. Couldn’t leave the last tourist shop unchecked so I went in. They had one! Not entirely attractive. No, let’s be honest, a completely terrible likeness for the beauty that is a stork.

Yes, I bought it. Mairead.

(Évora: free parking, 15 minutes walk to center of town, free water)

Leaving Paradise…

| Mairead

(The fort from the castle walls at Castro Marim)

And then we had to leave… leave the beach, the 6am walks, the sea glass, the heat – no we didn’t have to leave the heat, it is hot everywhere at the moment. We travelled to the border town of Castro Marim. We were here before. It has a big fort and old town walls. And a grand big supermarket.

(The castle walls. I feel very safe up here. Can’t see anything though…)

We parked in the huge car park at the grand big supermarket and settled down for the day. I went to buy provisions for lunch. It was really, really hot but the breeze was strong. By nightfall we were reconsidering the whole “strong breezes are good” thinking. The wind shook us and the bicycles in the back all through the night. By morning we were in need of a good night’s sleep.

(Some lovely lichen)

Truth is we are leaving more than the beach, we are leaving The Algarve and taking our first steps home. From now on we will park for a night and move along in the morning. I think the wind is upset for us. It will take three more weeks but this is the beginning of our journey home.

(Flowering tree)

Ruby (the motorhome) was upset too but we didn’t know that until we were driving along the motorway out of Castro Marim. Even though the wind had died down she was still shaking. This was not good. We would have to find a garage. Memories of last year, in the small village of Moncarapacho, very close to here where we had to wait for two weeks to get the clutch fixed, came rushing back. The atmosphere was tense.

(Poppy!)

There was nowhere to stop on the road and have a look. Also, what were we looking for? So we kept going. But I wondered if staying in the Algarve with all the tourist facilities might be our best option. At the time we were heading for a parking spot in the middle of nowhere. We kept going. When we arrived there was no one there. We knew it cost €5 and last time we were there it was almost full. Where was everyone?

(The salt fields at Castro Marim)

Denis took a quick look around the van, no puncture, nothing hanging underneath, no clue. Decision time. My choice was the Algarve, Denis’ Beja. He was driving… Three years ago we found the town of Beja and fell in love with it. We stayed for ten days in their Municipal Campsite. It was old and in need of repairs but the toilets were clean, the people were friendly and the location was perfect. But what made him think we would find a mechanic who could understand the problem and us?

(Cobblestone road inside the castle walls. Do you see the stones placed especially for cart wheels?)

Ninety minutes later we knew. Somewhere in the back of his mind Denis had a memory of a huge garage in Beja between the supermarket and McDonalds. (Three year’s ago McDonald’s WiFi was one of the best ways for him to work.) He didn’t know he remembered the garage until he saw it.

(True that)

Our mind are amazing. We have more stored in there than we know. I was choosing the Algarve because I was afraid we wouldn’t find someone to understand us anywhere else. Denis was looking for the best solution and instinctively knew it. Very useful.

Be like Denis, follow your gut, Mairead.

(Castro Marim, in the Algarve and on the border with Spain. Free parking and water. Nice town, restaurants, cafes, castle walls, fort and grand supermarket.)

Looking for the Sea Glass

| Mairead

(Early morning pilgrim on Praia da Falésia)

When I wasn’t watching the waves down at the beach I was watching where I walked for interesting treasure. The sea provides plenty of gifts if you keep your eyes open for them.

(Sanded piece of shell)

I love broken shells not the sharp edged ones, I like the one that have been in the sea awhile. The ones that have been sanded… by the sand. There are plenty here. Their rough edges are smooth and each one is a different shape.

(Can you see the sea glass?)

There are also little pieces of sea glass on this beach. They are harder to spot in the beginning but soon they are very hard to miss. It’s like anything you are interested in. If you like a particular make of car you will see it wherever you go. We notice every motorhome or camper van on the road. I see storks and now I notice sea glass.

(Close up)

I wonder could I use this for contentment? We humans have a tendency to notice what is going badly for us, what we’re not good at, what we should be doing. This is not contentment. Even if we can see the good in others we find it difficult to see the good in ourselves. We tend to notice what we didn’t do on our to do list or if we get 80% in a test we are disappointed about the 20%. Or we wonder why only 6 people liked our photo, instead of being amazed that 6 people took the trouble to tell us they liked our photo. This behaviour does not produce contentment.

(Footprints of contentment)

How about if we looked for only the good in ourselves? Like looking for sea glass. My sea glass looks like an hour of photography or a thousand words of writing or or a nap when I’m tired or time in nature or a tidy kitchen or a 6am start. When I look at my day with eyes only for my sea glass I don’t notice the things I didn’t do. What if contentment was more than enough?

What does your sea glass look like? Mairead.

Praia da Falésia

| Mairead

(The sandy path to the beach…)

I thought when we were in that sea view spot at the Municipal campsite of Setúbal that there was only one paradise in Portugal. We found another one. In the Algarve and it’s called Praia da Falésia. I want to stay here for ever… or three days. One or the other.

(…and the steps down to the beach)

It’s way down on the coast just a short sandy walk to the beach. It is very hot, top temperatures 43 degrees but I am not roasting to death because they have great breeze here too. Also, I have a new routine, I chase the shade around the van. It does mean I sometimes have to sit with the neighbours (or very, very close to them) but we are making it work. By we I mean the neighbours and I. Denis on the other hand has acclimatized and he’s happy to work away inside drinking cold coffee.

(There might be danger)

I’ve had no problem getting out of bed at 6am while we are here to trot down to the beach and wait for the sun to come over the cliff. There’s very few people on the beach at this time and I’m already recognising the regulars. The walkers and joggers who prefer their exercise with some shade. My pattern is to just sit on the sand and listen to the waves. They come in and go out as I watch. I take pictures and little videos to remind me later when I’m not here.

(It’s a sign)

This waves in and waves out makes me think of a theater. Not an actual theatre but the virtual one I’m sitting in behind my eyes. Every day there’s a new show or maybe the same show has a long run. Eventually every show ends and another one starts. The show in front of my eyes now is the water moving in and moving out. The music is the roar of the sea.

(See the little sun umbrellas?)

Some shows are great fun, some are hard work and others are just confusing. Some shows I should just get up and leave. Can I leave a show that’s really bad? Would that be rude? Some shows end too soon, others at just the right time.

(Remember when making sun castles was something you did?)

Every day a show comes to my theatre… I can either enjoy it or hate it. It doesn’t matter there’ll be another show along later. People walk into my show and walk out of my show and there’ll be more walking later. Nothing lasts, everything changes and it’s all for me. Just me. My show is just for me.

Yours is just for you, Mairead.