outdoors

How to sit in nature…

| Mairead

(I loved this place)

After Lisbon we went to Setúbal, the place the train would have brought us to if we’d stayed on board. We arrived on a decent sized road and as often happens our sat-nav system decided we would appreciate some short cuts through the town. We never appreciate them.

(Early morning at Setúbal)

After a couple of reverse back up hill maneuvers we stopped obeying her (she has a female voice) and stopping in the middle of a junction to work out which direction might be widest. The locals were very kind, they did not beep, they’ve probably seen this many times.

(The town is very green and pretty)

Eventually we found the best route to the municipal campsite. Although the road was narrow the view was immense. It was Sunday afternoon the sun was shining and we got the last spot facing the sea. A light breeze made the perfect accompaniment to my cup of tea with a view.

(With lots of art)

I had been in training for this moment since the Spanish beach at Foz and I knew what to do. Sit, sip and smile. That’s what I did for two days.

(The world definitely does)

We had arrived without going to the supermarket (big mistake) and there were no shops or restaurants nearby so when the last pot noodle was eaten we had to leave paradise.

There’s no bread in Paradise, Mairead.

(There’s Setúbal, Municipal Campsite, €12 parking, electricity extra, magnificent toilets and showers included, sea front spot if you’re lucky)

The stars aligned

| Mairead

(The cathedral which is built on the site of the original church. The original tomb is in the basement)

We’re leaving Santiago de Compostela today. My friend and I went on a free tour of the town yesterday. It was very interesting. Two hours of history and geography and tips and suggestions. I would definitely recommend it.

(Our tour guide with the white umbrella)

The story of this place is a little complicated and shrouded in mythic stories. I’m going to attempt to give you a potted version.

(This building is just 3 meters deep. It was originally just a front facade to give aesthetic balance to the plaza at the east facing entrance of the cathedral)

Once upon a time, more than 2,019 years ago Jesus was having a serious conversation with his disciples. He asked them to do something for him when he was gone, meaning dead. Of course he was only in his 30’s so they didn’t think he’d be gone for a long time and so it wasn’t hard for them to say, no problem whatsoever tell us what you want. He wanted them to spread the word of his message – about the loving god and the loving way to live – to all the ends of the earth.

(Narrowest lane in Santiago de Compostela)

He was dead very soon after and when the disciples recovered from the shock they started going about spreading the message. But one disciple took Jesus’ words very seriously and he literally went to the ends of the earth.

(Higgledy Piggledy layout of the old town)

At the time the earth was thought to end at the edge of Europe and the west coast of Spain was on that edge. So the disciple James headed in a stone boat to the end of the earth and arrived in a place called Fisterra. He began preaching about Jesus and his message. It didn’t go well. The locals weren’t very interested and he was probably getting a bit low in himself when Jesus’ mother Mary appeared to him and told him she would love to see him. So off he went back to the Holy Land. His message hadn’t fallen completely on deaf ears in Spain and he had two disciples so they went back with him in the stone boat.

(Cute window seats)

Well if he thought things were difficult in Spain they were ten times worse in the Holy Land. There was all sorts of bad things happening to anyone who was a follower of Jesus and poor James was beheaded. Now he became Saint James and his two helpers didn’t know what to do so they took his body and raced back home in the stone boat.

(A lot of ham)

When they arrived back they went to the forest and buried their friend. No more was heard about the message of Jesus or St. James in that place for 900 years. That’s when another guy, Pelagius, arrived to the very same forest. He was on a similar mission to St. James. Anyways one night he had a dream about a field of stars and one star was pointing directly to a spot in the forest. Next day when he went to that spot there was a tomb. He had found the tomb of St. James!

(Almost impossible to get lost in the old town, just look up, you’ll see the towers of the cathedral )

Absolutely delighted with himself, Pelagius went to the bishop and said we need to build a church for St. James and take care of his tomb. Long story short the king, Alfonso II, heard the story and paid for the church to be built. Then he did something millions of people have done since, he made a journey to the tomb.

(The covered market is very impressive, this is the restaurant section. At the first restaurant on the left you bring ingredients you have bought at the market stalls and they cook them!)

That was the beginning of the Camino of Santiago de Compostela and the town grew up around that first church. Camino means the Way. Santiago means St. James. Compostela means field of stars. People who make this journey are called Pilgrims. In the past they were coming to start again, to let go of their old sinful ways. These days there are probably as many reasons as people but usually pilgrims come with a wish or an intention.

(The shell is pointing the way. The Camino)

There are seven official routes, the French Way, the Portuguese Way, the Northern Way, the Original Way, the Silver Way, the English Way and the Fisisterre Way (Fisterra in English.)

(There’s the end of the earth, Fisterra)

I am here in Santiago de Compostela only because the stars aligned, the snow fell on the plateau and my friend choose this week to walk the Camino.

Life is lovely, Mairead.

Camino’s End

| Mairead

(Bit wet here)

We have arrived in Santiago de Compostela! Not the arduous journey that most people take. We were warm and cozy and sitting in Ruby as we entered the city.

(Courtyard greenery)

This is the end point of many ancient pilgrimage routes and people still walk those routes today.

(The cathedral de Santiago peeping over the rooftops)

We have cheated by driving here. But it’s not the same. Blisters and leg ache add to the experience and we have neither…which makes me very grateful.

(Restaurant serving pilgrims)

I’m also very grateful that I met my friend here and yes as expected we talked like we had never been apart. We’re meeting again today for a walking tour (hopefully the rain will stop!) We’ll get a coffee and there’ll be even more stories to share.

(Strong chains)

I was wondering, if you met someone from a long time ago what would be the first story you’d want to share with them?

What’s the story? Mairead.

Back to normal…

| Mairead

2018 1

(French aire)

We crossed the border into France on Saturday and stayed at a French vineyard that night. We thought it might be nice to do a wine tasting and then stay the night but wine tasting happens on Monday to Wednesday and this was Saturday… We had forgotten the France way of life. Everything has a time, if you want lunch at three… you will be hungry. This is good, we will get back to normal quicker now. We stayed the night anyway and availed of their lovely shower and fine electricity, all for €6.

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(Probably not a great parking space)

Next morning we were on our way to Saint Palais sur Mer to visit our friends. The previous day had been spent on motorways and we were determined to see some green French countryside. And we did, in fact it felt like we had moved location to the 1960’s. It was a beautiful sunny Sunday as we passed through crumbly stone villages and agricultural country – mostly vines but also grain crops, like oats and barley. We drove through a small town called Cadillac and there was an old car rally with ancient Peugeots and Renaults and Citroens. Their drivers dressed up and smiling broadly as the wind whipped what hair they had, in all directions.

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(Fishing (sorry can’t remember what they are called) at Saint Palais sur Mer and in the background the lighthouse)

We arrived at A&J’s house at 3.05pm only five minutes late. Great, almost normal. We unloaded ourselves and our washing and proceeded to wash everything. Aren’t friend’s washing machines great? We went out to dinner that evening by bicycle. There’s a great bicycle path all the way to a great restaurant forty minutes away and I got to use one of their electric bikes. It was fun. Denis had to ride his bike… it was a little rusty from sitting on the back of Ruby in the rain. The brakes were making a strange noise which was very effective in keeping the pedestrians off the cycle path. It was very funny… well, three of us thought it was very funny.

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(Breakfast… before the food arrived)

Next morning we had coffee and a Jaffa cake in bed! It’s what happens in their house and that’s before breakfast. While we were waking slowly and acclimatising, J cycled to the town to queue at the boulangerie! Breakfast was a feast of strawberries and cherries, porridge and muesli, croissants with two different kinds of bread, juice, coffee and tea (mint with milk, strangely.) I did get a picture of the table laid but I couldn’t manage to stop myself eating long enough to get a picture of it filled with food.

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(Secret garden at the arty town)

After breakfast we went to visit a very pretty town (they all seem to be very pretty) Mornac near the marches. Even the car park (grass underneath and trees overhead) was pretty. There were loads of arty shops and galleries and nice things to photograph. That night we walked along by the sea to a different restaurant where we ate mussels and watched the waves.

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(Our mussels restaurant. We had seats at the railing near the corner on the left)

We had a long drive next morning to Mont Saint Michel so we set off early. Nah, we didn’t… we had our coffee and Jaffa cake in bed and J cycled back to the town and we had the big breakfast again… then we set off. It was a lovely re-introduction to normal life. Well, it was if I can get Denis to cycle to Tesco for the fruit and croissants and nice bread and the Jaffa cakes… I suppose we’ll have to make up our own normal.

Thank you A&J for letting us play in your normal xxx Mairead.

Ps Quick guide to going on a journey to Mont Saint Michel, tomorrow.

On the Rocks

| Mairead

2018 6

(The Clock Tower at Mȇda)

Continuing on our journey out of Portugal, two days ago we reached the town Mȇda. We are still in the land of huge rocks and it may not be clear from the photos how huge they really are. The medium-sized ones are the size of elephants and the large ones are bigger…

2018 7

(Stone wall… small rocks)

The outcroppings are everywhere. We stayed in a campsite in the town because our electricity and water need top ups and there was a mound of naturally occurring rocks there too. I walked up to the tower passing old stone walls that you might well see in Wicklow and definitely in the West of Ireland.

2018 3

(On the way to the Clock Tower… elephant sized rocks)

Earlier on our way into the town in search of a supermarket we passed a man and woman on a cart pulled by a donkey. Something I vaguely remember seeing as a child and seeing it here was very nostalgic. While pushing the trolley around the supermarket I almost bumped into the woman. They were doing their shopping. The new supermarket has been built just outside the town on a different hill. If you didn’t have a car it would be very difficult to shop there. The donkey and cart still has a place here. We passed them again going back down the hill and they were both walking, possibly too steep to let the donkey take the full load. Made me think of the donkey as part of the team.

2018 1 1

(While walking to the tower I saw a cart like the one at the supermarket, donkey-less)

All this is reminding me of home, even the weather. It’s been cold these last few days which is actually great for walking up hills. Also, the higher you go the better the breeze. I cannot imagine it in blazing sunshine. Must remember that, these expeditions are so much easier in a cool climate.

2018 2

(View from the top in the direction of Spain)

We’ll arrive in Spain tomorrow and we’ll have to change the clock to European Time. That’s another thing Portugal has in common with Ireland – the time.

Thinking of home. Mairead.

The Olive Farm

| Mairead

2018 9

(One of the olive groves)

There’s an Olive Farm in our adopted town and you can go on a tour. I went along on Friday. It’s just across the road from our garage so we had spotted it last Sunday but it was closed. I booked the tour online and then arrived at the farm at 10am. Two mini busses were arriving at the same time. It turned out they were both full of Sweden visitors on a holiday in Portugal. They had their own Swedish guide who lives in Portugal and speaks Portuguese and French and Spanish and… I can’t remember the other languages. She was so friendly and generously said she loves listening to the Irish accent (what accent?)

2018 2

(Tiago and the olive plant)

The tour was conducted by Tiago (Portuguese for James… like Saint James of Santiago de Compostela and you might remember S.Tiago in the church in Soure?) who spoke perfect English. His tour was really interesting and the first thing I learned was that there is no such thing as an Olive tree! Olives do not grow on trees. They grow on shrubs. In order to illustrate this Tiago brought us to the oldest trees on the farm. He told us they were definitely over 1,000 years old but because they weren’t trees you couldn’t measure their age by the rings. Also, the center of the main stem (or what we’ve been calling, the trunk) disintegrates with age so that the appearance looks like two trees… but it’s not even one tree, it’s a shrub.

2018 3

(One of the oldest olive plants on the farm. Can you see the center has disintegrated?)

Tiago explained the process of farming the olives. The yearly pruning by a Spanish team who are experts in pruning and only prune olive plants and travel to olive farms all around Spain and Portugal. The harvesting of the olives happens in September and is all done by hand by a team of thirty people. The number of people is significant, Tiago told us, because they want the time between the olive being picked and the olive being crushed to be less than 3 hours. So thirty people begin work on a section of the farm. First they lay gathering mats on the ground to catch the olives without bruising. Then one group of harvesters wear scissors on their hands and pick off the olives. The next group has combs (imagine a huge cartoon-sized hair comb) and comb out any remaining olives. The next group search for olives missed by the first two.

2018 1

(Olive flowers)

Then the olives are gathered into the pressing shed. They go through a washing machine, gentle cycle, then a hammering machine, then a stone grinding machine  – with actual stone wheels like the old days for grinding flour but in a machine (imagine a machine with stones? I was very taken by this.) Each time the olives go through a machine the output passes through a sieve. Anything left in the sieves will be used next year for compost. So from the stone machine (I think I like the stone machine because it reminds me of the Flintstones!) the oil goes into huge steel cylinders and each day they turn the tap at the bottom and at first they get some debris not caught in the sieves, then they get water and then oil. The day they turn the tap and just get oil the contents of that cylinder is ready to go to the holding tank. Tiago told us that even at this stage the oil is not ready, it is too bitter, it must sit for a while. I can’t remember how long, but I do know about being bitter and sitting for a while sounds very sensible. Just sayin’.

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(The stone grinding machine. Can you see the grindstones?)

Then it was time for tasting. I have never tasted Olive Oil… well maybe I should say, I never drank Olive Oil. I remember, for my whole childhood, we had a small little bottle of olive oil in the medicine cupboard. It was used when we had an earache. You heat the oil in a spoon – not too hot – and pour it carefully into the sore ear. It was never used for cooking. Of course as an adult I have used olive oil for cooking. I also mix it with balsamic vinegar for salads… but drinking. I was not looking forward to this. Tiago was such a nice young man I did not want to insult his olive oil but how could I possibly drink it?

2018 25

(Tasting time…)

At the beginning of the tour when we were out visiting the oldest olive shrubs one of the people on the tour asked Tiago if it wouldn’t be more efficient to dig up the old plants and put in new ones. Tiago explained there was no reason to do so as neither the quantity nor the quality of the olives diminish with the age of the plant and also it takes years for the young plants to reach maturity… about 20 years! So I suppose I was already feeling the love for Tiago and the olive farmers who tend and care for the old olive plants and I would definitely be doing my very best to swallow this liquid that I was more comfortable putting in my ear…

2018 21

(The huge cylinders. Can you see the tap?)

… but it was absolutely delicious! Really, it was. I’m not just saying it. I am still amazed. I really enjoyed the tour and learned a lot about olive oil. Like, it doesn’t last indefinitely in your larder (or medicine cupboard) probably up to two years but the way to check? Drink some! And if it’s not rancid then it’s still ok and the tests show the vitamin content remains good too. Also, light and heat make it go off faster, so keep it in the dark and away from the cooker.

I will be drinking my olive oil from now on… Mairead.

Kittens and Coffee

| Mairead

2018 5

(Spring, spring, spring)

We are still at the house of the oranges in the garden. Ruby is still at the garage. We have fallen into a different routine here. Normally we have breakfast and lunch in the van and get dinner out from time to time. This week we are having every meal out. So for breakfast we go to Padeira de Vila (I think it means town bakery) we went there the first morning and we just keep going back. They are really friendly and the way they make Americano coffee is perfect. Breakfast is coffee and a ham roll with orange juice. you can probably guess that the orange juice is not from a bottle. Today we had lunch, a toasted ham and cheese sandwich, I don’t know what kind of cheese it is but it’s amazing.

2018 2

(Poppies and daisies)

It is very unusual for us to repeat a visit to a cafe or restaurant but this week we are and they are starting to notice us. On the second day the waitress (when we were murdering the language with our order for breakfast) said, the same as yesterday? We were delighted and relieved, Yes, please! Em, sim, obrigada, obrigado! Today a lady who works upstairs at the solicitor’s office (see, we are practically locals) came in with an adorable kitten (sorry no photos, imagine a tabby kitten, the size of the palm of your hand, meowing loudly with adorably velvety ears) that someone else had found wandering in the road. The lady in the cafe gave her a box and a container for milk and milk and off she went.

2018 4

(Sunset from last week)

Thirty minutes later she’s back from the chemist with a bag of baby wipes, a lidded jar, a towel and what looks like a baby’s bottle. The kitten is up in her office and she hasn’t been fired yet. We all bond over her dilemma. We understand. We’ve been there. Kittens have such cute little faces. They are so trusting and loveable. How hard could kitten-adoption be? One so young would easily get used to a new home, even a motorhome…

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(Like a bird on the wire)

It’s getting dangerous to stay here much longer, between the lovely people the beautiful houses, the favourable cost of living and the cute kittens, we are in danger of making snap decisions with far-reaching consequences. Will know later today when Ruby will be ready, probably should keep away from anything cute until then.

Tchau, Mairead.

Thank you, Portugal!

| Mairead

2018 1

(Normally closed these shutters keep the house cool. Can you see the thickness of the wall?)

We are staying in a house on the edge of town, did I tell you that? It’s a very cute traditional Portuguese house. It has shutters on the windows at the front and very small windows at the back and really thick walls. Which all helps to keep the interior of the house very cool. So cool in fact we wear an extra layer when we are inside. It’s the original air conditioning. We have been here three days and I’ve only just realised that something I have been imagining with you, has become real… There are oranges growing in our garden!

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(Oranges growing in our garden)

Ok I know it’s not technically our garden but it is kinda our garden for today and probably tomorrow and the next day. Einstein seemingly said imagination was more important than intelligence… he was probably thinking of oranges. As well as the oranges, there’s a vine, possibly an almond tree (do almonds grow on trees?) a couple of different palm trees, something that looks like woodbine and a fruit I don’t recognise (picture below.) There are birds tweeting and cars passing on the road outside. Over the road is a field with rows and rows of small trees in blossom but I don’t recognise them either.

2018 1 1

(Unidentified fruit)

This unexpected visit to a real Portuguese house and garden is lovely and the powerful shower is truly lovely. This unexpected week in a small Portuguese town is very different to the way we have been travelling and being temporarily not in control of our destiny has brought up interesting messages…

2018 4

(Also don’t know what theses are…)

Like how much support we have received from the communities in the towns we have travelled through. We have been here in Portugal for two months today. Without the parking spots they provide for motorhomes, without the water and the emptying places, without the electricity and the refuse and recycling bins, without the great mobile data rates, we couldn’t do what we do.

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(…or this shrub. The flowers smell beautiful)

Sometimes we need a bit of a jolt to realise how incredibly lucky we are and how maybe we’ve been taking it all for granted. Today is a holiday in Portugal. I googled it but at the risk of getting it completely, insultingly wrong, I will find a real Portuguese person to tell me the story. I think it’s going to be about peace and freedom…

Obrigada, Portugal, you are generous and kind and beautiful. Mairead.

Oranges and Lemon

| Mairead

2018 6

(A gift from our French hosts)

We are moving slowly along the Algarve again today… about 15 kilometres from last night’s spot. In the middle of the countryside again at a French campsite… well the owners are French with very good English language skills. We were here a couple of hours when the lady arrived at our door with two oranges and a lemon! Imagine that!

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(I forgot to include this yesterday, saw it on the beach. I think it’s some kind of sea urchin, close-up it looks like a toy)

Such a simple thing but hugely satisfying to receive. Of course we can buy oranges and lemons at the supermarket, we have been buying them but these ones grew here in this campsite. Imagine, your very own orange tree! I just never get tired of imagining that! And what about a lemon tree?

2018 1

(Wildlife from the day before at the castle)

I have a bit of a cough this week and I’ve been making lemon, honey and ginger drinks. I couldn’t wait to try out our lemon. It might be better, fresher, more medicinal than the ones that have to travel by boat to the supermarket. I bet I’ll be fit as a fiddle tomorrow.

2018 3

(This might be an orange tree. It was at the castle)

I think it tastes the same… as the ones we bought last week in Lidl. I really thought there’d be a difference, a big difference. I was starting to feel better just anticipating the medicinal properties. Maybe the ones in Lidl grew here too. Ha that’s gas! Or…

You don’t think she got them from Lidl, do you? Mairead.