The First Nata

May 4, 2022April 29, 2022 | Mairead

We crossed the border! We are in Castro Marim, Portugal. We were here in 2019, in fact it was the place where we started hearing an ominous knocking sound from Ruby (our motorhome) that led to a big bill in a mechanic’s workshop in France a few weeks later. No knocking this time. To celebrate our arrival we park and go straight to the nearest cafe. Dos cafe y dos natas, por favor. (Two coffees and two natas, please.) We have been dreaming of these natas for a few hundred miles now. Although it’s possible to get natas in Costa in Bray (and probably lots of other places…?) we never do. We haven’t seen them anywhere in Spain so here in a tiny cafe beside the roundabout at the edge of Castro Marim is our first taste.

The nata was created by the monks (or maybe the nuns…) in Lisbon pre 18th century. They used a lot of egg whites starching laundry which led to loads of leftover egg yolks. Not wanting to waste them gave birth to Pastels de Nata. Tasting my first Portuguese nata in almost three years makes me very happy. Wait! This nata seems to have ignited some ancient ritual and I hear a voice telling me a story. Could it possibly be the true story of the very first nata? It’s in old Portuguese, give me a moment to interpret…

We’re in a huge stone monastery in Lisbon, Portugal. The year is 1687. Sr. Agusta works in the kitchen she’s only 14 and in training to be a nun. So far she’s not doing very well. Her superiors think she spends too much time daydreaming and not enough time scrubbing. But the old nun Sr. Jerome who makes the bread for the monastery really enjoys her company. It is Sr. Jerome who suggested just now to Agusta to start experimenting with the egg yolks. Sr. Jerome has been wondering for a while what to do with the surplus. The entire congregation (nuns and monks) is fed up with her three times a week omelettes and she’s fed up dumping eggs into her bread dough. She has a few ideas for a desert but today she thinks, if Sr. Agusta doesn’t get a win soon she may be moved into the laundry room and the old nun fears for her safety surrounded by vats of boiling water.

What do you love to eat, Agusta? Agusta! Sr. Jermone has to repeat herself a few time to get Aguste’s attention.

I love pastries, sister. That’s lucky the old nun thinks. What kind of pastries do you love?

I love all of them but especially apple pastries, sister.

Unfortunately we have no apples, but we do have lots of egg yolks…

Sr. Jerome is tired, she has been baking since 3am, She heads off to her cell for a quick nap leaving Agusta with instructions to warm some milk. What Sr. Jerome doesn’t know is that Agusta invents things all the time in her daydreams. There was once where she got very close to inventing a non stick saucepan. When the old nun is gone Sr. Agusta starts dreaming about egg yolks. In her daydream she is adding the yolks to her non stick saucepan with warm milk. Meanwhile the actual milk in the not non stick saucepan is boiling over and a smell of burning is filling the kitchen. (Can you smell it?) From her cell Sr. Jerome is dozing and you know the way a dream kind of takes on the reality of the situation you’re waking up to? Like a doorbell ringing will be in your dream and you wake and your doorbell is actually ringing? Well in her dream eggs and milk are burning and just like that she thinks of a pastry case filled with egg custard! Up she sits and manoeures herself towards the kitchen, calling, Agusta! Agusta! At the same time Agusta is running out of the kitchen, Sr. Jerome, Sr. Jerome, I have it! Creamy Custard Pastries, burnt on top!! They meet in the long corridor in front of the statue of Mary – you know the one with her smiling? Sr Jerome’s face is a picture of joy as Sr. Agusta dances around her. Mary smiles down on them. This is the best day.

Unfortunately, this is not the happy ending… the monk in charge of this old monastery has heard the commotion. Long story short, the recipe becomes the intellectual property of the monastery and Sr. Jerome and Sr. Agusta are written out of the history of the nata. Oh well.

At first Sr. Jerome was upset, then angry. But you can’t stay angry for long in Sr. Agusta’s company, she realised there’s something more important than fame and fortune – friendship and daydreams. Sr. Jerome lets her anger go and puts her attention on supporting Sr. Agusta to be the best daydreaming pastry chef she could be. The two nuns spend the rest of Sr. Jerome’s life inventing and perfecting pastries. None were ever as famous as their natas but that didn’t bother them, they had the best life you could have in a convent with no money or power governed by monks. When Sr. Jerome died Agusta left the convent and became a pastry chef in a nearby restaurant. Even though she never got the recognition she deserved for her invention she knew the truth and now you know too.

There you are, you’re the first to know, Sr Jerome and Sr. Agusta invented the Pastel de Nata.

(Disclaimer: This story might not be true.)

Have a good journey!

May 2, 2022April 28, 2022 | Mairead

Can you make out the terrace bar under shade?

It was the peace of the place that caught my attention first. We are getting closer to the Portuguese border, we’ll probably cross in a couple of days… but for now we are on the outskirts of a town called VillaBlanca (Whitetown) and it’s well named as all the houses are painted white. The park up is owned and run by a couple from the Basque Country in norther Spain. They opened five months ago having sold up everything up north. (He used to be in a heavy metal band touring Spain, she played classical guitar.) His mother was also with them for the winter, she’d be returning north next week. They all worked hard to turn these fields into a place where you could get everything you need in your motorhome. There’s water at every parking spot, toilets and showers and a little terrace bar. Everyone who arrives gets offered a welcome drink and that’s how Denis ended up drinking cervesa (beer) at 10 am on Sunday morning…

They continue to work hard, while we sit sipping and chatting with other campers, they were cleaning the toilets – every dream includes a dollop of work. This place attracts people who are curious and we’ve heard some interesting life stories.

In the late afternoon we investigate the town. It isn’t too hot. We made a mistake and took the main road which didn’t have a path but joy, oh joy we found the back roads for the return journey. There was a shepherd with a small heard of goats and sheep. The animals were confused by our arrival and turned in many directions. I remembered my Spanish for I’m sorry and used it with my “very, very sorry” facial expression and it was like a key. A key to connecting with another human. Some day I will be able to speak Spanish better than the one or two phrases I can manage now but in the few moments with the shepherd we were all speaking human. He could have been a farmer in the west of Ireland who’s accent was just a little too fast for me to understand. Where in spite of that the essence comes through. He might have been saying, There’s no need to be sorry sure they’ll come back when they realise you’re just passing through. Buen Viaje!

We had been invited to another drink around the fire in the evening and so we trotted over to find the owners, some of their friends and a French couple out on the patio (the promised fire not necessary because it’s warm tonight.) One of their friends had brought their dogs and one reminded me of my sister’s daughter’s dog and somehow I located the Spanish for my sister (mi hermana) and daughter (una hija) and dog (un perro) and then I ran out of words but I showed willing. For the rest of the night the lovely woman, who’s dream this place was, translated every word and every joke for us. And one of the things she explained was that in this part of Spain slowing down is part of the culture. We are very grateful to be here.

Buen Viaje! Have a good journey!

Simply Be and Do Gently and Slowly

April 30, 2022April 28, 2022 | Mairead

Adorable statue in the center of Valverde de Camino

It’s Saturday, the rain has stopped but it is still quite a grey day. We travelled up into the hills of Andalusia this morning to a town called Valverde de Camino. It’s on the Camino de Santiago as the name hints. The park up is on the edge of town beside a little vegetable garden. The sun is coming out and the smells of soil and vegetation is just glorious. It is striking the difference between a city park up and a country park in terms of the senses.

First of all I notice the smells. Then the visuals, here there’s a lot of green growing things and a few red tiled roofs. Then soon after i notice a feeling. Very hard to describe, like a slowness in my belly for the country location and a speediness in my veins for the city.

We didn’t realise how big this town was until we went walking because we are on the edge and there is nothing but nature all around and the feeling is slow. I love slow feelings.

Location of Valverde de Camino north west of Seville

When we were packing the van to come away I think I mentioned I was less overwhelmed this time than previous times. I think that’s because I had a little chat with myself. I told myself I wanted to be more intentional in how I was preparing this time. It was a long talk but at the end of it my intention was to Simply Be and Do Gently and Slowly. And to a greater or lesser degree that is how I prepared. Now that we are here that is also how I want to be.

Here on the edge of Valverde de Camino with the smells of the wet earth and the man in his vegetable garden waving to me I am reminded to simply be.

Zone of Comfort

April 28, 2022April 27, 2022 | Mairead

Can you see the oranges on the trees? In the rain?

My favourite way to visit a town or city is not in the rain but it’s also not in the blazing sun. One is a little uncomfortable and the other is even more uncomfortable – the hot one! I blame the moderate climate I grew up with and then came to believe was the only weather. Seriously the weather in Ireland is actually great… mainly. Anyways that results in my having a very small zone of comfort with regards to weather.

Funnily enough I have also a small zone of comfort in other areas… which leads me to complaining. Recently I heard of a great way to decrease complaining. From a book called A Complaint Free World by Will Bowen. The idea is you stop complaining for 21 days to break the habit. And you use a wrist band or your watch and each time you notice yourself complaining you switch the wrist band or watch to the other wrist. Easy! It increases awareness and hopefully will break the pattern.

I’m still only learning Spanish… but does this mean there’s a pub in the convent?

Anyway, the whole weather thing has been on my mind for a few years now especially the first year we travelled to Portugal and it was January… and it was cold and wet! I thought it was always warm and dry in Portugal and in Spain and in France. It’s not. Then in March 2020 when the world stopped and we stayed home and Eilish came to dig the garden and the sun shone for five months – in Ireland – it became clearer that my thinking had to change around my concept of weather.

My rain gear (there was a mirror in the lift at the museum)

Then for my big birthday last year I asked for a rain coat, rain hat, rain trousers, rain shoes and I promised myself I would no longer be afraid to walk in the rain.

So the city of Zafra was my first real test. The rain wasn’t light, it was torrential! I was preparing myself to go out in it when it eased up. And for a moment I remembered – nothing lasts forever. Not the bad and not the good. And I walked in the not too bad rain and I took pictures of the not too grey sky and I remembered the good blue skies and really we are not here just for the sunshine and heat. We are here now for every little and large experience.

Let it rain.

Water, Water, Everywhere

April 26, 2022April 25, 2022 | Mairead

I’m sitting in the van with a quilt on my knees. Outside the rain is lashing down and the forecast says it will continue until tomorrow evening. Meanwhile the sun is shining in Greystones. But we are here now and because we’ve had lots of days of heat we are starting to be grateful for a day of cool rain… that gratitude never happened at home. Maybe you have to travel far from home to appreciate what is right beside you.

The empty riverbed in Villafranca from the bank

We are in the city of Zafra. We arrived this morning from the town of Villafranca de los Torres. We knew the rain was coming and decided it might be better to be in a bigger city. Plus the park up in Villafranca has a lot of sandy areas that could get very muddy in the rain. It also has what looked like a dry river bed or maybe canal. I have searched the internet to discover what its purpose is but have had no success. When we arrived yesterday I could see a team of workers clearing some dust and leaves down there. I mimed asking if it was okay for me to be walking in the river/canal and they mimed back, yes, no problem.

I walked down into it. It’s a strange experience, not unlike my experience in the tunnel. Except the fear here is based on death by torrent of water whereas the tunnel was more like death by collapse of roof. It seems like the plot of an action movie. I am not a big action movie lover but must have accidentally seen a few collapsing building or dam exploding ones because my mind is very specific. Yesterday it showed me a huge wave of water coming around the bend in the distance. I didn’t stay long.

Loved all the towers in this Villafranca building which is a library I think

The other unusual thing in Villafranca de los Torres is the weigh bridge. It was in the car park right in front of the motorhome parking area. All day long trucks arrived and weighed their load. I was really interested in finding out our weight. So I convinced Denis to drive up. It costs just €1 to discover we were under our limit of 3,500kg. Phew! We had full water and a full tank of diesel making this the heaviest we would ever be and therefore not a problem but it got me wondering what we might be able to get rid of to lessen the load. Water is the obvious answer, we have a water tank that holds 100 litres and the same size grey water tank. I looked it up and that’s 75kg capacity for each tank. We tend to fill the water tank up to the top when we take in water just in case we run out before we locate the next water source. But if we trust that water will be available when we need it and only fill it three quarters up and if we empty the grey waste water at every opportunity… that will keep our weight down. There’s very little else we can do as we don’t have unnecessary stuff. And then it hit me, there were a few kilos we could get rid of – from ourselves.

Oh. Maybe we’ll only half fill the water tank, then?

Lost and Found in Mérida

April 22, 2022April 21, 2022 | Mairead

It’s funny what you need on the road and what you (of course, I mean we) will put up with to get it. We stayed the last two nights parked in a noisy industrial estate just outside the city of Mérida. The location is in a yard surrounded by fencing and there’s a big locked gate. No one would say this was a pretty spot. Or a quiet and peaceful spot. But it has quite a few other things going for it.

We left the old part of Mérida early in the morning and between the parking app and google we were directed to the industrial estate. If you live near Dublin, think Ballymount industrial estate. One of the interesting things about this one in Mérida was most of the roads were one-way which adds an extra level of confusion when you’re lost… and we were lost. Google maps was saying, you have reached your destination but there was nothing but warehouses and weeds. We had driven around the same petrol station three times when we finally decided to drop in for diesel and find a different parking spot.

You’ll remember the whole issue with the gas shortage – that wasn’t? Well, I had also read about the very high diesel prices and we were checking prices every time we passed a petrol station (which is funny as my Dad used to do the same thing during my whole childhood) and this one had good prices. Anyway, Denis was outside about to take off the petrol cap when a young guy jumps out of his car and runs over to him and says something in Spanish followed by the word parking. Unlike me Denis isn’t learning Spanish but somehow he is surprisingly good at communicating regardless of language. Humph. He holds up the van keys and says, I’m just getting diesel. And the guy says, in English, parking and Denis replies, no I’m not parking here I’m just getting diesel. A couple more attempts and the young guy realises that in spite of his confidence Denis hasn’t a word of Spanish and he takes out his phone, speaks to it in Spanish and then holds it up. And the phone speaks… I’m from the parking place that you keep driving past, I can show you how to get there. Wasn’t that lovely? He saw we were confused and lost and he hopped in his car and caught up with us! We were smiling and laughing when the phone spoke again, You can’t get diesel at these pumps they are just for trucks, go around the corner.

We did go around the corner, got the diesel, got an extra discount off the pump price (my Dad would have loved that!) and then followed the young guy to the parking spot where he gave us a tour of all the services a motorhome needs, like water and water disposal and toilet disposal. There was also a toilet and shower and washing machine and just next door was their motorhome shop where you can get things fixed or changed or purchase stuff motorhomes need. The whole place is like a toy shop for motorhome owners. (By the way, we didn’t know any of this before we got here.)

It got me thinking – what do I really want and what am I prepared to put up with to get it?

Mérida

April 20, 2022April 19, 2022 | Mairead

It’s not all fun and games here. I brought along my Bookkeeping for Dummies book and I’m getting a handle on bookkeeping. Bookkeeping has always been like that big dark tunnel in Béjar – terror inducing. But last year I asked for help before I stepped inside and although it’s work it’s working out ok.

Today we are in the old Roman (in Spain) town of Mérida. It was originally called Emerita Augusta (Mérida for short) and was founded by the Emperor Caesar Augustus in 25 BC. It’s full of the ruins of 2000 year old buildings, medieval buildings and museum buildings. We got up early to keep cool and were first in the gate at 9 am to visit some of the oldest buildings. By 11.30am it was hot and we’d only seen three, you would seriously need a week to visit everything. We’ll just have to come back.

We saw the Anfiteatro (Amphitheater) where the games took place, gladiators fighting each other and animals. The Teatro (Theatre) where plays were staged and civic ceremonies held. And the Casa del Anfiteatro (houses beside the Amphitheater) where you could see detailed mosaic tiles, some interior room decorations, a bath house, original water pipes and a kitchen stove. Everything in this area had been buried in the early 1900’s and when the unburying of the amphitheatre and the theatre started they cleared the debris off to the side not realising they were burying these houses deeper. It was only decades later when one of the mosaic floors was discovered that they realised what was underneath. Everywhere you walk in Mérida there are pieces of history, right beside the motorhome park there’s a field full of house shaped brick walls and in one of the pedestrian shopping streets there’s a preserved roman street made of large flag stones.

You might be able to spot the painted wall decoration and to the rear of that are water pipes

I don’t blame them for losing the houses, it’s hard to see what’s right under your feet sometimes. We have passed through Spain so many times and missed amazingly interesting places every time. We met a Swiss couple yesterday who were on their first motorhome journey to Spain and they had planned everything. Then in their first week they binned their plans when they met a Spanish man at a park up who filled in their map with every beautiful place he could think of in his country. Mérida was one of those places. The Swiss man handed me his phone to look at his pictures of two others, Córoba and Toledo, just a bit too far from where we though we were going but very tempting.

For the rest of this week I’m going back into the bookkeeping tunnel I hope to uncover some hidden mosaics myself… I’ll let you know how it goes. Wish me luck.

Balancing Act

April 18, 2022April 17, 2022 | Mairead

You know when a small/annoying/disturbing/upsetting thing happens at the beginning of the day and the rest of your day is off? Like, it’s not balanced, it’s just a bit off? Ok maybe it doesn’t happen to you. It happened to me yesterday. Now just so you know, it’s wasn’t a big thing but I’m telling you about it so that I remember. I want to remember this is something my mind can do. I want to notice the off-balance that sometimes happens and just notice it. No need to do anything about it, no need to beat myself up. Nothing. Just notice that I may not be able to recognise the whole truth in this moment as I’m unbalanced. So here’s the story…

Wait, first here’s the end of the story… Our gas (LPG) gauge was in the red and that’s a problem because we need the gas for cooking and heating water and running the fridge. We have an app that tells us where the nearest gas supplier is located and we arrived to see red covers on the pump handles, indicating that they had run out of gas too. And only yesterday I had read something about gas shortages in the UK. Is there a gas shortage here in Spain too? My mind was getting ready to imagine the worst, when what should arrive but a gas tanker. No kidding! And no shortage. Ten minutes later we filled up with enough gas for two weeks. Is it possible that everything works out? Sometimes it takes ten minutes, sometimes longer? And the unbalance? It doesn’t last long either.

Ok back to the start of the story… We left beautiful Béjar the morning after my tunnel walk full of optimism and drove to the city of Plasencia, less than an hour south. There was a free car park near the centre where motorhomes were welcome. The sun shone and the temperatures were rising. We had hardly turned off the engine when a dishevelled looking guy came banging on the window. Even though we didn’t understand his words it was clear he was looking for money. Denis said no and shook his head and he left. He returned half an hour later and we realised he was going to every arriving vehicle.

Can you see the swallows? They move too fast for me but I’ve circled them above. Have the swallows arrived in Ireland yet? These ones seem to be getting ready for their journey north…

My mind asked, “is this a dangerous city?” and tipped off balance. Everything else that happened that day was slightly off. It was too hot to go for a walk, there were too many cars, too many bugs, I was hungry, no, I was thirsty, I was fed up. On and on until… We were eating a dinner of cold pie and salad (remember the gas was running out) when a knock came to the door. We both looked at each other… but it was only the owner of the camper next door who had parked so close to us that we couldn’t open the side door. As I’m the one learning Spanish… Denis indicated I should go out the other door to discover what he wanted. I began with “I don’t speak Spanish” in Spanish… turns out that’s not as useful as you might think. If you’re speaking Spanish – badly – the exact meaning is lost on the native speaker but well, you’re speaking Spanish, so they presume you probably understand it, right? I understood nothing and that resulted in the man speaking faster.

Fortunately, he had a wife who spoke face-language – she saw my face and knew I didn’t know what he was saying. Between the three of us (and Denis looking from the gap in the door) we worked out he was suggesting that if we reversed a bit our door would be parallel with the end of their van and we’d be able to open it. And he was right and it was perfect and as we stood outside smiling and saying Gracias to each other Denis and I noticed we were now surrounded by motorhomes. Literally, surrounded. (Ok no, there was a gap in front of us but there were vans at each side of us and at the back, mostly parking illegally!) And they were still arriving. Smiling, chatting, gesticulating, happy people, parking wherever they could find a gap.

And it was so odd it unbalanced me right back to balance. They do things differently here. They eat dinner late at 9.30pm or 10pm. They park in the tiniest of spots. They talk loud and fast. And it’s ok. I slept really well that night, all the windows were open and the sounds of fast talking Spanish drifted in. Yes my mind did throw up some safety issues but I took note of the location of our fire extinguisher and I was reassured. And the next morning we had landed in a new world. Everything was good. There was space again in the car park and the temperatures were more pleasant. We found a small bakery beside the city walls and watched the swallows swooping and soaring. And then as you know, just when we needed it the gas tanker arrived.

I remember as a child when we would go to the city with my Dad to some football pitch or greyhound track and if there was a big crowd there were men who used to help you park and then take care of your car. Everyone gave them a few coins but I always worried that there were so many cars they would forget which one was ours and it would be gone when we got back. It was never gone. My Dad called them the Lock Hards because they used to repeat “lock hard, lock hard” while helping you parallel park into a tight space. The Spanish motorhome drivers are experts at parking in a tight spot. Had a 50 year old memory unbalanced my mind? Was I just recycling one familiar situation and glueing it to this city with my childhood feeling of worry? I don’t know.

Noticing seems like doing nothing but it’s not and there’s nothing better to do when you’ve tipped off balance.

The Tunnel of (Self) Love Part 2

April 16, 2022April 14, 2022 | Mairead

I did it! I walked through the tunnel. I wasn’t sure I would. Denis was with me and I said we needed to stop just inside so I could get a feel of the problem and then we would take the outdoor route. But within moments the problem was gone. The terror was gone out of my body. We walked another bit. For some reason I was holding my fists in front of my heart as I walked, I suppose it was comforting. I noticed the moving forward was getting easier. And sooner than I expected there was a small sliver of light coming from around the next corner. I didn’t want to hope it was the exit in case it wasn’t but it grew and grew and with my excitement grew and grew and then there it was – daylight streaming in through the way out.

We walked out and up a really steep hill to the town. We were actually very far from the old town and the town walls. The tunnel was never the best way to get to the old town. But we found the new town and had lunch outside and listened to the Spanish language all around us. I’m learning Spanish again but not in the way I usually do. I usually learn it to be able to speak it perfectly – god love me. Not this time. I’ve been reading a great book about how you can help yourself to be healthy for your whole life. And it turns out learning is a great way to encourage a healthy brain into old age. This time I’m learning just for learning. And I’m very surprised at the difference that makes to my experience.

It is so much easier to communicate when your Spanish doesn’t have to be perfect. And it’s so much easier to meet difficult situations when there is acceptance of our own reactions and we can ask for help.