30May1996

End of May 1996
My dear folks,

There's a huge moon stuck up in the Algarve sky. We have had a deeply satisfying braai. I'm sitting myself down to make a few notes before everything blurs into a grey fuddle. I arrived a couple of days ago, straight from an overnight shift, & totally mindblown. I dimly remember cocktails around the pool, meeting our Anglo-German guests - super people - & having a swim & falling asleep each time I sat down until eventually I fell asleep in bed - only to wake in the middle of the night. Very frustrating!

It's hot, much hotter than May usually gets. Our guests are grateful for this, especially those who arrived from London a fortnight ago in the teeth of an Algarvean storm. They are the Fish family who were here last summer, parents & 2 young children, the elder of whom, Tommy (7), declared it the worst day of his life as they huddled around a fire in Casa 4. Now, in less than a week, we have gone from mid-winter to mid-summer. We are baking under the bluest of skies & marvelling again over the crimson sunsets that southern Portugal mounts so spectacularly.

Jim & Maja Fish, & children, Tommy & Lily (4), joined us for a braai on Jones's little patio. Lily is crazy about Noite, the cat, but the affection is not returned. If the truth be told, Noite harbours the deepest suspicions about Lily's intentions & flees at the first sign of danger. Lily got too close one night & retired with a scratch for her pains. Such is life. Andries joined us too. We sipped Vinho Verde or Maciera brandy or peaty Laphraoig whisky & mused on the state of the world & feared that Peres might be part of Israeli history. As you will be aware, our fears were borne out.

It's been a useful day. Jones had lined up the apparati that needed repairing & we took them down to Loule. The defunct microwave-oven, the dead electric grill & the broken pane of glass from the fridge in Casa 3. I dropped in on an engineer whom we want to check a big crack in one of our walls & drew lots of money from the bank. Jones raided the supermarket & a new bread shop we found. There's a huge variety of breads in Portugal & one discovers new varieties all the time. After lunch, I went down to collect our strimmer from a neighbour & spent a hot hour zapping the worst of the weeds & grasses in the driveway. Jones has laboured long & hard in the garden but the work repeats itself each year & it's time we focused our energies on ways of reducing her burden rather than merely murdering the weeds.

Mind you, I do not wish to mislead you about the garden. It's true that the terraces disappear under five feet of semi-impenetrable foliage. But the jungle is softened with such a variety of wild flowers as to lend them a certain charm. Around the casas, there is border of intense colours. The gorgeous path of righteousness has all but disappeared under yellow fringes of daisies. There are vibrant red roses, blue bushes of borage, purple lavender, startling red hollyhocks swaying in the wind, vulnerable scarlet poppies, outbursts of fennel, mauve & orange flowered thistles, heaps of sweet scented rosemary. There are creepers & climbers & sprawlers & every manner of blossom. It's quite stunning.

After two perfect days, an Algarve wind spent all night whipping itself into a frenzy, tearing at the trees, rattling the shutters, whipping hats off heads. It continued all day & all night. It's exhausting. Jones says the wind sometimes blows for days without pause.

Saturday was a big turn-around day. Maria & Jacqueline were up at 0700 to get cracking on the smaller cottage & the adjacent apartment. Two parties leaving, two coming. I took the opportunity to touch up the cottage walls. There are patches where a chemical pollutant in the cement causes the paint to flake away - needing frequent scraping down & repainting. Jones took herself down to Loule to buy bread. She needs the reassurance of long walks. The Fish family have also taken to walking to town - no mean haul, it's 2 steep kms through the hills - which Lily manages easily in spite of her mere 4 years.

We baby-sat the children on Saturday night while Jim & Maja took themselves to a celebratory dinner. The 2 kids never stop talking. Both have vocabularies well beyond their years. We took them on an evening tramp through the hills, Jones & Lily in front where Lily bounced along in a gambol that was almost a dance. It made me think of Judy Garland in the Wizard of Oz. Then we came back to MCP to cook crumpets & play Mastermind where their parents found us on their return. Lily confided to her mum that Terry & Barbara baby-sitted her very well.

Sunday 2 June: The Alentejo. We are in our little cottage overlooking the Guadiana River that meanders down the valley between Spain & Portugal. On the far side, a white Spanish farmstead has caught the setting sun. The hillsides are dotted with silvery green olive trees. The birds twitter away. We have chatted to our farmer host, Neville, & his wife, Eileen, whose two small children are soon to have a baby sibling. We have admired their big brown cattle & watched the counting of the 253 angora goats into the overnight paddock. Their flock of geese has paraded solemnly past us, their ducks have supped in front of us - joined by two guinea fowl who clearly think they are part of the family. A 4-month old Ridgeback pup is thrilled to meet us. Since last we were here, Neville has installed a new windmill that splashes a steady stream of water into a hilltop cement dam.

For supper, Jones cooked a chicken in the gas oven. The cottage has no electricity. We took it out on to the patio for a candle lit supper - with bread & roasted garlic cloves washed down with red wine. As we gazed across the hills, I spotted a light that could have been a farmstead or a fire or the distant reflection of a Spanish town. Jones thought it might be a town. I thought it might be a fire. As we debated the phenomenon, the light became an arc that proclaimed the biggest rising moon you ever saw. And how fast it rose, a vast, illuminated orange circle. We stared at it through the binoculars - which it all but filled - at the seas, even the craters clearly outlined on its surface. We feel privileged to have witnessed its arrival - a very special occasion.

Tuesday: God has granted us a morning of such sublime perfection as must have heralded the day of creation. We breakfasted on the patio, feasting ourselves on toast & Eileen's marmalade & our eyes on the river valley below. Around us swooped the swallows who disport themselves all day, as much for our pleasure - I told Jones - as their own. Jones challenged this assertion but I claimed poetic licence. As I type, loud nose blowing from the bedroom signals that Jones continues to lose the battle against hayfever in spite of the muti she has bought. The affliction drives her to distraction.

Yesterday we walked up the track to the village 4.5 kms away. The Angola goats grazed in the fields to the left of the track; to the right were huge brown cows, some of whom resented our passing close to their calves. Beyond the gates we ran into a goatherd grazing his animals & then into a cowherd keeping an eye on his. Each time we paused to exchange a few words & wondered about the pace of life such people must lead. It took us 75 mins to reach the village. It's slow going as the track is badly rutted, partly because of the vertical strata of rock that jut out of it & are impossible to level.

A kindly cafe owner allowed me to recharge my computer while we drank bagaceiras & cokes beneath a brolly in the sunshine. We were the centre of attention for half a dozen old men who gathered - as they do in Portugal - at the cross roads to exchange their insights on matters of the day. Various dogs & small boys & men in trucks went about their business. At the main village shop, we topped up on groceries & then we walked home.

Later, after snoozing in sun on the patio, Jones led me up the hill on a walk that revealed a Spanish town across the river. It also brought us to the attention of numerous ticks that had been lying in wait for just such as us. One of our hosts' children was being treated for tick fever & we had tucked our pants into our socks, knowing the little bastards were about. But we hardly knew in what numbers, nor how desperate they were for a meal. We must have brushed 20 off our clothing by the time we reached the river - where we discovered half a dozen more lurking in our socks. A final check at home revealed three cunningly concealed bastards whom I stamped into the cement with some satisfaction. Hell, but they're persistent!

For supper, I barbecued kebabs on a fire that nestled in a ring of stones & then Jones I sat in the armchairs we have dragged on to the patio & we listened to the BBC World Service News & watched once again the miracle of a full moon rising over the Guadiana.

Wednesday. Tuesday was our away day. We bumped up the track to Monte Juntos & then headed east for Spain - 30 mins away. Jones had in mind a detour through a Spanish nature reserve but we found the countryside rather big & empty & decided on a Portuguese tour instead. Our first stop, for coffee, was in a 2-dog fast asleep in the sun town which even a hermit would have found a bit stultifying.

Next to Moura which we both liked. Lots of character & live people & a restaurant where we lunched on gaspacho & duck stew while my computer recharged. Next stop Vidigueira, one of the wine centres of Portugal. A cafe owner directed us to a wine warehouse which had the finest loo in the Alentejo. I complimented the manageress on it. This isn't a part of the world renowned for its loos, I can tell you. They range upwards from a hole in the ground to plain nasty with cigarette burns all over the plastic cistern. There were some quite smart ones I saw at a road side restaurant on the way up; the doors to both were open, giving the ladies a good view of the men against the wall & the men of the ladies hitching up their skirts. Anyhow, we bought lots of wine at the warehouse & then headed home, trying to stay awake in the heat. We timed ourselves down the track from the local town - 20 mins to bump down 4.5 kms to our door.

We spend several hours a day on the patio with the binocs - doing a bit of reading & a bit of snoozing & watching the wildlife - mainly birds - in-between times. The swallows & sparrows provide constant company.

There are lots of storks - huge black & white jobs - cruising & fishing the river, morning & evening egrets & the occasional hunting eagle. In the field behind us the European bee-eaters steal the show from the hoopoes. We've seen a few rabbits around - nothing like the scores that inhabited the hillsides previously. But the winning call goes to Jones. I was washing myself down in the bathroom at breakfast time - stark naked - when I got a "come quick" call from Jones. So I did. But not quick enough to see the huge wild boar that had coolly trotted past the cottage & disappeared into a nearby thicket.

Jones called it her "hoggy hog". I hung around for 30 mins with the binocs but saw only a rabbit for my pains. I had some consolation later when I spotted two foxes at the top of a nearby hill - big guys, almost black. The farmer knew about them & - since they don't take his goats - was perfectly happy to have them there. He's avidly anti-hunting - the locals think he's mad - & has had the farm proclaimed a nature reserve to keep other hunters off.

We have been lucky with our hire car - the second. The first was decided tired and when it developed a puncture on the first morning I called the company to express my frustration, partly because I couldn't for the life of me find the lever which opens the bonnet, to search for the tools to replace the tyre. The company, to their credit, promptly sent a much newer & nicer car plus a man to fix the puncture and take the old one away. I sent a couple of apologetic bottles of wine back with him. The upshot is that we have done our cruising in a relatively roomy Fiat Punto instead of the usual matchbox.

Thursday: Late p.m. We are back. It took a little longer than usual as it's a public holiday here &, with another due on Monday, there was a stream of holiday makers heading for the coast. The lunatic drivers were out in force, overtaking a string of cars at high speed into a blind corner. We never fail to marvel at their idiocy. It's pass or die! On the way up we overtook one driver who was still getting up to speed after joining the main road. You'd have thought we'd stolen his balls. He came racing after us in his little car absolutely desperate to get in front. I didn't stand in his way.

This however is all by the by. We got back just in time to change & then head for the airport to fetch Barbara's brother, Robbie, & his wife, Carol. The pair of them are en route to Switzerland from the US - a blend of business & pleasure - & absolutely zapped after the trans-Atlantic flight to London from which they rushed to catch the plane to Portugal. They had visited once before - prior to our purchase & development of Casa 4 & MCP - & were mightily impressed at the difference. They are trying to stay awake for the next few hours to sleep better tonight. We plan an early supper at the local. They have a full day with us tomorrow before leaving early on Saturday.

Thank you Cathy & Mum for your faxes. Cathy, tell me more about the second literary cat in your lives! Mum I will draft a proposed reply to the Medical Aid people. But it seems to me that the actual letter will need to come from you in Canada - possibly by fax first, to be confirmed by post. I shall also have a word with you about this. But at this point, I shall print out this letter & get it off to Calgary & Hambach with lots of love.