Portuguese Story Snapshots Nr.3

Just take 5 minutes time, relax, put your headphones on and listen to my first Portuguese story as a prelude to my upcoming podcast Dreamy Cappuccino.

‘Portugal in November. The sun is out and gone again. Blue skies, cloudy ones, rain, scary winds that howl around the house at night. Dust roads with puddles and without, daring anyone with a car to play a game of risk. Yellow- red crumbling earth cliffs and dark- grey slate ones. 

All sorts of people hiking on the cliffs; French, German, English, Spanish etc.  Surfer dudes in hippy camper vans. Men-motor-bike-gangs in their mid thirties, proofing they’ve still got it. 

The road from Carrapateira to Vila Do Bispo peppered with tree roots shaping the tarmac into molehills. Alleys, electric wind mills to the left, soft, green hills and eucalyptus trees. Boy, do I love that smell! 

An English couple at the table next to me. She feeds the dog with fish skin. They have an apartment in Sargres and they think, that England is great at making a complete fool out of itself, whether that’s concerning the Brexit or football. All the same…

Portuguese Story Snapshots Nr.3

The English like it as much here as the Germans. The German expats even have their own Algarve magazine. It’s available at nearly every kiosk. My mom often gets it. 

Me writing. Me walking on the cliffs. Me drinking galao and vinho verde. Me being anxious at night in the house on my own with weird, strange sounds all around. Dogs howling, crushing waves, corrosive sighs coming from strange corners of the house, the water pump having it’s diva moment. 

Yesterday night I fell asleep to the meditation I was listening to and then all of a sudden I was wide awake again. I heard some music play. It sounded so close, but maybe it was only a hallucination, a trick played by my inner ear. I decided it’s not real and it wasn’t. Still, it took me ages to fall in a sleep again. 

Portuguese fishermen on the cliffs, too close to the edges. One wrong step…

Daredevils, that never walk the beach. They only know how to risk their lives to catch some fish. That’s all they do. 

Swabian Holger, who has opened a vegan restaurant in Carrapateira several years ago. He makes gluten free pizzas and they are good. Swabian Holder is off to Germany and I only get the chance to sit in there once. 

Anna, who build the house my mom bought from her all these years ago. Still looking after it. She moved to Portugal over 30 years ago and she’ still here. Only creative, tough cookies manage such a thing. She’s one of those. 

Erika, another German has her own practice in Aljezur, offering Shiatsu. I guess she’s here nearly as long as Anna. 

Expats doing everything they can to survive.

Portugal in November. Me, storms, clouds and sunshine. Encounters on the surface and beneath. Locals, some tourists, vinho verde and galao. Senseless thoughts and long sentences with and without purpose. A pen and a red journal.’

Portuguese Story Snapshots is a prelude to my up and coming podcast Dreamy Cappuccino with stories, musings and memoirs. I hope you enjoyed this little taster.

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