We stayed in Romarigaes in the country house of Duarte Franco and Teressa Costa for six days. The first two days were pouring buckets of rain. We hunkered down in front of a fireplace insert, closing everydoor and window shutter to keep the heat in. We ate baked potatoes and baked onions sprinkeled with rock salt and olvie old, soaking up the drippings with what bread we had brought. They had spring water andi it was COLD. However, we drank gallons of tea and warmed ourselves from inside. To go to the bedroom took real courage. We’d ware all our clothes and hurry into our sleeping bags. However, this life got easier.
We saw an OPB special when we were in Portland about the Island of Crete. There are a number of centenarians there. One thing that was discussed was the fact that outside this monks hut ( he was 102) were seven herbs. Every time he passed he broke off some and ate them. Well, here at Romarigaes there are seven herbs. It is traditional. There are Rosemary, Thyme, Sage, Parsley, Fennel, Margarom and something kind of dusty minty. Cesily would know it’s name. We drank Rosemary tea. Not to mention the Oranges and almost sweet huge Lemons! There were leeks in the garden and a kind of brocorobi that grows all year in every garden. They saw it’s like cabbage. We have our potatoes and sweet baked onions and then slices of Oranges for dessert. We’re in heaven.
We started to make the fire before dark. We brought our sleeping bag in front of the fireplace. We went to the only little café/store in town and bought more bread, some local chocolate and some small empanadas. We bought Maria crackers to go with the chocolate. We were all set.
We had some glorious times when the sun peeked out and we went outside. I sat on the ancient steps of this house with walls 18 “ think stone and let the Portugueses sun warm my face and the breeze run it’s fingers through my hair.
There is quite a bit of land connected with the house. It goes down in steps from the back of the house. There is a court yard, where I set up stools and chairs and I type my entries into the computer here and save them on my thumb drive to send when I get Internet.
We have a heard the goats and a goat herder named Rafiael, traveling through the pastures and sometimes in the yard even. There is one baby. All the adults are hobbled and there are several years of babies, some new, some last year. There is a stinky Billy goat who wares a bell. We here the bell all day. At the end of the day, when the evening was gathering I looked out the window and saw Rafiael coming to collect his heard taking them out through the front gate. He leaned over and scooped up the little white baby and nuzzled her and kissed her behind the ear. There’s a man who loves what he does. Be a goatherd and reduce your stress!
The pace of life shows down. There hardly seems time to eat,, type a little, make a fire, make the evening meal and sit watching the dancing flames, holding hands, and it’s time to gurd up our loins and face the cold bedroom.
We had a little Miracle. On the first of March, we needed Internet desperately to transfer some Money to our account from another account. Some sort of mistake had happened and Eric found us short in one account for the Bills to be paid. We asked at the little store, no one knew anyone who had Internet whom we Could pay to use it. We walked on down the road, pointlessly it seemed, just seemed like the thing to do. There was Internet about a 4 or 5 hr walk from here some people said.
We found a city building, but it was empty and locked in the middle of a Monday morning. It looked to us as though no one ever used it. We tried the door and it was locked. I turned to go down the stops, and the guy who lived across the street came home for lunch. Eric went over to talk to him. He didn’t speak English or Spanish, but Eric is persistent and made himself understood. The man said that his daughter had Internet at work. Her work was just a couple od miles away. He called her. Evidently, she told him why didn’t her le tus use the Internet in the city building, right where we were standing.
He had the key, evidently was the Keeper of the key, and let us in. The computer had to be plugged in (evidently not often used) and it was a slow connection, but Voula! We had our Internet. He missed his lunch while he waited for us to do our banking. We appologized a million times and thanked him profusely, but he insisted it was nothing. How’s that? I am wearing my Cathedral of the Miracle medal. Our Miracle came in the form of a man Ahmed Alfrado, like the sauce.
Duarte and Terres’a son, Francisco had made little sculptures out of Oak gauls and sticks. So I made a “Self Portrait” of a girl, complete with long hair made from frayed rope, sitting in a chair. I put i ton the dinning room table so he can’t miss it and put a little note by it saying what it was. Fun.
One morning I had an idea. In the spirit of all the religión I found around me, I created my own saint, Sanit Agatha, alter Agatha Cristi; (the last name is just a coincidence. She is my Saint of positive thought. When I have a negative thought, I picture her in my mind taking her sword or her scissors or whatever deadly thing she has at hand and rips my negativity to shreds. Kind of my own little way of translating what I see into something I can relate to.
OK, about the Pictures. I want to send some with each entry. However, the Pictures need to be downloaded and we usually don’t have a lot of time on a computer. So attached are some from former entries. Hope you like them. Love, Debra, Mom, Auntie Debbie.
PS. Since I'm writing in the present about last week, I'd like to let you know that yesterday we walked across the river that divided Portugal from Spain. We are now in Spain. Old number still good, new Spanish number is: country code 0034 number 673517849.
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