This morning the temperatures had dropped. I met up with my buddy, Tony, for our morning walk and he shivered in the light wind. The full moon was still luminous in the western sky—the sun hadn’t overshadowed it yet. Or really, overshown it. The air was clear and crisp and perfect for a little jog to warm us up.
One week into September and the heat of the summer has disappeared along with the vast majority of tourists. The first ferry of the day had fewer than half a dozen people on it. While the calendar denies it, summer is over here.
There will still be warm days, some into the 80s. But the nights are gloriously cool, allowing the daytime heat to dissipate and finally making sleep comfortable again. The oven is back in use for the first time since July—I just could not deal with adding extra heat to the house. But now, I am back in cookie heaven.
In the space of one week, people went from wearing t-shirts and shorts to donning lightweight down vests and jackets in the mornings.
The swallows are still here, but they seem fewer in number, or maybe they’re just not as manic as they were when the babies were first born and needed feeding. The landlord had planned on painting the front of the building this summer, but the swallows have delayed his plan. Next year I will have dangly, shiny things hanging before they return. I like the swallows; not so much the swallow mess. There’s plenty of nesting space across the street in the eaves of the public building.
I take note of the dwindling numbers of people at the bakery below. The locals have passed judgment (“muito caro” aka overpriced) and, for the most part, don’t patronize the place. Unless the owner has pockets deep enough to carry him through the winter, the business will not survive. If someone wants to buy a bakery and actually bake things, there may be an opportunity coming up. But rest assured, he will try to get all the money he put into it back out. Caveat emptor.
The good news is that I no longer have a croissant habit. The bad news is that I have not lost any weight. The good news is that I now know that a daily croissant will not affect my weight by much. Very sure all the other empty calories I eat do.
People ask when the best time to visit Portugal is. For my little area, I’d say it’s the middle of September through the middle of October. The rains start again right around October 15th. The days are warm but not too warm. The nights are cool, but not cold. You can get a seat at restaurants and cafés. The crowds have left the beaches. The grocery shelves haven’t been wiped out.
The magic here is in the peacefulness. It’s in the everyday greetings that people call to each other.
And every so often, the magic is in a surprise. You look out to check the tide or watch the police horses go by and you see a three-masted barque just over the Ria. Quiet, no fuss. Just working its way along the coast. (It’s the Sagres III, a training ship for the Portuguese navy. No sails today, but in full sail, she has 22 up, totaling 22,000 square feet of sail.)
I am not able to travel nearly as much as I’d like to. Living in a country is very different from vacationing or touring. I haven’t hit a lot of tourist spots. Or cultural spots. I’ve only made a few visits to other places in Portugal. I’m not running from city to city, ticking off boxes. I am doing exactly what I set out to do—live like a European in a European country. I might never get to the places the travel magazines tell you are “must-sees” but I am experiencing things that most “Top 10” lists don’t even know about.
That works for me.
The everyday stuff is where the light comes into my life, rain or shine.
What too few see; the everyday magic of a place!! Well done.