Letter from Espargal: 33 of 2008

Monday this week began like Monday last week, with a walk down Espargal hill, across the valley floor and up the opposite hill to Benafim. We’ve been discovering new routes but they all take much the same time, just over an hour, to our destination, the Snack Bar Coral. We sit out on the patio with the dogs at our feet. Brigitte, who’s French, married to a Portuguese, brings us a sandwich, coffees and baggies, plus water for the dogs. She’s finding the Portuguese language hard going – don’t we all? – and is grateful to be able to speak French to Jones.

Jose Raul, the tractor dealer, has his shop next door. He said he had a used 7-prong scarifier that would suit my new tractor. (He knew I was looking for one in exchange for my smaller 5-prong model). He’d lent the implement to Jose Casamiro, who lives a few kms away in Charneca de Nave dos Cordeiros (Heath of the Nave of the Lambs), and suggested I drop by to take a look.

I expressed an interest. I didn’t want to sound too enthusiastic. Lehman brothers had just gone down the chute and Jones was fearful that our savings would follow suit. (Who knows? she may be right!) It didn’t feel like the right moment to be discussing agricultural investments. I did point out to Jones later that it helps during a downturn to spend money. I’m not sure she was persuaded.

DUTCH NEIGHBOURS, ANNEKE LEFT
Anneke, a Dutch neighbour, arrived on foot with her dog in tow. She’s a great walker. She’d come to get some long-promised documents from the local architect, who has an office nearby and happened to be taking coffee at the next table. The Portuguese must think we are mad to go trekking across the countryside with our animals, especially as the weather continues hot – mid to upper 20s.

The dogs found the return leg hard going, stopping frequently for rests in the shade. I exhausted my supply of water. Eventually Raymond lay down, saying “so far and no further”. Jones waited with him while I went to fetch the car. Everyone piled in, Ono objecting to Raymond’s presence, and we finished the trip in style.

Monday afternoon I went to find Jose Casamiro. Like me, he has recently bought a new Kioti tractor from Jose Raul, a slightly different model, and he was pleased to show it to me. His had to live outside in the summer, he explained, because his shed was full of carobs. He had only one tooth in his front upper gum, which did solitary duty each time he smiled. (Dental treatment for the peasantry in old Portugal amounted to extracting troublesome teeth.) We went to look at the scarifier, which was parked in the long grass across the road. It wasn’t much to look at. Scarifiers seldom are. But it seemed useful enough.

Tuesday morning Jose Raul accepted my trade-in offer. I hitched up my scarifier and took it into Benafim to leave with him. He asked me to park it in the field across the road beside the other used farm implements. (These are heavy and unattractive to thieves, who would have to attach the things before conducting their getaways on tractors.) Our business was conducted in cash. We retired to the Snack Bar Coral to seal the deal over a couple of medronhos.

During the conversation that ensued there I met a young fellow who had been reading a newspaper with the help of a beer or two. He identified himself as the owner (or former owner) of the large field between us and the hamlet of Birrao that is due to be developed as a “model village”. There’s been no sign of any development to date. He assured us that the project would be going ahead next year. When I expressed my doubts about the consequent traffic and disruption he swept away any such thoughts with a wave of his hand and the assurance that the village would be exclusive. No arguing with that!

From the cafe I proceeded to Nave dos Cordeiros to fetch the 7-prong scarifier. Jose was out picking carobs but his wife waved a cordial hello as I battled to attach the implement to the back of the tractor. (Unless the tractor is lined up exactly, scarifiers are the very devil to hitch because of their weight! It’s very difficult to nudge them forward or backward.)

Back in Espargal Natasha was cleaning. I’d spent the better part of a morning with her, taking her to a used-furniture outlet to choose a cupboard and set of drawers, and then putting up shelves and what-have-you in her new apartment. She likes the apartment very much. So, she said, does her young son, Alex. The only problem is with her second-hand gas water-heater, which is not doing a lot of heating.

Wednesday I had a call from the Senior University to check that I was available to take English conversation classes again and to inform me that the term would begin in three weeks. I asked, if possible, to take the class on the same day as we go to Portuguese lessons. The boss had his doubts but said he’d try to oblige.

On a couple of evenings we had neighbours around for drinks. We admired the huge full moon that rose over the eastern horizon and speculated over what made a “harvest moon” different. (See: http://www.earthsky.org/faq/harvest-moon if you’re interested.) I was reminded that the equinox is almost upon us, and a good thing too. You folks down south can keep the orb there as long as you like.

Thursday we went to an investment conference given by a firm that focuses on expats. En route, we spotted a cat with its head caught in a can. The poor beast was running around terrified on the side of a busy road. I stopped the car and the traffic while Jones sprang out to assist the animal. Moments later the cat’s owner arrived from a house nearby. Kitty was rescued and hugged and carried off to safety, minus several of its lives. We took the can (salmon paste for cats) to throw away.

I’ve lost my car keys, the principal set. Jones and I have searched high and low for them, checked every conceivable nook and cranny and there’s been nary a sign nor a clue. Reluctantly, I have ordered a new set.

Friday morning: we bumped into Anneke, dog-walking. A large friendly stray accompanied her. He’d arrived the previous day and wouldn’t leave, she explained. Welcome to Espargal.

P.S. The dog later made its way to the den of Chico and Dina, from which it was rescued by Jones and Anneke. Neighbours identified the animal as "Leão", a dog that belonged to a hunter. It had apparently been upset by the noise of the shots on the previous hunting day and fled. It is hoped to reunite Leão with his owner on Sunday.
Otherwise, I fear he's bound for the pound.