Letter from Espargal: 3 of 2009

We are back from a walk along the agricultural road (narrow and designed to give farmers access to their lands) that runs along the valley floor between us and Benafim. We braved several minor squalls, suffering little more than damp trousers and wet feet (Jones i.e., who wears her shoes through to the bone in the interests of economy).

This is as a mere inconvenience compared to the soaking we got earlier in the week from an icy squall that froze our hands and nearly blew us off our feet. The wind has done no favours to the almond blossom, which now stains the road under the trees with a soggy, grey mush.


The advantage of the valley road is that it’s little used, paved and level. (I’m still having a problem with slopes.) We are able to avoid the gluey mud that lurks in the surrounding fields while allowing Raymond to rush around to his heart’s content, chasing rabbits both real and imaginary, and depleting his exhausting levels of energy.

Mostly, it’s been a quiet, damp, fireside kind of a week. We were among the millions who watched the inauguration of Barack Obama as president of the United States and who hoped for better things to come. I don’t think that politics makes for good family letters but I can’t hide my relief at the exit of his “misunderestimated” predecessor. (For what it’s worth, I am tacking on to the end of this letter some Bushisms, courtesy of a fellow non-admirer.) I missed most of Obama’s address as I had to hurry down to get Natasha to the bus on time.

Natasha returned on Wednesday, the only sunny day this week, to labour in the fields. She works an extra day for us each month in return for our paying her share of the social security tab. In the morning, wearing one of my heavy winter shirts to shield her from the cold, she removed the suckers that sprout each year from the trunks of the carob trees. Later we loaded the tractor with heavy bags of fertilizer and toured the property, scattering the contents around the base of the carobs, just in time for the arrival of the rain on Thursday.

A pause there to answer a knock at the door. Such interruptions always send the dogs into a frenzy of barking as they seek to learn the identity of the visitor. Having managed to hold them off and squeeze through the door, I encountered our elderly (80-something) neighbour, Zeferino. With some difficulty, he fished a letter out of his pocket - his water bill. Like all the water bills that have arrived in the village, following the recent installation of meters, it’s full of errors. Everybody has been madly overcharged.

There is a message at the top of each bill, saying that Loule is making changes to its computer system for water management, with a view to improving its service, and would appreciate citizens’ understanding for any failings. Well, failings there are aplenty. I spent some time on Loule’s helpline, trying to assist puzzled neighbours, as the bills are coded and difficult to interpret. My helpline guide explained how things worked. Consumers are charged on a rising scale for water consumption and then proportionately for garbage removal from the communal roadside bins. The assumption is that people dispose of as much garbage as they use water.

However, some people were also charged for drains (sewage), which the village lacks, and others for several years’ consumption instead of several months. The whole thing was a mess. We have made one visit to Loule’s utilities office to get bills sorted out on behalf of one Portuguese couple and we shall gladly do the same on Zeferino’s behalf after classes on Monday.

We’ve been making travel plans for late May and early June, when we’ll be visiting family in Canada, first Barbara’s in Vancouver and then mine in Calgary, with a bit of touring along the way. As usual, the house and animals will be looked after in our absence by house-sitters who used to be our Quinta guests and now return here each year. It’s a wonderfully useful arrangement. Our precious pooches have never had to suffer the indignity of being housed in common kennels in our absence.

This week’s film outing was to The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, which has since been nominated for a host of Oscars. I thought it quite remarkable, the first half at least, because I was driven to distraction by the pop-corn chewers, chatterers and mobile-phone consulters and took myself off at the interval to do the weekly shopping instead. Like Saddam Hussein and (it’s rumoured) Kim Jong-il, I really need my own private cinema to watch undisturbed. I wish that there were a more efficient system here of downloading/renting movies. Even then, I suppose, I’d have to wait six months for the new films or buy pirate copies.

Another interruption, this time for a man who’s just arrived from Loule to tune in two new zappers for the electric gates.
I ordered them, reluctantly, after losing one. Losing the second would have spelled disaster. The man is Ukrainian. Like most such workers, he speaks fluent Portuguese, although with a distinct east-European accent. The electric gates are really a boon. They’re our one real luxury. Without them, I’d have to stop the car at the bottom of the steep drive each time we left the house or returned, and go up to open or close the gates. One doesn’t need it, especially in wet weather.


The rain has renewed our river - at last. For months the Algibre, a 45 minute walk down our new tarred road, has been just a dry, gravelly bed. It was a relief to see the water flowing again. That's what rivers are meant to do, to be alive, to run. The bottom line is that the Algarve is gradually getting hotter and drier, which makes one grateful for every passing shower.

Barbara has just taken Raymond’s brother, Bobby, home. She generally fetches him each day for a romp and a meal. Otherwise, like so many of his fellows, he’s liable to spend much of his life at the end of his chain. He and Raymond generally spend their time jousting. This afternoon, they spent it shredding a towel instead. Jones sighed as she picked up the remains, which have since been washed before being consigned to the rags basket. But she’ll fetch him tomorrow just the same.

The rest is Dubya's legacy - which I intersperse with pics of a little local love affair:

*'The vast majority of our imports come from outside the country.'**

*'If we don't succeed, we run the risk of failure.'



**'One word sums up probably the responsibility of any Governor, and that one word is 'to be prepared'.' **

*'I have made good judgments in the past. I have made good judgments in the future.'

*The future will be better tomorrow.'




*We're going to have the best educated American people in the world.'

*'I stand by all the misstatements that I've made.'

*'We have a firm commitment to NATO, we are a part of NATO. We have a firm commitment to Europe. We are a part of Europe '




*'Public speaking is very easy.'

*'A low voter turnout is an indication of fewer people going to the polls.'

*'I have opinions of my own --strong opinions-- but I don't always agree with them.'



*'We are ready for any unforeseen event that may or may not occur.'

*'For NASA, space is still a high priority.'

*'Quite frankly, teachers are the only profession that teach our children.'

*'It isn't pollution that's harming the environment. It's the impurities in our air and water that are doing it.'