Letter from Espargal: 36 of 2009

On a day such as this the world was born. I mean an Old Testament Garden of Eden world, with Adam and Eve admiring the rose garden, not a cosmological big-bang, plasma and molten rock kind of world. Only the occasional pestiferous fly was there to mar the perfection of the day as we walked along the agricultural road through the valley.

The road is perfectly flat which, Jodi the physio says, is the only sensible walking to be done for the next few weeks until my troublesome tendon heals. (It’s much improved, thank you.) We had five dogs instead of the usual four as we are looking after Poppy, a neighbour’s pet, for a few days. She’s well-known to our lot and fits in with no trouble at all.

WITH POPPY

After the walk we went, as usual, to the Coral Snack Bar in Benafim for coffees, toast and a minor baggy. (In this part of the world it’s considered normal to have a beer or a small glass of spirit with breakfast, especially for workers who’ve been up for several hours.)

Next door, José, the tractor salesman, was demonstrating his latest models to the locals. Jonesy suggested that I take a picture of the new tractor that I didn’t buy. The point about this tractor – the latest version of the one I already have – is that it has larger wheels and a more sensible ROPS (roll-over protection system) bar. The wheels raise the hitch several inches higher, away from the rocks that my hitch often hits on our very rough ground.

DOG TAKES OVER

It just so happened that I’d learned from José of another client who had traded in his relatively new tractor for a brand-new one with different wheels, better suited to his terrain. What a sensible idea, I thought – and wondered how much I’d have to pay to do the same. The actual sum doesn’t matter. Suffice it to say that I couldn’t justify it. That’s to say, I couldn't justify the amount of discord it would have provoked.

THE ONE I DIDN'T BUY

It did occur to me that the new tractor was so similar in appearance to my own that few people would have known the difference. But the year and month of sale, which appear on the registration plate, would have been hard to explain away to the curious.

JONES DAWN

As you might have inferred, not a great deal has happened in this part of the world. I’m not complaining. That’s the way we like it. I’m not saying that nothing happened. Last Sunday, for instance, we went to Benafim to vote in the local elections. These are taken seriously, much more so than the national elections were last month, because they dictate the composition of the two bodies that really matter – the councils that run the parish of Benafim and the city of Loule under which we fall.

VOTING STATION

Voters are handed three papers – green, white and yellow – on which only the names of the contesting parties appear; no candidates. We marked our crosses and dropped them into the boxes. In the event we were among the majority that re-elected the incumbents. They’ve done a reasonable job and it’s a case of better the devil you know. Here local elections are more about personalities than parties. You just have to remember which party your desired personality represents.

Jones and I have started to think about our customary spring vacation next year. We are hopeful of meeting up with our families in the US and Canada. I have spent a couple of long frustrating nights on airline websites trying to work out the best dates and options. There’s always a hitch. No airline flies direct to one’s destination. I found one super option, much cheaper than the rest – until I discovered that it meant changing airports in New York en route to Washington. No way, José! Keep it simple is my cardinal rule.

One morning we went along to inspect Ermenio's maize crop (here used only for animal and fowl feed). We explained that in RSA in our youth, mielies - boiled, salted and buttered - had made a splendid lunch or supper. Portugal does make a maize-meal porridge but it's seldom found on menus.

Beside the mielies is the family's newly planted lettuce crop. The lettuce are irrigated and covered with a fine gauze strip. Great white-striped fields of these gauze coverings are much in evidence in the valley. I put the dogs on leads as we pass by, for fear that they'll spot a rabbit and demolish half a lettuce crop in the ensuing chase.

I have no dreams to report his week but I did make a particularly witty comment that I record for posterity. Jones was examining a pair of shoes that had come into her possession. She really liked them and was disappointed on trying them to find that they were too small for her. I consoled her with the observation that Cinderella’s sisters had faced the same problem. Jones was not appreciative of my wit.

NEIGHBOUR MARIE WITH POPPY - APROPOS OF NOTHING

We have returned to class. Jones came along reluctantly to Portuguese, more to meet up with our fellow pupils than to improve her language skills. (We’re a bit like Jack Sprat and his wife. She has an excellent knowledge of Portuguese grammar but sometimes finds it hard to turn her expertise into speech; I tend to jabber away without giving a thought to the grammar.) We have a new teacher, a young woman. I think she’ll be fine once she’s settled in.

My English Conversation class takes place immediately after the Portuguese lesson. I found myself with a dozen new pupils, few of whom had any grasp of English at all – although they’re happy enough to chatter away in Portuguese. (Most are retired or semi-retired.) That’s going to make it tough. Previously, most of them have been able to express themselves in English, however awkwardly. I have suggested to the new group that they also try to take the introductory English course, which is run by another teacher.

I have written to the ambassador at the embassy in Lisbon to sing the praises of the young official who served us so well last week. As I told the ambassador: “We have been inside a great many consulates in the course of our lives to renew documents or obtain visas but I cannot recall previously being treated as a valuable client rather than as a mere member of public.” It only occurred to me afterwards that I might not have done the young man any favours. He really went out of his way to be helpful and, on reflection, I don’t think this is part of the job-spec of consular officials – not to judge by our previous experiences.