Letter from Espargal: 28 of 2010

This past week (or two) hasn’t much lent itself to blogging because it’s been full of social stuff and social stuff is near impossible to write about sensibly. (For lack of anything else I've put up this rare snap of parts of my wife at rest.) Also, we’ve been doing much the same kind of thing as I've been describing for most of summer and I can't think of new ways to put it.

The news is that Cathy is spending a fortnight with us while her husband and younger daughter paddle themselves down a river in the great Canadian outback. Cathy is pretty much the ideal guest. She brings loads of chocolates with her. She is grateful for the least hospitality. She takes very little entertaining. She spends most of her time deep inside a novel and she tries to pay for everything. Also she waters the garden. One can’t ask for more than that.

Naturally, we have used her presence to justify more than the usual number of outings. We took her up to the mountain-top village of Malhao. This boasts a Buddhist monastery that we didn’t have time to visit but will some day. Apart from that and a few houses, it has a café (filled with old men playing cards), run by a pleasant woman who was pleased to prepare coffee and biscuits for us as we sat with the (inevitable) dogs outside.

Jones insisted on taking a picture of Cathy and me against the backdrop of the hills. If you want to live in a seriously sleepy place with a Buddhist monastery and marvellous views, you can’t do much better than Malhao.

Another visit – I’ll keep them to a minimum – was to Rob, Helen and Kayleigh in the hills of Cortelha. They’ve been braving the heat, albeit with a useful splash-pool to cool down in, to work on their cottage on the outskirts of the village. While Cortelha shares great views with Marvao, it is better known for its splendid restaurant, to which we repaired for lunch.

REMAINS OF THE HAND-OUT

Mostly we lunched at home on the sack of water melons that we received from Idalecio’s family. So heavy was this sack that Cathy and I struggled to carry it between us. That’s to say nothing of the tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers that arrived at the same time. I should add that we came across the family as we walked the dogs one morning on the far side of Espargal hill.

CAROBS

They were collecting carobs, a labour at which they spent the entire day. It wasn’t too bad in the shade of the trees they assured us. We’ve started bringing in our own carobs, most of which we’ll be happy to pass on to our neighbours by way of thanks for their many kindnesses.

Prior to that we’d stopped over at Jorge Vieira’s place to renew our supplies. He and his team were hard at work sorting tomatoes and packing them in boxes. We had a few photos for him, which he repaid generously in fruit and veg.

I’ve been looking for a new multifunction printer to replace one that’s limping along. The problem is that a tiny plastic nipple has broken off the cover that controls the ink cartridges. HP can neither repair nor replace the cover and the machine is unhappy. I’ve spent hours reviewing AIO (all in one) machines on the internet and taking stock of what models are available in the local outlets.

I want a combination printer, scanner, copier, fax. There’s no shortage on offer but there’s scarcely one that doesn’t get ripped to shreds in user reviews by unfortunate purchasers. Two well-reviewed models that best fit my needs as well as the space on my desk are not available. So for the moment I’ll continue limping along.

Also playing silly buggers is the safe that we had installed in the house when we built. The keypad no longer accepts the entry code. I phoned a couple of security shops for assistance, to find that they serviced only the models they themselves provided. And since I bought ours on the cheap from a hypermarket – I can’t even find the make – I’ve made no progress. Worse, I can’t remove or replace the safe without knocking a great hole in the wall. Moral of the story: pay the difference and buy from a reputable dealer.

At least I did that when I bought a mulcher some years ago. The ignition switch recently gave up the ghost. Although I had to wait several weeks for the dealer to replace it, he has done so and I can get on with mulching branches once again. The mulch goes into Jones’s grateful garden (where, as ever, she continues to spend long hours day after day).

I can report similar success with alterations to the tractor box and scarifier, both of which I took up to the Dinis the metalworker in Benafim. After spending inordinate amounts of time trying to line the vehicle up with these implements (in order to attach them), I had a rapid coupling device fitted to the hitch at the back of the tractor. The coupling made life much easier but was a poor fit with the implements – until Dinis got to work on them, that is. Now everything fits and couples well.

Our weather has cooled a few degrees, much to our relief, although you wouldn’t think so were you here today. The hot wind that accompanied the July heat-wave made life treacherous for the fire fighters in the north of the country - two were killed – and withered a number of plants in the garden.

One afternoon a great load of fine sand blew in from north Africa, turning the sky a dirty grey (Jones took some stunning pictures) and whipping up a five-minute shower that covered everything – including the car and the newly cleaned windows – with sandy blotches.

Cleaning the car was relatively painless. There’s a mini carwash attached to the service station ten minutes up the road in Benafim. The house windows, large and numerous, were something else. They took Jones (supported at times by myself) several hours to return to their former gleam.

Like most of the other villages in the area, Benafim has celebrated its annual festa with the usual success. Everybody turns out. The teenagers eye one another’s assets while their parents sit around the numerous tables consuming the excellent barbecued chicken on offer (although I prefer the stywe pap). The older folks love a dance. Of course, we went along with the expat gang to share the fun. We generally take a table just above the dance floor, with an excellent view of events below.

We had donated a brandy decanter to the bric-a-brac stall. It was easily the most attractive item on offer and I thought that I might win it back. In the event I had to be content with a small ceramic bowl (Jones liked it) and a keepsake from Morocco.

Friday evening, after our walk, we packed a cold-bag with beers, lemonade and baggy and ascended to the top of Espargal Hill to watch the sun set. Of course, the dogs came along to keep us company. The evening was made in heaven. At the base of the koppie we could see a group of children splashing in a frame pool.

Below us, the hills fell away in a series of swoops towards the distant coast. I dished out biscuits to the dogs. We nibbled the almonds that Cathy had painstakingly extracted from their shells earlier in the day, bashing them between two stones. At exactly 8.15 the sun dipped behind Monchique mountain. Summer is nearly done and autumn will be very welcome.