Ok. It appears that you are reading this blog. Yes YOU!! You make me happy and I love you.
The first night sleeping in the tent was quite eventful. First it started raining, thank you tent for being waterproof (to a point)but ofcourse nothing is waterproof, so a few drops made it through. I welcomed them as old friends, after all if this is the worst, then bring it on. I fell back in sleep, to wake up to being tossed around in my tent. First thought was that I had been blown into the ocean and now my tent was a makeshift boat. Well, not apparently the stakes finally gave out, with the gusts being so strong. Comically the tent and I were sent rolling down the campground, in mud and sticks, like some sort of over-excited ferris-wheel on a speed binge.
I dragged the carcass of vinyl,cloth and plastic back to the site and put it back together. I felt very manly and grown up holding the flashlight in my mouth, while trying to figure out how to re-assemble. No one was hurt, No problem. However to be precise there was a casualty.A sad occurrence, my book ``Breakfast in America`` is unfortunately now ``Mud in Portugal``. Thankfully I managed to finish it earlier. I went back to sleep.
The next morning was not nearly as eventful as the night before. I went about running the usual travel errands- where can I do laundry, where shall I eat etc. I stumbled upon a tiny food store. I could smell the sweetness of the ripe figs and peaches and a few euros later they were in my stomach. Breakfast solved, it was time to go surfing at the Praia Ribeira DÍlhas.
So I started walking.
A few kilometers later, and then about 389 steps down the cliffs I was at the beach staring at some very nice 1.5-2m waves and about 10 surfers scattered in the water. Seeing surfers always makes me laugh, in their wetsuits they remind me of plump, shiny and especially lazy sea lions as they sit and wait for the waves to come. Well soon I was in a wetsuit running towards the break, yearning to catch a wave. Ofcourse this is no weak North American Beach, no, this one has rocks and dips and cracks all concealed by green slippery life underneath. And Of course the moment I entered the water, I found this concealed topography first hand as I slammed face down in the water. All good. The water and my face broke the fall.
A few words. I have never surfed anything so treacherous before. There are rocks poking out of the water pretty much where you dont want rocks to poke out of the water. The entire bottom is full of holes and ravines withing the rock. The bottom is not sand but rock. The surf however was amazing, and I caught some amazing waves. Worth the little blood shed from the various scrapes against the rocks.
The break subsided, mid tide had turned into low and it was time for a break for me. I lay on the beach as the hours passed, reading, watching the waves, watching people, skin everywhere and it was time to go to the match. SPAIN VS PORTUGAL
You more than likely know how it all ends, and depending on your point of view, it was either I tragedy or a triumph. No matter, watching this in a cafe, drinking beer after beer, it was a sad day for Portugal. Chairs were thrown, bottles broken and tears shed. But somehow magically it all condensed into a disco party fueled by a street side automobile , crowd spilling into the street, dancing. Strange and really fun.
Tomorrow is another surfing day if the weather is good, and I need to get some more of those figs. And one more thing. When you order olives in Portugal you get so many. I love this country, for so many reasons but especially for the olives.
Beijos
