Portugal
Chafé

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    • Day 7

      Marinhas - Amorosa

      June 5, 2022 in Portugal ⋅ ⛅ 15 °C

      Als heute Morgen kurz vor 7 Uhr der Wecker wieder läutete, hiess es wie immer Rucksäcke packen. Anschließend begaben wir uns auf den Balkon, wo die Sonne schon wacker schien und uns wärmte.
      Wir tischten das Frühstück auf und genossen es bei einem traumhaften Blick auf das Meer. Katie beschloss das Taxi nach Amorosa zu nehmen, weil sie einen lädierten Zeh zu beklagen hatte.
      Bevor wir uns auf den Weg machten, tranken wir mit ihr noch einen Kaffee in einer nahe gelegenen Bar.
      Anschließend mussten wir ein bisschen in die Höhe steigen, um dort oben dem Pilgerweg wieder zu folgen. Das Navi unterstützte uns sehr dabei, den weiteren Weg zu finden, da zum Teil die Wege nicht mehr so gut angeschrieben waren. Schließlich ging es einen idyllischen Wald hinunter zu einem Bach, den wir auf einer Steinbrücke überquerten. Auf der anderen Seite angekommen liefen wir weiter durch ein kleines Dörfchen, wo uns drei kleinere Hunde mit einem Bellkonzert begrüßten.
      Erfolglos versuchten wir ein Café zu finden. Alle waren leider vermutlich wegen Pfingsten geschlossen. Bald kommen wir am Strand an und folgten einem Dammweg ca. einen Kilometer in das nächste Dorf.
      In den ersten beiden Restaurants herrschte sehr reger Betrieb. Dies führte dazu, dass wir über eine längere Zeit gar nichts bestellen konnten. So zogen wir weiter und fanden schließlich ein schönes Restaurant direkt am Meer. Nach einem längeren kreativen Bestellprozess kriegten wir schließlich eine riesige Platte mit einem falschen Filet drauf mit entsprechend vielen Beilagen und zusätzlichem Salat. Es gelang uns nicht, die riesige Portion aufzuessen. Im Saal gab es viele Familien, die miteinander zusammen an großen Tischen saßen und riesige Pfannen mit Meeresgetier vor sich hatten. Nachdem wir fertig gegessen hatten, liefen wir den Strand entlang bis nach Amorosa. Kathy war schon lange hier, jedoch hatte ihr Taxi-Chauffeur die Gelegenheit beim Schopf gepackt, um einige unnötige Zusatzkilometer einzubauen. Da Claudia und ich uns vorher am Strand ein bisschen hingelegt hatten, kamen wir erst gegen 6 Uhr in unserem Hotel an. Da wir am Nachmittag so opulent gegessen hatten, verspürten ich und Claudia keinen großen Hunger mehr. Dennoch gingen wir mit Kathy in ein nahes Restaurant. Ich ass eine wunderbare Crèpe, Claudia einen Gemüseteller und Kathy einen Oktopus. Satt und zufrieden machten wir uns wieder auf den Heimweg ins Hotel, wo wir für einmal früher als sonst zu Bett gingen.
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    • Day 8

      Amorosa -Viana do Castelo

      June 6, 2022 in Portugal ⋅ ☁️ 17 °C

      Schon zu Beginn des Tages hat uns unsere amerikanische Lady beim Frühstück zum Staunen (nicht das erste Mal) gebracht. Es ist allgemein bekannt, dass man nicht hungrig einkaufen gehen sollte. Genau das haben wir aber vorgestern für unser Abendessen gemacht. So hatten wir einiges übrig, was Kathy gestern mit dem Taxi ins Hotel mitgebracht hatte. An diesem Morgen packte sie ungeniert diese Sachen am Frühstückstisch aus und bediente sich seelenruhig und mit der grössten Selbstverständlichkeit an den Brötchen, um Sandwiches für unseren Lunch zuzubereiten. Mir war es dabei zunehmend unwohl und ich erklärte somit die Situation der Chefin, sodass sie uns sogar dabei behilflich war! Später unterwegs dachte ich darüber nach, wie es sich so ohne Konventionen wohl leben lässt. Es hat Kathy nämlich in keiner Weise gekümmert, dass auch die andern Gäste etwas verwundert zu uns herüber geschaut hatten. Aber auch da durften wir einmal mehr erleben, wie ausserordentlich gastfreundlich die Portugiesen sind.
      Bereits gestern konnten wir erfahren, wie easy es sich am Strand laufen lässt, und wir gar nicht im Sand einsanken. So beschlossen wir auch heute, direkt am Strand weiter zu gehen, und das war einfach unbeschreiblich schön und absolut meditativ. Der Himmel zeigte sich bedeckt, wir mussten auch jederzeit mit Regen rechnen und genau diese mystische Stimmung war so einzigartig, ja geradezu feierlich. An die drei Stunden, inzwischen regnete es auch ziemlich stark, sind wir am Strand entlang gelustwandelt. Da wir aber gewappnet waren und entsprechend ausgerüstet, hat uns das überhaupt nicht gestört. Im Gegenteil, ich hätte es nie für möglich gehalten, dass das Laufen im Regen so reizvoll sein kann. Dieser Strand war aber auch einzigartig, einfach Strand, soweit das Auge reicht- fantastisch.
      Über eine fast 600 m lange Brücke - gebaut vom Architekten Gustave Eiffel, sind wir schliesslich in Viano do Castelo angelangt, wo wir in einer Jugendherberge abstiegen. Dieser Ort wird als einer der schönsten auf diesem Camino beschrieben. So machten wir uns später zu einer Besichtigungstour und zum Abendessen auf. Für heute stand einmal nicht Fisch, sondern Pasta und Pizza auf unserem Speisezettel, und natürlich durften ein/zwei Gläschen Wein nicht fehlen. Erstaunlich, wie wenig Menschen auf den reizvollen Gassen unterwegs waren.
      Bereits eine ganze Woche sind wir nun unterwegs, und wir haben schon so viel erlebt und gesehen. Auf dem Camino unterwegs zu sein, auch zu zweit, ist einfach schön.
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    • Day 8

      Fluch und Segen

      May 17, 2023 in Portugal ⋅ ⛅ 18 °C

      Der Weg führte heute durch zahlreiche Eukalyptus Wälder. Urige Wege, rauschende Bäche, raschelnde Wipfel mit Gezwitscher. Leider verdrängt der invasive Anbau dieses Baumes die heimischen Hölzer. Der Grund ist die heimische Papierindustrie, die das schnellwachsende Holz als Rohstoff benötigt.
      Die portugiesische Küche begeisterte uns heute mit unerwarteten Köstlichkeiten in unscheinbaren Café s. Muito obregado.
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    • Day 7

      Puddles: Marinhas to Chafe

      May 6, 2023 in Portugal ⋅ ☀️ 20 °C

      (Grab a hanky, my lovelies. It’s about to get dark.)

      I was afraid for the first time today, and then I was sad, and then I was bereft.

      I left Marinhas alone under threatening skies. Brigit and I had parted ways the night before. “This is the Way,” they say. People move on. So, I pulled on my rain jacket and backpack cover and set off up an inland street in what I hoped was the right direction, as there were no longer boardwalk to guide me.

      There is nothing like not knowing for sure where I am to get my nerves humming. So I thought of Kory. Because that’s what you do when you’ve been half of a couple for three decades, and it’s a hard habit to break. If you have someone you love, you do this unconsciously. You’re mind goes to the touchstone knowledge that someone far away loves you and wants you safe, and you feel better. When that is severed, you feel as if your very DNA has unraveled. Only a a few shredded strands remain. I would do anything to maintain these fragile bonds; to not let go, even nearly three years since they first ripped apart. Even though he’s utterly gone, I cannot imagine losing the connection of those thin lifelines.

      I gripped a silver bead with a pink flower on my necklace. My neighbor made this beaded strand for me specifically so I could bring two of the Pandora clasp beads that Kory bought me years ago. I find textures comforting when I’m missing my guy. The feeling of something solid helps.

      Soon, I found a yellow arrow to confirm I was heading the correct way. I was already weepy when I came upon a tiny, nondescript church. You can’t throw a rock in Portugal without hitting a church, but this one was unique in its simplicity. I found a bench in the back courtyard, dropped my pack, leaned my head against my sticks and ugly cried. I’m talking snot-nosed sobbing. Lonely doesn’t come close to the feeling of aloneness in these moments. I am unglued without him.

      After a good long blubber, I used the bathroom (because bless the Catholic Church, there are always bathrooms for the pilgrims), and was on my way. The path left the town of Marinhas via a trail through birch woods along a river. Here was the beauty and peace I needed in order to regroup. Several pilgrims were on the trail. I let them pass so I could be alone.

      I skirted couple of small towns, then climbed through a eucalyptus forest. My guidebook said this was a gradual, 500 foot climb; which was a damn lie. I cried off and on. I came across another church, and at the small desk where I got my pilgrim passport stamp, I borrowed the pen to write “Big Show ❤️” on a smooth, oval rock I had found. (Stamping your little booklet and leaving rocks of remembrance are pilgrim traditions.)

      Then, it was back into the forest. I came upon a makeshift cairn in the woods. Pilgrims had left rocks and trinkets and photos of lost loved ones.

      “No,” I said out loud. Leaving the rock behind felt like leaving Kory behind. It was too much. I kept going.

      As I traveled through several little towns in these 10 miles, I visited the churches. I’m far from Catholic and closer to agnostic, but Mary? She’s my girl. If there is a god, she’s Mary, or a lot like her: someone who sacrifices for her beloved children, lets them go get broken by the world, mourns their pain, then gathers them back into her arms.

      I ran into Mary a lot today.

      At the peak of this exhausting but beautiful trail, about 6 miles in, there is a wildly ornate church. I went in, took some photos, and got my obligatory stamp. On my way out, and heading down the hill, I came across a stone carving of our lady of what god ought to be. And in the hollow of her clothing below her chin, a small, polished, red stone glowed. Someone walking ahead of me had also been communing with Mary. I stood there thinking, and again afraid.

      One of my beads would fit perfectly there next to that red stone. Which would mean leaving it behind. Which would mean, maybe, cutting another fragile strand to what I know, I know, is already lost.

      I thought, ‘Maybe try it. See what happens.’ And I laid the bead down there in Mary’s folds. And I left it behind. Which meant a lot more ugly crying in front of a lot of pilgrims.

      The final, eucalyptus forest came next. There were puddles, and I took a photo of one with the idea I would claim it was all my tears. A sad little joke, but enough to let me know I would survive this day.

      I have another Kory bead on my necklace, and my ‘Big Show’ rock. I don’t know what comes next for this particular aspect of my pilgrimage. I’ll know when I get there.
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    • Day 7

      Kismet & Blisters: Chafe

      May 6, 2023 in Portugal ⋅ ☀️ 20 °C

      I nearly belly crawled into Chafe sporting a blister on my right big tow, a tight right calf, and something badly wrong with my left foot. My trip here started with brutal emotional challenge and ended with brutal physical challenge.

      The climb was nearly 600 feet up through beautiful forests and small towns. Then is was down about 300 feet into the town of Chafe. My Camino Portuguese guide app said this leg was 8 miles. I walked 11.

      Exhausted, I arrive too early at Casa da Reina to check in. (I am learning that next to nothing happens here between 1 and 3 p.m., except the consumption of an enormous meal.) I trudge to a local cafe, S. Sebastian Pao Quente Pastelaria for lunch, and they have salads! Some days here in French fry land I would kill for a vegetable. Anyhow, I get my salad and sit down and notice in the window on my left a poster for a fado show. Tonight! Catching a not-too-kitschy performance of this traditional guitar and voice music was on my Portugal bucket list. The show is at 9. I am blistered, stinky, and sore, but I am going.

      A heavenly helping of green veggies later I arrive at Casa da Reina. And it is... magical. The original stone building of the compound dates back to 1744. It’s been in the owners’ family for generations, centuries. Around every corner of the grounds there is something new to see. It also has a modern pool. And toilets.

      Cecilia, who runs the place her vintner husband inherited, hooks me up with a seat at the Fado show. It’s over at the community center. The person who answers the phone is a nephew. It’s a small town.

      I take a shower and a rest before heading to the pharmacy, which is diagonally across the street from the salad spot. I’m in flip-flops because of the blister. It’s 7 pm, but the pharmacy is closed. Even though it says right on the door ‘8 p.m.’ open and closed are fluid concepts here

      I figure I’ll head to the community center and grab dinner somewhere nearby. I call an Uber. A fashionable woman in a bright pink jacket (it’s a popular color here.) pulls up. I hop in. She drives around the corner and stops. Across the street from the salad place. The ride has been maybe 100 yards. She looks at me, incredulous.

      She points to the GPS on her phone: ‘Arrived.’ We are both confused. So she parks at the cafe, and we get out.

      What follows is a Portuguese version of the Marx Brothers’ Duck Soup. The owner of the cafe comes out. “Aren’t I the woman who was here for the vegetable lunch?” She asks.

      I left my hiking poles. She gets them for me. I am thankful. The pink Uber driver is waiting. She strikes up a query with the cafe owner about my 300-foot, $4 ride around a corner. A fellow at one of the tables joins in. There is much hilarity. The cafe owner, who had told me during my salad day that the performance was at the OTHER community center makes a call. Nope. It’s across the street.

      Friends, a couple of years ago this situation would have had me mortified. But not today. I’m enjoying the ridiculousness of it as much as they are. I don’t feel a fool. Kismet has brought me back to the cafe to pick up my poles. I order a dinner of fried chicken cutlet and fries. I add a beer. I watch families leave the nearby church as I await my concert. It’s peaceful.

      The fado performance is exactly what I hoped for: mid level performers who love the form and an audience filled with friends. They sing along with the band. I sit alone at a table. I am pegged as an outsider because I’m now carrying my walking poles. Everyone is polite, but they don’t know me. This is fine. I’m here for the music. Besides, the plate of cookies at the table for four are all mine. (Portuguese pastries are the crack of the dessert world. I love them as much as I love salad.)

      Late in the performance, the lead guitar player messes up during a song and stops playing. The audience is already singing along. He cues them to stop. They ignore him and instead sing louder. The singer in the band laughs and goads them into a raucous chorus. The guitarist gives up and joins in.

      It’s a perfect metaphor for my day. Shit goes sideways; it’s how you respond that matters.
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    • Day 5

      Day 4 continued

      September 11, 2023 in Portugal ⋅ ⛅ 22 °C

      I’m staying at Casa da Carolina. The shower was cold, but besides that it’s great. Carolina’s grandmother even made vegetable soup for us. All ingredients are from their garden, it was yummy!

    • Day 14

      Verdiente Erfrischung

      October 2, 2022 in Portugal ⋅ ⛅ 20 °C

      Heute mal ein langer Strandspaziergang zum nächsten Örtchen. Auf dem Weg, auf dem uns kaum jemand begegnet ist, haben wir eine Ansammlung von Jumbo Sandsäcken bestaunt.

    • Day 15

      P3D3 11+6/356km

      August 12, 2018 in Portugal ⋅ ⛅ 22 °C

      700 coffee in caravan. Romi was quite finished and had one big blister on her heel. We walked only 11km to Esposende and there we took a bus to São Romão de Neiva (2.2e pp) (the bus was 1 hour late ! - but we were not the only one waiting, so we were quite confident, that it will come eventually).
      Than we walked another 6km to our accommodation, having lunch (salad, beer, wine) in Chafé - place where I walked allready with my kids 5 years ago.
      At 1700 we arrived at Casa Dia's where we had booked a room for 55e. It started to drizzle, but fortunately after we had arrived.
      We had some wine and cheese for a dinner and some fruits later. We went early to bed.
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    Chafé, Chafe

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