Rio Esteiro

It’s nearly 9000 kilometers from Apulia, Portugal to Monterey, California, but the mustard plants are blooming here too. This coast and my coast are distractingly familiar. Along Apulia’s Atlantic, white sand dunes shush-shush against ice plant mounds that I bet are invasive here too. Blush-and-white-striped dune morning glory and sage give way to marsh grasses as Brigit and I amble inland. Swaths of mustard line the rivers and streams. (So many rivers and streams here!)

Somewhere along the way today I got so focused on the flora that I started taking lots of plant pictures. Photos of wild asparagus and strawberry and a saucy red poppy sticking it’s tongue out at our orange state flower. Brigit and I walked through groves of Eucalyptus and birch. I even spotted a scrubby little oak, which, ok, is a bit of a unicorn over here. Brigit was perplexed by my obsession. But she was patient: a sure sign of a good walking buddy.

Even the towns here feel similar. Back in Povoa de Varzim, the street leading out of town was lined with kitschy tourist shops and cafes a la Monterey, with a splash of Carmel. At about the halfway point, the path was bordered on the left by a golf course and the right by small farms. It was Watsonville. Here in Apulia, it’s Moss Landing laid-back with a side of fishing boats.

Of course, California beachfront towns don’t have quite so many centuries old windmills and churches. Ok. No windmills. And of course the similarities are the result of the Mediterranean climate, and Pangea, and blah blah blah. Still, it was comforting and a bit magical to hear the same blackbird songs and catch a whiff of Eucalyptus as we approached a grove just outside of Apulia. It was a whiff of home for me, 5592.341 miles from Cali.Read more