The Sparkling Roads of Portugal by Von

We Poopers are very impatient people and we just couldn’t wait two weeks for the estate agents. We decided to call them a second time to see if we could find the place Moses for ourselves. They said no but we ignored them anyway. We decided not really knowing where we were going. Or what the place would be like. Or how far it was. Or well anything. All I knew was that 1, we were going to find it and 2, the Mosiemobile would get us there.

Andy has written a great deal about the journey to Moses but there are a few experiences special to me that I will share with you. All the time we were driving to this place I was falling in love. After leaving Coimbra we drove through an area of once forested mountain that lay exposed due to the ravages of the 2005 fires. Due to the lack of trees we could see down the mountain side into a valley. All along this valley were terraces of olive trees and nestled within the terraces were these lovely stone houses and secret gardens. We stopped off because I just had to see. I managed to climb down a little way to get a closer look. Squatting on the side of the mountain I said aloud, "I would like a place like this, nestled in the valley but surrounded by mountain, I wonder who lives there." On the way up I got my answer. Coming towards us were three smiling older ladies all dressed in black. One carrying hay on her head, the other supporting her and the other talking and chatting. One of them came up to the motor home and promptly started blowing kisses at Moses, the other started blowing kisses at me and the last one blew a kiss at the children. There is something very special about the kisses of these older traditional women and that day I felt that there was something special about to happen. Some special blessing for us Poopers. Blessed and welcomed by the upholders of the traditional ways we moved on. The sun was shining and we were all in thoughtful silence, it was then that I realised the road was actually sparkling. I have later learned that many of the roads sparkle due to a mix of minerals from the granite used in their making. So, sparkly inside and out, we carried on in search of Moses.

As we drove, the city gave way to towns and the towns gave way to villages and the villages to tiny hamlets and then finally we were surrounded by gently folding Portuguese hills. Not as dramatic as on the North coast of Spain, or as wooded and enclosing as in the Italian Abruzzo’s, but gently folding and wrapping into each other mile upon mile. The landscape looked so feminine; sensual, approachable and vulnerable. We were finally on the road less travelled in Portugal and then we arrived at Amieira the village we had read was closest to Moses.

Always when we stop driving, there’s a flurry of activity to make the motor home comfortable for when we return and depart. There was more of a flurry than usual because 20 or so villagers came out to see us and the builders argued over where Moses actually was. Eventually one builder carted Andy off to take him to Moses, leaving the kids, the dog Moses and myself sorting the motor home. Once the sorting was done we were too impatient to wait for Andy to come back, not knowing where to go I decided to try and ask the one or two villagers still standing around. My Portuguese only extending to ‘good morning’, ‘good night’ and ‘I’m sorry’ meant that asking directions was pretty fruitless. Frustrated I stood at the side of the road and said to myself, ‘I can find this place because it is mine’. I knelt down next to Moses the dog and said to him, "Hey bud can you find it? Can you find Pa Pa? Can you find the water? Take us there, find it boy." I had barely finished speaking before he set off at the highest speed I have yet seen him capable of running. So rather than a slow thoughtful walk to Moses, the children and I set off at full pace down the hill following our beloved dog but not sure if he would take us to the place. Then we saw Andy coming. He was just leaving to come back up the hill and fetch us. With a huge grin at once annihilating any questions in mind he said, "Come and see". So not only is our new home called Moses but Moses the dog was the first one to lead me there. How special is that!

When I looked at Moses the place (okay from here on in I will spell Moses the place in the Portuguese word for it Mós, meaning ‘millstones’, renamed Moses last year by the estate agents so we’d know it was ours: most thoughtful of them), so when I first looked at Mós I couldn’t believe it. It was a replica of the village I had seen in the valley with the three old ladies. At the time that village was the only one we had seen that looked like that and here I was standing in a place that looked almost exactly the same. It really is beautiful, exactly as it is, but standing there I could see all the possibilities of the future unfolding. In my minds eye I saw the colour returning to the village, I heard the children swimming in the brook and Andy playing piano in the house. And once Papops came I could also see the grandparents hanging out sipping port, laughing (and eventually probably drooling a little [Andy’s addition]) and reading to the kids as the sun sets over the valley. I was hooked. I was home.

We spent most of the day in Mós, talking, looking around and clambering up and down the terraces. I was so happy, but then I became aware that there were a couple of shadows. One, Joshua looked crestfallen. The place was beautiful but it wasn’t Italy. Two, none of the houses were big enough for us to live in as a family and three, there just weren’t enough houses for my friends "Tom and Jerry" to join us.

I hadn’t realised how much Joshua loved Italy and seeing how crestfallen he was, I said to myself, " I have seen this place. It has been offered to me. It is magical but it cannot be home if my little boy does not want to be here. If this place is meant to be for us then answers to questions will come, if those answers do not come then we move on. Life is too short and too good to be wasted on regrets." Well, the answers to question one came quite suddenly, after the second time we went to be there I noticed Joshua playing a little and relaxing and then he came to kiss me and said "Mum it is beautiful". I knew in my heart that those words were the beginning of a change of heart. Mós was beginning to work its magic on Josh.

The answer to question two came in the middle of the night when Andy woke up and said that if we had the two houses that are virtually two foot apart then the kids could have one and we could have the other and we could connect them via a covered court yard and pathways. You see in my secret dreams of our new house, I had always seen an internal courtyard with the home structured around an indoor garden. During our travels we have had the opportunity to see this in the many Roman ruins we visited so that Joshua and Eloise could continue their learning on the Romans which they’d began in school. When visiting the archaeological sites all of us had fallen in love with the indoor courtyards and now here we were planning to do the same. Well once we told Josh and Ellie our plans they were totally convinced.

So the obliterating of shadow one and two came pretty quick. Encouraged by this and the sheer magic of all our experiences associated with the place so far I felt certain that we could deal with shadow three. In my being I knew that somewhere amongst the undergrowth there’d be a place for lovely "Tom and Jerry".  The next day we found Christiana, our Swiss German angel, who said he would walk us to Mós. At the start of the walk I felt strongly that we should not go the usual way but go the long way round via the village as we turned the corner away from the village we saw Quinta Perfume!

We had read on the website that the closest neighbours were 500m away. We had also read that there was a really lovely property called Quinta and were thinking of going to see it with the estate agents just in case we didn’t like Moses. Never in our wildest dreams had we thought that the neighbouring property would be up for sale and that it would then be the lovely estate called Quinta Perfume! "Tom and Jerry" love it and join us next week to buy it at the same time we buy Moses. Well I guess this trip is all about wild dreams and the realisation of those dreams, step by step.

In the last two weeks question after question has been answered. Big ones, small ones, tincy, tiny niggling ones. It seems as if life has big neon arrows pointing at this place and we just have to follow the path. We’d said all along that Moses would lead us to the promised land and that the place we would find would rise up and bite us on the arse. Mine definitely feels bitten. And it’s not letting go.

Besides all that, I really like Portugal. It is a very gentle place, unassuming and elegant. I can grow all my favourite temperate plants here and virtually all of the plants that grow in Barbados. Imagine nectarines growing next to bananas. Finally, there are so many black people here. Everywhere we have been, in the cities, in the towns, in the villages, on the beach. I have seen black Africans, black Brazilians, white Portuguese and every combination of this spectrum walking together, talking, working etc. I have seen more mixed race couples here than anywhere else we’ve been in Europe so far outside of London and no one stares at me. At all. It’s amazing!

There’s a lot to be done. So much to be sorted out and so many more questions to arise. Questions we know will be answered like our first ones have. There is so much work to do and I am sure there will be many hurdles to climb over, go around, dig under or simply blast through. But with such a magical beginning we are feeling blessed. We have been pointed towards a place and when the universe points only a fool walks away. The universe pointed me to Andy, to Shardeloes Road, to Josh, to Ellie, to Moses the dog and now to Móses the place. There is indeed a long road ahead to be travelled, it is the road less travelled but I really feel it is a sparkly road. We have found our new home and it’s called Moses!

Need I say more?

Josh – Free to be free

Forget what I said about Portugal being too perfect. It is just right.
Since my last blog my mind has changed (dramatically) about Portugal. The flowing streams, happy people, flourishing flowers, green grass, beautiful houses and villages and just the inventiveness make Portugal my favourite country I’ve been to (I said dramatically). From our stay in Porto we have driven through the “mountains” and the multi coloured towns and forests until we met our future; Mos. If you look on a map you will probably see a place called Castelo Branco (if you look on a more detailed map it is possible but highly unlikely that you will see a place called Amieira) that is roughly where Moses (Mos) is.

We came across Amieira, not by chance, but with loads of excitement. First of all I wasn’t sure about Amieira or Mos (moshjz) but after the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th time I guess you’ll grow to love a place. It was because of that, the fact that I had many conversations with dad about it and the fact that mummy was so happy, so at home in the wonderful place that you could see the joy seeping out of her, that made me change my mind about Portugal.

Dad had told me that in all the 13 years and eleven months they had been married, not one single time (maybe apart from when Ellie and I were born) had she been this happy. Constantly these words rang through my head saying “hello brain to Joshua. 13 years! 13 years! Do you speaka da Engleesh? 13. T-H-I-R-T-E-E-N years. Your mother's happiest moment is here. The person, who loves you, cares for you, comforts you and held you for nine months. How does that make you feel dumdum, Mr. grumpy and moany? You’re making that joy level drop. Remember 13 years.” Those words rang through my head, day and night, night and day.

However one piece of the puzzle was still missing in my mind; me. Now that piece of the puzzle is packed in tight with the rest and right now is being welded into place.

When we went there with my Grandfather (who brought us tonnes of new books and school books for the “new school term”) that same joy that seeped out of my mother, seeped out of me. Although Papops held a bit of a grudge (don’t all grandfather’s with really expensive houses in Dulwich village when their son and daughter-in-law are about to buy a ruin) at first, he soon decided that he liked Mos.

We had a great time with Papops. He flew out from Gatwick to Lisbon with a rucksack, a bag, and a 27kilo suitcase full of books that smelt of frankincense (the bag of incense had split). As soon as the books arrived we dived into the suitcase looking for what was ours. We settled in all snug in the back while dad drove and Papops talked about life at home.

Mummy, Ellie and I stopped reading only once it became too dark to do so. That’s when we saw the lightning. It must have been an electric storm because there was no thunder. The last real thunder storm we experienced was in Andorra (we did have a couple in Italy and France) which was pretty loud especially because it echoed throughout the mountains. This storm was by far the biggest I have ever seen, the whole sky was lit up in a violet light. The splashes of colour from the lightning lit up all the villages and the view that were previously hidden in darkness. The few seconds in brightness showed Papops the view too. It was an amazing experience, driving though the fog with huge bolts of lightning being the only source of light apart from the village street lights (that carried on flickering) and the motor home headlights.

Our destination (one of the 3 campsites we’ve stayed in throughout the week that we’ve been in that area) was closed, so instead we parked up outside the gates to sleep. In the morning we packed our bags and headed towards Amieira, where the news travels quickly between the 20 people that live there (although we’ve heard when there’s a summer party 20 turns to 150). We started our hike by heading towards Quinta then taking the road to Moses. We headed down to Lisbon the next day and after the 2 ½ hour drive we stopped off at a little restaurant to eat. The first dish was a small plate of salad for the 5 of us. The 2nd plate was huge, almost 3 times the size of the first and piled high with barbeque chicken, beef, ribs you name it. What we have noticed is that the Italians, Spanish and the Portuguese (especially the Portuguese) have a fondness for meat.

We parked up at a campsite in the evening of Moses’ Birthday eve at a campsite just outside of Lisbon.

When the morning came Moses was 2 and got a new collar, Papops left (Moses huffed and puffed all the way through the drive back because Papops is by far his favourite. Although maybe it was because he hadn’t had breakfast yet and it was 10 O’clock), and we spent the whole day pampering Moses.
We spent the day at the swimming pool campsite and left for a day out in Lisbon the next day.

The old Lisbon, Alfama, is mainly white with splashes of colour from the trams, shops and people. I had a painful limp (dad had cut out my verruca and then put on this stuff that is supposed to freeze it out but instead it was burning into my foot) so we didn’t walk far but we still took lots of photos. We ate out at a Portuguese café called Pois Café (translated in English as Next Café) and actually found three meals with no meat (of course Ellie had to have smoked salmon sandwich with salad, but no tomatoes), Hallelujah! After we had some cakes (I had the cinnamoniest apple strudel, while Ellie and Mummy shared 4 slices of lemon cake and dad had the best Dutch orange chocolate cake ever. All of them had to be homemade) we walked up (in Lisbon you either go up or down, never flat) towards the 28 tram stop and hopped on the longest going one. Ellie and I got window seats so we could stick our heads out of a 20mph (30kmph) moving tram just to bring them in as soon as a post went by, while mummy took photos and dad sat on his own until he got a chance to come up with us.

Once we left Lisbon we drove up to the coast to check out the best surf (and skim boarding) beaches in Europe. Some of the beaches hold the world championships, so there were people doing 360’s, 540’s, I even saw a guy do a back flip. Kayakers were there doing 720’s there were even boogie boarders their doing tricks. Right now we are outside a beach with the hottest water in Europe and I’m off!

Josh - Returning to Our Roots

With our new photos and more experience about handling our camera we now have photos for every occasion.

After finding out a couple of years ago that my mum’s great-great-great grandmother was Portuguese we decided it would be like going home again. We drove through Galicia – the last “county” before Portugal – stopping off and taking long walks for Spanish “passagiata” (I still think Italian passagiate have a lot more vibe) or going for trips specifically (or as Ellie would say it: pacifically) for photos we eventually took our last look back at Spain before entering Portugal. We were driving down the road and dad suddenly decided to pull over next to a café – one which thought that hot chocolate was a chocolate drink warmed up - 200ft from the border. Ellie and I ran to the border to see who would enter Portugal first. I won obviously but decided to take a rest under the border. Eventually dad drove on and the landscape changed dramatically. Although Portugal is pretty flat (the highest point being 2000m, 7m of it being a statue, the lowest point being well under sea level) mountains were springing up everywhere!

We drove through to a little town and decided to stay there a couple of nights out side a bumper car pitch, result. The first thing we did was go to the estate agency. We were gob smacked. Almost all the houses were under 100,000€! We found one house with 18 hectares of land that was under 75,000€ called Moses. I’ll tell the truth, I have been a bit unfair to Portugal but I have an excuse which, I think, is a rather good one. We came into Portugal and all we have seen is amazing, the beaches, the towns and the houses. I love Portugal just as much as anyone else but the thing is, it is almost too perfect. Also Italy felt like home to me, sure there’s some Portuguese in me but Italy is just so……random. Of course nobody else understands a word that I’m saying. Portugal has got this; Portugal has got that, which I understand. Don’t get me wrong I’m not trying to be moany but that’s how I feel. I know I say this about everywhere but if you ever have a chance to go to anywhere in Portugal (I recommend Porto just remember your walking boots. We heard that Lisbon is steeper) or even travel it - like my grandma and grandpa have done lots of times – do.

Ok enough moaning and mourning lets get to the happy part and (I hope) the funny part. Everywhere we’ve been has been so lush, so green, and so full of colour; the mountains the towns even the cities, which are becoming a huge problem in global warming all over the world (there are 10,300,000 people in Portugal. 10,300,000 is the amount of people who live in London), are beautiful. Everyone is so happy so joyous with that which life has given them, everyone knowing that life will give them what is best for them which is hard to imagine in a city. I for one, and I know I speak for many people when I say this (I’ve been reading waaaaaaaaaaaay too many books), have been inspired by the people who are happy with their lives in all the places I’ve been. In Italy: be free and happy. Live life and love it because if you are not you will feel locked up and grumpy (also EAT GOOD FOOD OR ELSE!). In Spain: let nothing bring you down mentally or physically because if you are happy your mind body and soul will be happy too. In Portugal: smile even when the sun is not shining because life will do what is best for you. In Barbados: chill man. The lord has given ya whatcha need bwoy. Ya don’ need any more dan dat. In Africa as a whole from what I’ve seen: make use of what you got while you got it because it might disappear before you know it. In France: Um…… Ur…… one sec…… it’s in there…… Oh yes, no matter how many bad things that happen the good things and people will be greater in mind and number. These are my views and they have helped me a lot and they all join to mean one thing…… Don’t worry, be happy, don’t worry, be happy, don’tworrybehappydon’tworrybehappydon’tworrybehappydon’tworrybehappydon’tworry you get the picture. You might think “what is he talking about! I don’t want to be free or eat good food. I am fine with being brought down. If the sun is not shining or life is not good to me I won’t smile” that’s your choice. Personally if that was me I would cower in a corner for the rest of my life but everyone has their own opinion.

One of my favourite places in Portugal is Braga, home of Bom Jesus whose commissioner was a 1.2m midget bishop. We drove into Braga and stayed in a campsite because it’s forbidden (not legally) to wild camp and you get glares when you wear swimming pants or bikinis (not so smiley now) in Portugal. We left Moses to sleep in the motorhome while we started our 3 hour walk to bom Jesus. We reached the church in 30 minutes after taking a bus and started our walk up the billions of steps. Ok my last moan, for me - carrying the camera a huge rucksack and having turned down my food for the campsite swimming pool - which I will talk about later – and having no water the 45min walk felt like 45 hours. Eventually we reached Bom Jesus for the last rays of the sun. The taxi back was like a roller coaster. If you ever find yourself at bom Jesus make sure you take a long taxi ride. We hopped in the black Mercedes and we shot off like a rocket. Within seconds it was over but the thrill was amazing. Back at the campsite I dived off the 8ft diving board without a hesitation but it took a good lot of encouraging to make me dive off the 15ft one. I did it three times in the end three times of pure agony.

My all time picture perfect place in Portugal is Porto. It is beautiful. There are no other words to describe it. Be-a-u-ti-ful. The gushing river, multi coloured houses, billions bookshops and cobble streets, a photographers dream, that is Porto. We roamed around (more like sprinted because dad always sets the pace at 6kmph) looking at everything. I would love to see how Porto will be in 10 years time. We met a guy who spoke English who said that Porto has changed dramatically in the last ten years. It is the same all over the world. The world is changing and being destroyed at the same.

We have now found a little spot to stay for the night. Ellie is annoying dad, dad is cooking, mummy is warning Ellie, Moses is sleeping outside and I’m peacefully writing this on mummy and dads bed.

I’m just going to check the check list. Am I relaxed? Yes. Do I love life? Yes. Are my soul, mind and body happy? Yes. Am I content with life and have I got a smile on my face? Yes. Am I chilled? Yes m’lion. Am I using what I got? Of course. What’s the ratio of bad and annoying things to good and helpful things? 1:4 (Ellie: dad, mummy, Moses, god). Am I worrying? What a stupid question. Am I happy? Yes. Living life and…… well, you know the rest.

My Favourite Places in Southern Europe (so far)
1. Rimbochi, Tuscany, Italy
2. Porto, Portugal
2. Giverney, France
3. Basilicata, Italy
4. San Sebastian, Spain
5. Alberobello, Puglia, Italy
6. Mt. Etna, 3000m, Sicily
7. Pyrenees, Spain France Andorra
8. Lago di Campotosto, Abruzzo, Italy
9. Paris, France
10. Braga, Portugal

PLUGGING IN …PLUGGING OUT

Since our fateful time in Bilbao when we were marooned outside a shopping mall in Leon trying to replace all of our favoured gadgets, I have been thinking about the nature of plugging in and plugging out.

In the Matrix, when they plug in you know it is a physical illusion of sorts, but everything looks so much cooler. Food tastes good, their clothes are super cool, their bodies strong and capable of impossible feats. Out of the matrix, unplugged food is bland mush, their clothes are these grey shrouds and you realise that Neo can’t fight for sh..! Yet, for the majority once they taste their freedom whatever they want to fight for it, whatever its lack of slickness. Well being in the motorhome is a lot like that!

After that brief stint in Leon we were desperate to be back in nature, we really did not do Leon justice, it is a fascinating city but with the memory of that shopping centre lodged in my mind I don’t think I will be going back. From Leon we wild camped all along the spectacular Northern Coast of Spain. The most beautiful series of mountain scapes I have ever seen. We washed in freezing cold rivers, accumulated huge amounts of laundry so that all our clothes looked like grey shrouds, we ate whatever we could manage to eat from the local shops (our chef is very creative and managed to turn nothing into something yummy most nights…never bite the hand that feeds you). While we enjoyed the freedom of being away from towns and cities and people the only problem we faced was the weather!

You see when it’s sunny we are all outside enjoying the space of not having to be on top of each other. After lots of time outside everyone manages to find space in the motorhome. Josh usually hanging out by his bed near the `kitchen’, Ellie in her bed above the driving area, Andy and I in the lounge at the back and Moses sprawled infront of the toilet or lying outside under the motorhome. Alternately we are all outside lying under the canopy on cushions and blankets and just generally being quite hedonistic. But as we were to find out it is entirely a different situation in the rain and on that North Eastern coast it rained. It rained, rained, rained. In fact it rained so much that we wondered if the rain was following the Mosiemobile. Being from fair England rain is not normally a problem for us, you get dressed for it and go out in it and embrace it. But not if you are wild camping in a motorhome. We couldn’t get anything dry, including our wet hairy and very enthusiastic Golden Boy – Moses that is who instead of being sprawled outside was permanently sprawled in front of the toilet, the one place you want to get to in a hurry. Damp walking shoes, damp clothes, damp kids, damp dog, damp carpet. Our first sunny day was at the fishing village and even then the very next day the rain started and so desperate to feel a little more human we decided to plug in once more and made a beeline for Santiago de Campostello leaving out A Coruna and that apparently divine stretch of Spanish coastline, heading for sunshine, washing machines and hot showers we put in our latest favourite CD The Black Eyed Peas and headed south.

Usually when we arrive at a campsite we are chomping at the bit to get going. Not this time. 5 bedraggled Poopers arrived parked up after several attempts at a pitch where we were all alone. Immediately ran in 4 directions, Andy to the internet, kids to the swimming pool, Moses to his favourite spot under the motorhome and me to the showers. What bliss. After a lot of wow this is what it feels like to plug in this is so cool we headed off on the 40min walk down the hill from the campsite to Santiago. Ellie rollerbladed all the way. Watching my little girl roll and rock through the town will be my most treasured memory of Santiago. Even with the 50 min hike back up the steep hill at midnight, pushing her most of the way.

What a cool city to be plugged into. There is rather a lot important-historical-information I could tell you about Santiago but you can read it from a travel book, Lonely Planet is great. I can tell you what it felt like for me, bliss. Santiago is a gorgeous city, refined, open, eclectic, historical, modern, elegant and in many ways spiritual. It restored my belief that cities could be beautiful. We walked in its broad expansive plazas, ooowed and awed at its unbelievably impressive cathedral, breakfasted in lovely courtyards, sighed at the fountains and statues. We were blessed by the sultry guitaring and amused by the aweful bagpiping (very strange). Moses picked up girls wherever he went and Andy promptly took his lead from me. Pluggin in on that occasion was awesome and after a few days rest we were ready to head for Portugal.

Just outside of the border crossing for Portugal, Andy made a sharp right turn, (every unexpected turn feels sharp in our great and kind beast of a Mosiemobile) into the parking lot of what must easily win the grottiest café in Spain award. We ordered two horrendous coffees and two awful hot chocolates served from a bottle and microwaved to a toxic heat, then sat looking out onto a rather uninspiring bit of Portuguese land and a more promising Portuguese river. Andy proceeded to give me one of his inspiring talks on my Portuguese heritage. If you are a friend of his you will know roughly what this kind of talk is like. He reminded me that like this river whose beginnings were on Spanish soil but quickly flowed into Portugal, so part of my heritage came from Portugal either through the legacy of the slave trade (as the slaves of Barbados were first brought to Barbados by the Portuguese) or via a distant 4 generation back Portuguese grandfather. These two factors meant that even in some small way this land has more significance for me than any of the other places we had been too so far. I don’t know what I really thought of all that he said but what I do know is that after the talk and after watching my two imps, Josh and Ellie playing under the border crossing sign I felt inspired to explore Portugal and plug into this space which in some way may be a new aspect of home.

We dropped into the Northern region of Minho and felt instantly plugged into another culture. Minho is a pretty heavily populated area, and everywhere we went we saw browned skinned dark haired people, startlingly white towns very sleepy relaxed towns such as Viana do Castelo with its romantic Baroque churches, rococo architecture and blue and white azjuelo tiled houses. We travelled to Ponte de Lima, through which the River Lima runs, its most striking feature being its beautiful restored roman bridge and warring Church bells from largely identical Churches sitting either side of the bridge.

Of all the lovely towns we passed through Ponte de Lima sticks most in my mind. We arrived feeling a little tired, the thrill of crossing a border died down and the tiredness of a days travel mounting. On top of that there is always the having to reorientate yourself to a new place, language, customs, rules,etc, etc. Andy as usual fearlessly turned a corner, I sat next to him fearfully wondering if I was going to have to get out in the middle of the road and guide the traffic and the motorhome out of a tight corner. Something I have had to do many times in a constant effort to take this motorhome where no other motorhome has been before. But, on this occasion my Portuguese ancestor must have been smiling down on me for instead of a tight corner the road opened into a grand pavilion and then lead to a huge parking area in front of the river, Yeah! We had found somewhere to rest in a town but not in a campsite! In our glee we failed to realise that there was a sign saying no caravans or motorhomes and had to move on after two sneaky nights. We managed to stay 2 nights cos we were welcomed by the Portuguese fairground bumper car company gypsy guys that were operating in the said car park and gave the children rides – it looked like we were one of them. Not before we swam in the River, Moses mostly, and walked in the streets and met an estate agent and had a look at some property and drank lovely Portuguese white wine and woke up with thumping headaches from the overlyloud crazy European style house music from the kind bumper cart gypsies.

After Ponte di Lima we realised that in Portugal, wildcamping is not permitted, but having taken away that freedom the Portuguese authorities have offered the Portuguese people and visitors all over Portugal very cheap, safe campsites with good facilities – called Parque di Campisto. So armed with a book on these campsites we Poopers have been enjoying the benefits of plugging in a lot more than we would normally. Portugal is definitely not set up for remote living. In our beloved Lonely Planet guide they mention that the Portuguese hate walking anywhere and will definitely not go anywhere remote. This has been our experience so far, many of the roads seem set up to ferry you into the towns, cities and villages. With our motorhome it has just not been easy to reach the more remote areas and since Bilbao our confidence at leaving it has been shaken so that we have not yet felt comfortable with leaving it and hiking off somewhere for a day. As a consequence we have been plugged in a lot more than we would normally choose and have seen some remarkably beautiful towns, villages and cities.

Moving south we’ve seen the cities of Braga, Oporto, Coimbra and next week, Lisbon. There’s a saying here in Portugal that Braga prays, Oporto works, Coimbra studies and Lisbon plays. Thinking this is as good enough a map to follow as any we thought we might visit these cities. So far we have plugged into Braga a discordant combination of religious strong hold and desire to modernise, largely through tacky touristy commerce, most evidenced as we climbed the steep pathways to the remarkable cathedral of Bom Jesus only to hear awful loud speaker music and be offered overpriced icecream and coffee. But we did have the most fantastic taxi ride home (I’ll let the boys tell you about that).

We’ve experienced incredibly atmospheric Oporto the second capital of Portugal. Oporto is incredibly Dickensian in nature and looks set for a great play involving romance, murder, and tragedy with the accompanying music being the sound of the seagulls and the smell of the daily catch. The dishevelled good looks of Oporto have made it one of my favourite cities so far. After viewing the old town the kids and I spent a wonderful morning wondering around the spectular contempary Museu Serralves, there I felt my friends Jon and Caroline with me and hope to return with them some day.

We took a short trip through the National Park of Serra de Estrela where I immediately felt relief at being in the fresh cold mountain air again. Moses having being confined to leads in the city joyously leapt out of the motor home and peed in front of the monument declaring the highest point in Portugal. That’s my boy! Disappointingly we could not stay as the campsite in the park was spookily deserted. We are now in the city of Coimbra said to be the studious town of Portugal. It is an extremely hot day and despite several attempts at getting moving to view what is supposed to be a beautiful city we just cannot get off our butts.

I am a little disappointed that we will not be seeing Coimbra, but every experience has something to teach us and this one has taught me that cities, no matter how beautiful is just not where I want to be right now. It is good to be safe, a relief to be clean and have clean washing, easy to communicate through the internet and delightful to be able to leave the motorhome and go see the sights. But I am finding it difficult. I find myself longing again for the freedom of being in the mountains away from all the conveniences but surrounded by all the natural beauty. It is definitely not easier to wildcamp, it is harder to look clean as clothes washing is not so easily available, food supplies run low and it’s either hiking to the nearest shop or conjuring up something passable to eat. But the rewards of being surrounded by all the natural beauty and silence that nature has to offer is a gift without comparison. So I guess coming back to the metaphor of the Matrix, I am looking for Zion, a place where beauty, music, dancing, culture and people are but freedom is also a possibility. So far we have experienced that mostly in Italy with our dear friends at La Croce. In two weeks we are meeting some English agents who buy remote properties and sell them, we will go and have a look and see if there is the possibility of enjoying these relaxed hard working, Portugese people and their sleepy towns but living in the remote freedom of the hills a kind of halfway house between pluggin in and pluggin out.

P.S. Andy has just bought me some postcards of Coimbra I will probably send them to some you entitled Coimbra the city we never saw.

Bonjour Portugal

Not so much from me today. Just a few piccies to see, all snapped by my brilliant wife and son. And this map that shows our route round Europe so far. Von and Josh are in the midst of their new blogs but its been too hot in Coimbra today to finish them off. Both their musings will be here shortly. Still cant get Eloise to write a word. Although she's suggested a number of sequels to her by now infamous "how to eat and ice cream" earlier contribution, nothing has yet materialised.

Santiago di Campostella in Spain was most cool full of pilgrims and students and musicians. You could hang out in its bars, squares and cafes for months. No wonder its such a destination attraction. Forget the mythical bones of St James in the gold plated church.

Portugal towns most charming so far with lovely sculptures and fountains everywhere. Ponte de Lima was first port of call in the Minhos then a quick visit to Viana do Castello on the coast.

Porto now a protected Unesco town famous for its old and port cellars and ancient town houses in the centre still in use, had a sweet vibe. Mix of the old and new. Nice. Stayed a couple of days and even had time to see the arresting minimalist Contemporary Art Museum. More photos coming soon.

For those interested in the welfare of the protagonist of our journey, Mosie is having a ball. Swimming in and out of rivers, lakes and oceans pretty much every day. Climbing moutains. Chatted up by all the girls. Watching sunrises and sunsets with us. Eating and pooping his way round Europe as originally requested to us some time last year (a little projection perhaps but hey, we thought we heard him ask). Here's a shot of him peeing ontop of Torre, the highest peak in Portugal 2km up. Good boy. That'll do.

One last thing, yo have to check out http://boschrealestate.co.uk/ for some amazing old abandoned houses, farms and hamlets for sale. We are off to Lisbon this week and then coming back to meet the people that run that cute company for a tour. My favourite so far, simply because of the providence of its name, is on the list of properties over 40k. Near the bottom. Called Moses. Now wouldn't that be a story to write about one day.

Cold beer is calling. Gotta go.