Tuesday, May 20, 2003

Tuesday, May 20, 2003   We’re back in Seville.  Really haven’t felt like writing anything.  My little stories about our trip seem pretty unimportant right now.  I do feel bad that we weren’t able to be with the family to say good-bye to Dad…  If we were here or even in Lisbon we might have been able to pull it off.   I know that Mom understands and that’s the main thing…  I know it’s important for us to continue, and I’m trying hard to believe that it’s important for me to keep putting these words down to share our adventures with you all.  This is the first time I’ve been able to connect the laptop for a while, so there are new messages written before we heard about dad.  I figured out how to make the type bigger, the positive is that they’ll be easier to read, the down side is that Mom’s printer cartridge will run dry sooner….   So just a quick review…  We loved Portugal…  I had been looking forward to seeing the Algarve for a long time, and it’s pretty much a British condo development now…  Things change… I’m not really sure what I think…  I guess the message is, if there is some unspoiled place you’re thinking about going to, don’t wait.  They’re pouring concrete all over the world.  On the other hand, those quaint little unspoiled places all had/have one thing in common… poverty.   Tourism is an incredible international business… sure the busloads of fat people in tan shorts are a bit hard to take sometimes.  But I really don’t see the harm.   Meeting Fabio’s family was a real highlight of our trip so far.  Just gave us a warm feeling about the Portuguese.  Lisbon was a real treat.  I loved the streetcars.  The night of Fado music was unforgettable.  We went north for a little more of “Real Portugal” and I think we did get a taste.  We took a little side trip to a town called Nazare, they are definitely putting on a show for tourists, but it’s a good show.  Saturday afternoon we watched them pull in a fishing net on the beach… pretty much a re-enactment of how it was done for generations… but they did catch maybe fifty pounds of fish…   see the Yahoo pictures…   We spent a couple days near Beja in the foothills of the mountains that divide Portugal from Spain.  The campsite was at a reservoir that could easily have been Calero or Anderson… the places dad used to take us to catch bluegill.  This place was pretty isolated though…    Today we drove from there through the mountains, back to Seville.  Our problem at the moment is waiting for the registration papers for the truck to come from London… they are in the mail.  We’ll need them to get into Morocco.  So that’s where we are at the moment.   I’ve been thinking about the family a lot… I’ve gotten some great emails.  I’ve got a little thing I’m working on about dad… I’ll post it next time…   Larry                           5:03:25 PM    comment []

Friday, May 16th   Rhona and I are in a small campground in Northern Portugal.  They have an internet connection here.  We just logged on and got the news about Dad a little while ago.  I’ve had a little time to think about it, and I guess after the shock and surprise; my main thought is, it’s good we had that party.  I felt at the time that it would make this inevitable  day much easier to take.  I wish I could be with you all… but I’ll have to be the missing Heer this time.  The church chimes just rang the hour, it’s five o’clock here, that makes it eight in the morning at the Flats.  I’ll wait another hour or so and try to call.  Phone service is not so great here, even in the cities.   It’s a very quiet, very beautiful day.  This campground is so peaceful.  I’ve had time to sit and think about Dad, think about you all, gathered at the cabin one more time.  If you feel it’s appropriate, Tim, you might read this for me.       Goodbye Dad,   Time to move on, ay?  You are leaving a big hole in this world, you know.  After Clyde left your mood seemed to suggest you knew you weren’t going to be around too much longer.  I’m so glad Mom had that party for you.  I got to make my funeral speech, and you were there to hear it.  It’s all okay.    I’m sorry I’m not here to be with you all.  I want you to know I am thinking about you, every one.  We have such a strong family.  When we gather together there is a strength among us that is greater than us all…  I hope you can feel my presence among you.   It hurts to say good-bye to the old man.   I owe you all a big hug when we are together again.  All my love…   Larry   4:34:14 PM    comment []

Thursday, May 15, 2003  Northern Portugal   Tuesday morning we took the bus down to Belem, Rhona had some Rick Steves recommendations to check out.  Belem is an area just down the river from Lisbon with it’s own sights to see.   Our first stop was at the Maritime Museum at one end of a huge complex of buildings that had originally been a monastery.  We got to see all those things we had hoped to see at Henry the Navigator’s school, and a whole lot more.  The old navigational instruments used by the explorers, some recovered from shipwrecks, others kept in museums through the centuries.  There were hundreds of ship models from the earliest of primitive fishing boats to the ships of the Portuguese navigators like Vasco de Gama and Magellan, to the current ships of the Portuguese navy.  Portugal is a relatively small country whose days of glory were rather brief.  In the late 16th century and early 17th, they established a colonial empire throughout South America, Africa, and the Far East.   Then came a period where they were taken over by the Spanish monarchs and involved in disastrous wars – the Spanish Armada was also Portuguese, and it’s destruction off the coast of Ireland was the end of Portugal’s sea power.  The earthquake of 1755 pretty much ended Portugal’s empire… .  Brazil became an independent country, and one by one the colonies were lost.   Portugal fought on the side of the allies in world war one, but was all but ruined financially.  They remained neutral in WWII, and Lisbon became famous as a spy hangout.  So, basically, after Magellan and the boys, it was all downhill from there.  The museum was fascinating, full of authentic relics.   We walked down to the river to see one of the major tourist sights, the Belem Tower…  a small fortress just offshore.  I think Rhona and I are getting hard to impress in that department.  Ah… but one of Steve’s recommendations turned out to be a real treat… literally.  That monastery I mentioned earlier… well, there was a monk who was a pastry chef.  He developed a recipe for a small custard pie, and gave it to a local pastry shop, I don’t know, a few hundred years ago.  The same little pastry is made all over Lisbon, but this place still has the only authentic version…  Steves tells us that only three employees know the secret, and they had to sign contracts to never reveal the monk’s recipe…  so we had to check that one out…  From the street it seemed like a normal small shop, a large glass counter where customers ordered their coffee and pastries.  We got our little pies (about 3” in diameter, an inch and a half deep) and a couple cokes and looked for somewhere to sit.  The outer rooms were full, we saw a sign directing us to the rear, and walked through room after room full of pastry fans of all ages.  The place was a maze, there were at least two other empty rooms beyond where we found a table.  And yes… it was something very special … the pie crust was thin and flaky, the custard was gooey but crisp on top…  delicious.  Send your dollars to PBS!  Rick Steves is really onto something.  He ought to import a few thousand pounds of these things and offer then at Pledge Breaks.  I guess they’re best fresh and warm from the oven, so there is a logistical problem there….   Anyway…  further wandering.  Got tired of walking and after trying to decipher the bus map, jumped on the next one that came along.  It dropped us off above the new business center of Lisbon, not too far from the Barrio Alto that we had explored the day before.  Without too much trouble we found the internet place we had seen… and we were in Internet Heaven.  Very friendly guy set us up with a couple machines, a coke and a large, ice cold, delicious, beer.   It was a while before Rhona could drag me out of that place.  Well, actually the bartender/techie was leaving for the day and he told us that no one else could speak English, so we took that as a sign that it was time to move along.  Somehow time had disappeared, we were ready for dinner.  A few doors down the street we found a very interesting, very empty restaurant.   The owner of the restaurant, a bubbly little man, was a bit embarrassed that his lovely place was empty, but he was anxious to please his only guests.  It was a bit like having dinner at someone’s house… a very rich someone, with an attentive staff in a dining room full of original contemporary art.  He told us that he’d been open for six months and that his lunchtime business could not be better, people lined up in the street waiting to get in, but so far, very little dinner business.  Well, it was great and very reasonable.  The owner insisted that we take a little time to visit the north of Portugal.  He filled a business card with wine selections to look for at the supermarket, and rattled of a list of places we should visit.  We took him at his word.   Yesterday we packed up and after a navigational adventure, headed north.  Well, we thought we were going north.  We found a massive shopping center in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere… well it seemed like that because we had no idea where we were… so, nowhere is where it was.  But our Favorite… Carrefores… the Taj Mahal of shopping.  I headed off to the wine department with last night’s list.  I’ve got bottles of wine stashed all over the bus.  If I had the time and a few sheetmetal tools I suppose I could build a wine cellar…  don’t really need that big water tank in the floor…  a door, some compartments… yeah, that could work.  Anyway, our provisions have been restocked.   Another look at the map, a blind stab at an offramp, and against all odds, we were back on course.  I should explain that the road signs rarely say anything that coincides with what we read on our maps.  They usually list the nearest small towns, towns too small to be shown even on our brand new Michelin map of Portugal.   Sometimes we’ll come across the highway number we are expecting to see, and every once in a very long while we will find a sign that actually has the name of the place we are trying to get to….  Cause for celebration!  Didn’t happen yesterday.  We really weren’t sure we weren’t lost until we actually saw the campground entrance.    That said, it is amazing that our record is still clean…  we have not yet failed to reach a destination.  That’s a good thing, otherwise we’d still be there… lost, I mean.  Never to be heard from again.  Oh I suppose we would just blunder on until we found something, perhaps another country.   But here we are in Camping Heaven.  Parque de Campismo O Tomanco, Lourical, Portugal.  Hum, looks like they have a website, www.campismo-o-tamonco.com, have to check that one out.  The owner, Hans, is a young Dutchman, very friendly, dedicated to creating the most peaceful experience possible.  Bushes and trees of every size and shape, grass everywhere.  Ducks, chickens, cats, dogs, goats, and a pretty good size donkey roam the property.  Okay, the donkey is in his corral, and the goats are on leash, I suppose to keep the grass trimmed.  Every half hour from seven in the morning until ten at night the chimes of the village church ring a pretty melody, then chime the hour.  No watches required here.  The spaces are very large and separated by bushes.  There are probably twenty people here, at the most.  I haven’t really checked out the shady bar and restaurant area with a firepit, and a couple Imacs for internet access, that’s my next job.  Rhona is down sitting by the pool…  we had a morning planning session and decided not to.  Time for a day off.  Tomorrow we’ll explore the area, today we’ll just hit the pause button. 4:24:06 PM    comment []

Tuesday, May 13, 2003  Lisbon   We hit the jackpot yesterday, we really did.  After a bit of a slow start we left the campground with instructions on the right bus to ride to the center of the city.  One small complication, we knew it was bus number 14, but we didn’t know that there are two bus number 14s…  as we were about to climb on the first one the driver waved us off…  letting us know that this was not the bus tourists are supposed to ride.  We’ve gotten used to being recognized as stupid blundering tourists so it didn’t phase us….   Walked back to the bus stop and read the charts and maps and saw that we wanted #14 Figuiera… soon enough it came rolling down the road.  We rode it to the end of the line and found ourselves in a huge plaza in the center of Lisbon.   There are three main Barrios of Lisbon.  The center one, a valley between the other two, is called Baixa.  It was built after the earthquake of 1755 that destroyed two thirds of Lisbon, and killed on fifth of the population of Portugal.  As a result, the area is a very orderly grid with large ornate buildings and plazas.  If you face the city with your back to the river, the area to the right of Baixa is hilly, with very narrow winding streets.  It’s called Barrio Alto.  On the other side of the Baixa is the Alfama… the medieval quarter.  It’s the only part of the city that wasn’t destroyed by the earthquake.  At the top of the Alfama is a Castle that was built by the Visigoths in the 5th century…  we’re talking about years that started with a four and only had three numbers.   Our first goal was to find an internet shop which we did after a minimum of wandering the shopping streets of Baixa.  I was amazed by the mosaic pattern of the street stones.  We came upon a group of workmen who were rebuilding a section of the sidewalk, using the same techniques the Romans did.  They use stone that has been cut in cubes about two inches on a side, tapped into a bed of sand.  We saw the same type of paving in Spain, but here the colored patterns are much more ornate, geometric designs in black and white, zigzag bands, complicated floral patterns.  The workers were moving their template just as we walked up, a rubber form similar to what might be used to paint street markings.  But they flipped it over, matching the form to the pattern they just completed carrying on the zigzag….    Okay… found the internet café, got online and really wasn’t too much to read.  The Van registration is still a mystery, hopefully we’ll get it in time to take the van to Morocco….  Otherwise we’ll have to leave it in Spain and travel by bus and train.  Not a big deal, I guess, because I know everything will be very inexpensive…  might be a kick to ride the Marrakesh Express.   We walked up the boulevards away from the city center, with no particular plan in mind other than finding the tourist information office.  Then we spotted the Gloria Funicular….  A little cable car with it’s floor at an angle to the street so that it stays level as the car climbs the steep hill.  Had to ride that thing.  And we found ourselves in the middle of the Barrio Alto.  Narrow winding streets, cars zoomed by as we walked along very narrow, well can’t really call them sidewalks, just a stone path only a foot wide in some places.  After walking along for a while we came to a park like plaza, there was a small open air café and a magnificent view of the river and city below.  Seemed to be mostly college kids hanging out between classes.  We grabbed an empty table and ordered the usual coke and the biggest beer in the house.  I learned here in Portugal it’s called a Caneca, and thanks to a friendly waiter learned to say, Uma mais Caneca, por favor.  Oh yeah…  have I mentioned that the beer has been great?  We’re talking cold lager… I think that Heineken has had a big influence, I noticed in Spain that my favorite Spanish brand was owned by Heineken.   After a little relaxion time we wandered off again… we noticed on the map that there were a couple more internet places nearby, and we wanted to check them out.  What I haven’t been able to find is a place that will let us log on with my notebook.  We were disappointed again.  I think I’m going to have to try burning a CD today and seeing if I can’t transfer files that way.  At one point we found ourselves at the top of a long steep incline back down to the Baxia…  Rhona has a hard time with steep downhills.  But there was a track, and a chance to ride another cool antique car.  This one was a small trolley, soon packed tightly with people… we rode it down the hill, across the flat, and up the other side into the Alfama district.  We jumped off right at the base of the castle.  A short walk and there we were, overlooking the entire city from the top of the castle walls.  We strolled around, crossing an interior moat, climbing stone stairways, peaking through the gun or bow slits.  I suppose somewhere down the line castles will get boring, but for now they are still prime tourist experience.  We hung around letting time slide by… restaurants don’t open to serve dinner until around eight o’clock so we still had a little time to kill.  Then we wandered down the hill through the twisty narrow streets towards the river.  We came across a small plaza, a restaurant called the Taberna de Fado.     A small room, lots of tile.  Shelves on the walls, rows of wine bottles.  A guitar and a mandolin hanging near the small front window.  The owner was a distinguished looking gray haired man, maybe looked a bit like Dean Martin… a gray Dean Martin.  He sat us a a table with another tourist couple.   They were German, from a small town near Cologne.  Very friendly people.  The room was perhaps ten feet wide, fourteen deep.  The kitchen was through an open doorway to the right rear, with a small service area in front of it… I noticed the two small black wine barrels on the far wall, one for the white, one red.  In front of us was a walkway to the bathrooms at the rear, and a small cubbyhole, oh, more like a window seat, all in tile, where a man sat with his guitar.  Portuguese guitar is smaller than the Spanish, and is played like a mandolin with finger picks.  He was playing along with recorded music, a female singer.  There were several other tourist couples in the room, but it seemed that most of the customers were local, knew the owner, knew each other.   Rhona ordered a fish dinner, I asked for the Plate of the Day….  Wasn’t sure what it was going to be, but I had read in our guidebooks that it’s usually a good deal.  Rhona had to ask.  Dean said it’s cow.  Cow with potatoes.    Sounds good to me.  I was really hoping it wasn’t going to be the whole cow of course.  It wasn’t.  Some nice chunks of very tender beef cooked in a sauce like a stew with carrots and onions.  French fries on the side.  Rhona’s fish was delicious… very brave of her, actually, a whole cod, head and all, but she did really well with it.  Her plate had lettuce and tomatoes on the side.   Soon a second guitar player joined the first.  He was playing what looked like a normal six string guitar playing rhythm to the mandolin-like lead.  A rather small man, probably in his early forties got up from his table and stood by the guitarists and began to sing.  So began one of the most incredible nights of music I have ever experienced.   It’s called Fado.  Traditional Portuguese folk music.  As the night went on singer after singer performed.  The Portuguese people in the room seemed to know the words to all the songs and would sing softly at the chorus.  An old lady all in black never took the “stage” but sang along with each performer, clapping and cheering everyone on (at times she would hang her head and then make the sign of the cross, moments later the tempo would change and she would be smiling and singing along with her glass of wine on her head. Never spilled a drop. RH) I would just love to know what the lyrics were, but you didn’t have to understand the words to get the emotional impact.  Each singer sang from their heart… there was a touch of humor at times, but overall the effect was sadness, a lament.  The same kind of intensity as an operatic aria… but more simple.  Dramatic.  At one point an older woman, had to be in her seventies, took her turn.  Just amazing, her voice was beautiful, smooth as a young girl’s.  She took the middle of the room, flirting with the men, (Larry in particular, I think she liked his hair and how much he was enjoying the music. RH) she touched my hair, making eyes at me through her thick glasses….  Just a real kick.  It seemed to me that she was singing about past love affairs, relationships gone bad, the cruel tricks life can play.    We listened as men and women, young and old, took their turn, all receiving the same warm response.  I really didn’t want to leave, but too soon it was time to find our way back to the campground, carrying memories of a wonderful evening that I’m sure will never fade.   (We did miss the last bus and had to take a cab home.  It was a real treat to be delivered right to our door and it wasn’t very expensive. RH) 4:22:19 PM    comment []

Sunday, May 11, 2003  Lisbon   Let’s see, I’ll pick up the story where the last entry left off…  We drove to Sangres, parked in town and walked to the fortress on a point where Prince Henry the Navigator had his navigation school.  It’s where all the famous Portuguese explorers were trained… Vasco De Gama, those guys.  We read that at that time, the point was considered the end of the world….  So, as we walked out across the huge parking lot towards the walls of the fortress I was singing… “It’s the end of the world as we know it… and I feel fine…”  But I was a bit confused… once we got out there, we could see a second point off to the right… was that the end of the world?  Looking at the compass rose placed out at the point I could see that Henry’s Point is more westerly…  Well, we have either gone to the end of the world, or close enough to see the edge.   One thing I noticed, standing out there looking in the general direction of the New World, you could definitely observe the curvature of the horizon.  Okay, so you’ve probably noticed the same thing at Santa Cruz or somewhere… but, remember… this is the official end of the world we’re talking about.  But, shouldn’t that have been a clue that the world wasn’t flat?  Rhona and I discussed the issue for some time…  she was wondering if the sailors could actually believe it was possible to sail off the edge…  I’d think you’d have plenty warning… I mean you can see the horizon is a long way off, no matter how far you go… okay, well if it’s night, you can’t… or a stormy day….  I think they were more worried about the monsters that might be waiting…  Or maybe they were pissed at Columbus for other reasons, like the boring menu, and just used that one as an excuse.  Of course, Columbus didn’t go to Henry’s navigation school.  The Kings of Portugal (Venture capitalists of their day) were not impressed by his presentation and sent him down the road.  To Spain, actually, where Queen Isabella pulled out her checkbook.  It doesn’t say so in any of our guidebooks but Henry’s school was operating when Columbus was out banging on doors…  the Portuguese probably turned him down because he didn’t have the degree.  That happens.   Anyway…  we try to fit in a tourist day every so often, and it was pretty cool.  I was more impressed by the fishermen throwing their lines of the 200 foot (or so) cliffs than anything else.  Not much remains of the school… we hoped there would be some kind of museum of navigational artifacts… but no… only an exhibit of contemporary Portuguese art… Rhona liked it… she says, nice selection, very interesting.  I was looking for maps, compasses and sextants.   But we got back in the bus…  oh yeah, we’ve had kind of an ongoing name the bus contest.  You know that Rhona likes to name her vehicles.  She’s been relatively quiet on the subject, probably because she’s the navigator and she doesn’t think it’s part of her job description.  The lady that owned the truck for most of it’s life called it “Doris”.  Well, it’s a Dormobile you see.  My latest idea is to put a graphic of Homer Simpson on the driver’s side door…  “Homer”  now isn’t that a good name for a camper?   Has been met with silence from the dear wife. (I’m actually thinking of  “Dora the Explora” after the cartoon character I watched with Zoe or maybe “Dora the Mobile”)   We drove north towards Lisbon through beautiful rolling Portuguese landscapes.   So much open land.  Beautiful weather, makes you wonder why anyone would want to leave.  About half way up the coast we went looking for our next campsite – Sitava.  Supposedly well signed, on the coast, with beach access.  Okay, so there was one little “Campismo 4 Km” sign as we came near the town.  Didn’t seem to qualify as well signed, especially since we were not to the town yet.  We did find two wrong campgrounds, and wandered the alleys of the town barely squeezing the bus down what surely must be one way streets, but no, here comes the traffic.  For some reason (probably the words, Beach Access) I was determined.  We drove the area for about a half hour I’d say.  Rhona might say something else.   Then I remembered the first little sign.  I’d like to mention that (knocking on the picnic table) we have yet to be shut out – we have always found the campground…  or even more significant, found the bus to take us back to the campground.  Sure enough, four Ks down a narrow dirt road, Campismo Sitiva.  Just a huge place, over gently rolling hills with a supermarket, restaurant, bars, swimming pools, big sanitation blocks….  Lots of this stuff was closed you understand, waiting for the July – August season.  Same as Tahoe, I guess.  But the different thing about this place is that it was like a small city… but more like a ghost town.  I’d say about half of the spaces where occupied by empty travel trailers, many with tents and canopies attached.  It was almost like a shanty town.  But we set up camp and went looking for the beach.  Well, that was something else closed for the winter…  We found a gate in the cyclone, barbwire topped fence, but it was locked.  I was a bit, just a tad, disappointed.  But back in the van, things changed.  A young man walked up with a bottle of wine in his hands and made corkscrewing motions…  I was overjoyed to make him a present of the extra corkscrew we had picked up at a wine display in Seville.  After a while he was back, and invited us to join him and his family.    Rhona and I are not great at meeting people in the campground.  On the one hand it’s kind of like apartment life where you live so close to people it’s better to ignore their existence, just for the sake of a feeling of privacy.  Then too… we tend to assume that we won’t be able to talk to them anyway…  which, we know, is not always true.  That day in Seville when we met Jeff and Sue, and Greg and Barbara, Rhona and I were babbling, so happy to have people to speak English to.  But this was different.  A friendly Portuguese family, anxious to meet us.  Jose and Rita, the parents of a young boy about Zoe’s age, Juon, an old friend of Jose’s, with his two boys probably nine and eleven, or something like that.  And Fabio, who we learned is Jose’s nephew.  And who told us right away he was anxious to go to California to surf.  He was definitely dressed for the part, Hawaiian shirt, puka shell necklace, long ponytail.  Fabio is eighteen.  We found out later that he plays guitar and sings.  The family was in the process of preparing dinner, they had borrowed a barbeque from one of the other campers and had a grill full of various meats and sausages cooking.  We protested that we had just finished eating, but in vain… soon we were all gathered around their small camping table enjoying Juon’s stick stirred rice, salad, and yes, the sausages were delicious.  Fabio played and sang… I learned that Extreme is a Portuguese group from the Azores (that song with the line, maybe the title, “More than words can say” is their big hit.  He seemed proud, yet embarrassed by his playing and singing.  Jose, he said, is a much better musician… Jose played a bit of harmonica, and enough guitar to show the truth of Fabio’s claim, but seemed content to let his young nephew have the stage for his guests.    And we talked.  Their ideas about America obviously come from the movies they see.  They said we were the first they had ever met.  That made me very happy, I told them  that my mission on this trip was to prove to people that not all Americans are ass holes.  That got a big laugh, evidently that’s a word that requires no translation.  Juon is a manager of a bank.  His English was pretty good.  They told us that in school they have a choice of learning either French or English, most choose French because it’s so much closer, they are much more likely to use it.  Fabio is studying computers, he hopes to get into web design (imagine that, what a concept!)…  so he is taking classes in English, the language of the Web.  Anyway…  the most interesting thing they said was that they believed that people in the States can’t speak out against the government.  Don’t know where they got that idea.  Obviously never heard about Michael Murphy.  So… people around the world are watching our movies, watching the news on TV, and coming to believe that the First Amendment is dead in America.  That people can lose their jobs because of their political beliefs.  Gee, that can’t be true, is it?  Danny Howard sent me a transcript of Tim Robbin’s speech to the National Press Club… Tim believes it just might be true.  Of course, I lived through the “America, love it or leave it” days.  (Well, actually, I left, that was my response to that one.)    Rita wanted to know how Blacks are doing.  From Portugal it looks like there is still a lot of racism in the States.  I could not deny that it still does exists, but pointed out that areas that once had “White Only” signs posted now have African-American mayors and governors.  But yes, there are still problems in education and economic opportunity, I had to agree.  She was also very passionate about Capital Punishment.  She couldn’t understand how a state should have the right to kill.  My arguments on that subject were weak, I admit.  I asked them how they felt about the Portuguese government, and prospects for Portugal.  I was surprised they were so negative.  They said that the two largest political parties had recently merged, and that the people had very little input anymore.  I said, yes, that sounds familiar.  Officially the Republicans and Democrats are separate – seems to me that it’s only an illusion perpetuated to continue the fiction of a democracy.  Whoa, how’s that one, Mike?   What it was, was, that perfect evening with local people that we hope for when we set off traveling.  Rhona and I definitely have to get better at breaking out of our little campground world and putting ourselves out there more often.  But I don’t want to impose… or interrupt… or, or, what?  Got to have more of the Campismo Sitava family experience.   This morning we packed up and drove down to where the family was camped.  I brought out the camera and took some snapshots…  Could not bring myself to demand a formal family portrait… that bossy American thing again.  Then I hooked the camera up to the computer and amazed the kids with the pictures.  Jose said, “Now they think you are Gandolf for sure.”  Really was fun…  the shots will be on Yahoo, and emailed to Fabio.  We of course, gave Fabio our information in case he makes his dream of seeing California come true.  Wanda, you’ve got a couple empty rooms now, right?  He, he, he….   We just arrived at this huge luxury municipal campground just outside Lisbon.  We’ve never had it so good…  we are parked on a more or less level concrete pad, we’ve got our own garbage, electricity, and water right next to the van… a picnic table… and the bathrooms are about a hundred feet away.  Our site is surrounded by Oak and Eucalyptus trees… Rhona is going to have to work a bit to find the sunny spot she requires….  That is the one incompatibility we have…  look around, there’s Larry in the shade, Rhona in the sun.     Okay… it’s Monday morning.  Been a bit hectic for us lately, lots of chores done the past few days along with some major (for us) traveling.  Full on laundry day in Sitava…  finally got the STP into the gearbox, and on the road, stopped to change the oil.  Checked the rear end, it’s full of fluid…  So the van is mechanically in pretty good shape.  I feel a lot better about the transmission… it just might go the distance. The engine keeps ticking (literally) along.  Next big project is a sound system… hope to find a wrecking yard and salvage some parts, we’ll see.  Don’t really want to put a lot of money into a radio/tapeplayer/maybe CD.  We looked at some boom boxes, but they don’t seem to be able to work off car battery power – no DC input… more research is  required on that one.  Might be an ideal solution… a cigarette lighter converter thingy maybe…    Last night we got a bus to the huge shopping mall where we found an internet place.  Got the messages about Dad’s hospitalization …  Kris, I can’t tell you how important your message was…  it was so great of you to know what I would be thinking when I got the first message from Colleen.  And, as usual, your calm analysis put sense to what’s going on.  You know, maybe pediatrics was a mistake, maybe the family needs you to go back to school and change your specialty… Geriatrics, maybe?  Just kidding, dear.  No, it all makes perfect sense to me… and I’m sure with the medications Dad will be back on his feet in no time.  Just keep that ticker ticking, Dad.   And I was glad to here that the clan left Dad at the Hospital to go off and party with the Danes.  Makes me feel better about getting on with discovering Lisbon…  and that’s what we are heading off to do.     4:21:04 PM    comment []

Wednesday, May 07, 2003 The Algarve   We’ve had a day or two of hot weather in Seville, but the weather has remained pretty mild.  It’s windy here right now… there are power lines very high over the little valley this campground is in… the wind makes a ghostly noise through the wires.   The Algarve, the south coast of Portugal, is one of those places I’ve heard about for years… and we’re here.  But the British and Germans have been here for a long time before our arrival… and there’s not much of the old Portuguese fishing villages left… they’ve been bulldozed and row after row of huge white concrete condos now line the beaches.  We spent yesterday in a campground in Albuferia, recommended by Jeff and Sue, who, if you’ve been really paying attention, you know, we met at Camping Villsom in Seville.  Well, it was amazing, the campground I mean.  1500 spaces…  three swimming pools, a huge reception area… more a minimall than a campground.  But because this is not the “Season” very few fellow campers.  Europeans take their vacations in July and August, when the heat must be absolutely unbearable here.  Better for us, I say.  But Albuferia was not what I had in mind….  So we packed up early (for us) and heading for the nearest beach recommended in the “Let’s Go” guidebook…  Gale.  That word Gale, brings back good memories of Capitola – Gale’s Bakery – just checked with Rhona and the connection wasn’t there for her… she was thinking Gale in terms of wind… and it has been a bit windy today… anyway, just a beautiful beach, with Santa Cruz cold water.  There were several small beach restaurants, but no white concrete highrise buildings.  Soaked up some sunshine, got into the new book I bought in Seville…  It’s called “Moon Palace” by Paul Auster… I’d say it’s the best I’ve read about a young man’s mind since “Catcher in the Rye”… (Editor:  it started out good, but disappointed later) -  anyway…  that’s the Algarve I had in mind.   We are starting to feel a little time pressure… in a very abstract way you understand.  It’s May now… we know that July and August are going to be tourist hell in Italy and Greece, so we’d better pick up the pace a bit.  So it will be a couple days in the Algarve and then head for Lisbon…    This place is very nice, very secluded… almost deserted.  The town, Selema, is recommended by Rick Steves as the last unspoiled village on the Algarve…  well, Rick, the fishermen are still here but there are a couple brand new large concrete buildings at the beach, and a couple beach tourist shops with funny hats and T shirts….   We found a monthly English and German tourist newspaper with lots of good info on small beaches that don’t show on our maps or guidebooks…  tomorrow we’ll set off on another beaching expedition.             Friday, May 09, 2003   Oh yeaaasss… we did it!  Yesterday was a success.  In the morning we went westward up the coast just a few miles… I should explain that the villages along the coast are not connected, there is a two lane highway running parallel to the coast, and small spur roads run off it to the ocean.  So a short drive from here back out to the highway, then west, then find the little road to the beach we read about in the tourist newspaper.  Just when we were sure we were lost, we came around a corner and there it was… a small sandy beach above the rocks in a small cove between two rocky points.  There was a tiny restaurant with a deck in the rocks with a few tables with umbrellas waving in the steady wind.  There were perhaps a dozen people there, counting the old man with his crabbing rig out on the rocks, and the two German guys diving off the left point.  All I actually saw was there orange buoys bobbing in the waves, I make the assumption of sex and nationality based on their chattering girlfriends looking for shells in the tidepools. So Rhona and I worked on our shell collections… there were some very nice pebbles also…  but soon I was anxious to continue our explorations.  On the way from Albuferia we had avoided Lagos, the capital of this area, and there were several recommended beaches east of there.  I psyched myself up for a bit of city driving, and off we went.  Really wasn’t that bad… our coast highway took us around the center of the city, just brushed us up against the main tourist area and we were quickly past.  We found signs to the first beach on our list (always a comfort, when you finally spot the actual sign that has the actual name that’s on the map).  The tourist paper said that the beach is six miles long…  I took a couple pictures, doubt that they will show much…  just this long beautiful strip of sand and ocean, with city buildings far off to the left and right.  There was some development in the area, but not within a few hundred yards of the dunes behind the flat open beach.  We walked along the water’s edge for a short while, but it felt strange being in the middle of such an immense stretch of sand… there was little point to walking, no place to get to….  Soon it was time to return to the van to drive just a bit further to the spot the tourist paper called “ the picture book Algarve” Praia Tres Irmaos… the beach of the three… I donno…  there were three large rock spires just off shore, that might be a clue.  A small little bar in a shack on the beach, beautiful clear turquoise water, and the famous red cliffs of the Algarve…  The development seemed restrained, no huge blinding white concrete highrises… just a few small restaurants farther on down the beach.  We pulled our chairs out onto the sand, I walked over to the beach bar and brought back a pitcher of sangria and two glasses and Rhona opened the sandwiches she had made.  Yes… this is the Algarve I had in mind.    Met an Englishman in the campground restaurant last night who has just returned from Morocco… he had some good advice about crossing the border, and just verified what we had heard from Greg and Barb in Seville… that the people are very friendly, no problems.  But he did say that we’d better have our paperwork straight… and we still don’t have our original title from London.  Matt and Liz have it with them, I think, they plan to bring it to us at some yet to be decided meeting place.  So Morocco hinges on connecting with them.    It’s time to break camp and head out towards Lisbon.  We’ll probably make a little detour to check out the end of the world… I do have an affinity for places like that… like at Key West for example….  We’ll see… 4:19:04 PM    comment []