Staying for a time in central Portugal has informed us that, yes, we’d like to find a place round here to make a base. Goats and sheep are grazing in our garden among the olive trees. Pomegranates and Sharon fruit are growing along with the oranges and figs. Grape vines are used to delineate fields. Come on, in the local supermarket they have great big hoppers full of apples and pears.
What can’t be grown here? (Apparently root vegetables can be a problem – tho not if Sunday roast dinners aren’t on the menu, it seems to us.)
And so, last Sunday we met up with a whole group of people to enjoy a Mozambican feast prepared at the house of a local family and ate vegetarian food and listened to a local child prodigy play music on a violin made by his father.
Haven’t experienced that round my beloved south Bucks in a while.
None of which will stop us getting back there for Christmas.
Hey, we ain’t the Rolling Stones and we ain’t the Allman Brothers Band…we ain’t no one in particular, yet we keep movin’ on all the same…