Hello clouds, hello sky!
hello river, hello sea!
We’ve been living in our flat in Almada, just across the river from Lisbon, for almost the last 6 years. For some reason, the people who renovated it before us were batshit and put in frosted glass in ALL the exterior windows in the marquise1. Maybe they were nudists. When the frosted windows are open, you can see down to two inches of river and sky on one side, on the other an inch or two of Lisbon. The rest is just tall, ugly buildings. We’ve never changed the windows, not because we’re nudists, but because we’ve never been quite sure if we’re going to stay. If only we had interesting neighbours to watch, Rear Window-like, but all we have is a couple out the back who spend a lot of time on their not-glassed-in verandah. She hangs out a lot of laundry, which is odd, since neither of them seem to wear much of anything. They’re almost nudists, he always in his pants (UK spelling not US) and she also in the bare minimum, all year round.
I’ve lived in and around Lisbon for 25 years, Luís a lot longer, and we’re both quite sure it’s time to try to leave, spend the rest of our lives somewhere we really want to be. We’ve both fallen out of love with Lisbon (Lisbon feels the same way about us), and now even Almada is being encroached upon by the mass tourism. Unimaginable just a couple of years ago.
There’s a tiny corner of Portugal, where his family is from, that I have often dreamed of living, the little postage stamp sized corner between Viana do Castelo and the Rio Minho, between the coast and the edge of Gerês. The north of Portugal is the reason I live in Portugal in the first place, at least it’s the reason I didn’t have to think too hard about moving here. So, we’re looking and dreaming and hoping that we can make the leap. It’s a risk, because if we go, there’s no coming back (unless something catastrophic happens, Lisbon tourism falls into the river and floats out to sea, all the digimads get bored and go somewhere else to not learn the language there, and there’s a massive market crash… but that’s not how it works, so, if we go, there’s no coming back).
I want to live in the upper left Minho because of geography. Not bacon production in Denmark type geography (I swear that’s all we did in Geography in third year) and not even really rock formation and oxbow lake type geography. I really mean Richard Scarry type geography.
There are some places in the world that are like a Richard Scarry illustration of a town. In one drawing you take in the butcher, the baker, the firehouse, the tollroad, the ferry, the pharmacy, the schoolhouse and the hospital, and a hill, maybe a river for the ferry to float on, and everybody is wearing a lovely outfit, and is either very busy or having a lovely time or both. When you are in a real town, you can see the butcher, maybe the baker, but you can’t see the happy dogs off to put out a fire in their truck at the same time. I think I may not be 12 years old at heart after all, but actually 3.
The upper left Minho is like that. From the top of a mountain you can see more mountains, and valleys, roads, the Atlantic coastline, rivers, and a frontier with a whole other country2. Drive up the coast, look at the lovely ocean, turn right, and, bam, suddenly you’re looking at a lazy old river and Spain!
Add to that the weather, the upper geography, being more fractious in the north than down here in the bottom third of the country. An upper geography that sits, hangs, looms, rolls and bursts over a lower geography of a Richard Scarry kind is what makes my heart soar, and I don’t say things like “makes my heart soar”, so you can see what a serious situation this is.
For a long time, I lived half way up Arrábida, a small serra at the bottom of the Setúbal peninsula, with a view across the whole peninsula to Lisbon. I had all the sky and nothing to interrupt it. I would happily spend hours just staring at the sky, but I had to move (life, divorce, work, that kind of thing) and for the past few years I’ve lived in Almada and Lisbon, where you are only allowed sky if you’re either very lucky, or you don’t have to work, and can go out and find somewhere high up to sit for hours and hours to look at it. And in a city, it’s so much harder to feel geography. Where I am sitting now, even with the frosted window wide open, I could be anywhere.
We took a 40 hour holiday this week. We left home at 8am on Monday, and got back at midnight Tuesday in one of our “let’s kind of look at houses” trips, and the weather for the whole two days was shockingly bad (good). Solid Lucy weather, the kind that makes me grin, and shout at Luís “look at the sky!! look! stop reading! LOOK!! It’s AMAZING3”. On average, I did this every four minutes over those 40 hours, but I *think* he still loves me. On Monday night, it rained so hard that the electricity went out in the hotel. Of course, we’re going to have to spend some more time up there when the weather is good (bad), to see if I’m happy with upper left Richard Scarry Land being bathed in sunshine for weeks on end.
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Also, here, more skies. I don’t care if it’s too many:
A marquise is a closed off verandah, something that the snooty snoot at, but the rest of us understand is an added few metres of valuable space for keep stuff and black mould. Yes, we’d all love to have enough room to also have a lovely open exterior space. But let’s face it, it’s pretty grimy out there. It’s not exactly conducive to cocktails at sunset.
Being from an island nation, frontiers always feel thrilling to me, and the Minhoto-Galego frontier is made visible by being a great big river.
And yes, before you ask, I am a member of The Cloud Appreciation Society.
Member No. 10,004.
Lucy, I've been interested to read your post. We moved nearly ten years ago from Lagos, Algarve to just south of Torres Vedras, on the Linhas de Torres Vedras. Initially, we were looking to move to Lisbon, which I've known since I was a kid when my father worked there for a couple of yearS. I cannot agree more with your comments about the city. The city, which was romantically sang about by Carlos do Carmo, Amalia and others & which in the time of the tragic Estado Novo was the capital of an Empire, where the Alfama still existed is No more! We were blessed to find a traditional village, where few povo speak English and, yet, which lies within 45 kms of Praça da Espanha. I work part-time with a small local & regional real-estate agency where no-one speaks but a few words of English. I am happy in this rural environment where we can buy locally, go to the Bailes, enjoy the views of the surrounding hills where Wellington & Beresford changed the History of Europe in 1815. You will enjoy your move. Be Brave. A LUTA CONTINUA!!
One of the joys of where I live in ruralish Japan is seeing the clouds come in and hide the mountain out the back window. It's only 5km away and it's 500m high so you'd think it would be hard to hide but it's terribly shy and often hides for a while covering itself in clouds. Sometimes just a few minutes, sometimes all day.
And you get to see the rain (or snow) coming down, just like a Turner painting. It's wonderful. ANd I wish you good fortune to be able to see the same sorts of thing