Casa da Nuvea: part viii the neighborhood

These are some scenes of what will be my neighborhood for the next few weeks. As you can see, Telhados Grandes is a very teeny, tiny village of a couple dozen houses at my last count, conveniently located in the middle of nowhere with absolutely nothing to do. When's the last time a travel destination offered so much freedom from restless and frenzied activity? Highlights or points of interest include a traditional cistern to catch rainfall for the farm animals to drink, as well as an olive oil press. And there is no real street to my little house, just a cow track.

But that's ok with me.















 







 

Stone Walls

In a couple of days I’ll be honing my masonry skills. I’ve been frequently teased about my bizarre (to some) affection for rocks. I like to collect them and place them all over the garden, and extra special ones go on window sills and bookshelves. But when my aunt recently published a book about her childhood and growing up in a tiny village of Portugal, there were many stories of the rocky landscape, and of children playing with rocks in lieu of real dolls or toys; for in those days, Portugal was a very poor country. So, maybe my strange affinity for rocks comes from this slightly barren landscape that my eyes have rested on ever since I can remember, and maybe it’s been passed on down through the generations of my family building their homes by hand, one rock at a time. In any case, it will be good to touch these stone walls and imagine the lives of the men and families that built them. And know that in some small way, I am honoring that tradition.