slowly she turned

This was our last full day in Tavira.  We considered going back to a different beach on the back side of the island, but instead we had lunch at an Indian restaurant across the river and then went to a couple of museums.  We talked to the people seated around us – two were sisters from Newfoundland, although one of them lived in Texas. The other couple talked to Sandy about the health care system in Portugal and the process of applying for the D7 visa.

We spent part of the day at the Museu Municipal de Tavira, which included the Palácio da Galeria and the Museu Islamico. We were able to see more of the Phoenician archeology sites that were under the palace that had been converted to the art museum. They were ritual pits, and you viewed them from glass panels over the floor.

Gabriela Albergaria was the featured artist in the contemporary art exhibit named “A Natureza Detesta Linhas Rectas” (“Nature Abhors a Straight Line”), and I adored her work with and about trees.

There was an exhibit about the Mediterranean Diet in Portugal, which I’ve come to understand through experience is quite different and complex. The Portuguese are known for their cuisine, and it varies from region to region in this small country. Language varies in different regions too. For example, I tried to interpret “prego,” which I assumed meant sandwich, on a menu in Évora. It translated to “nail.” Nowhere in my two Portuguese to English dictionaries did it list this word, even in Rick Steves’ food lists.

^^^Now I know what pigeon holes are. I think that there were pigeons in every hole in this wall.

When Sandy was taking a nap in the late afternoon, I walked around by myself and did a bit of shopping. Then I wandered up the hill to check out the walk to the clinic where we had covid tests scheduled for the next morning, and the train station nearby. I loved this solitude, and I discovered some streets off the tourist track. This is when I thought, yes, if we could find a quiet place we could afford away from the tourists, I could see living in this area.

^^^An antique and a view from our living room window.

I bought a handwoven bag at a local gift shop, and I was conflicted about giving up my old bag. I loved the outside pockets on it, but because it had a black interior, everything that went inside was hard to find. I called it “the black hole.” Then I remembered that I had brought a sewing kit with me, so I cut the outside panel with the pockets away from the black hole and stitched it to the new bag, all while polishing off a bottle of wine. As you might guess, I was pretty hammered by the time I finished.

Around 9:30 we walked to a corner restaurant/bar where there was live music. There we had appetizers of bruschetta with cheese and honey and dried fruit outside. It was the perfect last dinner in Tavira.

After strolling around a few streets, we ate sushi and Japanese food on a balcony over the river that I had been ogling from our terrace for several days. That’s one shrimp inside that fried wrap – so good! We enjoyed watching all the fish swimming in the river below us.

The museums were closed on Monday, but the castle and its garden was open, so we enjoyed the views and the trees and flowers there. I finally found out the name of the tree with the gorgeous purple flowers we had seen everywhere in Portugal – jacaranda. A lot of bougainvillea flowered everywhere as well. Ongoing archeological digs have found that the base of the castle walls go back to Phoenician settlers.

That night we ate at Zeca da Bica, where the tables wrapped through the alley and around the corner outside. I decided to have another kind of grilled fish – golden bream this time. The cheese that we bought as a side was outstanding. We drank a pitcher of sangria and talked to the couple beside us, who were from Germany.

On Sunday afternoon we took the ferry to the island and rented a cabana to hang out under at Praia da Ilha de Tavira.  Just photos for this post.

The stick I wanted but left behind.

This was the day that we had originally planned to take a bus to Seville, Spain and spend one night there. I did not regret canceling this side trip. We slept late after not sleeping much the night before.

Sandy went for a Thai massage. His back felt better after that and I wish that he had done something like that earlier in the trip.

I love the way that these clouds mirrored the rows of roofing tiles below.

Yep, these stairs weren’t nearly so bad as the first place in Lisbon!

Across the river there was an old marketplace building and a small craft fair was going on outside of it. I bought a hand painted stone magnet from an artist there.

We ate at a very simple place inside for lunch, and the older woman inside did not understand English at all. So I tried to order a “tosta de queirjo” (grilled cheese sandwich). She popped open a cerveja (beer) and handed it to me. We both eventually got toasted ham and cheese sandwiches but I found it funny.

Sandy sampled the porter that I bought at the craft beer bar downstairs and we decided to sit at the bar and have one together. He went upstairs for something and while I waited for him at the door on the street, the bar started playing YMCA. I started doing the YMCA dance, then I noticed several other women doing it as they walked down our street. Then I looked to my left and a little girl was watching me and doing it too. So I kept smiling and dancing with the little girl until the song ended. Later we ran into each other again and pointed at each other and did a little YMCA again. It was one of the sweetest experiences that I had.

I may be an introvert, but I definitely am not shy.

There was an Irish bar and restaurant with tables beside the river that we decided to try called the Black Anchor. It had a variety of cuisines, so I had chicken satay with peanut sauce and enjoyed it.

I didn’t eat these, but this uncleared table on a sidewalk on the way back captured my attention, as much for the snail shells as for the pattern that the wet glass made on the paper.

As I drank my coffee on the roof terrace, I could see that it was going to be difficult to pry myself away from this space above the town. I needed downtime badly.

One of the best moments of my trip happened this morning when I stepped out on the terrace. A small murmuration of swallows swooped so close to me that I heard and felt the whoosh of their collective wings beating. Then I watched them for about 15 minutes as they spun and swooped and lifted as a tight group above our neighborhood. There seemed to be no purpose but the joy of it.

So, we had a low-key day. We wandered around our neighborhood and the riverside. We ate lunch at a great Indian restaurant in our building below. We talked with a young digital nomad from Poland who was seated nearby, and an old woman very aggressively tried to sell me a plastic carton with about eight strawberries in it for five euros. She eventually went down to three euros, but I wasn’t interested in buying and I was mainly amused at how hard she tried to sell them to me. Later that evening we had an unimpressive meal across the river, and I don’t remember anything about it other than I enjoyed the night views over the river.

Since this will be a short post, here’s something about dining out in Portugal.

Portuguese restaurants will not bring you glasses of water. Water comes in bottles, either with or without “gas” and you pay for them. Draft beer was incredibly cheap, but you usually only had the choices of Super Bock and/or Sagres. They were pretty good, and both breweries had good dark beers and stouts if you could find them.

Bread and olives and sometimes pate or cheese or butter are put on your table, but they are not free. If you don’t want them, just let the waiter know and don’t touch them. We usually accepted the bread because it was so good, and often took the cheese and olives.

Tips are not expected, but we tipped whenever the waiters gave good service and/or were friendly, which was most of the time. Tax is included in the prices, so the price you see on the menu is the price you will pay.

And the waiters will not bring you a check until you ask for it. “A conta” (the check) is one of the Portuguese phrases we used most often. When you sit down, they expect you to linger over your meal and drinks and dessert and coffee. There is no push to get you to free up a table.