Last night the plan had been to get takeaway. When we went out for our midday walkies, we discovered the takeaway joint was at the edge of the regular restaurant district. Scratched that idea. If one is going to walk all the way down to the restaurants, one is going to eat at said dining establishments.
Instead, Francie walked down to the local Pingo Doce and got some clams, clams for a clam stew. There was a salad with buffalo mozzarella, some chips and homemade salsa and some tinto. The wine was from the Douro valley and was quite tasty. To finish all off a little while after the dishes were cleared, there was an 18-year-old scotch whiskey and some gelado.
Our fellow travelers asked if we were ever going camping again. I laughed and said, “This my friend is camping in my dotage.” We are cooking new meals based on available ingredients. We are hiking at least five miles a day. We are on the alert for wild animals (big assed dogs behind fences here as opposed to bears rooting through garbage bins in the northern woods). We are traveling in unknown terrain. The beds might be a tad more comfortable than a bed roll, but we are essentially doing what we did camping. We are sharing each other’s company and discovering new things together.
Today is our 45th day in Europe. We are just a tad past the halfway point in this journey. I am dropping into the rhythms of this place, casual morning, long lunch, slow afternoon and joyous evenings. I probably will have to immerse myself in football and pick a team to root for when I am in the bars. I really don’t want this to end.
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