Eeeeeek!!!!

Before we even left the U.S., we knew that finding our next home away from home could be a little challenging. Thankfully, the VRBO host had responded to our inquiry about checking in with an offer to meet us in a nearby town so that we could follow them to Fragoselas. It’s a good thing we took them up on the offer! I don’t remember the name of the town we met in, but it was a small mountain town that we were able to find pretty easily. There, we quickly exchanged hellos with our host, Celeste, and were on our way, following behind her small SUV. Celeste’s husband was driving and it was clear that he knew the roads by heart, but he was quite considerate and drove slowly enough that we could keep them in our sights. For whatever reason, I had assumed that we would have about 10-15 minutes left of the drive once we met them, so after about 20-25 minutes I became a little nervous. The roads, while well maintained, were narrow little buggers, hugging the mountainside in what felt to me like perilous abandon. A fearless explorer, I am not. Eventually, after around 30ish minutes we recognized the sign we’d seen on VRBO and we knew we were almost there! This is when I knew I had misjudged the size of the roads coming in. They were spacious and wide compared to what we found upon arrival into Fragoselas. Lined on both sides by rock walls, they seemed barely wide enough for our little car to fit. Coupled with a final hairpin turn into the driveway, it was a hair-raising experience, which even gave pause to David, I think. Nevertheless, we arrived! Celeste showed us around and, despite a formidable language barrier, we learned a little about the house and its workings. Though I had my misgivings on the drive up, I was instantly in love with this mountain home.

On the way in, we had, of course, stopped at a Continente to get food for the next few days. We’d be spending Christmas Eve and Christmas at our home in Fragoselas and I was looking forward to cooking some yummy meals to celebrate. When we found Porco Preto at the grocery store, I knew I wanted to try my hand at preparing it, but we couldn’t decide which cut to get. We ended up getting 2 different cuts and I found they were both simple too cook and yielded delicious results. I’d also planned to make Beef Bourguignon for Christmas dinner, so we were loaded up with beef, pearl onions, wine and most of the other ingredients I usually use. There were a couple ingredients we hadn’t been able to find, but I figured I’d just wing it. We had 3 days with nothing to do but play games, cook, go for walks, and I wasn’t worried about a thing. After the hustle and bustle of the previous days, it would be nice to slow down and relax.

And then there was laundry

So, that’s what we did. All the relaxing things I mentioned above. With what felt like all the time in the world, I thought I’d also get some laundry done. We’d both tried to pack light (one of us was more successful) and I’d known I would need to wash some clothes somewhere along the way. Our delightful home had a washer, but no dryer. I was undeterred, however, as some quick googling taught me that this was pretty typical in Portugal. There was a drying rack thing that I thought might get the job done quickly. Well. It was a little chilly and damp in the mountains, so my laundry adventure turned into a couple days of trying to figure out how to get our clothes to dry. Brilliantly, my first thought was to put the full rack in the bathroom, turn the wall heater on, and close the door. Heat=Dry, I thought. Turns out, heat and wet clothes in a small, closed room equals warm, wet clothes. Next thought, put the rack in the large downstairs room that wasn’t heated, but had room for air to circulate.

Oh! I forgot to mention that David kept offering to bring the drying rack upstairs near the fireplace, but I thought that was silly and too much trouble. Well. A cold large room plus wet clothes equals cold, wet clothes. A day or maybe a day and a half had passed by this time and I finally conceded that David had been right all along. Up the stairs with the ungainly rack I went and at last the clothes began a slow march toward dry. Who knew laundry could be such an adventure? After all of this, dear David was, I think, quite tired of talking about laundry (as you are probably tired of reading about it), but it did lead to a good discussion of things that we might not think about when considering where to retire. Anyway, see below for an exciting picture to go along with this epic tale of washing and drying our darn clothes.

Holiday Who-Be-What-Ee?!

Christmas morning we woke up to a beautiful sunshiny day. It was definitely time to get out and stretch our legs. Our only plan for the day was to play some games, maybe watch a movie, and (for me) cook the bourguignon. Certainly enough time for a morning walk.

Okay, I’m going to stop right there for a second. The reason I started this blog was to save my cramping hand from writing in my travel journal for a while. I hadn’t intended to share it, but then some friends were asking to see pictures and hear our travel stories, so I decided to share it. I didn’t think at the time, though, that sharing it might change what I would write. I think it has, to some degree anyway. When I write in my travel journal (the old-fashioned way, with a pen and a cramping hand), I seem to talk more about what I am feeling. This blog has turned more into a report, I think, of places we’ve been and things we’ve done. I think there must be a happy place in the middle somewhere. I want to tell about the things we’re seeing and doing, but I don’t want to neglect the emotional aspect of all of it. I’ve always heard that traveling to different places can open your mind, but I’m surprised to find how it also opens my heart. That is just as much a part of the story, right?

Who doesn’t love trees?

A walk, as it often is, was just the thing to get me out of my overthinking head and back in the present. David and I chatted as we walked along about the possible reality of retiring in this beautiful country. We agreed that we wouldn’t want to retire anywhere quite as remote as Fragoselas, but would absolutely love to visit again. Then, as we ambled along, we were drawn to the sights around us. There was a heard of goats being shepherded along on a road not too far from us. There were trees and plants that were unusual, yet familiar in some ways, and I wished aloud that I’d taken time before our trip to learn about the vegetation we might encounter. Then, as we reached the part of the road that rose above the treeline, I was reminded of my desert home and I felt renewed. David, on the other hand, would’ve been happy to stay on the tree-lined portion of the mountain. This is a thing with David and me. I like wide open spaces and tend to feel vaguely claustrophobic when surrounded by trees, trees, and more trees. David, on the other hand, enjoyed a tropical boyhood and still loves the closeness of a rainforest. It does create a bit of an obstacle when trying to define our ideal retirement location. This walk, however, gave me hope that we could both end up feeling like we’ve come home again. I realized that I don’t need desert, really, I just need to be able to get somewhere where I can see for miles. Maybe we can find somewhere in the trees that has good access to some open space, too! Wouldn’t that be just the thing.

The rest of our Christmas day included some games, some reading, some phone calls, and some cooking and eating. It was a Christmas day like no other I’ve experienced and I know that in the years to come, it is one I will feel some odd mix of nostalgia, sadness, happiness, and gratitude when I look back on it.