portugal's beautiful south...the algarve

The winter months are a great time to visit southern Portugal and Spain, in my opinion. The Algarve, for instance, is one of Portugal's most popular tourist destinations, but in January, it felt like I had it all to myself.

During the high season, southern Portugal's population triples in size! The beaches are packed and the small gorgeous towns are bustling. It is also very hot! But, in January, needing to flee Germany's dark grey winter, I needed sunshine and a peaceful ocean view...and I got it, and so much more, in the Algarve.

Castro Marim

The towns in Portugal's deep south-east, as the coastline makes a beeline in towards Spain, the simple, yet detailed houses, reminded me a lot of Andalusia. There is a laid-back feeling among the people, but with the undertones of hard work and little money to spare. As a visitor, an outsider, I wanted to stay longer; wishing for more time to get know the locals' lifestyle better.

Whenever I visit southern Europe, I am struck again, but how rich, complicated, and bloody Europe's history is. In the southern towns and cities, there are still so many signs of the past; conflicting influences noticeable around every corner, often preserved in beautiful homages to another time.

Like most of Europe, the Romans were here for a long stretch, after the Phoenicians, but then the Moors took over in 716AD and influenced everything from design and architecture, to food and music.

I had the good fortune of exploring the area around Castro Marim by bike, which is the mode of transportation I would highly recommend for this entire region. Bike rental is inexpensive, and it lets you inhale and absorb so much more of what the Algarve has to give, than if you experience it by car.

In the flat areas of the coastline, where the jagged cliffs farther west have smoothed out into sandy dunes and grassy knolls, there are huge salt ponds where sought-after sea salt is cultivated - all kinds, from the most expensive chef-quality all the way down to the least expensive street salt-quality. Flamingos love these ponds!

A huge bonus when you visit in January; southern Portugal starts the year off right, with spring! The almond and carob trees were already budding out, orange and lemon trees were heavy with sweet-smelling fruit, and the fields were full of springtime blooms. It was heaven for this sunshine-starved girl.

Faro

My favourite of the towns I was able to visit, was by far Faro, Portugal's southern-most point. Pretty much Faro's entire old city is covered with Portugal's famed azulejo tiles. The ground, the walls, the doorways, the stairs...intricate, colourful, mosaics of these small painted, tin ceramic tiles make every surface a focal point.

These small tiles actually have a very functional genesis. They were, and still are, used as a way of controlling temperature; keeping rooms cool during the many scorching months. The Moors used the tiles to cover entire walls as a way of satisfying their belief that empty spaces are to be feared. While the Christians began using them as decoration for altars and cathedral floors. Nowadays, azulejos are an intricate and normal part of Portuguese culture, and are incorporated in even the most simple of homes.

Tavira

A few kilometres east of Faro, lying almost 200 kms exactly west of Seville, is the town of Tavira. Nestled on the coastline, it was also nearly completely destroyed by the 1755 earthquake and resulting tsunamis that destroyed much of the Algarve, along with Portugal's capital, Lisbon. Because of their proximity to Spain, these coastal towns were rebuilt very quickly in order to show strength; ensuring that Portugal's south-eastern neighbour doesn't entertain any ideas of expansion.

What I found fascinating about Tavira, was its doors. I love windows and doors throughout Europe, and I always take a million photos of them when I'm exploring a new place. I believe that they really are the 'window' to how people live, and even without knowing what lies behind them, you get an impression of a culture by what their doors and windows look like.

These doors in Tavira stood out for me, with their somewhat creepy, child-like hands hanging from them, so I wanted to share them with you. Honestly, I'm not sure if there is a traditional meaning behind these hands, or if it's just a trendy, fun thing. These doors weren't anywhere close to each other and were on distinctively different buildings, so I'm not sure what, if any connection there was between them.

Even the town's run-down corners are beautiful, which I hope doesn't come across as patronizing. Like with every town or city, the less-polished bits teach you much more about a place than the slick, freshly-painted parts...in my opinion. Of course, I'm just looking at them from the outside.

Albufeira

Approximately the same distance away from Faro, as Tavira is, but to the west, Albufeira is a very popular destination in the Algarve.

Here is where the Atlantic coastline becomes very cliffy, jagged and full of exciting panoramas (or so I've been told). Unfortunately, I didn't have that much time to explore the coastline but the next time I will venture out onto the water and head west towards the open sea. Seeing the ocean's rough handling of the shoreline, and the enthralling cliff formations, is something that is surely not to be missed. Next time!

After dipping my toes in the frigid water and enjoying the sand beneath my feet, my friends and I had to try one of Portugal's most delicious treats: Pastel de Nata, a small custard tart which you will find in every single coffee shop in the land. Do not resist. They look simple, but are so yummy.

And at the end of the day, I was thrilled to have the opportunity to experience this place; blessed to have the time to write and relax, even if just for a week....soaking up the sunshine and ocean views. Thanks Portugal...I'll be back.

just add herbs...and a snowstorm of cherry blossoms

Spring has sprung. From one day to the next, the tulips were open, the ducklings were waddling around on our lawn and the cherry blossoms were in full blooming glory. Now a week later, the blossom petals dance through the air settling on all surfaces like sweet-smelling snow.

My weekend has been filled with springtime music and garden party prep. On Sunday, rock‘n roller helped me carry out the heavy wooden garden table and benches, long enough to seat my eight girlfriends; interrupted by an afternoon phone call from great guy who was about to set sail. He’s on a week-long trip, at sailing school, off of the coast of one of Spain’s most beautiful islands, Mallorca. And, I’m, if truth be told, enjoying a week of solitude and quiet, amid party planning and work. Fun.

Sunday evening, after the church bells tolled five times, I found myself spontaneously attending a springtime concert in a, needless to say, old burg kirche (castle church). This church was built in 775 by Karl the Great and I was inspired sitting in a building with such history. The four voices echoed beautifully throughout the tall, narrow altar; looked down upon by the original stained glass window (the Marienfenster) from 1404, surprisingly still standing the test of time. The peppy tunes varied from the 1400’s to the 1900’s; from flirty, romantic love songs to heartbreaking songs of home, like the ‘Oak and the Ash’. And, all the while I heard birds chirping along outside with great enthusiasm – made me smile.

Tuesday evening, I was in herb fever. My friends slowly started to arrive as the evening sky was still full of light and full of blue. We sat at the one long table, happy to finally be sitting outside by the river. The table was full; mason jars lit with chunky candles; platters and plates filled with rosemary meatballs; baked new potatoes wrapped snuggly in parma schinken, twiggy thyme and leafy sage; parsley mint couscous salad; and small bundles of phyllo pastry filled with either spinach and feta or smoked north sea salmon. Potted jars of mint yogurt and herb quark joined the lemon chive butter which I had set earlier in the afternoon. It made me happy seeing how joyfully my super-slim mädels (like they mostly all are here) ripped baguette, slathered butter and just dug in with gusto. And, the biggest surprise was how easy it was to prepare. Really, truly. Just add herbs. Try it. Yum.

Here you go:

Rosemary meatballs with mint dip (taken from ‘Meine Gute Landküche’)

1 day-old bun

1 onion, diced

3-4 T oil

1 egg

600 g ground beef

1 t sharp mustard

2 T fresh, chopped herbs (ie. Thyme, Parsley)

Salt, pepper

1 handfull sage leaves

approx.. 10 rosemary twigs

For the dip:

1 garlic clove, minced

2 T chopped mint

300 g yogurt

1 spritz lemon juice

Let the bun soak in warm water. Saute the onion in oil and then stand to cool.

Sqeeze the water out of the bun and add it, along with the onion and egg, to the ground beef.

Add the mustard and herbs, salt and pepper. Form balls and in a heated frying pan cook the meatballs for approx. 8 minutes until they are golden brown and completely cooked through.

Let them stand to cool.

Add the chopped mint leaves, minced garlic and a pinch of salt to the yogurt. Stir in pepper and lemon juice to taste.

Wash and pat to dry the sage and rosemary. Then skewer the meatballs alternating each one with a sage leaf. Or, take a small rosemary twig and stick one in each meatball. Serve with dip.

Spring is here. And, the low whistling of swans’ wings keeps me company. It surprises me as I walk through the narrow gasse (lane) of the altstadt or as I water my poppies; opened wide as if singing in a choir. The long, thin shadows, all of a sudden appear overhead…the whistling makes me look up. I love that whistling.

'The ewes and their lambs, with the kids and their dams,
To see in the country how finely they play;
The bells they do ring, and birds they do sing,
And the fields and the gardens are pleasant and gay.

Oh the oak and the ash and the bonnie ivy tree,
They flourish at home in my own country.'

-“The Oak and the Ash”

the last schnitzel

With my wheat belly in tow we head out to dinner with great guy’s newly-returned familia – the father and maid marion from Spain, and the niece from the homeland (Canada). It’s schnitzel night, as the niece and I are calling it…and we are excited. Granted, a schnitzel is possibly the last thing next to, maybe, a big mac, that I should be eating, but who cares, it’s an occasion.

Spring has decided to take its sweet ol’ time getting here and the dreary, grey days are taking a toll on my inspiration, creation, motivation, communication…I feel like I’m in hibernation.

Even the tulips and crocuses, who leapt out of the earth basking in the warmth of January, have gone back to sleep. I can’t begin to believe that we’ll be seeing anything blooming until, maybe next year. All hope is gone.

Except that, as I am typing I can see on the riverbank across from ours, the knowing swans. Mama swan, like a very, very large…what is she as large as? She looks, honestly, like a very large white, feathered ham, nestled into her nest among the dull, leafless bushes. She is the only bright spot, literally and figuratively. If she’s nesting that must mean that at some point soon the sun will come out and it will get warmer and spring-ier. She gives me hope.

The last two months, I have been spending a lot of my evenings and weekends trying to write; but mostly I have been eating in frust. Personally, I like the sound of the German word for ‘frustration’ much better. I’m a frust eater. When I’m stressed or tired I eat. It comforts me or distracts me; I’m not exactly sure. All I know, that in those many moments I don’t much care that I’ll be wearing a bikini in two months…in public. If only, in those moments, I valued the ‘oh-sh…eibengleister-there-is-my-ex-thank-God-I-look-hot’ feeling!

So tonight, after one last schnitzel…, I will begin my day tomorrow with a new ‘spring’ in my step. I will force myself, with the determination of Lady T, to focus on; frischeluft tanken (tanking fresh air, preferably while jogging in it), energie tanken (more yoga, less schnitzel), and like the niece (who is currently battling a handkäs addiction), filling up on less-filling food. I guess I also need to ditch the frust…if only there were injections of sunshine I could order online.

Every child knows what springtime speaks: live, grow, bloom, hope, love, be happy and try new tries, give of yourself and fear life no more! – Hermann Hesse (translated in my own words)

hope is...

"Hope" is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.

-Emily Dickinson

Spring is coming. The Rhein is full and flowing. The geese and swans and ducks are abundant. When we see them assembling on our riverfront lawn to munch away the newly sprouting grass, great guy calls ‚gänse alarm!‘ (geese alarm) The birds in the trees zwitscher (tweet) like crazy each morning, like they’re really excited about the sunshine and warmer weather! The father’s fish pond has finally thawed, the waterlilies are coming up for air and even most of the fish survived. Slowly winter hats and coats are heading into storage. Tiny buds are busting out on the barren rosebush which I planted last summer. It’s still alive!

And great guy is now spending his weekends puttering around on his boat, hopeful to launch it into the water in the next month or so. Sitting at our favorite watering hole, on the water, for the first time this season, we hopefully planned boat trips for the summer…Croatia, Holland, Canada (I wish!).

On Saturday, I’m meeting up with a new group of hopefully, soon-to-be-friends and I’m excited. They are four dynamic, entrepreneurial women who I have met through Ms. Potter (she is one of them). They are full of business ideas and warmth and energy, and I am full of hope as I begin the process of joining their team.

Today I am hopeful. Maybe too hopeful? But, the sun is finally shining again after a long, long time of gray skies and dreary, cool weather. There are things which I am excited about and hopeful for…new adventures, first birthdays, cleaner living, simple and calm days ahead. Spring is hope.