Round Two with Rocky Balboa

I left this little paradise in the Algarve in mid-May and am now back for two whole months. Lucky me! Rocky Balboa still remembered me and rubbed against my feet in the kitchen, hoping for a treat.

In addition to Rocky, my “Red Lightning”—which had spent the wait under a protective tarp—was also there to greet me when I arrived. After a little over a week, the odometer broke through the “sound barrier” of 300,000 kilometers (190,000 miles).

Of course, the landscape is less green and lush in summer than it is in spring. The sea of white zingiber roses and the yellow honeysuckle towering here and there along the roadside have disappeared. However, the view of the valley and the hills—whether from the dusty gravel road or from the terrace—still fascinates me. How beautiful it is here!

I start my mornings on the terrace, where I do some gymnastics exercises. As I focus on my body, I can gaze far across the valley and let all my worries drift away. At the same time, my mind is inspired by the vastness and silence. Afterward, I like to sit at the table, have breakfast, or work.

Rocky the cat is usually within sight. He’s still a bit hesitant to let me pet him, but I hope that will pass quickly.

At

the large monthly Monday market in the little town of São Teotino, I buy a variety of fruits from the region. A few days later, I’m able to harvest the first fig from a little tree in my “own” garden—and oh, what a treat. From now on, the figs at the market are a thing of the past.

Two little fig trees in the garden treat me to fresh fruit almost every day—one with green figs, the other with purple ones. I have to pick them both as soon as they’re ripe. That’s the only way I can save them from the reddish beetles with black spots that greedily pounce on the figs. I Google the name of the beetle species, but only find the red palm weevil, which—as its name suggests—hollows out palm trees but is not supposed to infest fig trees. I’ll figure it out eventually.

Meanwhile, undisturbed, a single, proud pomegranate is ripening on another small tree in the garden, turning redder by the day.

Has that whetted your appetite?

To be continued.

This text was first published on my German website, I have translated it.