Acres of Hardwood (8)

It's Saturday, so we took another break from our acres, and went to Paredes da Vìtoria, 500 years ago an important harbour. The harbour got silted up, and what's left is a little village with less than 100 inhabitants (Wikipedia informs us cruelly), that serves as an ancillary beach resort 10 km north of Nazaré.

What's left of the port

Paredes da Vitoria, seen from the beach

More beach, shortly after high tide

Beach bar

Michael misbehaved, as usual, by pointing out to the bar tender that the restaurant attached to the establishment uses furniture bought at Ikea, much to Chang's distress (Michael's misbehaving), even though we bought exactly the same table (only one) for the lunch corner in the kitchen. Namely this one:

And here, as a bonus, a picture taken this morning of a flock of charming sheep, our dear neighbours:

Acres of hardwood (7)

Well, we took a brief break from the hardwood and went for dinner at the storied restaurant Antonio Padeiro, 600 m or so from our abode. Two pictures as we walk across the square in front of the monastery of Alcobaça:

Acres of hardwood (6)

Remember Wilhelm Tell? Behold the musket above the sliding doors, a present from our Swiss friend Christine:

Spaceporn

"You haven't been particularly creative neology-wise, writes a friend, but now you've created a new one, at least implicitly: Spaceporn. As neologism go, it's not a particularly good one..."--with friends like him, who needs enemies--"but it deserves a place in your tiny dictionary of self-made neologisms."

No, it's not Glenn who sent this letter, but he's right. In fact, appointing a space doesn't make it smaller, it enlarges its appeal, and hence its psychological roominess. Compare this three pictures:

This evening

The view of Alcobaça from the bedroom, taken with Chang's new iPhone "Pro"

 

Acres of hardwood (5) -- The carpets have arrived

 

Acres of hardwood (4)

 

The living room this morning, with the new dining table, made to order, at the center. It's extendable up to 12 people.

Same story, now in the afternoon (today was our day off)

Yesterday, on the beach

 

Acres of hardwood (3)

 One day later, and somebody said, "Let there be light!"

Charlie working on the medicine cupboard in the main room, with the hallway beyond

Acres of hardwood...

 Remember our post of Nov 15? Well, we are progressing with our acres: 

The hallway, now with the beginning of Chang's new picture gallery...

...and Michael's office, with the bookcase in place, and with the silhouette of Charlie at the kitchen table beyond.

That's all?

Well, here are three drone pictures of the house: 

It's the place in the foreground

It's in the cluster of the six houses in the foreground with the town of Alcobaça in the background

The same perspective, now with the sea on the horizon.

That's all?

Not quite:

Michael, Charlie and Chang taking a break in yesterday's sunny garden

This afternoon on the Praia do Norte

It's a surfer's paradise with Guiness Book of Records surf. It was fairly quiet today, although the waves still topped four meters or more.

The museums are closed

Our friend Maud sends this:

 

The prettiest town hall in the world -- Alcobaça, Portugal

 This is where we live since three weeks:

Fog moving in...

...with Charlie and Michael walking on the boardwalk of Nazaré:

 

We thought we'd end up in a little apartment...

 ...what with all the money trouble we were in.

Instead we got a big villa with acres of oak hardwood floor:

Yes, this is the elevator

Hallway

Kitchen

Kallax, installed by Charlie

The mezzanine

Staircase

View into the living room

Remember Kylie Minogue?

 

[Verse 1]

Feel my heartbeat

It's the same old feeling coming over me tonight

Me tonight

Feel it buzzing

Said I'm never gonna call, but tonight, I think I might

Think I might

[Pre-Chorus]

Gave my heart a ride, bump in the night

No one can take me higher

Know it's been a while, baby, a while

Do you still feel the fire?

Still moving -- Michael's office as a preliminary draft

 So, we are now in place since 11 days, and there's a lot of progress. 

One observation: the locals are very special, and the more you get in contact with them the more consistent the Portuguese experience gets: most--almost all--feature a strange combination of sweetness, softness, and something that passes as natural kindness (even when it comes to bureaucrats). Chang and Michael are exchanging views every day, telling each other that they are so happy here, and even happier than the day before.

And here's the view from the bedroom this morning, at 07:50 local time: 

We moved, we moved -- into our new home

The south-easterly view from our bedroom on a rainy Sunday morning

Chang and our new friend Charlie in the off-kitchen area (still on Sunday morning). Charlie is helping us moving in, we are very grateful. 

And the picture above Chalie's head?

Well, that's Karl Marx, of course, drawn by Doekel, the daughter of a friend, with a take on a poster by the SDS ("Sozialistischer  deutscher Studentenbund"), from 50 years ago.

We moved, we moved -- and met our first Covid-victim

Yes, we finally did it--did it precipitously, since Chang feared that the Lusitanians wouldn't let us back in, what with the excessive French Covid infection rates. We did the journey from Cannes to Portugal in two days (normally it takes three). The first night we spent in a rural Airbnb near San Sebastian, where we met the first Covid-victim of our life---the charming Airbnb owner---who told us that she got infected in March---fever, self-isolation in her bed-room---a whole month---food served through a window. She got an X-ray, but the lungs didn't appear affected, even though there was fever and coughing. But now, seven months later, she still feels secondary effects---palpitations and fatigue, mostly. We handed her a bottle of Beaujolais---we had to explain about "Beaujolais"---and left early. Eight hours later we arrived here:

The InnBar on Nazaré beach, Friday, Oct 23, 2020, around 6PM local time

To be continued.

 

Trump loses -- singing under the shower

Yes, we know, it won’t happen, it’s unimaginable--in the same way that his win over Hillary was unimaginable...

...but wouldn’t it be nice if you were singing under the shower and come up with a space opera along these lines... 

...Twitter closes his account 6 minutes after Biden is sworn in...

...Trump arrives at the airport, but the Deutsche Bank has already impounded his Boeing 757, whose front wheel is now chained to one of these cannon balls they used to use for chain gangs...

...he's led with his Ivanka-soaked family to some VIP lounge for shelter, but can't get in because his credit card no longer works and the black reception girl behind the counter hates Q-Anon...

...a "situation" develops under the Klieg lights from the cell phones of some other VIPs waiting patiently in line and anticipating that he’ll finally loses his temper in public...

...which he does...

...Trump loses it, he really loses it...

...for the first time in public...

...no more coding, no more “good people on both sides”; no more birth certificates, no more “bad hombres”...

...no, the N-word exits his fish-snout, irrevocably and irredeemably...

...and the black reception girl behind the VIP-lounge counter that hates Q-Anon...

...she dials the Black Panthers unit at the DCPD to have n° 45 arrested for Blatant Racism...

...and The Donald is shackled and perp-walked through the main hall of Ronald Reagan National Airport...

...while his Irina-soaked family is frantically dialling all their friends with influence and heft and help out with one of these Lear Jets that are programmed to fly only to West Palm Beach Airport, but nobody answers...

...to be continued...