A festival !

We just love a good festival and if it involves food and drink all the better so !!




Earlier this year we were out in Portugal for the weather basically and also for an orienteering event.


While there we stumbled upon a poster in a local shop advertising a festival of olives and smoked goods.....which basically means olives and chorizo !


On this particular day hubby had been running round the town of Idanha on a sprint race and afterwards we headed off towards the village of Proenca-a-Velha. I particularly remember parking was a nightmare as all the locals for miles around had turned out and the whole village was awash with cars parked just about anywhere and anyhow !! No order whatsoever.



I was quite concerned for the car as the Portugese are not brilliant drivers it seems to me, an awful lot of the cars are dented and somewhat bashed about looking !! Also like most country people they drive as if there is nobody else on the roads ever ever - full pelt and in the middle of the road.....you takes your life in your hands it feels like !!


Anyway, the car was safely parked by a church in the end, well tucked away from passing traffic in the narrow lanes. We wended out way towards the bustle and joined in.



The whole affair was a little like a trade fair, each farmer with his stall set up and desperately trying to attract attention and sell his home grown wares. A real old fashioned market place.

There was a food tent, interesting cooking displays of modern cooking methods but using the traditional ingredient and outdoor bread and pizza ovens.


A lot of muttering from the grannies here.....they seemed to like things just as they were, thank you.

The children were not forgotten too - face painting being a great favourite and the costumes of the young ladies were almost carnival like and great fun.



 The Portugese are very indulgent towards their infants, like the Italians, and the children are happy bunnies on the whole.




I have never seen so many different types of chorizo in my life !! We were continually being offered tastings, both of the sausages and also of the olives and in particular the oils.

  I must admit though that after a while the 'smokey' smell was rather turning my stomach and I often had to pop out into the fresh air for a breather.



The stalls were not only selling food, a few had the trappings that country people need - amazingly sharp knives of all sorts with beautiful handles made of horn or bone, home made breads (the Portugese are very proud of their breads), various alcoholic drinks, crafts and knick-knacks and so on....





All the ladies of the villages had been crafting, knitting, crocheting, painting, just about anything you could think of to make a bit of extra money too.

  Sadly we didn't buy any of these lovely craft items - as I would make my own.


One young chap had an amazing drink brewing away - inside a hollowed out pumpkin. It was flaming away and seemed incredibly alcoholic and the old men were queuing up to take a tipple !


Good stuff to warm the cockles of your heart.. it seemed at least so at the time. Good theatre too as he lifted up the beverage in his ladle nd poured into the drinking cups, quite the showman.

 The most popular stall at the fair almost....



We did buy quite a lot from the various stalls, olive oils, home cured olives (in an old coffee jar, and cost about 30p) complete with the odd floating leaf, chorizo, wines and breads.

The olives were a total revelation as they actually tasted of olive oil and not of salt !! We ate these fairly quickly as we had no idea how long we could keep them or how to keep them at all.



Very very few of the stall holders spoke any english and we only had a few words of Portugese, but somehow it was enough to get by with. But, definitely, next time we go we will take a dictionary with us.

A cheery smile and a portugese thank you seems to work wonders. They are, as a nation in general, a lot more welcoming to foreigners than the french and a lot less aloof !

 They actually take pride in being of help whereas the french in general are almost the opposite - service ? non !!



It was fun to see the locals, out in best winter garb, and definitely out to enjoy themselves whatever.


 Once the business side was over it was concert time and the entertainment began.



  Folk music with lots of accordions, guitars and drumming and the vocals reminded me an awful lot of a Celtic festival we attended in Brittany years ago.

The singing was almost like chanting with lots of harmony.



Around the corner from the festival area was a museum of the old olive grinding machines.

Fun seeing how things were done in the old days.










 

Probably if we had stayed later on into the evening there would have been dancing we could have joined in with, but hubby was shattered after his run earlier .

We had another orienteering event to attend the next day too.... so back to the campsite and a munching session of the bread, wine and olives.

Totally delicious.

　
　

　

A lush of lavender....

When you mention the word Provence, what is the first thing to pop into your head ? -  well to me Provence is all about firstly, acres of the most lovely fragrant lavender, secondly, the most delicious seafood, especially bouillabaisse and moules mariniere and lastly but not leastly the most wonderful warmth and ambience.


While on holiday in Provence earlier this year,  we had arrived on the 23rd of May, a time when the lavender is almost in bloom normally.

On one of our many days of ramblings in the area we came across these magnificent fields of lavender. Such a marvellous sight and we knew that the best was to come.....





This field was only about a good half hour walk from the campsite and so we got to see the changes to the crop as it ripened over the months we were there.

Quite an exciting time really for us and also for multitudes of tourists who swarm around in the area at this time of year .

The place was buzzing with amateur cameramen and women !!

One day while visiting the village across the valley - called  Bonnieux , we popped into the shop which specialised in all products relating to bees.


A sad fact we discovered while chatting to the wife of one of the largest honey producers in the area (he had over 200 hives scattered around in the valley) was that the lavender was actually 3 weeks late ripening and so the poor bees were dying from starvation.

A total disaster both for the poor bees and the future of honey industry in the area.

I felt like saying to her that maybe they should not have harvested quite so much of the honey last year which would have enabled the bees to better survive the problems caused by the colder than usual weather this year !!

but not being too sure of my facts I kept silent.....






We have been to Provence many times over the last few years but only learned this year that in fact there are two main types of lavender. The old original lavender and the more modern strain which is called lavandine.

The older strain is less easily harvested as it is a lot shorter stemmed and has many branches and only really thrives on higher ground.

The lavandine on the other hand thrives in the valley, has lovely long stems with only one head per stem so is easy
to harvest.



The lavandine has become the main crop in the area but really the perfume and oil produced from it is not of such good quality.


It is sadly now all about quantity and not quality as the demand is huge  and the temptation is to try and maximise the sales and production.





This is one of the farms we stopped by many times while travelling around the area - the one thing I can't show you here is how 'alive' the lavender was with various insects and butterflies. 


There was an absolute flutter of winged creatures and of course the whole field was a great hum of buzzing bees, incredibly loud !!

so much so it seemed to fill my head .....








One of the most surprising sights was the miles of piping and the automatic watering systems !!! All heavy duty stuff and all on a very industrial scale.


I always think of lavender as a plant that thrives in hot and dry conditions and so to see that it needed watering was very unexpected indeed.

I must say though that the watering was short and sharp - maybe they were just trying to speed up the ripening of the flowers ?








The lavender starting to deepen in colour as the time marched by and the month hotted up !!

I just loved the almost constant blue skies - so cheerful..















































I would absolutely love to live here - surrounded by vineyards, lavender and glorious countryside.

Also in the fields not in lavender or grape production were an abundance other vegetables and fruits. A bounty of edibles all around you..... wow ......

This is my very favourite photograph of the lavender fields and I fully intend to turn this into a pastel masterpiece one day !! such glorious colours .......

A gateway to heaven ....

During our travels over the last few years I seem to have become fascinated by, of all things, cemeteries !!

They are amazingly peaceful places, as (obviously!!) the only activity is the odd visitor who comes to tend a grave, to change the flowers, to sit and quietly chat with their family members.

Apart from these then there is the occasional person like me who just wanders around rather aimlessly but with great fascination and a sense of awe really.

Well, at least I do.

view from ancient castle

The first cemetery which really affected me emotionally was a world war one in northern France.

It was quite simple but those rows and rows of small white crosses were incredibly moving and terribly sad as each one represented a young man who had died tragically in the war.


A waste of youth and life that they had no choice in really.

It made me angry and the sense of horror and loss overwhelmed me at the same time. Grim.


The square

Anyway, it seems that wherever we go, if there is cemetery nearby I'll be happy there for a while !

I invariably also have a little cry but then almost anything can bring me to tears and it is not always sadness.


While on holiday in Portugal earlier this year I discovered this beautiful cemetery - well it was the gates and the view which first drew me as I didn't know what it was to start with !

So while Philip went off exploring the back streets of Idanha Nova I went admiring.

The entrance was very dramatic with the most wonderfully simple stylistic carving on the huge gate posts and a couple of trees on either side.



Even before I knew where it led to I had joked that it was like the gateway to heaven.... as the view in the distance was to die for ....!! but in this case literally.



I could have sat in the square, outside the old church and just gazed at the breathtaking view for ever it felt.

 

Inside was calm orderliness, rows and rows of graves of different styles and sizes, some being just locked chests on the outside walls but with some avenues of incredibly sumptuous family tombs .

I could almost feel the competitiveness of the families coming out here or was it simply the mark of respect for one's elders, who knows ?

I actually had a peep inside one marble monstrosity and to my shock there were rows of coffins (I counted 7) all on shelves at the sides and all in good order.

The older ones were the most ornate with inlay work and brass fittings, well, I figured they were the older ones simply because of all the skilled work in their construction.

I am sure that level of craftsmanship would be beyond the average carpenter's capability these days and horrendously expensive if it were available. They were almost works of art as were the tombs themselves.

One thing I noticed in particular was how colourful and cheerful looking it all was.

There were masses of bright silk flowers everywhere, some in pots but most were in vases and also, of course, a profusion of fresh flowers. 

There was a sheltered area set aside by the little chapel for the arranging of the flowers with a tap for fresh water and a small compost area.

Seating in the shade was provided too so you could just sit down quietly and contemplate.

Everything was thought through and prepared for.

Orderliness - to my mind this is a comfort what with the randomness of life itself !

Probably why I am attracted to these places so much ?

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

The Italian Riviera

Coming to Portofino here was the perfect ending to a busy day, well, almost the ending....


We had travelled down to Genoa from Rovegno, high up in the Trebbia valley, where we were camped up for the Italian 5 day Apenine orienteering competitions.


Hubby in his sprinting gear - ready for the off with the old port (now massively renovated  and touristified ! ) in the background.

 Genoa was where the sprint event was to be held, and we made our way, after a very early start and another tortuous drive, to the old port area of the city.

Parking was actually far easier than we'd imagined it would be - even here they had a modern underground carpark. Phew.. a bit of sixties spaghetti junction type drive into it but we managed.


Phil really is an amazingly calm and competent driver, like his mother was in her time.



The old port area was quite delightful and full of cafes, bars, bijou shops, strollers, runners and of course some quite amazing private yachts.


 There was even a viewing platform (basically a huge round smart lift with all round windows) which you could pay to go up in and view the port from.


Phil did his sprint in really good time but sadly missed out one control which disqualified him !!


This was really dissapointing as the sprints really are his best chances of a gong!!


Well, these events were a practice for the World Masters in reality - and better to make the mistakes now... we really really hope this will be a good learning practice for the real thing.



After the run, we wander round the narrow streets (the sprint map did come in really useful here as it is all such a tight maze) finding a most amazing chocolate shop en route.


  Well, we just had to buy a few; all were handmade and were delicious looking.

As lunchtime hits us we settle in amidst all the workers at a little restaurant in one of the squares.

All very Italian !!




More wandering and more gawping at the mixture of magnificence and decrepitude.



 This old part of the town reminded me a lot of Venice, the buildings look grim on the outside but are quite beautiful once inside !





Late afternoon we head back to the car, and start on the short journey down towards Portofino.



We decide to take the coastal road which is rambling but with views to die for and we just have to stop now and then a take a few snaps !!



The drive along the seafront from Santa Margarhita to Portofino was a bit of a nightmare as it is so narrow and drivers belt along as if there were no overhanging cliffs in the way or possible oncoming buses or just very narrow twisty bits of road for us to manoeuvre along.







Again we find an underground car park in the small village (extortionately expensive of course) pack our little haversack with swimming things and head off ...


We are here for a very specific reason this time. Over the years we have been to Liguria and Portofino many times, but as a holiday sightseeing sort of thing.

 I spent my 50th birthday at a little beach round the corner from Portofino called Piaggio where we also hired canoes for fun. 

 

This time we are here to scatter some of the saved ashes of Valerie Eeles(Philip's mother who sadly died last year).  Most of her ashes had been scattered at a family gathering in Wiltshire but we'd carried a jarfull with us in the caravan . Philip had planned to do his own scattering here in Italy where she'd lived as a child and young woman.

  Philip had probably been conceived in Santa Margherita so it was especially relevant for him to be here in this area.


We wandered through the village and headed up the steep steps towards the headland past Castel Brown. Hopefully we'd find a peaceful spot. In fact at the end of the track was a little cafe bar and also a military watchpoint. Not quite suitable we felt, so, backtracked till we did find a quiet sheltered spot with the most marvellous views.



Philip felt comfortable there and so did the scattering, again saving a few handfuls to scatter at sea down in a little bay where we had a swim afterwards. All very emotional for us both.


I actually knew Valerie longer than my own mother who died when I was 36 yrs old so she was a major influence in my life really and I miss her but we talk about her fondly a lot which is good and comforting.
 

Afterwards we stopped briefly at the house in Via Trippoli in Santa Margarhita where Valerie used to come and stay with Uberto Pallastrelli in the early 50s. It has been renovated and a swimming pool built in the garden but a lot of the garden is still semi wild.
 

As it was by now getting rather late we chose to take the shortest route back to the campsite and wow, it was quite a drive !! Along the most narrow twisty stretches of roads high up in the Ligurian mountains.


The views were quite incredible but my poor little camera could hardly cope with the gloom unfortunately.

It seemed to take forever to do just a few kilometres as we were wending our way carefully around the side of the mountainous valleys.


 The word careful is very pertinent as the Italian drivers seem quite shocked to see anyone else on their roads and always drive in the middle of the road seemingly as a matter of principle !! so the need is to be wary and prepared.....

We arrived back at the site, rather weary after such a long day's travel and in need of a soothing glass of wine and a nibble. 


The restaurant at the site was still open and they could offer us a pizza as the wood fired oven was still hot enough. Quite delicious and helped down with a half litre of their red house wine (which came in a carafe and was on draught!).

All the excitement, emotion, and eventual weariness meant that we were well and truly ready for our rest that night. Thankfully it was a peaceful campsite and we soon fell into a deep slumber.



Nothing like being worn out to ensure a good night's sleep.