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November 27 Sunday Bicycle touring Portugal from somewhere along Costa Azul to some farmer's field inland Portugal I bought rice for supper at the store. When I got back to camp, Susan and Sharon looked at it and asked, "What does this 'animali' mean on the label?" Ah, turns out it is rice for animals. I bought pet food. No one wanted to eat it, so now I've got a kilo of pet food to lug in my bicycle touring pannier. The only good news: it was on sale. It costs us another 18 bucks to check out. I tried to take a shower this morning for an extra 50 escudos for five minutes of hot water. Or so the sign read. I got undressed, and had to step outside the stall to insert a coin -- always forget to do that. I start my stopwatch, so I know how much time I have left to wash the soap out of my hair -- I love it when I hear the click and have no water -- right when I have soap suds dripping into my eyes. Just try to find another coin and insert it in that teeny slot while soap stings your one-half open eye. I turn the red handle and stick my arm in. The water comes out. Cold. Freezing cold. I stand there for one minute 35 seconds and the water is still cold. My arm is getting numb. I shut off the red handle and turn on the blue. Cold. Back to red. I think it is starting to feel warmer. I stick my arm in farther. No, it's still freezing cold -- my arm had just become habituated. At 5 minutes one second on my watch the said hot shower clicks off. It's okay though, because by now I'm steamed. I get dressed. I shave with cold water, ripping out my beard. It is not a good way to start a splendid bicycle touring day. When Susan pays at the check-out, I tell the guy that I paid 50 escudos for a hot shower, but the water was colder than a witch's tit. I hold out my hand for a refund. "No," he says and shakes his head. "Close-ed," he says. "Well, it doesn't say 'close-ed'," I say. "You should put a close-ed sign up or maybe put a piece of tape across the money slot," I say and continue to hold out my hand. Lucky for him, he reluctantly opens the till and hands me 50 escudos. Good thing I didn't have to resort to Plan B: the primary grade temper tantrum. Results guaranteed. But ugly and embarrassing to all concerned. We head into Sines. I stop at the grocery store to see if I can exchange my rice and take back the two wine bottle deposits. Conveniently, the grocery store is closed on Sunday. We hit an ATM for more money. The first Instant Teller won't take the card. I almost expect it to eject a slip reading: "Minyata, minyata." We find another ATM and Bingo, we hit the jackpot. We cycle to a castle. Great views of the harbor from the turret. I take a picture of a colourful fishing boat. A little different from the fisher boats we saw yesterday. After picking up pastries, we get on our fully loaded touring bicycles and go down to the harbour front to eat breakfast. An old guy walks by. He looks like an animal lover. I hand him the bag of rice. He walks off with it. A couple of minutes later I see him walking down the street. He stops a guy and gives him the bag of rice. That stuff really gets around. I figure if I wait here long enough, someone will give it back to me. Minyata, minyata. We cycle 85 kilometres. It's the most in one day with Susan so far on this bicycle touring journey. The road alternates from dreadfully bumpy to ultra smooth. The rough sections are terrible on a touring bike with no shocks. Next time we cycle tour in Portugal, I plan on bringing a mountain bike with full suspension and big fat balloon tires. As we cycle along we hit a sign for 'road narrows'. Okay. We cycle a few kilometres farther and there is another 'road narrows' sign. How narrow is this road going to get, I wonder? When we were cycling along yesterday, the road got down to a lane and a half with cobblestones on either side. Not fun to be bicycle touring on when trucks come along. The road we were cycling to the fishing village yesterday was a monstrosity with more patches and bumps than road. As we cycled closer to town there was actually a sign that warned of a speed bump ahead! And, sure enough, there was a speed bump. Gotta say, these Portuguese have a sense of humour. Although, I had to look carefully to pick it out from the other ruts and bumps, but, sure enough, this bump went completely across the road. I ask you: Is this really necessary? Seriously. Just in case I still had one filling left in my head? We have decided to cycle inland as we are sick and tired of the rip-off coast. Can you tell? Besides, I've had enough sand in my shorts already. The inland terrain we are cycling is rolling. There are lots of cork trees with the bark cut off, revealing the dark brown trunk beneath. As we cycled along, we saw cork drying, stacked in huge curving piles. When I first saw the cork, I thought it was roofing tiles. I took a picture of a stack ... orange trees are in the background. Portugal is the #1 cork exporter in the world. All those wine corks for folks in France. There are no campgrounds away from the coast. Hurray!! We take this as a good sign and wild camp in a farmer's field. A full canopy of stars stretches overhead. Instead of an eight-foot high chain-link fence, we are surrounded by wonderful cork trees. Now this is bicycle camping at its finest! Much more to my liking than any over-priced campground. I tell Susan that that $24 campground we paid for the other night will be averaged down to $12. I hope she remembers that when she's squatting in the bushes. |
