Algarve

We arrive late at an Indian restaurant named Real Indian Magic. Cait is giddy with excitement to see Josie again and runs from the car.

We sit down with Josie, her partner Huw and Chico and immediately cut the small talk. Delicious food and conversation takes us well into the night. Chico speaks of how people don’t breathe when waiting for their turn to speak: I’m aware of it for the rest of the night.

With a night cap of a local liqueur we fall into a deep sleep at Chico’s place.

Breakfast: a spread of cheese, meats and bread. A goodbye to Chico and we manage to squeeze everything into the little car - the four of us are off!

Alright - so I’m writing this from a beach in Ericeira, and I’m just going to hit the highlights:

Beautiful pottery studio - Porches Pottery - that Cait and Josie’s mums loved. Incredible colour palette - Portugal knows how to do a blue.

Cait’s childhood home: nestled in the arid farmland outside the town center sits the house. Memories flood back to Cait as she recounts the rooms, games and small animals that characterized this chapter of her life. In the distance on the left there’s a small white structure that you can see through the gate. It has one or two steps leading up to a flat concrete slab that served as a stage during so many pretend games that Courtnay and I would spend hours living out. The house looks loved and lived in, the paint fresh and the garden neat. I’m so glad to see it this way, even if it’s just a glimpse from the outside.

Dan on the beach: currently working at a restaurant nearby; Dan joins us for a swim, beach lounge and chat. She’s thriving. The beach is disrespectfully beautiful.

Josie’s childhood home: nestled in a forest by Monchique is Josie’s childhood. We stop at the bottom of a rather hectic hill that Josie reminisces about - her dad’s mum, Granny Pat, once set off on her own down said hectic hill, a mean feat for a youthful and totally mobile person, of which Granny Pat was not. She stationed herself at the little cafe on the corner of the main road and after many attempts and incorrectly ordered cups of coffee, she eventually got her hands on a cup of tea. The cafe would start stocking them for her, and she would sit and smoke endless cigarettes with the locals, no one speaking each other’s language but totally enjoying each others company.

There’s a house at the bottom of the hectic hill with a beautiful vegetable garden out front, and a small older woman comes out the door. Josie recognizes her and immediately walks over to chat. We watch as the lady slowly shows signs of recognition, culminating in excited chatter and an insistence that we took some of the strawberries from her garden. Josie is thrilled and overwhelmed. The woman had said she remembered the three little blonde girls from the house on the hill, as well as the kindness of Josie’s parents.

wooden obstacle course

Trampoline

Walking through the whole house to get to Josie’s room

Who wants to be a billionaire

Red and white checkered tablecloth and jars

She recounts trees that were jungle gyms, sleepovers, the function of old rooms and games that were played. No one was home so we picked some fruit.

Marvão: the night before Waking Life. A sick night for me as I picked up a flu. Hot with a capital “H”, luckily complimented by a pool. A magical pasta dinner outside in the late evening light (9:30pm). A leaf blower to compliment the sunset.