We wake up exhausted, snooze several alarms and are very slow in general. We had planned to take some public transport ahead to a town. The sunlight hits the balcony in just the right way, eliciting a comment from me (Cait) that this felt like real Portuguese sunlight. Looking around I was struck by how much familiarity I felt in a town that I had never been in and frankly didnāt like all that much. It was unlike any place that I can consciously remember living in, but something about the color on the walls, the tiles on the balcony and the sun hitting them just right, there was something in the smell of the air and the cool morning breeze. I have these moments here, very rarely, but theyāre there. Thereās a little expansion on nostalgia at the end of this day ā¬ļø
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The short walk to the bus stop was tough. We sit in the shade and wait for a while until it arrives, right on time.
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The bus terminates at a train station and we promptly get lost in the mall. Eventually backtracking and finding the station. Cait goes back into the mall for coffees and pastries. Aggressive pigeons with too much attitude walk all over us for our crumbs.
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I love trains. Overground trains mostly. We watch the coastline pass by, with conflicted feelings about walking it over taking public transport. We donāt really have enough time to do the entire journey to Santiago, yet thereās a sense of commitment that we were beginning to feel.
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We arrive in town of Vila Praia de Ćncora - as I thought that we were after a bit of time on the beach, Cait had other plans it seemed. We arrived on the beach, watched several small children causing havoc and going for a swim in the cold ocean. The wind is pumping and we take refuge in a little Ola (the ice cream brand - Hello!) gazebo that had been setup on the beach, when all of a sudden Mattea and Luke arrive. Iām quite perplexed by this coincidence, but it turns out Cait had orchestrated the whole thing haha.
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We try buy me a speedo - unsuccessfully tried on a pair for a 14/16 year old boy - then had lunch. The mood lifted substantially and we decided to walk the last little bit to the town of Caminha, where we would cross into Spain.
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We start of the walk is beautiful: a coastal meander down Portugals great coastal infrastructure. There are goats with their kids being incredibly cute with their weird bouncy way of moving. Yet after about 5km I start to flag a bit with the heavy pack. I wonder if I would be able to send it back to Lisbon, then only hike with Caitās pack and my small fast pack. We look at a couple luggage couriers while we sit under a train bridge.
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We have our first rather hard conversation and moment of the trip - that weāve been referring to jokingly as āthe under the bridge chatā. Mostly just trying to figure out logistics with businesses that had closed already as it was after 7pm. Not a bag conversation, just one of those frustrating moments. I message a company and we continue walking on.
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Thereās a lovely promenade to walk along and things get easier. Weāre feeling that lightening the load is the right decision - we arenāt camping every night and the tent and sleeping bags served us well at the festival. There are a few other things that we could leave behind to really lighten our steps.
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Finally we make it to the Albergue that Mattea has booked us in. Itās modern and clean. We have a shower and unpack our things. Then walk around the corner to join Luke and Mattea for a beer - itās their last night, and Mattea says āit was a dangerous night to be a Super Bockā.
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Thereās a really sweet - drunk - man, who turns out the be the owner of the Albergue and conjoined bar. He speaks of the plan to expand with a sauna and beer garden. I can see that the Camino twenty years from now could become a pub crawl - I hope it doesnāt.
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Luke offers to take my bag back to Lisbon - yay. What a sweetheart ā„ļø
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Later we head over to a cute restaurant for a burger, a never ending game of pool and two more beers. (One beer two many for me, as I would find out tomorrow).
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Cait:
A note on nostalgia.
- Something I have been thinking about since day 1, sitting on the beach with the crazy cloud bank rolling through.
- Good night Mister Tom popped into my head, and subsequently so did Little Darlings, Jacqueline Wilson, paper dolls and Natasha Bedingfield
- Iāve been remembering things that I havenāt thought of in years - things I didnāt know I remembered at all.
- People always ask if I feel a kinship towards Portugal, having lived here for a portion of my childhood - speak to 2023 experience of landing in Lisbon
- Fleeting moments - like the sunlight on the balcony
- What I think has happened is that the association I feel of being in a place that is somewhat familiar, or at least holds some kind of memory for me, has opened my memory to other parts of my childhood that I had somewhat forgotten
- Being in a place not only makes you remember the place, but rather the time that you existed in
- All of the things I remember are not necessarily Portugal memories, but rather early South Africa memories - from roughly the same time
- Similar to the Monchique memories - from the time, but might not be accurate in their recollection
- Safe to say, I think of my family a lot when Iām here. And some people and places look familiar for sure, but thatās due to visits later in life
- Feeling - the feeling I had in the Algarve and the same one looking at the sun on the balcony. Thatās memory in action
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