I believe the first days of living in a new country set the scene for what will come. Rather like first impressions when you meet another person, they stick with you. Can you recall how you felt about Portugal when you first arrived? Let me tell you, my first impressions have stuck with me like superglue!
To begin with, I’m going to tell you a secret. I’m useless, incompetent and inept. Not at everything, I’m good at some things. But anything mechanical, botanical or involving construction, I haven’t got a clue.
So, it hadn’t occurred to me to think about running water, or to consider a gas supply, or where the sewage went. The list goes on but suffice it to say the farmhouse wasn’t connected to any of these mains supplies. I just assumed these things magically took care of themselves.
Why, you may ask, would anyone move to a farmhouse on the side of a mountain with all these challenges. I’m still asking myself that question. Answers on a postcard, please.
On the first day, I was eager to get started. Let me describe the utilities of the farmhouse. There was no tap water, and the toilet and shower were broken. I didn’t mind about the ‘shower unit’ because pigs had been slaughtered there. There was no furniture, and, since it was July, the natural water supply from the mountain was intermittent/non-existent.
Sanitary arrangements were the immediate challenge. My brother, Tony, and I, being boys, could go behind a bush for a number 1. For number 2’s, we did what bears do, and fortunately there is a small wood on the land. For showers, there were public facilities in the nearby village of Marmelete.
On the second day, an old friend, Jonathan, who I had known from when I lived in Wales was due to arrive for support. I use the word ‘support’ loosely (you know the type). He was now a Spanish resident and had recently bought a brand new camper van which had cost a small (large) fortune. He was to be our sanitary saviour.
That afternoon, Jonathan arrived in his gleaming Volkswagen California Ocean camper van and announced “Je suis arrivé!” He’s a big fan of Cher. He descended from the vehicle to show us his new acquisition with pride. After a few seconds, I asked “But where are the toilet and shower?” He responded by saying that “there were none in this type of camper van”.
Seeing our utter dejection, he shared a camper van community solution. Buy a box of wine, consume the content, use the plastic bag inside by inserting water, lift over your head, and hey presto: an impromptu ‘shower unit’. At this stage, I was willing to try anything, so we did, and got very merry in the process.
We spent the next few days cleaning the house and clearing out obsolete items from the farmland: old rabbit hutches, pig sheds – the usual things! But I realised the clock was ticking. Tony would be leaving in a few days and Jonathan soon after. So, the next priority was transport. I needed a vehicle and I needed it fast.
As the farmhouse was off-road and off-track, a pickup truck seemed sensible. Besides, I wanted to butch-up, as a ‘Man of the mountain’. I went online and found a Nissan Navara at a used car showroom in Lisboa. Jonathan dropped me off at Tunes train station, near Silves, and I headed north.
I arrived at the showroom and the salesman showed me the vehicle. He then opened the bonnet to reveal the engine. I nodded, smiled, and said, “Yes, yes.” More importantly, I liked the silver colour of the truck, its seat cover design, and the big wheels. I had to have it! My negotiation skills fell flat, but he offered a €500 price reduction if I gave up the 1-year guarantee. I thought ‘strange’, pondered, and replied “No”, a wise decision.
Having completed the paperwork, I drove away and headed towards the ‘25 of April’ bridge, and what a bridge it is. As I left Lisboa and crossed the Tagus River with water glistening in the sunlight and the statue of Christ the King peering down, I felt a real sense of accomplishment. To be short-lived.
Around 30 minutes later, I glanced in the rear-view mirror and noticed smoke on the carriageway. Perhaps there was an industrial factory nearby. A few minutes later, I looked back again and saw the whole motorway was covered with plumes of smoke. Then smoke started coming from the bonnet of my vehicle. It was on fire!
I pulled over and ran away from the vehicle as fast as possible. The GNR arrived and threatened me with fines because I hadn’t placed a warning triangle behind the vehicle and wasn’t wearing a high-visibility jacket, who knew. I was speechless, but besides, too occupied admiring their gorgeous uniform. I was convinced their outfit was designed by Jean Paul Gaultier. After calling the car showroom, their people soon arrived with a tow truck and a courtesy car. It had been the best €500, ever unrelinquished.
Just after midnight, I arrived back at the farmhouse in Monchique, and Jonathan asked, “Where is the Nissan Navara” (forever to be known as the vehicle from hell). I replied, “Open a box of wine, and I’ll tell you.” By the next morning, and as part of the production process, we would have a second ‘shower unit’. Hey presto!
By Derek Hughes OBE
|| features@portugalresident.com
Derek is a former UK Senior Civil Servant. The late Majesty Queen Elizabeth II awarded him an OBE for Customer Service and Inclusion. The latter was for championing disability equality. He now lives in Monchique, with his partner Marcelino, and teaches at Aljezur International School.
