Springing into summer … and the return of the drunken beetle cult
Our metaphors have moved from walking through mud to battling thick undergrowth as the moment has passed when the clay on our land turns to concrete.
The very wet winter has given everything an extra spurt of growth, and as the days are getting longer and the sun is getting stronger, it’s a jungle out there.
The dogs have shed their muddy socks and now bring dust rather than wet pawprints into the house.
And the Scarab Cult are back – the annual bombardment of drunken beetles careering into the house and heading for “the flame … the flame” obsessed as they are with our gas stove.
Apparently, they get smashed on honeycombs and then inexplicably make a beetle-line for the kitchen.
Simon the dog used to chase them, but these days the old man is more obsessed with bothering us for human food and snoozing than chasing bugs … however much he used to like the crunch.
We catch each one, try to persuade it that life is worth living and then launch it back into the wild hoping it can stay off the honeycomb, out of the hive-bars and not be lured back to ‘the flame’.
It’s that trimming strimming time of year again when I dust off the weed whacker and reacquaint myself with our land, patch by daily patch … shedding a few pounds in the process.
The legal deadline for fire-prevention land-clearing within 50m of every building was thankfully pushed back until the end of May as it usually is, but it’s a time-consuming business with more buildings built and temperatures rising.
A dodgy knee hasn’t helped, but there is something very calming about spending hours methodically clearing hillside patches of esteva (rock rose) and silvas (brambles) … and the instant gratification that brings.
It’s nice to actually see the fruits of our labour, as our indoor work is mostly sending messages out into the social media ether without the immediate feedback.
We’re fine-tuning our video and photography, delving into design software and experimenting with Facebook ads and Instagram reels to reach the people – that we know are out there – who will love the wonderful place we’ve created.
It turns out there’s more to it than just “build it and they’ll come.”
We had a crazy idea, made a plan, got a loan, learned how to build, how to install a fully off-grid power and water system for a small hotel and somehow beat the bureaucracy to open something truly remarkable … in record time.
Having retrained as builders and project managers, we are reinventing ourselves once again as marketeers, IT experts, accountants, social media super-spreaders, hosts, chefs, landscapers, gardeners and event organisers.
Now we’re working around the clock to manage everything and make it all work.
We’re fluctuating wildly between the fear of failing and having every confidence we’ll succeed – in the sense of having money coming in as well as going out, which I’m told is quite important.
We’ve been blown away by the people visiting us and staying with us who have been so brilliantly baffled by the beauty … and spontaneously asked why our prices are so low.
It’s our opening year and we really want expectations to be exceeded – and it’s hard on a website to do justice to the peace and quiet, all the nature and the open spaces.
And it’s great to hear from people, even more convinced than we are, that we can make a success out of this crazy adventure.
We have been caught deep in the weeds trying to get our booking engine going, as connecting to the sites where people go to search for holiday homes has been an inexplicably uphill struggle.
Linking Booking.com, Expedia and AirBnB to our own website has been the equivalent of cutting through a bamboo forest with a blunt blade.
Days of our lives we will never get back “adding content,” weeks of helplines and service desks and, finally, I think people might actually be able to find us and book a stay.
In many respects, we’re lucky the season hasn’t quite got started yet as it gives us time to finish things off properly and to do the noisy stuff every morning … like cutting the grass.
But it’s a nervous time for us first-time entrepreneurs and with loan repayments already fleeing our account, my childhood eczema is back and we’re both running around figuratively (and sometimes literally) shouting “Don’t Panic! Don’t Panic!”
We’ve realised the best way to settle our nerves is to create retreats we can plan for ahead of time – package deals including meals and activities.
We won’t even try to compete with the many great yoga and wellness retreat centres in the neighbourhood, but with artist friends we’ve started proposing painting retreats and get-away-from-it-all weeks based around walking and wine.
The Rota Vicentina clifftop trails on the south west coast are hugely popular and we’re thinking of persuading people to stay in one place by dropping them off and picking them up from their walks each day.
So, if any of this might be of interest to you or people you know, please get in touch and we’ll test out some package plans.
As the sun gets a little hotter every day, the shrubbery isn’t going to cut itself, the scratching sound of a hungover beetle trapped in a plastic bag is calling for an intervention and Simon the dog wants some human breakfast.
We’re discovering how tough it is to get a business up and running from scratch when the personal stakes are so high.
But we’re also in a very beautiful place surrounded by pets and wildlife, a chorus of birdsong, and plenty of sunshine and wild beaches.
With the undergrowth cleared and the clay firmly underfoot, we have a pretty open path to our first summer season.
Não sei se é um footer novo, mas parece ser
ALASTAIR LEITHEAD is a former BBC foreign correspondent now living off the grid in rural Alentejo and running www.ValleyoftheStars.co.uk / www.valedasestrelas.pt, or on Instagram @vale_das_estrelas
