On the occasion of the festival of Santos Populares, some residents of one of the region’s tiniest communities got together for the first time and . . . pardied!
Pretty Palmeiros almost doesn’t exist. You can find it as a dot on a map but try to look it up online and Mr Google has never heard of it. Yet there is evidence that this dead-end hamlet, near the country town of Salir, north of Loulé, has been around since Roman times. Today it comprises a cluster of dwellings, which you could count on your fingers and toes, that houses its permanent population and another dozen or so used as holiday homes. Its occupants range from traditional locals who grow their own vegetables and run chickens on the same patch of land that their families have for generations to high-flying execs who jet in for the weekend. There are no shops; no bars or restaurants; not even a church – but there is soul.
This became apparent last weekend at the time of the commemoration of Santos Populares, the three saints whose remembrance days are celebrated in June. Somehow, a small gathering of locals developed the occasion into a village-wide knees-up.
It started during the spring festival of Espiga which has put nearby Salir firmly on the map of Portugal and is now becoming recognised internationally. A handful of Palmeiros locals were putting a festive float together in the village street when some expat residents came along to help. One thing led to another and, naturally, it wasn’t long before a few cervejas and vinhos were consumed. In the process, they suggested that it was about time a village street party was arranged. And a month later it happened.
The progressive president of Salir, Francisco Rodrigues, lent the support of the parish council and road closure equipment, tables and benches were provided. Notices sprang up and the recently-formed Palmeiros online group soon had it out on the world’s networks.
On the night, residents arrived bringing drinks and food to be barbequed. Most of this was shared with everyone else. The amazing thing was that many of those present only knew a few of their neighbours. Yet people who had hitherto been on just nodding or ‘bom dia’ terms with others were suddenly found sharing bottles of wine together. The conversation went around in Portuguese, English and French (at various levels of fluency!) and then the dancing started.
The overwhelming common agreement afterwards was how successful an impromptu gathering of different nationalities had been and, more importantly, how we must do it again. Palmeiros is no longer a dot on a map – it’s a community.
By Rayner Otter
