Faro

It is Saturday morning, around half past ten, and I am still in Faro, trying to figure out what to do with myself. I must decide by noon if I will stay in my current hotel or leave, so the clock is ticking.

Yesterday I made my way out the beach, a beautiful stretch of coastline within the confines of the Natural Park or Ria Formosa. The water was nice, a bit cold, and the sand was beautiful. The beach is, however, about twenty minutes outside of town (by bus), and so a bit of a pain to reach.

Walking around town yesterday, I happened upon another religious celebration--June seems to be the month for these--and was struck by how antique the celebration felt. Old ladies and old men, along with a smattering of young people and priests, walked behind a large statue carried on the shoulders of a small number of older men. They sang hymns and looked ecstatically at the statue and up at the sky. Traffic was momentarily held at bay by policemen on motorcycles (a seemingly anachronistic element in the scene), and the statue was carried, unmolested, to the doors of the church.



At night, the church next door carried on with its own celebration, and again the cheesy electronic keyboard played on and the large speakers blasted the background music for the performers. I slept early, but the music carried on late into the night.

I continue in the same hotel, with my Armenian host, Paul and his cousin, a woman who apparently also lived in Portugal, but now lives in New Jersey, married to an engineer who works at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. She is apparently just visiting, and her American hubby is meant to arrive soon for his own vacation.

I sat last night with them, watching the news in Portuguese. The screen flashed updates on the fate of the disappared English girl, Maddie, and described other crimes happening around the country. Paul grumbled and talked of the changes in the country and around the world, complaining about unchecked immigration (irony of ironies), drug abuse, and "changing values". His cousin, smiling, said something like, "Liberty is good, but too much liberty is no good."

I merely nodded and smiled, occasionally bringing up a quiet point to counter their often biased, strange, sad opinions.

In regard to a totally separate topic, I have decided that I will, in fact, take my father's advice and change the name of this blog. Thank you all for your comments and suggestions. Please continue to leave comments, opinions, anything you like.