It’s a Sunday, and it’s been a busy morning. My mate has had builders working on his property in Fuseta.
One day his house will be stunning, but in the meantime there’s work to be done.
We need to move a load of tiles and furniture from one room to another so that the decorators can crack on tomorrow.
It’s dusty work, and there’s a lot of stuff to move, but finally we’re done. It’s 11:30am.
Outside it’s sunny. The Church bells are ringing.
Older people are heading to Church, younger people are doing whatever they do, and us middle-aged souls? Well, we’re heading down to the square to sit in the sun and have a juice.
We sit there chatting about nothing – well… a bit of Brexit maybe…. The square is busy with a mix of Portuguese and French – and us Brits, obviously.
There’s a guy playing the guitar – Luis. He’s superb. I could listen all day.
I feel I’m starting to burn, so when I get up to wander home to get some suncream, I drop a couple of Euros into Luis’ pot. ‘Thank you,’ he says… is it so obvious that I’m British? I smile to myself. Probably…
Anyway, I sort the sun cream and wander back to the square. It’s now gone Midday, so time for a couple of cheeky beers. We’re at O Pescadoro – a typical Portuguese bar full of locals. I love it here.
We’re sitting out on the pavement next to the road, the sun in our faces.
Running alongside the Square and the bar is a road – Rua de Liberdade – and right there, a Zebra crossing. Opposite the bar, just near the zebra crossing is a road that joins Rua de Liberdade, coming directly down towards us. It sounds hectic, but in reality, it’s really quiet with nothing much happening and not much traffic. The roads are very narrow, and crowded with parked cars and people walking.
We’re sitting there supping and chatting when it starts.
A car drives slowly past and stops on the zebra crossing. In fact it stops right in the middle of the road, blocking everything. Two cyclists stop just behind it unsure what to do. The driver of the car starts chatting to a female pedestrian who’s using the crossing, someone she obviously knows. They’re both oblivious to everything.
Then a car comes down the road opposite and stops at the junction. There’s nothing moving because of the car on the crossing – the lady driver and her friend are still chatting, and still oblivious – so the driver of the car in the road opposite toots his horn loudly.
At this point, someone parked on the other side of the road, just past the zebra crossing, decides to reverse back over the crossing to find a parking space (avoiding the car that’s currently stationary on the crossing), straight towards the car that has approached on the road opposite – since he’s impatiently started edging forward, hoping that the lady on the crossing will move.
The lady on the crossing now notices people are waiting behind her, and goes to pull off.
The cyclists have become impatient and are going round the car on the crossing as it pulls off.
The man in the car opposite continues tooting (but doesn’t reverse!) as the lady reversing the car back across the crossing just misses him!
It’s chaos!
Somehow though, no one hits anyone, no one gets angry, there’s no shouting. It’s a miracle.
And this is just how things are in Portugal.
I close my mouth (which has dropped open) and ask for another beer…
It’s often like that over here…
But it’s still sunny and I have a cold beer and friends. Who can complain?
“Blinking Flamingos! The musings of a middle-aged bloke living in the Eastern Algarve: one who has no idea what he’s doing…”