Ah, Quinta Castanhas—our Portuguese home away from home. Things have changed since our last visit in September. Namely, the dog population has increased. And, in a plot twist that should surprise no one, this is partially our fault.
Enter Patch. Or rather, re-enter Patch, because technically, we first met him when he turned up looking half-starved and very much like he belonged somewhere else. Naturally, we did not encourage him to stay. But we may have taken pity on his sad little face and walked down the track to leave him a snack or two. Fast forward five months and Patch has upgraded from a scrappy drifter to a full-time house dog, complete with his spot on a nice duvet and, more importantly, a barking habit that could wake the dead.
Given our role in this canine recruitment process, we half-expected Geoff and Anne to bar us from returning. But being the kind souls they are (or possibly just resigned to the inevitable), they welcomed us back—with strict instructions that no more dogs were to be adopted on our watch. We promised, we’ll sort of.
This was our first time visiting in February, and despite the midday sun making an occasional guest appearance, the evenings were cold. The landscape, however, was a welcome change— green, and far less dry than our previous visits. The colder months may lack the scorching heat, but they do bring a certain charm. But you need a lot more layers.
It’s also been an opportunity to catch up with Reg, Sylv, Gabriela and Lee, to give the van a quick scrub, and retrieve the ever-elusive batteries. Simple, right? Well, this is Portugal, and nothing is ever quite that straightforward.
Collecting the new batteries, you would think this would be a straightforward task, but this is Portugal, where deliveries operate on a different plane of existence.
Step one: Order the batteries.
Step two: Wait.
Step three: Realize no one knows when or where they’ll actually arrive.
Rather than risk a failed delivery, the suggested collection point was—of course—the local cemetery. Nothing morbid about picking up electrical goods next to a bunch of headstones, right? If that failed, we were advised to keep an eye out for a random van or lorry in the area and just sort of chase it down. What could be more fun than playing “spot the courier” across rural Portugal?
Our seven days were up before we knew it, and it was time to hit the road again. But in less than five weeks, we’ll be back—ready to navigate the Portuguese roads, dodge delivery drivers, and reacquaint ourselves with the four-dog welcoming committee.
Let’s just hope that by then, Patch has finally figured out that not every single noise requires a full-volume announcement to the entire valley.
Dora, Giota and Molly who still keep us on our toes
Patch the noisy little dog who never stops barking.
Every morning, I wake up to a crime scene where the victims are dog beds, the suspects have four paws, and the motive is still ‘just because.’
We get to celebrate Lee’s big birthday and catch up with Gabriela, Reg and Sylv
We stop by the river in Benfeita for a drink, it’s a peaceful village just a short drive from Coja and is known for its vibrant hippy community.
We attend the Coja Carnival, where the chaos reigns supreme, and health and safety take a backseat to the madness, it’s a loud and lively carnival where the priority is to stop for a cigarette and a beer along the route, it takes hours for the floats to pass by!
Portugal, where you can ride a scooter while holding a strimmer and call it both landscaping and transportation!
Finally the batteries arrive and the drop off isn’t any of the original places but at Richard and Margaret’s down the track but at least they are here
The heron, its belly full from a successful hunt in the pond now rests up on the stable roof
We had a great view of the alining plants and stars
It’s been a wet, cold week with the odd appearance from the sun