Sao Martinho do Porto; Would we live here?

When we arrived in Nazare it was in the middle of a storm, but it cleared up a bit after that. For a few days the ocean was calm enough to get in and the lifeguards changed the red flags for yellow. Joe promptly got in. I watched. It was rough, but the enjoyable kind of rough. You know, the kind of waves you have to pay attention to and decide; over or under? Most waves were the dive under size.

One day we were walking down the promenade and we noted the overcast skies. I was surprised because my weather app is usually pretty accurate and it had called for clear skies. My next observation was the following morning when Joe came in from the patio with reddish-brown feet. That hadn’t happened before. I got the broom out and swept the red dust to the edges of the patio. Later that day we noticed people wearing covid masks. Finally the news made its way to us English speakers and we learned that a Saharan dust storm had reached us. The locals cheerfully told us that the red mud rain would come soon, but that night the sunset was stunning.

The rainy weather returned… and the red mud rain. We decided that we’d better make our climb up the cliff one last time before we wouldn’t be able to. We hadn’t taken into account how slippery the cobblestone steps would be when wet. Every couple of steps my arms would go shooting out to keep my balance as my foot would skate over a stone. I’m sure I looked ridiculous. I don’t know how Joe looked because my attention was on myself. They’ve also had an invasion of ladybugs. They’re everywhere! This is tough for me because I love ladybugs, and I don’t want to accidently step on one, so once again I look pretty silly.

Every day, a tsunami alarm would go off at 1:00 in the afternoon. It was an eerie sound. Tsunamis have devastated Portugal before, so they’re wise to be prepared. I kept eyeing the massive cliff wall surrounding Nazare and mapping out our escape.

The rainy weather has returned with a vengeance. Coastal storms are a different breed of storms. It’s so intense, it’s difficult to even walk… especially down the perpendicular streets. They normally look so peaceful and inviting. Now they look, and feel, like wind tunnels for testing jets. We forced our way through the wind across the beach to get a closer view of the crashing waves. Isn’t it incredible how powerful waves are?

We wisely retreated to a café along with a bunch of locals. After an hour of eating peanuts, we started our trek back to our condo. We almost made it, but growling stomachs and more rain drove us into our favorite tapas bar where we ate ginger-shrimp, bacalhau (cod fish which we still don’t like), sausage-stuffed mushrooms, and split a bottle of wine.

Well, we’ve arrived in Sao Martinho do Porto. This is a gorgeous little city with a natural bay shaped like a fan. It has a narrow mouth which makes for incredibly calm waters.

Because of this, the Portuguese call it, “Baby Beach,” though I think “Geriatric Beach” would also apply. Recall, when I mapped out this three-month trip, it was to determine where we’d like to move. I chose this because it’s fairly level and easy to get around. There are some hills with homes built on them and that area has a two-stop elevator to ferry the residents down to the promenade. The rental prices are surprisingly low to a Californian; a furnished two-bedroom/two-bath goes for around 1,200-1,800 Euros/month. That’s pretty amazing considering this town has the status of Malibu or Carmel-by-the-Sea.

Unfortunately, the weather has not cooperated with us. I’m truly layering my clothes here and in a half an hour I can go from t-shirt/fleece jacket/raincoat shell/scarf to a t-shirt. When the wind blows here, it truly blows (like Nazare), and then it’s calm. The bay always has calm waters, but right now the water is a muddy brown. That doesn’t keep the school kids out of it though.

The other day it suddenly turned into a nice day, so we started walking along the bay. We found a boardwalk which seemed a reasonable choice. Forty minutes later found us completely around the bay, across a river, and in another town—Salir do Porto. The largest sand-dune in Portugal is here. It doesn’t look that big from across the bay, but it’s huge. We watched little specks run and tumble down the side.

One of cool things about Sao Martinho is that its market is Portuguese, not foreigners. That means it’s really calm and the prices are low. The most popular restaurant is Portobello Pizzeria (reminds me a bit of Il Forno Classico in Gold River CA). This is a high-end place and needs a reservation every night. The food was exquisite. We had the gorgonzola cheese garlic bread, the house pizza, carbonara, and three glasses of wine for 38eu… that’s only about forty bucks! In one of the most prestigious cities in Portugal. Amazing.

Apparently the first king of Portugal (Afonso I, The Conqueror and Founder ), back in eleven hundreds acknowledged Sao Martinho as a community. Over the next nine hundred years it turned into the royal’s vacation spot. The population seems to be a slightly more affluent Portuguese, which is hard to say because Portuguese see themselves as being equals. This is an odd mix of elegance and sand-covered children. Right now, I’m sitting at a café overlooking the park and bay. The glass of wine I’m nursing costs two bucks. I could get used to this.

Would I want to live in Sao Martinho do Porto? Hmm, I think so but services are limited. It’s close to lots of important towns like Caldas de Rainha with its big hospital and Obidos with its famous medieval castle. Nazare is only a twenty-minute drive for the surfer vibe. Peniche with its world famous surfing competitions is close. I think I could do it, but it would be hard because the grocery store is pretty lame. I know, I keep harping on that, but I like to cook. It’s easier and often cheaper to go out to eat. Today we finally made it to the market. It closes at 1:00, so we keep missing it, except Monday when it was closed. Today I lucked out and bought three fat salmon steaks, parsley, garlic, a lemon, and a couple of potatoes. Tonight should be a feast.

The number one flaw in this place is our house. It’s nice enough and well laid out with two bedrooms and two baths. It has three pretty windows that give us a sideways view of the bay. It’s only one block from the promenade. The problems are; The bed is too hard for me, it’s freezing cold, and there’s a bar below us. Normally I can solve hard mattresses by putting fluffy blankets under the sheet, but the blanket is needed to keep us warm. Now both of my hips hurt—common problem for me with hard mattresses. I can deal with the cold by bundling up, but it is by far the coldest home I’ve ever been in.

The other major problem is the bar. I’d read that a bar was below and that if you’re a light sleeper you may need earplugs. I was thinking it was like a café bar with people sitting out there chatting until ten or eleven… uh no. This is a hotspot bar for twenty-somethings. There’s nothing else like it in Sao Martinho. Dart board, pool table, and open until 4:00 am—04:00! The music is just loud enough to make everybody talk really loud, and of course they step outside for the national past-time of smoking. Really loud people seem to have no idea how many people don’t like it. I swear, all you have to do is add alcohol and they turn into noise-machines. And then once the bar closes the employees clean up and talk loud for another hour or so. Thank goodness for earplugs. The bottom line is I’m exhausted.