Sesimbra; Why We're Here

Our time in Sesimbra is coming to an end. Tomorrow we travel to Ferragudo in the Algarve. The Algarve is a state stretching across the bottom of Portugal. It’s at the mouth of the Straights of Gibraltar.

But today I am sitting in a café full of salty old-timers in Sesimbra. I could write a book just about this café. Out front is a long stone bench built who knows when, with old men looking out to sea for who knows how long. The history is in the wrinkles and deep gravely voices. It’s overcast and misty today. The throngs of beach-goers are absent. Seagulls screech as they soar overhead. I’m drinking yet another cup of coffee—the national drink.

Unfortunately, we discovered a croissant bakery. I’ve never seen such beauties. Flakey and fresh out of the oven. All over town I see people carrying their signature to-go boxes, heading back to their homes. Of course we had to taste them. The first day we got a ham and cheese croissant, but today Joe couldn’t resist the dark chocolate one. I took a bite and it was delicious. It actually tasted like chocolate.

Speaking of food and drink. I’ve grown fond of their green wine (vinho verde). It’s actually a white wine. I have no idea why it’s called green. I like it when I’m hot because it’s refreshingly tart. The red wine is good no matter what. I’m learning that I prefer the sweeter wines of the Douro region. Sesimbra is packed with little tiny restaurants. Most serve fresh fish and shellfish. They proudly display what they have available in refrigerated ice-packed display cases.

The other night we walked through some steep little back streets and got talked into eating there by an old guy who pulled the fish out of the cabinet and patted it lovingly. We ended up sitting in a beautiful alley that ended with a view of the sea. Our waiter tried to convince me to order their special fish for two… I think it was called Pegado. It was the most expensive item on the menu. They had shellfish platters for four that were more expensive, but for two it was expensive. As you know, Joe is extremely generous and likes to spoil me. It became a matter of husband verses wife. The waiter was thrilled when the husband won. He made a big deal out of the presentation and even cleaned the fish off the bones and placed it on our plates. It came with vegetables, a salad and the view. With two beers and a glass of red wine it was the most we’d spent on a meal so far—$63.00.

The Tap House was another special night. Tap House is on top of the fortress with an amazing view. We ordered the salmon meal to share. It came on a platter with veggies all around a blazing hot stone. We put the raw salmon on the stone to cook along with the onions, etc. They served Joe a specialty stout and I had red wine. We weren’t hungry after splitting the meal because it was huge, but since we are little piggies, we ordered the platter of shrimp sauteed in garlic butter. That meal cost $52.00. Our server was super friendly, but very hard to understand. He tried three times to tell me he was thirty-six years old before I could figure it out. He’s from Liverpool! I felt like he was speaking a foreign language.

Sometimes beach towns can be so perfect, they seem like Disneyland. Sesimbra isn’t like that at all. I love the way they honor their elders by painting their pictures on electrical boxes. The children are a major deal here. The whole family heads down to the beach together. Sure, there’s clusters of sexy twenty-year old girls and groups of guys watching them, but mostly it’s families. It’s nothing to see elderly women exercising on the beach while the hubby looks on proudly. Speaking of the beach, the one straight out and to the left is California Beach, and the right side is Gold Beach. Gold Beach is where those ladies go do their workout in the morning and then strip down and jump in the water. I still haven’t gotten used to that one. We usually go to the leftmost part of California beach (east) and I sit against the rocks like a lounge seat.

I don’t think I’ve talked about this already, but I use a website called Rome2Rio. It does a great job of laying out all your alternatives for travel. It tells you the time for each mode of travel. I typically will start there to get an idea of what I want to do. I decided to buy train tickets from Pinhal Novo (a city about thirty minutes from here) down to Tunes, then a local train to Portimao. Monday morning we planned to get a taxi to the train station in Pinhal. And another taxi at the other end from Portimao to Ferragudo. I was a little concerned about catching the second train as we only had ten minutes to buy the tickets and board, so plan B would be a taxi from Tunes to Ferragudo (about 25 minutes). All-in-all, about 3.5 hours travel. THEN I got an email from the train company telling me that the train industry was going on strike for the day of our travel!! They stated they may not run our train. Well, cr*p! All of my work had to be undone. I wrote to our next Airbnb host, Carla, and told her we couldn’t predict our arrival. She promptly told me to buy bus tickets fast. She said everybody in Portugal would be doing the same thing. It took me about three tries, but I got our bus tickets. Now we have to get back to Lisbon to get the bus. Our plan is to get a taxi to the metro in Amora. We’ll take the metro to upper Lisbon and catch our bus to Portimao. Then we’ll get another taxi to Ferragudo… we’ll see. Visualize me shrugging my shoulders in resignation.

Joe has moved outside to stand with the local men drinking a beer. He’s made a friend at the beach gym—he’s a Brazilian who works virtually in California as an attorney. A major question amongst every one who knows us is, will we move to Portugal? We’ve been here for two weeks now and I think I’m ready to share what I’m thinking. First let me explain why we’d want to move. The number one reason is the crime in the States. Family values are falling fast. The cost of living and taxes is through the roof. Our little city of Rancho Cordova is holding its own against this wave of change, but barely. We could move to another state, but few places can match our climate and beaches.

I started with an internet search for the safest countries in the world. At that time, two years ago, Portugal was number three (behind Greenland and New Zealand). The USA was number 138. So I started looking at Portugal. Safe, religious, family-oriented, patriotic, healthy lifestyle, coastline with loads of beaches, pristine ocean, scuba diving, friendly towards English speakers, great incentives and taxes for retired ex-pats. The restrictions for moving here are basic. You have to have money and not need a job… they don’t like giving away their children’s jobs. You also have to run a background check for all fifty states. So, they like older people with passive incomes and a clean record? Sounds smart to me. We spend money, don’t take their jobs, and we’re law abiding. This is like internet dating. It all looks good on the web, but what would it be like in real life? That’s what we’re here for… to see if we like it in real life. So far, it’s exceeded our expectations. Therefore, I invite you to read between the lines.

The language is difficult, but speaking Spanish helps a lot. We learned some basics before we left and the locals truly appreciate our efforts. When we first started learning online, we didn’t realize that most of the internet (including Google translate) is based on Brazilian Portuguese. The biggest difference is the pronunciation, which means I can look up the words, but I have to understand how to pronounce it. That’s not impossible. The most important things to be able to say in any country is; hello, thanks, please, and help.

The sound of the language is very unusual to our ears. It sounds like a mixture between Russian and Italian. It’s the slight guttural sound that surprised me most. But behavior-wise and rhythmically it’s much more Italian. They speak passionately with waving arms. I can’t tell you how many times I thought someone was arguing, only to turn and see them smiling and laughing… especially a bunch of men together. Wow!

They have a pretty basic appearance. I can’t really put a finger on it. Some look Italian, others Spanish. There’s definitely some Irishness to their look. Maybe a bit stockier than their Mediterranean cousins. I guess they look Portuguese. This is a country of immigrants from all over the world. Right now it’s home to a lot of Ukrainians.