The Things we'll Miss/The Things we won't Miss

As our not-quite-year in the Quiet House here on a mountain in Northern Portugal nears an end, and we soon head off to an apartment by the Douro estuary, we've been thinking about what we'll miss and what we won't after what has often been a glorious if somewhat rollercoaster-ride of a year!

We'll miss...

... the early morning and late evening bird song, along with the hoot of an owl as we head up to bed; peering out of our bedroom window to spot our fox-wolves in the field opposite. The delirious joy Monty expresses as he boings around the yard waiting for the gate to be opened before bounding up and down the track, always as though it's the first time ever. Breakfast in the morning sun; evening beers on the roof at sunset, watching the light on the walls move through various shades of gold, orange, then crimson. Sitting on the terrace or swinging in the hammock, reading (but more often dreaming) in peace and quiet, watching eagles and buzzards soar at eye level; staring at the mountains across the valley from our garden. An olive tree to harvest; lemon and tangerine trees that occasionally bear fruit. Our ‘pet’ geckos falling out of the curtains, popping up out of old logs, scuttling in and out of the drains, little curious beady eyes seeming to say ‘Aye, aye, aw-right? Do you guys ever move?'

But when we do venture out, no longer will little scruffy dogs chase our car down the mountain road, and around the bends, faces full of laughter. We'll miss the bent-double old women in black with their funky F.C. Porto hats, growing or collecting produce from their land. The smells of pine and eucalyptus that never fail to leave us inhaling deeply to clear out our airways, and in early autumn, the smell from the fermenting grapes on reddening vines that fills the open-windowed car. River walks in Amarante, along the shady Trilho dos Castanheiros, dappled by sunlight, with Monty hurtling off to his favourite river beaches where he'll dredge up rocks 5 times the size of the stones we throw in. Walks up above Soalhães where we swing on the baloiço. Our growing familiarity with our two local towns of Marco de Canaveses and Amarante, recognising and exchanging smiles and 'bom dias' with cashiers in supermarkets, waiters in cafes, the women in the farmacia who now know my order before I even ask... And it doesn't seem to matter where we are, but the stunning Monte Farinha - described to us by a Portuguese friend as the 'mountain with breasts' - which has been a daily visual reference will soon be far off in the distance and out of sight.

...but we won't miss

... the lack of heating in a house that is freezing inside for at least half the year, and then the heat during summer nights when the windows have to stay closed to stop the mozzies coming in. And, on that note, sheer bloody insect terrorism - ant infestations that greet you on your return; flies that circle-dance in the middle of the living room, and mosquitoes that suck your blood at night. The chorus of howling, barking dogs, typically set off by endless random fireworks that explode any time of the day or night, or the shooting from hunts which are only legal for about 4 or 5 months of the year but, here in the badlands, running between two different police jurisdictions, occurs whenever. And we won't miss the darkness and cramped confines of our single living space - kitchen, living room, dining room all crammed into one. Crap internet and dodgy electricity. Hot water for just one shower at a time. Loo paper having to go in bins, not down the loo. And then the peace and quiet we so love also comes at the cost of feeling isolated and trapped, especially when one of us is unwell.

And so we won't miss having to drive at least 20 minutes down the winding, hair-pin bending mountain roads, cars racing towards us on our side of the road, cars in front of us driven by tartarugas, before we can even get to our most local town/dog walks. Google Maps directing us in our little 1 litre engine car up or down near-vertical, untarmaced, rutted roads

Finally...

... much as we say we won't miss the very dear friends we have made here - because we'll be a regular thorn in their sides and in their homes! - we WILL miss the spontaneity of popping by to walk the dogs or have a coffee, or bumping into them in Lidl car park! And maybe just the knowledge that they're there, close by. This is a feeling that is becoming all too familiar but at least with this move we'll only be a 45 minute drive away.

See you in Porto/Vila Nova de Gaia!

Michelle, Adrian and Monty xxx