Portugal: O Centro
Good afternoon all,
Hope this finds you well- and warm, it's cold outside, but I do love a bit of winter sunshine, and I have Grace Jones in the background, which always makes things feel quite sunny anyway. I've just posted off the last of the scarves, so work on the blanket is well underway, and am starting to look for an exhibition space, and aiming for April/May. I have found a couple of possibilities, both local, but if you have other ideas, please feel free to suggest!
I'm now casting my mind back three months...three rather difficult months in my life...but I won't go into that here. I left you in Porto, just after my birthday, when I had a teeny weeny meltdown, but also a speedy recovery. I'm pretty introverted in general, and having three days in the same place, being able to stay in, away from too many people a bit, with time to reflect is pretty essential; and quite hard to get while travelling sometimes. The brightness and energy of Porto definitely was a tonic. We took the train to Figueria da Foz, which I would call the Blackpool of Portugal. It's a casino city, so parts of it do have that slightly tense air, caused by lots of people carrying inevitable losses around. But parts of it are really nice; the shop Love Las, run by the lovely Ana and Joao was beautifully stocked and displayed, and I found the bottle green yarn I was looking for. They are near the beach, which is incredibly wide (this was my other comparison with Blackpool). It's so wide that you could really call it a stretch of desert before the sea...it's filled with sports courts, and it is a really long walk to the sea, but well worth it. We were eyeing the sea warily, as forecasts predicted that Portugal was to be hit that evening by its first official hurricane. We had an absolutely gorgeous lunch, but you could feel a general anxiety around....and with good reason, because Figueira da Foz is precisely where the hurricane hit land.
We were staying on the fourth floor, a couple of streets away from the beach- much narrower in this part of town. And it was, as you can imagine, wild. We could only really watch calmly, nothing else to do. It was impossible to go out, the wind was sooooo strong, and sheets of glass and metal were flying past and occasionally hitting the windows. The next morning all was calm, but it looked as though there had been a riot- the streets were littered with everything imaginable, every single car window was smashed out, a couple cars had been crushed by trees, and one hotel had lost its outer walls, so it looked like a dolls house, furnished with weather-beaten beds and sofas. Most poignantly for me, all the sails on the beach had been torn to shreds- it looked very sad. Obviously the train line was totally out, and so we met the first opportunist (do these people lie in wait for disaster) but a VERY expensive taxi did take us to another station, and we managed to make a later connection to arrive in lovely Lisbon.
It was one of those beautiful autumn evenings there. We stayed in the Alfama, the old part of town which still retains its rather Moroccan street layout. I like it very much. It's too late though to make my intended stop there of Rosa Pomar (look at her instagram and stuff, she's marvellous...so I must get back to meet her one day). Shane headed off back to London the next morning, so it was a sad goodbye, and I continued on, over the massive Tagus river to Almada, the main southern suburb of Lisbon. On the train there, a woman saw me knitting and started up conversation- she came from Mozambique, had lived in Angola as a young adult and had moved to Portugal a couple of years ago....she really misses Africa she said and wants to return. It can be very hard moving somewhere new...we chatted the whole journey, and it was really nice to meet her. My stop in Almada was a fabulous one- the oldest fabric craft shop in the whole of Lisbon, called Arco Iris a Metro; Rainbows by the metre. It was a comical arrival as it was showery weather, and there was a rainbow in the sky when I got there. It kind of made me cringe a little bit, so I asked the wonderful Paula Coelho (yes that is her real name!) if she always had the rainbow there above the shop, then it was her turn to cringe. She makes incredible quilts herself, displayed in the shop, and it's a working concern for knitted, crocheted and sewn garments as well, from their lovely workshop upstairs. It felt so alive and a happy place. I bought some yarn made of sugar cane, which is lovely (not sure I'd wear it on a sunny day in case it turned to caramel though) and then I had that Sonic Youth song in my head for about the next three weeks.
My next stop was spontaneously Setubal, thanks to a recommendation from Monica...I was too exhausted to camp, with all the extra walking that involves, and I found a really cheap room there in the lovely square. The woman who checked me in was really jolly, and we conversed really easily. I realised she was Brazilian, and that is why I could understand her accent so well; I can hold a conversation in Portuguese fairly well. Just not with Portuguese people yet! Setubal was a dream, a city of faded grandeur, incredible tiling (even for Portugal, the land of gorgoeus tiles) and rather splendid decorations above every street. There are lots of derelict places there, which I think I could quite happily occupy... any Portuguese women that are not the marrying type, please get in touch...I am more than happy to cook and clean in exchange for a passport. The sculptures in the park were just utterly bonkers, as you can see; this is one of a dozen, all based on historical, fictional and legendary people of Setubal. I can feel that atmosphere of impending autumn in the air. I'm getting used to it, as I've been following the onset of autumn all the way from Western Ireland. I don't really like winter, so I briefly think it might be good to just keep going south until February to escape it. I went to two great yarn shops here, Retrosaria e Lavores; one of only two I've been to so far to be run by a man, the lovely Flavio; and Artcore Coracao de Retalho. This is also a makers' place (check out amafaldinhafaz on the insta to see her lovely work). Mafalda, Luisa and Lucia were so sweet, and I got some yarn made of milk, amazing!
The bus journey south from Setubal was a joy....coming into the beautiful Alentejo that I know; cork oaks, pinenut trees on either side, and storks nest overhead, and that beautiful light...very soothing and soulful. I arrive very happy in beautiful Alcacer do Sal (it was for many centuries a salt processing town) to a delicious lunch at a worker's caff that I'd been to before. Though how anyone gets back to work after eating there is beyond me, as every meal comes with a bottle of wine. Lucky I did as the Alcacerenses do, as the shop there was run by the jolliest lady imaginable, so my own merriness got me somewhere approaching her level. Joselia's Sabor da Costura is really well stocked full of beautiful yarn. I'm staying in a quite deserted but beyond gorgeous farmhouse with rooms. The owner greeted me and after chatting for a while, gave me a fresh quince. I didn't know you could eat them raw, but he tells me that it's really good for your heart that way. It was absolutely delicious, and my heart is still going three months later, so I guess he was right. It's a long walk from town (but not nearly as far as the campsite), so the next morning, I have an hour long stroll eating perfectly ripe prickly pears- kind of worth getting pricked while picking them- on the way to the bus stop. I'm going to Sines, where I first had the idea for doing this project...so Atlantic Thread is on its way home....
Thank you for reading, and love and light to you all
Billy xxx
Hope this finds you well- and warm, it's cold outside, but I do love a bit of winter sunshine, and I have Grace Jones in the background, which always makes things feel quite sunny anyway. I've just posted off the last of the scarves, so work on the blanket is well underway, and am starting to look for an exhibition space, and aiming for April/May. I have found a couple of possibilities, both local, but if you have other ideas, please feel free to suggest!
I'm now casting my mind back three months...three rather difficult months in my life...but I won't go into that here. I left you in Porto, just after my birthday, when I had a teeny weeny meltdown, but also a speedy recovery. I'm pretty introverted in general, and having three days in the same place, being able to stay in, away from too many people a bit, with time to reflect is pretty essential; and quite hard to get while travelling sometimes. The brightness and energy of Porto definitely was a tonic. We took the train to Figueria da Foz, which I would call the Blackpool of Portugal. It's a casino city, so parts of it do have that slightly tense air, caused by lots of people carrying inevitable losses around. But parts of it are really nice; the shop Love Las, run by the lovely Ana and Joao was beautifully stocked and displayed, and I found the bottle green yarn I was looking for. They are near the beach, which is incredibly wide (this was my other comparison with Blackpool). It's so wide that you could really call it a stretch of desert before the sea...it's filled with sports courts, and it is a really long walk to the sea, but well worth it. We were eyeing the sea warily, as forecasts predicted that Portugal was to be hit that evening by its first official hurricane. We had an absolutely gorgeous lunch, but you could feel a general anxiety around....and with good reason, because Figueira da Foz is precisely where the hurricane hit land.
We were staying on the fourth floor, a couple of streets away from the beach- much narrower in this part of town. And it was, as you can imagine, wild. We could only really watch calmly, nothing else to do. It was impossible to go out, the wind was sooooo strong, and sheets of glass and metal were flying past and occasionally hitting the windows. The next morning all was calm, but it looked as though there had been a riot- the streets were littered with everything imaginable, every single car window was smashed out, a couple cars had been crushed by trees, and one hotel had lost its outer walls, so it looked like a dolls house, furnished with weather-beaten beds and sofas. Most poignantly for me, all the sails on the beach had been torn to shreds- it looked very sad. Obviously the train line was totally out, and so we met the first opportunist (do these people lie in wait for disaster) but a VERY expensive taxi did take us to another station, and we managed to make a later connection to arrive in lovely Lisbon.
It was one of those beautiful autumn evenings there. We stayed in the Alfama, the old part of town which still retains its rather Moroccan street layout. I like it very much. It's too late though to make my intended stop there of Rosa Pomar (look at her instagram and stuff, she's marvellous...so I must get back to meet her one day). Shane headed off back to London the next morning, so it was a sad goodbye, and I continued on, over the massive Tagus river to Almada, the main southern suburb of Lisbon. On the train there, a woman saw me knitting and started up conversation- she came from Mozambique, had lived in Angola as a young adult and had moved to Portugal a couple of years ago....she really misses Africa she said and wants to return. It can be very hard moving somewhere new...we chatted the whole journey, and it was really nice to meet her. My stop in Almada was a fabulous one- the oldest fabric craft shop in the whole of Lisbon, called Arco Iris a Metro; Rainbows by the metre. It was a comical arrival as it was showery weather, and there was a rainbow in the sky when I got there. It kind of made me cringe a little bit, so I asked the wonderful Paula Coelho (yes that is her real name!) if she always had the rainbow there above the shop, then it was her turn to cringe. She makes incredible quilts herself, displayed in the shop, and it's a working concern for knitted, crocheted and sewn garments as well, from their lovely workshop upstairs. It felt so alive and a happy place. I bought some yarn made of sugar cane, which is lovely (not sure I'd wear it on a sunny day in case it turned to caramel though) and then I had that Sonic Youth song in my head for about the next three weeks.
My next stop was spontaneously Setubal, thanks to a recommendation from Monica...I was too exhausted to camp, with all the extra walking that involves, and I found a really cheap room there in the lovely square. The woman who checked me in was really jolly, and we conversed really easily. I realised she was Brazilian, and that is why I could understand her accent so well; I can hold a conversation in Portuguese fairly well. Just not with Portuguese people yet! Setubal was a dream, a city of faded grandeur, incredible tiling (even for Portugal, the land of gorgoeus tiles) and rather splendid decorations above every street. There are lots of derelict places there, which I think I could quite happily occupy... any Portuguese women that are not the marrying type, please get in touch...I am more than happy to cook and clean in exchange for a passport. The sculptures in the park were just utterly bonkers, as you can see; this is one of a dozen, all based on historical, fictional and legendary people of Setubal. I can feel that atmosphere of impending autumn in the air. I'm getting used to it, as I've been following the onset of autumn all the way from Western Ireland. I don't really like winter, so I briefly think it might be good to just keep going south until February to escape it. I went to two great yarn shops here, Retrosaria e Lavores; one of only two I've been to so far to be run by a man, the lovely Flavio; and Artcore Coracao de Retalho. This is also a makers' place (check out amafaldinhafaz on the insta to see her lovely work). Mafalda, Luisa and Lucia were so sweet, and I got some yarn made of milk, amazing!
The bus journey south from Setubal was a joy....coming into the beautiful Alentejo that I know; cork oaks, pinenut trees on either side, and storks nest overhead, and that beautiful light...very soothing and soulful. I arrive very happy in beautiful Alcacer do Sal (it was for many centuries a salt processing town) to a delicious lunch at a worker's caff that I'd been to before. Though how anyone gets back to work after eating there is beyond me, as every meal comes with a bottle of wine. Lucky I did as the Alcacerenses do, as the shop there was run by the jolliest lady imaginable, so my own merriness got me somewhere approaching her level. Joselia's Sabor da Costura is really well stocked full of beautiful yarn. I'm staying in a quite deserted but beyond gorgeous farmhouse with rooms. The owner greeted me and after chatting for a while, gave me a fresh quince. I didn't know you could eat them raw, but he tells me that it's really good for your heart that way. It was absolutely delicious, and my heart is still going three months later, so I guess he was right. It's a long walk from town (but not nearly as far as the campsite), so the next morning, I have an hour long stroll eating perfectly ripe prickly pears- kind of worth getting pricked while picking them- on the way to the bus stop. I'm going to Sines, where I first had the idea for doing this project...so Atlantic Thread is on its way home....
Thank you for reading, and love and light to you all
Billy xxx
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