Life in Góis Nov 2008
Life in Góis October 2008
Life in Góis Sept 2008
Life in Góis August 2008
Life in Góis July 2008
Life in Góis June 2008
Life in Góis May 2008

May 30th
Today I went with a friend to see the petroglyphs at Pedra Letreira and Mestras. For those unfamiliar with the term, petroglyphs are ancient signs and symbols engraved into a rock face. There are reputedly many examples in this region, but they are not always easy to find, even when you have found them once, you may not be able to find them a second time! Fortunately we had no difficulty in getting to the petroglyphs at Pedra Letreira. The rain eased off as we arrived, and all around we could see the clouds steaming off the hills as the valley opened up before us. Pedra Letreira is a stone plateau that juts out in a rocky outcrop on the hillside. It is a powerful and beautiful spot that commands a breathtaking view to the west. The symbols carved into the rock at this spot are clear and plentiful, as if people thousands of years ago had spent hours at this spot and re-visited it frequently. To run your fingers along the grooves created in such a distant time past is both awe-inspiring and tantalising – it is impossible not to want to KNOW what they mean. From some of the work I have seen by Marija Gimbutas on the ancient Goddess culture of Europe,* I have my own ideas, but perhaps I have to remain content never to know for sure.
When it came to finding  the petroglyphs above Mestras, things were not quite so simple. Having visited them last September, I thought it would be relatively easy to find them again, but up on the ridge below the whirring arms of the wind-turbines, it seemed next to impossible to discern just which rocky outcrop contained the stones with the mysterious symbols. We climbed up and down the bank, stumbled over tussocks and paused to take in the tremendous views all around – it feels like being on the roof of the world up there – and were just about to give up when we finally found what we were looking for. The symbols seemed much less sharp than when I had seen them before in the slanting evening sunlight, but they were undeniably there – the quartered circles carved in the stone. So we took time to sit and admire the cloudscapes shifting over the hills and imagine just what it might have been like for those people who sat there so long before us and left us their marks.
Later on, as we were driving along the side of the ridge in a sunshower, we found ourselves looking down on a brilliant rainbow arcing over the hills. And as I write this, I am watching the mist filling up the valley below the sunset –rather eerie, but very atmospheric. This is not the weather we would have expected to be experiencing at the end of May, but it seems that like everywhere else, predictable weather in Central Portugal is a thing of the past.

*Marija Gimbutas – ‘The Language of the Goddess’  (Thames and Hudson) 1989

May 27th
A few minutes’ walk from our house there is a terraced clearing in the woods – a magical place where sweet chestnut and olive trees grow, and all that can be heard is the song of birds and insects. Sitting under the old olive tree today, I found myself musing on our purpose for being here in Portugal, and what it is that motivates us to live and work here. As I was thinking about these things I was also gazing at the amazing lichens and mosses growing on the bark of the olive tree, some of which I have never seen before. I know that lichens are a sign of the purity of the air, so surely such intricate and varied types as these must indicate that this is a rare and unpolluted corner of Western Europe?
While Richard and Anna are out in the villages, taking photos and recording the social histories that may otherwise die with this generation, they encounter communities in transition – the old way of life is disappearing, but with the infrastructure for 21st century communication in place, they are waiting now for people to come with vision, optimism and energy to bring in the future. The people here have so much to offer, with their knowledge of the land and its stewardship, that they have been practising so effectively for countless generations, but in order for their villages to survive and flourish, they need people to come and live in them, bringing their skills and dreams, building their lives and raising their children here.
If in some way we can be instrumental in bringing together this beautiful and fertile land, the folk who have lived here and tended it for centuries, and the passion and vision of incoming people who care about the way forward, then I will consider that work well worth doing, and be grateful for the opportunity to have participated in it. I truly believe that this area is a treasure waiting to be found – a land that needs people to come and tend it, and help to create the kind of sustainable communities that the planet so desperately needs now that we are nearing the end of the fossil fuel era, and change is inevitably at hand.

May 23rd
The reason for the long gap between entries is that I took a trip back to England for a few days. I was expecting to experience a huge temperature shock, but it was actually warmer and sunnier on arrival at Liverpool than it was at departure in Porto! Since my return we have been experiencing some spectacular downpours, and at least one villager has been heard to bemoan the fate of the olive trees, now all coming into bloom. It is unusual for the temperature to be as low as this in May, (round about 17°) and for it to be this wet – the last time, apparently, was 11 years ago. But summer must be round the corner, as today I noticed that the river bar in Góis is under construction – a sure sign of sunny days ahead.
Yesterday was the Catholic feast of Corpo de Deus, and at about 4pm many people were to be seen heading towards their local church. In Vila Nova do Ceira a ‘Tapete de flores’ or carpet of flowers was laid out around the town – a narrow pathway of sand marked out by green leaves laid down on either side, with a zig-zag of rose petals and leaves down the middle. This must surely have been a labour of love to construct, as it wound several 100 metres from the church and along the streets of the little town. At 5pm a procession emerged from the church, headed by three men bearing a canopy, the central man treading the rose-strewn path, as the congregation followed behind. Although I thought I had stumbled across some old tradition here, I was told that in fact there has only been a ‘Tapete’ laid in Vila Nova do Ceira for about the last five years – apparently the tradition is big in Brazil!
During my absence last weekend, the annual ceremony was held in commemoration of those who fought in the 1960’s uprisings in Africa: the “Combatentes do Ultramar”. Sixteen local men died in the fighting, and the survivors gather every year to reunite and honour those lost. The memorial sculpture near the school in Góis now bears the names of those who died.

May 11th
Today was an important day in the calendar of our village – the staging of a “Jogo da Malha” tournament, preceded by a “convivial lunch” in the community house. Having received several invitations to join in the lunch, we were keen to go along, even though our conversational Portuguese is still very limited, and we are not in the habit of eating much at lunchtime. Notwithstanding these limitations, we found ourselves warmly greeted and seated along one of several long trestle tables in the ‘Casa de Convivio’, beautifully laid out with fruit, bread and wine and big china bowls at each place for the soup starter. We were then plied with traditional home –cooked food: the famous “Calda verde” soup, then meat with beans and rice, followed by sweet rice pudding, fresh fruit and cake, all washed down with copious amounts of wine, and a shot of strong black coffee to finish.
Barely able to move after all this, we managed to stagger up the hill to where the men of the village and further afield were being amazingly active as they warmed up for the tournament. For those unfamiliar with the game, “Jogo da Malha” is a traditional and very popular Portuguese game that involves throwing a heavy metal disc (malha) of 10.5cm at a wooden ‘pin’ some 20m away. This is a strictly male pastime, considered to be a true show of virility, and the menfolk of our village can be seen practising  every Sunday afternoon in the festa area. It is of course, taken very seriously, and the competition is fierce. We were very impressed at the accuracy of the throwing, and grateful too, since a disc weighs 600g and is thrown with some force! Richard was asked to take photographs of the action, and you can click here to see a selection of them.
Later in the evening we went back down to the Casa de Convivio with some prints of the trophy presentation, and a CD of highlights – before we knew it we were sitting down to a repeat performance of  lunch, in very congenial company, with a bit more wine! Around us the ladies of the village were finishing the clearing up - it was obviously a great team effort on their part and a lot of hard work to cater for so many, and we wish we had adequate language to express our appreciation of it all. Gathered around the laptop, the participants of the Jogo da Malha appeared to be enjoying seeing each other in various interesting postures from the afternoon’s event!

May 10th
We wake up to the most incredible birdsong these mornings – some of it recognisable as the song of blackbirds and great-tits, and the cooing of  turtle doves, some of it a more exotic warbling from a bird we have yet to identify. It’s a lovely way to start the day, just lying in bed with the window open listening to the chorus.
Today the girls and I went out horse-riding with Sandra, from Góis Riding Holidays. It is a new experience for the girls to ride out, and they are discovering the pleasures of viewing the world from the back of a horse, that can take you up and down tracks you would probably not otherwise discover, opening up whole new vistas on the countryside.
We came across an abandoned hamlet, still surrounded by the fruit trees that were cultivated here until 10 years or so ago. Unfortunately, the encroaching eucalyptus trees had tapped into the hamlet’s water supply and dried it up, so the inhabitants were forced to leave. Oranges still grow however, and provided welcome refreshment as the horses stopped to snatch a little grass.
Everywhere you go at the moment, there are wonderful scents from the herbs and flowers that are blooming. We turned a corner of the bridlepath and were assailed with the fragrance of roses, from bushes of little wild flowers growing alongside the road. Wild French lavender is blooming all along the verges, and the fennel is growing tall – the scent of wild mint released when crushed underfoot.
In the town and villages too the scent of roses is in the air, as they are blooming in profusion everywhere you turn. It takes me longer these days to walk down the street, as I feel compelled to stop and sample all the delights around me – I take very seriously the maxim about taking time in life to stop and smell the roses!
A delightful incident took place in a café the other day, when an elderly woman walked over to where my youngest daughter and I were sitting and handed her a sprig of little pink roses, heavenly-scented, gave her a kiss on her head and told her she was “linda” (pretty). This is everyday life in central Portugal.

May 6th
Today we went in search of a ‘lost’ village. The name appears on the council’s list of villages, and even has a postcode, but no-one we asked (including the postman) seemed to have heard of it!  Eventually someone recollected the village it was close to, and there the President of the village development association was able to give us directions (although he had not been there since he was a boy). It turns out that the little hamlet has been abandoned for some 20 years, although forestry tracks keep the access down to it open. Having had one attempt  - and failing to find it - we were beginning to think it might be altogether mythical. As we hiked down the track a deer leaped out in front of us, but otherwise all was very quiet and peaceful. We made it down to the river, with a little scrambling and climbing, disturbing an otter that gave a splash and was gone, just leaving a paw-print in the mud. At this point Anna and I sat down to enjoy the view, and let Richard go off  downstream with his camera to try and find the old mill. Half an hour later he re-emerged, looking scratched and hot, having fought his way victoriously through bramble thickets to capture his prize! To date he has climbed trees and waded chest deep down a river to get the desired shot, but today was the first vegetation fight. He was able to cool off in the river, which at this point is clean enough to drink, straight off the mountain. As we started back up the hill, we walked by a large, tumble-down house, so overgrown with ivy that we had failed to spot it before. With a little imagination, it was possible to envisage what life must have been like down here in this peaceful valley, as women came up and down to the mill bringing down baskets of maize on their heads, and returning up with baked ‘broa’. All I can think is that they must have had much better calf muscles than me – as Anna’s Portuguese mother-in-law says: “When you are walking downhill, there are many saints to help you, but when you are walking uphill, there is only one – and he is limping!”

May 1st
As in many countries in Europe, this is a ‘feriado nacional’ or Bank Holiday. In Portugal, Bank Holidays are celebrated according to date, not day of the week, so it can be a treat for the children to get a Thursday off school – or the holiday can fall on a Sunday, in which case they feel cheated!
In  Góis it was a true May Day – with a brilliantly blue sky, puffy white clouds, warm sunshine, and everything around bursting into life. We went for a cycle ride to the next village, where we were told about the ‘Day of the Snakes’. There is a saying in Portugal that no firewood should be brought into the house on the 1st of May, because if it is, snakes will come in with it. This is the time that snakes are waking up from their winter hibernation, and can be looking for somewhere warm and sheltered. We haven’t seen one yet this year, but there are plenty of lizards darting about in the sunshine, and we have also come across slow-worms and a three-toed skink! The bush-crickets are also active now, chirping constantly and rhythmically in the background, a herald of the summer days that are just around the corner.