Life continues to be full of delightul surprises in the tiny village of Cumes, my new Portuguese home.

A few days ago some of my new neighbors, Pat and Steph, a British couple, dropped by to introduce themselves. They had with them their own dog and a delightful little tan stray. I told them I used to be a dog person but I’ve owned cats for the past 12 years and I’ve become a convert to the feline species. I was devastated when I had to find an adoptive home for Chatsie and Bodie before I left Albuquerque because I knew they couldn’t make the journey. But no more dogs for me.

Well, a couple of mornings later, I saw the little tan dog in the street outside my house and greeted her. She came running and was so happy and excited. I gave her some milk to drink. Next morning she was there again, same routine. I also gave her some of my breakfast bread roll. She hung around while I got ready to go do errands and followed my car as I drove out of tiny Cumes. Worried, I stopped at the edge of the village and pondered whether I should take her with me. However, she seemed more interested in investigating some interesting smells on the other side of the street.

I went on my way but when I returned, I didn’t see her. I kept thinking about that little tan dog and how joyful she was. I mentally called her “Girl Dog.” In the evening, I walked around the village looking, but didn’t see her. Next morning, I went looking again, a little down-hearted thinking that I might never see her again.

Lo and behold, when I got to the corner at the edge of the village where I’d last seen her, there she was. Long story short, she’s had her bowl of milk, a bread roll, played with one of my Crocs and the LaCrosse ball I bought for rolling out tight muscles, and hung out at my place all morning. Not sure where this is going. I have plans to travel etc. But she sure is cute!

Previously on my blog, I recounted my encounter with my Belgian neighbors and their ferocious Chihuahua who sank his tiny teeth into my right calf. Although the wound didn’t look serious they urged me to have it checked by a doctor.

In my last blog post I recounted my trip to the local hospital in Tomar, Central Portugal. The doc checked the bite, had it re-dressed, wrote me a prescription for antibiotics and recommended I get a tetanus injection. Total cost for the visit: about $15.50

Today, a British neighbor drove me to a Farmacia in a nearby town where the pharmacist speaks good English. The antibiotics prescription cost me 4.50 Euros (about $5.)

The pharmacist told me I had to get the tetanus shot at the health clinic in Ferreira do Zezere, a sizable town where local government offices for my village are located. It’s about a 20 minute drive from my new home, on mostly narrow winding roads.

Unfortunately, the receptionist at F. do Z. told me I couldn’t get the shot there. I would have to go to the clinic in the village next to mine, which rejoices under the name: Chaos. (This really is the name, though in Portuguese it is pronounced Shah-osh.)

However, the receptionist in F. Do Z. and a couple of her assistants helped input some of my basic information into the Portuguese system: my Numero de Contribuinte (NIF) which is like a Social Security number, my residency permit and my Irish passport details. They had some confusion whether to classify me as a foreign immigrant or a resident but decided on the latter because I had the residency permit.

They told me I would have to apply for a European Health Card.  I’d applied for one shortly before leaving the US but with all my traveling, I haven’t managed to provide the follow-up information they requested. Now, I need to hurry up and get this done!

Next, I headed to Chaos to find the Centro Saude. (Chaos is a pretty small village but marginally bigger than Cumes, the next door village where I now live.) Chaos boasts a church, an ATM machine a dodgy-looking cafe a health center which is open a couple days a week, and a cemetery. (The latter s not a reflection on the health center.)

A very nice young nurse, who spoke English, gave me the tetanus shot and when I asked what I had to pay, she said NOTHING. The shot was free!

Oh how I’m loving living in Portugal!

No picture today but an interesting story.

This morning I wandered over to my neighbors in the village of Cumes, near Tomar, Portugal. I moved in this week. My neighbors, a Belgian couple named Dominique and Dominique (seriously) live a couple of houses down my tiny street, Rua Nossa Senhora da Encarnação. (I kid you not.)

I went over to visit and as I walked through the gate two dogs rushed toward me, barking. Their daughter assured me that the little one, a chihuahua, the fiercest barker, didn’t bite. Wrong! As soon as she said it, I quickly felt the sharp stab of tiny teeth in the back of my calf. (You can tell I’ve had this experience before, from my neighbor’s dog in Albuquerque.)

They apologized, cleaned the small wound and put a bandage over it. They insisted I should go to the hospital in Tomar to have it checked and to get a tetanus shot.

So, I drove to Tomar, about 15 minutes away and ventured into the local hospital. I’d been advised to take my residency document and my proof of NIF (the Portuguese equivalent of a Social Security number.) I told the receptionists that I had an Irish Passport and she asked if I had a European Health card. I’d applied for one months ago but so far hadn’t received it. I’m also not yet registered in the local system. (Once you’re a resident, you’re supposed to register with a local doctor.) Nevertheless, she took my details and told me to wait.

I was called in about five minutes later and another woman took my details, gave me a wristband and told me to wait outside. About 45 minutes later, I was called in to see the doctor. Speaking in English, he asked me general health questions, looked at the wound, prescribed me antibiotics and told me to get a tetanus shot on Monday at the nearest health clinic. He asked some nurses to re-dress the wound and then I was sent back out to reception.

What did I have to pay for this????? 14 Euros ($15.69)

I’m loving this Portuguese life!!!!

I’m feeling on top of the world right now as I look forward to spending my first night in the house I’ve bought in Central Portugal.

My shipment of furniture and personal effects arrived on Monday. It was picked up at my home in Albuquerque on April 12. I’ve been living out of two suitcases ever since. The two guys who delivered it worked incredibly hard. They went out of their way to drag the wooden shipping crate into my yard so I can use it as a shed for my bikes and tools instead of having to buy one.

I’ve been busy all week unpacking and setting up everything, but I have a long way to go and lots of essentials to buy.

One of the main things that persuaded me to buy this house was the view from the kitchen and dining room area across a valley.

After two months in Portugal depending on all kinds of public transport plus a friends’s scooter and a bicycle, I finally took the plunge. I bought a car!

Friends who know me might remember how much I said I hated having to drive everywhere in Albuquerque. That’s still true. But, the house I’m buying is about 12 miles from the nearest big town, abit further out in the country than I’d planned, so I decided a bike/scooter might not hack it for regular shopping trips.

In my search for a suitable, affordable used car, I used the OLX.pt website. It’s like Craigslist. People can list all kinds of stuff they want to sell. You can search it and communicate with sellers through the site until you feel comfortable revealing personal information like phone numbers etc.

You can also try searching Standvirtual.com, but the searches I did through that website always seemed to show more expensive cars.

I did my search on the OLX website, found the type of car I was looking for at the price I”d decided I could afford, then contacted the owner through the site. We arranged to meet outside one of Lisbon’s main train stations. I liked the car and we agreed on a price after a brief negotiation. He was asking 5,250 Euros, I offered, 4,750 E. We agreed on 5K.

The car is a 2003 VW Golf, diesel with manual transmission. Diesel cars are popular here in Portugal because the fuel is slightly less expensive than gasoline. Virtually all cars have stick shift.

When buying the car, the owner, Miguel and I went to a branch of my bank, Millenium, and a bank associate did the transfer for us online. The maximum you can withdraw in cash each day or transfer on the mobile app is 2,500, but you can do transactions for much higher value on the bank website. The bank charged 6.24 Euros for the transfer.

Then we had to go to transfer the title. In small towns you can go to the local “Conservatoria”. In Lisbon we went to the Edificio Registro in the Campus de Justica near the Vasco da Gama bridge. The office does all kinds of registrations: divorce, immigration etc. So, it was like a going to the MVD experience, take a number and wait, a long time.

The seller has to provide identification, his/her Numero de Contribuente (NIF) like a Social Security number, and proof of address. I showed my passport and provided my address in Portugal.

I am working through Seguro Directo to get car insurance. Millenium bank offers it as well but their quote was much higher. For basic liability plus coverage for the driver, I’m looking at 140 Euros per year ($157), providing I can supply evidence that I have had car insurance in my name for 8 years.

Anyway, I’ve now got wheels, the world is my oyster!

Summer is the season for the cork harvest in Portugal and crews are at it full swing. This morning I caught up with a crew busy just minutes away from where I am staying near Grandola in the Alentejo, south of Lisbon.

Crew members hack at the bark of the cork oak tree with a broad-bladed axe. They cut horizontally, then vertically, then pull at the loosened end, wedge the axe handle under it and lever a length of bark loose. It peels away easily like an old scab.

The outer layer of bark that is removed is about 2 inches thick. It regrows again within nine or 10 years when the tree can be harvested again.

Trailer loads of bark are sent to a processing plant where the cork is boiled to make it pliable. Apart from bottle stoppers, cork is used to make handbags, hats, shoes, upholstery, picture frames and much, much more. You can find cork products in shops all over Portugal.

A trailer load of cork bark waiting to be sent for processing. The number painted on the trunk of the tree shows the year it was harvested, 2019. It will regrow in nine or 10 years.

The last couple of weeks have been a little stressful as I worked to assemble the right paperwork to satisfy the customs agents so I won’t have to pay duty on my shipment of household goods when it finally arrives in Portugal.

But I overcame a big hurdle a few days ago when I received my residency permit which is good for five years. I hadn’t expected to achieve this step for another couple of months. I’d heard all sorts of tales that you had to provide proof of income and health insurance, but I didn’t have to do either of those things . I did have an “Atestado” or certificate from the local Junta de Freguesia, parish office, where I am buying a house, to say that I am a resident there. It helped that the house owner is also the president of the Junta.

I also had the all important “Numero de Contribuente” or Portuguese equivalent of a Social Security number. I provided those documents at the Camara Municipal, municipal office, in Ferreira do Zezere, the regional town. They asked me if I was retired, when I retired and when I came to Portugal, then created the document, I paid 15 Euros and Bingo, I was good to go!

 

While waiting to occupy the house I am buying near Tomar in Central Portugal, I am doing volunteer work I found through the website Workaway.com I did this last summer and it gave me room and board, something that’s vitally important to me now as I am officially homeless.

Anyway, this Workaway is hard work. Did I say hard work – yes, I meant, REALLY hard physical work. The last few days the other Workaway volunteer and I have been working “in the Olive Garden.” Actually, this means trimming the stray shoots off the trunks of the trees so all the energy will go into producing olives. We spent hours chopping away and dragging the cut limbs into a big pile which will be burned  on a day that the wind isn’t blowing. It’s been very windy and unseasonably cool here for the past 10 days.) This work is hard on the lower back and arms and during the afternoons I sack out for a couple of hours, unable to move a muscle.

In this part of Central Portugal the olives are ready for harvest in late fall, I’m told. Harvesting them is an all-hands-on-deck activity. It involves spreading huge nets underneath the trees and shaking the olives loose. In this area, everyone takes their olives to the local co-op which processes them for oil. According to my online research, a mature olive tree will produce 15 to 20 kilos (33 to 44 pounds) of olives each year and it takes about five kilos of olives to make a liter of oil.

 

It’s cork harvest time in Portugal. All around me in this part of the Alentejo region south of Lisbon, the tree trunks suddenly look pale and naked. The harvesters cut off the outer layer, about two inches thick, of the bark. It’s like cutting off a dead layer of skin which will regrow in about eight or nine years. The harvesters typically paint a figure on the trunk showing the year it was cut. A tree can live up to 270 years.

The curled lengths of bark are stacked on trailers which have to be guarded, they are that valuable. The cork is taken to a processing plant where it has to be boiled till it becomes piable.

It’s a wonderfully vertatile material. Apart from sealing wine bottles, it can be used for making flooring, upholstery, hats, handbags, shoes and a whole lot more. It’s stain resistent, water resistent, fire resistant and it floats.

Apparently Portugal produces about half the cork harvested annually, or about 310,000 tons, according to Wikipedia.