Showing posts with label Montalegre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Montalegre. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

canis lupus



There are some moments in life that are so marvellous, you carry them with you on the tip of your memory, just so you can replay it in your mind whenever you want to feel the emotions attached to that experience again. Fortunately, I have one of those moments captured on video and can share it with you!

It was a year ago in Trás-os-Montes, in Portugal's northeast. Pedro and I were visiting our friend Paulo Belo and his lovely family, and were up before the sun to see what we could see in the way of birds. On the way to a spot that Paulo was keen on checking out, I nodded off in the car as I usually do (much to Pedro's annoyance). We stopped at the side of a lonely road, a valley stretched out in front of us. I sleepily got out of the car to join the lads, who were already scanning the area with binoculars, pointing out birds to each other.

There's a funny feeling I get when I go birdwatching, and I can only imagine how much more intense it is for Pedro and his fellow birders— it's an interesting mix of excitement, joy, and peace. I suppose it depends on if you are trying to chase down something really important, then it's crazy adrenaline— but I mostly feel peace. As I was calmly watching a bird go about its business through my lenses, a sudden shout erupted from Pedro:

"Lobo!" 

Though my Portuguese is embarrassingly limited, I knew what this meant— wolf. A wolf? I followed his finger that pointed emphatically to the left, and sure enough there it was— an Iberian Wolf. Paulo jumped into action, and began to record a video of our beautiful friend. The wolf casually trotted across the valley, unimpressed by us, every now and then making eye contact before it disappeared into a bush like a ghost.

Every now and then, when I feel a bit down, I watch the yellow-eyed wolf in my head to remind me that such beautiful things exist, and when I remember that I have the video on my desktop, I play it, and I smile.

Video by Paulo Belo.

Friday, July 29, 2016

the juiciest steak



Yes, I ate a Barrosã steak— rather, I devoured it. It was the juiciest steak I can remember ever having, and I appreciated each savoury bite. This was not without some guilt, having deeply admired the beauty of the cows earlier, but truthfully I wanted to taste what was so special about it.

It was incredible.

lovely montalegre



One wouldn't expect that this quiet little town is big on festivals, the two most famous being for smoked meats and the occult. Lovely Montalegre is the proud host of the annual Feira do Fumeiro, a carnivore's dream— a celebration of all sorts of smokey delights from chouriço and salpicão, to the presunto of the beautiful Barrosã cow. For the past several years, the people of Montalegre have made a tradition of producing hilarious TV spots for their Feira, with some parodying songs like Gangnam Style and Bailando. The popularity of these videos have ignited a rather comedic competition with the town of Vinhais, which created this sausagey version of Miley Cyrus' Wrecking Ball for their own meaty festival.

In contrast to the Feira do Fumeiro, every Friday the 13th since 2002, Montalegre (the self-proclaimed Capitol of Mysticism) turns into one big street party with witches, wizards, demons, and elves running rampant— it's kind of like Halloween. The celebrations were the brainchild of local priest with a sense of humour, Antonio Fontes. Apparently he has a hand in creating a powerful aguardente out of fruit and herbs that's meant to drive evil away— all this was explained with great enthusiasm by a guide in the town's museum, which I thoroughly enjoyed visiting.

There was one small detail I noticed in one of the museum's display cases on the region's traditional costume— chancas. Chancas are handmade leather boots or clogs typically worn by men in rural areas, with soles made of ash wood. Were they still made, I wondered? After asking around, we ended up at a tiny cobbler shop, where a man cheerfully presented me with his smallest sized boots. It was love at first sight, and though they were a bit big, I convinced myself that with a thick insole and wooly socks, I could wear them well.



These are my beautiful souvenirs from Northern Portugal, which I plan on taking out this autumn. My only fear is that the uneven and seasonally mucky streets of Rabat might damage them— though they were made for rough and tough men working the fields. Aren't they lovely?