My Personal A-Z Challenge

Jo’s Monday walk : Zawady

In total contrast to my last, extremely urban walk in the city of Łódź, I’m taking you out into the Polish countryside today. I’m going right back to where my Polish story began, in the village of Zawady, around 60kms south of the big city. It’s a different world! Dad was born in this village, more than 88 years ago.

As you can imagine, changes have taken place, but not too many. The original farmstead is still there, but much of the land has been divided up between the family. The photo above is the view I woke up to from my bedroom, on my first day back in the village. Early morning mist burnt off to a beautiful day, and it was time to feed the week old ducklings.

I had been staying in the suburbs of Kraków, so the difference was considerable. The daughter of a farmer, with memories of driving the tractor with her Dad, Zygmunt, when she was young, my cousin Jadwiga loves her garden. But growing vegetables and keeping hens has to come second to her day job, and more especially to her dearly loved grandchildren. They are seldom far away, as daughter Ania lives in a self build bungalow within the grounds. Meet Kinga and Nadia, with mum, Ania, and Babcia, Jadzia.

For those of you who might have wondered, ‘what is Poland like?’ let’s slide the gate open, and we’ll step outside and see. Poland is a big country and land is cheap. It’s not uncommon to see ‘land for sale’ signs in the woods that surround most villages.

The houses vary considerably, some still old farmhouses, others in a far more modern style. I peep over the fence at the pond which once belonged to Aunt Lusia. Now her daughter Graźyna and husband Marek have built a home there, among the cherry trees.

You don’t have to walk far before you’re at the end of the village, and the woods beyond. I retrace my steps, on the other side of the road this time, passing by cousin Marysia’s beautifully modern home, and a sign that cautions of the ‘good’ dog that bites!

A crossroads points to Ławy, 1.3kms away, and I am tempted to follow it out into open countryside. But first I need to complete the circuit, back to the main road through the village. These decorated crosses are found on many corners, scattered throughout Poland. Number 16F is Ania and Hubert’s house, and the garden design business she runs from home.

As the sun droops in the sky and the children play out on their bikes, I cast one more look at the cherries, and then head off down the lane.

Don’t worry! I do return, but I wanted to show you the ‘whole’ of Zawady. It’s not very big! I hope you enjoyed meeting the place, and my family.

I’ve decided to link this post to My personal A-Z of Poland, which has been sadly neglected in recent times. Much of what appears there is relevant and will provide good background, for anyone who’s interested. Time to put the kettle on now, for this week’s shares.

Many thanks to all of you who make Mondays a bit special for me. Your support and encouragement sees me through the week. If you have a walk to share and you haven’t joined me yet… well, what’s stopping you? Details are on my Jo’s Monday walk page. Just click on the logo above. You’ll be made more than welcome.

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Let’s start the ball rolling with Laura, in Costa Brava’s wild spaces this week :

A taste of salt and honey

Pauline treats us to a glimpse of an Eye, through floral abundance :

A Walk through sunny Southbank, Brisbane

Hop off your bike and take a walk in equally sunny California!

My weekly ramble- John Nicholas Trail

Yvette has her own unique and stylish way of doing things :

Jubilant Walk with Jo (Nature Day 1)

And you know that Drake does too! Welcome to Kayserberg :

Home sweet home

Geoff spent his April engrossed in a challenge. King’s Cross? Well, he might be!

X is for Crosses#atozchallenge

I don’t often think of hill climbing and Jude in the same sentence, but… she did it!

Conquering Godolphin Hill

Thanks a lot for your company, and for your friendship. I know that this was a very low key walk, but I wanted to share a little more than just a pair of boots. In the coming weeks I hope to give you a flavour of Poland, seen through my eyes. Take good care, and enjoy your walking!

I almost forgot my good friends over at Monday Escapes. Maybe something for the Bank Holiday weekend?

5 photos, 5 stories- Day 3

Little Nadia- with the shoes her Mum has made

Little Nadia plays with shoes her Mum, Ania, has made for her, while Marta stands guard

Yesterday on Day 2 of my 5 photos, 5 stories challenge I talked about Nadia’s sister, Kinga, and their hard working family. So far I have focused on the children, a constant source of joy in the lives of my Polish family. Tragedy and untimely death have their place in the story too, but my stories are more about celebrating life.

I should pause here to thank Minerva, Nin, Elaine and Viveka for nominating me for this challenge. I know you’ll enjoy their company and the stories they have to share. As the name suggests, I will be posting 5 photos, accompanied by 5 stories, on 5 consecutive days.

Dad was 1 of 9 children born to Bolesław and Marianna. Of those 9, there are 2 aunts and 1 uncle that I was never privileged to meet, and a much loved aunt who died 3 years ago. The land from the original homestead has been divided up between the survivors and their offspring. My Polish family are lucky to own their own homes, but it comes at the cost of back breaking work. The family all pull together, pooling their skills. No-one is too old, or too young, to help in whatever way they can. (ok- we’ll excuse Nadia for now, and Kinga is happiest playing on the sand hill outside their ‘soon to be’ home)

In some cases it takes years to finally achieve the dream. My cousin Ewa and husband Henryk have for many years been trying to build a house on their plot, very close to her sister Jadwiga. Health problems and lack of income have made it hard for them. At last, with their children all grown up and married, the end is in sight. They live in an apartment in Katowice, about an hour away. While Ewa works in a hardware store in Bełchatów, Henryk, no longer young, shovels and plasters with whatever labour he can find. Walking around the shell of their home I felt in need of a hard hat, and a good imagination to see the lovely dwelling that it will become. Over the fence, Ewa’s brother Piotrek, some 16 years younger, smiles and waves from his fine house. A carpenter by trade, his wooden floors and staircases gleam beautifully.

The family I have been following these past 3 days are all descendants of my Dad’s brother Zygmunt. He and Leokadia had 10 children and some of them I know better than others. Zygmunt himself is the uncle I never met. He died just months before Dad was reunited with the family. Though he doesn’t seem to have had a very happy life, I can’t help but feel that somewhere he is looking down on all this and smiling. Leokadia (Lodzia to us), into her 80s, still lives on and looks after the farm with sons Bolek (short for Bolesław) and Jozef. Daughter Marysia has a beautiful self build, also at Zawady, the family’s home village, and runs a little boutique.

Tomorrow we step across to another branch of the family. I’ll be taking you to a barbecue at a home that has been a long term building project, but is nearing completion. I can promise you fun when Marek is around! My personal A-Z of Poland is the back drop to my 5 stories. Time now for a nomination! I was first drawn to Lucile at Bridging Lacunas by her visually stunning header. Since then I have discovered that her posts are thought provoking as well as fun, and some day I hope to get involved in Photo101 Rehab too. I don’t know if she can find time for this challenge but I do hope so. See you tomorrow?

5 photos, 5 stories- Day 2

Meet Kinga!

Yesterday was Day 1 of my 5 photos, 5 stories challenge and you met some of Kinga’s bears. Today I’m introducing Kinga herself- a shy 5 year old, with all the exuberance a child can bring to a willing playmate.

What does it say about this family when Hubert (Kinga’s dad), who works full time and also is building a home for his family, has taken the time to make this playhouse/slide before their house is even complete? Well- they like fresh air, that’s for certain, and are planning to make the most of a Polish summer. The single storey, but spacious, home now has a bathroom fitted, and the family will move in soon to make that final push to completion.

Dad’s father, Bołeslaw Szustakiewicz, owned a good-sized parcel of land, which he farmed with the help of his sons and daughters. It was one of Dad’s jobs, as a boy, to take the cows to a stream, before they settled for the night. After his father died, the land was divided between the surviving children. Dad, torn from his home during the war, was no longer a part of the inheritance. Returning to his homeland some 64 years later, it is wonderful to see how that land has been used. My Polish family have introduced me to a new way of living.

My cousin Jadwiga is Bołeslaw’s granddaughter. She inherited a sizeable plot, on which she and Andrzej built their own home, and a lovely garden. Daughter Ania (Kinga’s mum) has lived, with her family, in an extension of her parents home while Hubert has been building, in the grounds. It’s now their turn to reap the benefits of all that hard work. As well as raising a family, in her spare time Ania designs and makes children’s shoes. Tomorrow we might look at some, and I’ll tell you more about the land and its new owners.

Now it’s time to nominate! I’m offering this to Viv in France, not with any conviction that she will take up the challenge, but Viv does post her brilliant poems very regularly and I’d love you to read them. The back story to this post is My personal A- Z of Poland. Hopefully see you tomorrow?

5 photos, 5 stories

Time to get started on those stories! I have nominations from Minerva, Nin, Elaine and Viveka, so what am I waiting for? First I’d better tell anyone out there who hasn’t seen this challenge (and there can’t be many of you left!) how it works. Post a photo, tell a story/poem/joke- whatever your style is- on 5 consecutive days and pass on the nomination. Simple, right?

So why have I been stalling? Well, the stories that I want to tell are of a personal nature. Not like my usual gung-ho walking style. And I’ve become so used to telling my stories with photos that I’ve become a little afraid of the naked page. But there are Polish snippets just aching to be told. So, will you indulge me?

The bears you see in the photo above belong to a little girl called Kinga. At 5 years old she is big sister to a bouncy little bundle called Nadia (who you may remember from this post). The two of them are granddaughters to my cousin, Jadwiga. During my recent stay in Bełchatów, in Central Poland, I slept in their playroom. What a time I could have had, playing all night with the bears and dolls! But instead I slept soundly, in a haven away from the Polish chatter. Try as I might to understand the ebb and flow of conversation at the family dining table, invariably it eluded me. The bears were undemanding company.

Like many Polish families, Jadwiga’s children went abroad, seeking better opportunities. Ania and Hubert both worked in England for a time, and speak our language well. Theirs was the first Polish wedding I ever attended, and the dancing and warmth of the occasion sparkles still in my memory. When Hubert found a decent job, in the local power station, it was time to come home and start a family. Jadwiga considers herself blessed by their presence, because her younger child Krzysztof and his wife Marzena have elected to stay in the UK. Gifted with computers, her son can provide a good lifestyle for his family in Reading. But it means that Jadwiga has yet to meet her beautiful new grandchild, Maja. (yes, all girls , so far) Soon there’ll be someone else sleeping in that playroom, but only for the briefest of visits. And when she and her parents return to England, she’ll be taking another little piece of Jadwiga’s heart with her.

Rarely did I look at my cousin and not see a smile upon her face. She starts work, driving a school bus, at 6 in the morning till 8, and then again in the afternoon. Coming home, she can’t wait to sweep Nadia out of her playpen and dance with her around the house. A myriad tasks are done with the baby on a hip- either hers or Ania’s. The house has been extended to accommodate the young family, but for the past 2 years Hubert has been building them a beautiful new home, within the family grounds. But that’s part of tomorrow’s story.

The background to my 5 stories can be found in My personal A-Z of Poland, though looking at it, I see it needs some revision. I hope that you will enjoy this new little venture with me. Today I would like to nominate Gemma at Dear Bliary to take up the challenge. I fear that she might be too busy to do so, but I know that she would add her own uniquely wonderful style to it. Please do visit the lovely ladies who nominated me. They each have a lovely tale to tell.

‘U’ is for Ula

Ula, ‘sparkling’ at her sister’s wedding

My neice Urszula, or Ula as she is always called at home, is the youngest of my cousin Adam’s three children. From the shy early teen she was in 2007, when first we met, Ula has blossomed into a beautiful and stylish young woman. Today is her 20th birthday and I’d like to take this opportunity to wish her ‘Happy Birthday’. Wszystkiego najlepszego na urodziny!

My Personal A-Z of Poland has taken me down many routes and shared many stories. Dad, along with millions of others, paid the price of a war torn Europe. His family was scattered far and wide, but for Dad there has been a belated happy ending. I’d like to share with you today a video that had tears streaming down my face, but which also ends joyfully.

Ann, or Gallivanta is a warm-hearted lady who is proud of her country, New Zealand. This week I received from her a link for my Jo’s Monday walk. It’s not strictly a walk but it is a very moving journey and I thought that it deserved a place here, alongside Dad’s story.

http://www.nzonscreen.com/title/the-story-of-seven-hundred-polish-children-1966

I know that it’s the kind of story that Frizz will find empathy with, and won’t mind me sharing it on his Tagged- U. I’d like to thank so many people for the love that is shared in our blogging world. I’m feeling quite emotional this morning and I think it’s time to go back to playing with Polish castles. Thanks also to Julie Dawn Fox for the personal A-Z challenge.

‘T’ is for Tatry Mountains

The snow capped Tatry Mountains, seen from Lake Czorsztyn

Mountains and water are, for me, a pretty irresistible combination. On my recent visit to Poland, this is as near as I got to the Tatry Mountain range, but what a magnificent backdrop they make!

Situated to the south of Kraków, they form a natural border with Slovakia, and are the highest mountain range in the Carpathians. At 2499 metres Rysy is the highest peak on the Polish side of the range. Zakopane is regarded as the ‘winter capital of Poland’ but is a highly popular destination for hiking in summertime too. I was lucky enough to be there for Silver Wedding celebrations in 2009 and Z is for Zgorzelec and Zakopane tells that story.

This post will take a very different path, and includes a ferry crossing on Lake Czorsztyn.

Imagine this view from your garden!

And the ruins of Czorsztyn Castle at the bottom of the street

And the ruins of Czorsztyn Castle at the bottom of your street

On our trip to the Pieniny Mountain range, much lower than the Tatrys, we passed alongside of the lake and I gazed in awe at the spectacle beyond. I knew that if it were at all possible I would be back for a closer look. And so my return to Kraków was by a very roundabout route.

To the gondolas? Or the castle?

The castle first, of course

And then the boat

The Tatras, as they are known in English (Tatry is the Polish plural) sit tantalisingly out of reach but ever present on the horizon.

Looking across the lake, you can still see the tips

Looking out across the lake, I can just see the tips!

And then we’re off, in search of another castle!

Magnificent Niedzica Castle this time, and not just a ruin

Majestic Niedzica Castle this time, and not just a ruin

Another castle sign (and a tractor in the background)

I won’t attempt to show you around the castle, because I think it deserves a post of its own. But I will give you a couple of views from the battlements, to tempt you back.

This one looks down on sturdy dam, blocking off the lake

This one looks down on the sturdy dam, blocking off the lake to the east

And this is my favourite of the castle rooftops

While this is my favourite, of the castle rooftops

And for the foodies among you, some typical Polish ‘fayre’

I had pierogi a jagodami and delicious it was!

I had Pierogi z jagodami and delicious it was!

We were assisted in our enterprise by a very charming couple from Warsaw, who observed me struggling with the language and the bus timetables. They had been to the area a number of times and were off on a hiking expedition to Trzy Korony (Three Crowns). It would have been very tempting to join them, but instead they ensured that we were dropped at the right spot and pointed in the direction of the lake.

They also suggested that we might find a bus connection from Niedzica directly back to Kraków, which we did, instead of returning across the lake. But not before sampling some typical mountain food- filling but delicious pierogi or dumplings, at “Karczma Hajdur” restaurant, by the lake. I can highly recommend it!

Just one last shot of the Tatry Mountains, taken on another expedition, on the River Dunajec.

The Tatry Mountains seen from the Dunajec River

I’m going to be a little ambitious and link this to three different challenges. For some time I’ve been trying to complete my Personal A-Z of Poland and this is yet another step in that direction. Many thanks to Julie Dawn Fox for setting me on the path. I’ve also been joining Frizz whenever I can. This week he’s Tagged T, which just happens to be a perfect fit. He’s another very kind host, so do visit and take a look around.

I’m sure most of you know Cee. She’s a legend in the world of photo challenges. I have joined in on her Which Way challenge in the past but have struggled to find the time lately, so I’m hoping she won’t mind “sharing me”. Cee loves directions and signposts in her challenge, and wherever I go now, I find myself snapping away every time I see a sign. It’s addictive!

So there you are! I hope you’ll find the time to join in on one of them, while I think about where you might like to go next.

‘S’ is for Szczawnica

Plac Dietla and Cafe Helenka, in the upper town

Well, where else should it be? If you saw my Monday walk this week, you’ll know that I have a new Polish love in my life. The thermal spa town Szczawnica in the very south of Poland, where it meets Slovakia, was a rich discovery for me.

Alkali sorrel springs and a temperate climate make this an ideal base for the treatment of respiratory and digestive ailments. In the mid 19th century a doctor, Jozef Dietl, saw the potential and began the development of hydrotherapy treatments unique to Poland at the time, turning Szczawnica into a spa town. An Inhalatorium equipped with pressurised rooms was built, and in the woods, Willa pod Modrzewiami (villa under the larches).

The start of World War II halted developments and in 1948 the spa was nationalised by the government and used for the treatment of miners and metalworkers. It was not until 2005 that the ownership of the resort was returned to descendants of the Stadnicki family, the pre-war owners of the estate. They invested hugely to restore the spa to its former glory. Dietl Square was rebuilt to its historical design, with Cafe Helenka at its core, and, in 2oo9, 5 star Modrzewie Park hotel replaced the villa. A museum dedicated to the project soon followed.

Wood is everywhere- I love these delicate fretwork shadows

Cafe Helenka, in its lovely situation

Facing it, across Plac Dietl, the spa museum

Brightened for me by a flurry of Spring flowers

Down in the lower town, a flurry of Spring flowers!

The park is a lush green

And naturally, there’s no shortage of water!

There are pretty riverside walks

And bridges by the dozen!

And did you ever see a quirkier souvenir kiosk?

Not for us the 5 star hotel! I had chosen to stay in a lovely old dark wood chalet, ‘Willa Danusia’, in the upper town overlooking Plac Dietl. Naturally that meant a steep climb home on an evening, but there’s always a price, isn’t there? Inside the villa, the wood was pale, while the view from our lofty porch provided wonderful views.

One evening we dined handsomely in the ‘Willa Marta’ in the lower town. It also was constructed from dark wood, but most of the town had a more modern appearance.

‘Willa Danusia’, high on the hill

‘Willa Marta’, hotel and restaurant

An evening stroll through the upper town gave me a chance to breathe deeply and make the most of the tranquil atmosphere. I know that I felt better, just for being there!

There are nymphs to admire in the woods

Playing their pipes

And 5-star Modrzewie Hotel, among the larches

The picture of health?

As the light fades the fountains begin to change colour

Glimmering in the dusk

The lights come on around the square

Looking down, we climb the hill back up to the villa

From the porch the tiniest crescent of moon is visible

From the porch the tiniest crescent of moon is just visible- can you see it?

Just visible through the trees, from our porch

While down below, the lights twinkle goodnight

‘Romantykaly’, as they say in Poland.

Willa Danusia cost almost nothing for a basic bedroom and a very fine breakfast. Willa Marta was perhaps a little more stylish but definitely wouldn’t break the bank.

I had intended my ‘S’ post to be all about the Sukiennice in Krakow. Maybe I’ll find time to write a second. Meantime I’d like to thank Frizz for providing the incentive this week with Tagged ‘S’, and also Julie Dawn Fox for her Personal A-Z Challenge. I can promise you a wonderful read at either website, and perhaps you’d like to join in with the challenges?

‘M’ is for Monsaraz

I’m going to struggle for photos for this post, because I visited Monsaraz on a damp, if not soaking wet, day! Seems to be a recurring theme on here lately, doesn’t it? But such was the impact it made that I loved it anyway. Some day, I hope to return and see it like this.

So will you excuse me for borrowing from Wikipedia?

It must have been an anniversary or a special occasion, because I was sitting at a table in “A Ver” when I first heard about Monsaraz. This Tavira restaurant is named for its view down over the rooftops and the prices are more than we would normally pay. But treats are treats, and so I happened to be sitting at the next table to a couple whose evening was interrupted by the wife’s mobile phone. The wife excused herself and was gone for some considerable time.

I can’t remember what prompted me to start the conversation, but before too long the husband was telling me about this beautiful place that I must see for myself. The fact that it was a 4 hour drive or more seemed insignificant to him. And so Monsaraz nestled in my imagination until I could make it a reality.

The town square and pillory on a sparkling day- @ Wikipedia

The town square and pillory on a sparkling day- from Wikipedia

The “Rough Guide”, always my bible, confirmed what I wanted to hear. Monsaraz is a tiny, hilltop, walled village with sweeping views across the Guadiana to Spain. It’s name comes from the Iberian word for Cistus landifer, the Gum Rockrose. Xaraz thrives in dry, acidic slate-based soil, thus Monte Xaraz was a hill surrounded by Rockroses.

Monsaraz is one of the oldest settlements in the South of Portugal, and there are many menhirs and neolithic remains in the area. Due to its strategic location, there was certainly a fort there before Roman occupation. Then came the Moors, and in 1232 it became a stronghold of the Knights Templar. In 1640 it was refortified, during the Portuguese Restoration War and the border struggles. Then land reforms and the growth of farm estates heralded change. These days Monsaraz is no longer embattled, but there are still signs of the past.

The castle and keep- from Wikipedia

In late October 2009 I journeyed north from the Algarve, across the wide, empty plains of Alentejo. My destination lovely Evora and proud Elvas, but on the return leg I knew I would visit Monsaraz. The weather was autumnal this much further north. Leaving Elvas I headed directly into a rainbow and travelling south the weather steadily deteriorated. I clung tenaciously to the hope that I would be blessed with a patch or two of blue sky, but it was not to be.

I stepped out of the car under leaden skies and looked up at the castle walls, and then out across the Guadiana. Nothing could prevent an idiot grin settling on my face. I grabbed Mick by the hand and started up the slippery damp cobbles, and through the narrow archway in the walls.

Looking out from beneath the town walls, across the Guadiana

Medieval Monsaraz has only one main street, Rua Direita, with the village square at its centre. The Inquisition House and the pillory point immediately to troubled times. I was more intent on escaping the chill as I slipped inside the Chapel of Sao Bento, with its serene warmth and frescoes. The main church, Nossa Senhora da Lagoa, was closed. Climbing up to the castle walls, in a light drizzle, I felt I had reached the summit of a watery world. The plains below had been flooded by the creation of the Alqueva Dam, boating heaven in Summer and a vast body of water.

The castle is topped by the Witches Tower (Torre das Feiticeiras) and within, the unexpected sight of a bullring, complete with tiered seating! Currently it’s used for Festivals and fireworks, so no sad bulls. As the rain increased its pace, tiny Cafe de Cisterna provided shelter, warm turkey pies and a slab of delicious cake. Despite all that water outside, a drinking supply for the villagers had required a huge cistern to combat the blazing summer sun. It was just visible through a barred window and then the weather really did drive us away.

I had planned a leisurely route back, crossing over the dam by a bridge to Mourao, but visibility was so poor that I had no choice other than to agree as Mick pointed the car due south. In a couple of hours I was back under the blue skies of the Algarve.

I’ve found a site with some lovely atmospheric photos of Monsaraz, if you click on this link. And you can get a better look at the whole trip on my E is for Elvas, and Evora. It wasn’t all rain!

Meantime it’s thanks again to Frizz for prompting me to respond to his Tagged ‘M’ and to Julie Dawn Fox for the Personal A-Z Challenge. And many thanks to you for reading!

‘L’ is for Loule

The peaceful market town of Loule

Loule to me means just one thing. Carnaval! This quiet inland market town in the Algarve is no Rio de Janeiro, but it knows how to party. For over 100 years they have celebrated the beginning of Lent with Carnaval, Portuguese style. No shortage of dancing girls either, though they often have to dance hard to keep warm.

Bring on the dancing girls!

Carnaval 2012 was a classic, and I made a surprising guest appearance! Fortunately I was very easily overlooked in the crowd. Numerous photos of the Carnaval floats, of a distinctly political but humorous nature, appear in my post ‘C is for Carnaval’, so I won’t reproduce them all here. The town’s main street, Avenida Jose de Costa Mealha, is closed for the event and there is a small charge. Don’t miss it if you are in the neighbourhood!

Normally Loule (pronounced Loo-lay, incidentally) is rather more sedate. One of the most distinctive features of the town is the Arab style market, pictured in my first photograph. Smaller shops surround the market stalls and it is a treat for both eyes and nose. On Saturday mornings an open air market takes over the outdoor space too. Parking becomes no easy matter.

On my first visit to Loule I remember having to search for the remaining fragment of the town walls and the 13th century castle, but I liked what I found. Entrance to the walls is through a small museum, which traces the town’s history back through Roman to medieval times. It has the vaulted brick ceilings that I love.

The clock tower

Loule Municipal Museum

Busy in the bandstand

Graceful town house on the main street

Animal antics at Carnaval

Keeping a watchful eye!

The older part of town is fairly compact , and the narrow cobbled streets reveal artisan workshops and some lovely craft shops. Following the twists and turns you will come to a small square containing the town’s main church, Igreja de S. Clemente, and a tiny garden, Jardim dos Amuados, an ancient Arab cemetery.

Loule’s main landmark is visible from the A22 motorway when driving past the town. Nossa Senhora da Piedade is a dome shaped modern church which sits on a hill to the west of town. At Easter there is a huge procession in honour of the Sovereign Mother. This must be one of the few things I haven’t yet managed to see in the Algarve.

Nossa Senhora da Piedade- courtesy of Wikipedia

The procession to the church at Easter

Loule is well worth a look when you’ve tired of the beaches and need a little historical detail, or a shopping bonanza. A few parking hints and a lot of photos are available in C is for Carnaval.

For now I’ll simply thank Frizz for his inspiring A-Z series. With Tagged L this week he is just about managing to keep me on track. Grateful thanks are also due to Julie Dawn Fox, who started the Personal A-Z Challenge a long time ago! Some day I’ll manage to complete it for both countries. Join me in the challenges if you can.

‘K’ is for Kings (three, or more?)

Hip hooray and happy day! An opportunity has arisen for me to fill a gap in my much neglected Personal A-Z of Portugal. You’d forgotten I was doing one, hadn’t you? Me too, almost! So today I have Frizz to thank for getting around to ‘K’ in his A- Z challenge.

A confusion of kings- courtesy of Mike Bradley

First, a question for you. How many kings do you see? Three, or more?

I had arrived in the Algarve just after the New Year but in time for Epiphany, and was curious to see what kind of celebrations, if any, this might entail. I knew that in Spain the 6th January was dedicated to the Three Kings, and was hopeful that this might spill over the border into Portugal. I thought there was every chance, especially in my eastern corner of the Algarve. The shops were full of Bolos Reis – the cake of kings- with their extravagant and colourful toppings.

The tradition of this cake dates back to Roman times, when a King was chosen at Roman feasts if he got the piece of cake containing a fava bean. I rather like the legend about the Three Kings of the Orient disputing who should be the first to give baby Jesus his gift. The decision was finally made in the same way- with a cake inside which the local baker had hidden a bean.

I was very happy to discover that there was to be a procession in Vila Real de S. Antonio, a small town on the very edge of the Algarve, with its toes in the River Guadiana. Better still, the kings were to ferry across the Guadiana to Ayamonte, in neighbouring Spain.

Sure enough, a carnival atmosphere prevailed in Vila Real on Sunday, 6th January. A Christmas market and ice rink were set up in the main square, Marques de Pombal, with jars of honey and every variety of cake adorning the stalls. Trying to avert my eyes, I made my way to the Cultural Centre, where I knew there was a Nativity display. It was enchanting. As I emerged I was delighted to hear the ‘oompah’ sounds of a band.

Ambling along the street, with caskets of bonbons and flashing smiles, came a procession of kings. Cordially they distributed sweets and paused to chat or have their photo taken. It was all very casual and laidback, rather than kingly, but no less charming for that. A dais was set up awaiting them in the square, and soon they were enthroned, hurling the last of their sweets to the cheering crowd.

A few words for the press?

Some autographs

Oh dear, the sweets have gone!

Beat a retreat?

Thinking that I might manage two processions ‘for the price of one’, and wondering how it would be on the Spanish side of the border, I craftily caught the 12.30 ferry across to Ayamonte. In January there is a 2 hour time difference between the two countries, so my arrival, 10 minutes later, was at 14.40. A time at which all self respecting Spaniards are eating. There was no sign of an impending celebration so, after a leisurely stroll and a delicious ‘biscuit’ flavoured icecream, I returned to the ferry terminal.

Sitting on board, gazing at the river, I became aware of a party of excited children boarding the ferry. As we left the shore, the adults in the party proceeded to dish out sizeable portions of bolo rei, oozing with cream. I had high hopes, but was obviously too tall to be regarded as one of their charges. Nearing the Portuguese shore, I realised just what was happening. The Kings, minus their band (who had presumably gone to lunch at Portuguese time), were strolling to the terminal, to meet the ferry. As the gangway came down, whistles and cheers and waving of flags greeted the sovereigns. Smiling amiably, they were destined for Spain, their caskets newly filled.

I never did fathom out who were the genuine kings and who were the ‘imposters’, but they were a handsome bunch, don’t you think? I hope you enjoyed my entry for ‘K’.

Many thanks to Frizz for hosting his A-Z challenge, and to Julie Dawn Fox, whose idea the personal A-Z series was. Please click on the links or logos for more information.

restlessjo

Roaming, at home and abroad

My Personal A-Z Challenge

Jo’s Monday walk : Zawady

5 photos, 5 stories- Day 3

5 photos, 5 stories- Day 2

5 photos, 5 stories

‘U’ is for Ula

‘T’ is for Tatry Mountains

‘S’ is for Szczawnica

‘M’ is for Monsaraz

‘L’ is for Loule

‘K’ is for Kings (three, or more?)

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