Take your time in Central Portugal

Quiggy and I recently spent three weeks house and pet sitting in the tranquil commune of Campelo in central Portugal. The beauty of spending time in these tiny rural villages is how they slow you down and tune your senses into another way of life. A more sustainable, less technological way to live. A life I remember when I was a child - safe, caring and enough.

In summer Campelo will fill with residents and holiday makers swimming in the river, basking in sunshine and enjoying the simple life. In the colder months it is quiet. That is if you don't count the numerous 'old school' village alarms that go off throughout the day and night making me look at my wrist and realise that I've lost my watch somewhere on my travels. Not to worry as you don't need a watch here to know what time it is, in fact you really don't need a calendar either, just listen and watch for the village cues.

The rooster will let you know it's early morning
The church bells will keep you on an hourly schedule
The forestry logger's chainsaws tell you it's time for work
And when they stop you know it's lunch
But not before the bread delivery man sounds his horn
When the fish man sounds his horn you know it's Tuesday
The Wednesday horn is the vegetable delivery
If the church bell sounds like there's a couple of kids messing about with it, then it's Saturday. It's only open on weekends
If the villagers are collecting water from the public taps 'fontes', it's laundry day
A wheelbarrow on the cobbled path says it's time to pick the crop - cabbage soup 'caldo verde' is on the menu
A fishing line madly whipping across the stream means there may be trout on the menu
Barking dogs warn you of visitors or any of the above
A stray dog may mean someone nearby has died
And everything going quiet means it's going to rain

It rained a lot during our stay but the region desperately needed it. Last year this area suffered catastrophic forest fires, fuelled by hot temperatures, winds, eucalyptus trees and drought. Drought was far from our view of mountain waterfalls, gushing streams and over-spilling wells flooding the cobbled roads. Precious water was abundant replenishing the charred trunks with new green undergrowth.

Public taps 'fontes' are dotted throughout the village and the entire country. I loved that water was freely available to collect for drinking, washing and watering gardens. Campelo has a couple of communal wash houses, simple block sheds with old style concrete tubs to hand wash your clothes and hang undercover. Walking by we say "bom dia" to a villager. Her clothes freshly washed, were hanging in the laundry beside the vintage children's playground. I wanted to ask her about Campelo, the free water system and how long she'd lived there. We spoke, smiled and laughed, but didn't understand a word each one of us were saying.

Portuguese is a challenging language but village Portuguese is more so. The lovely lady in the local post office said that some villagers had never left their home ground and even the Portuguese found it difficult to understand their native tongue. She also told us that the stray dog that had been following us around for days may have belonged to the old man in the village who had recently passed away leaving his beloved dogs behind. That broke our hearts. A reminder to look out for your elderly neighbours, and their animals. We fell in love with him and thankfully our big hearted house sit hosts and their black beauty below did too.

We followed an older woman, pushing her barrow full of leafy greens, to ask her what her fresh picked crop of spinach/broccoli looking vegetable was. Both of us used sign language, pointing to our mouths so I assumed it was indeed edible. When I further questioned the lady at the tourism office in Figueira dos Vinhos, what this vegetable was that the villagers were growing, she told me it was the Portuguese cabbage 'couve' grown to feed their chickens. Confused, I later googled it and found that you can make soup, and use as feed for chickens but in the olden days the hardy outer leaves were used as toilet paper! The tall strong stalks that can grow to a metre, were fed to the donkeys or used to make walking sticks to manage the cobbled roads and mountainous terrains.

Being on a budget I thought this was brilliant. Coming from Melbourne, I reckon this could be the new over priced super food that, if marketed properly, would be demanded in every vegan, eco-friendly, sustainable living, hipster scene and organic cafe around. Super Food that goes in one end and cleans up the other! I'll be rich I tell you...rich!

Carrying on we watched another villager fishing at the river's edge. Casting his line back and forth to tease the trout, he came over for a chat. I was thrilled that he could speak a little English when I asked him if he had caught any fish. Yesterday he had caught a trout for his lunch. He came down to the river most days but since the devastating fires of last year the trout too were struggling in numbers. I realised I had never given fish a thought in times of fires, assuming they would be ok in the water. Our new friends told us that after the fires their dog would come home from a run in the hills with a burnt wild boar's leg in his mouth and dump it in the lounge room! Kind of like a cat bringing you a terrified mouse only tastier.

Honk! the bread man is on his way, must be lunch. We walk home past the ruins that are slowly being restored by another villager. If you ever have a romantic idea of buying a ruin to restore, seek lots of advice. Real estate is completely different to Australia. I won't elaborate but read here for a funny experience from an Aussie expat.

Nearly home, past the neighbour who boasts a large cage of pigeons, chickens and guinea pigs. It must be his hobby I thought. We would later find out that this aviary type enclosure was like his pantry, with all creatures bred to eat!

We catch the bread man, what a sweet soul he is. Everyday bar Sundays he delivers fresh bread rolls, for such little money, to the villagers in the area. Many older folk do not drive and if able, will walk miles to the nearest store. The young people have moved to the cities "where the opportunities are". Don't they realise they have a super food opportunity growing in their own back yards? To hear the horns honking was relieving to know that the people of Portugal care for their elders, their communities and for their old school ways.

Put Portugal on your list of places to see, it's safe and laid back. The cities are vibrant, artsy and cultured (click here to read about our fantastic stay in Lisbon). The historic sites are everywhere and remind you how significant this small country has been to the advancing world. The people are smiley and not so much in a hurry making conversations with strangers a joy, no matter the language barrier. Food and wine is good and very cheap even in the restaurants and bars. Just don't rely on a watch. The signs may say open 'aberto' at 3pm but if the lights are out then maybe they're still at lunch. Europeans make meals and rests a priority, that's a timely lesson for us all.

The sun's come out, do I hear a bottle opening? That's my cue to sign off, saúde (cheers).