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Carlos and Sara greeted us on the railroad platform, guided us to their car where we met baby Jaime. Driving through a countryside of rolling hills and farmlands filled with scrubby cork and olive trees surrounded by dried grasses reminiscent of both Umbria, Italy and northern California (all three regions known for wine making), our hosts provided information about the southern region of Portugal, specifically Alentejo. It is known as the “barnyard of Portugal", providing the food for the denser, industrial, more mountainous North. When industrialization came to agriculture the population dwindled, however recently the trend has reversed. Tourism is becoming important; Carlos noted that at small railroad station of Funcheira in the middle of nowhere, half of those debarking weren’t speaking Portuguese.
| Shopping is done at one of two largish grocery stores in neighboring town of Aljustrel which became the municipal center after Messejana backed the “wrong horse” during a revolution. The history and archeology of Messajana is long and rich, dating back to the Neolithic, to rules by the Iberians, the Romans, the Moors, the Church, the fascist regime, and now the socialist democracy. We are staying in the Morgadinho House, a portion of an old Morgado palace by the town square with the bull ring abutting the back garden. This is a palace made for comfort, not ostentatious display or military defense – though the neighboring apartment contains a private chapel complete with a high window to the side of the altar allowing the nobility to attend Mass without being viewed by the commoners. The Fascist regime of most of the 20th century allowed for a neo-feudal system to thrive in the South, with few individuals amassing vast tracts of property. Sara’s grandfather was one of these pseudo-nobles – though he was a benevolent owner – bringing a factory and jobs to the region and willing his properties to those who had worked for him rather than family. The town has very little signage to indicate which street you are on, or the shops and restaurants. There is a pleasing aesthetic of sameness; white washed, one-story buildings with a painted blue |
stripe rising from the cobblestone roads and sidewalks. There is a functionality as well as aesthetic at play: the white walls reflect the heat of the sun off of thick walls and there is a belief dating back to the Arab times that the blue discourages infestation by mosquitoes and other insects.
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The gracious 90 year-old former maid, who is now a landowner through inheritance from her former employer, showed us the private chapel and town square church which abuts an old jail and tower whose bell marks every hour with an exuberant song at 5:30 PM to celebrate the end of the work day. Then we toured the local museum in Sara’s grandfather’s former house. Later Carlos took us to the ruins of a Franciscan monastery while sharing information of the traditions and history of the land. Our hosts are truly remarkable. In addition to being college researchers, parents, and directors of Buinho Creative Hub, they are very active in community organizations. During our time here they will be hosting a two week event in Lisbon with 35 students from various countries. Carlos meets with artist residents to help plan our projects and provide support – he is very tightly scheduled yet always seems to be always able to add something else to his ever-expanding responsibilities. They are passionate about what they are doing, ambitious with a big vision, with nearly boundless energy. The FabLab houses 3D printers, laser cutter, and CNC (computer numerical control) machine as well as other more mundane pieces of technology for fabrication. The house, remodeled by our hosts, features an open-design, work spaces, two bedrooms and a kitchen. On the 4th we gathered for lunch at a local athletic club, sitting at a long table with Carlos, Margaret an artist from New Zealand, Misha an | |
American undergraduate student from a Rome-based university here on a ERASMUS scholarship, Rita a local teenage intern, Lucas a new intern from Brasil, and four parties of mostly male local residents. Bowls of broth soaked bread were brought out which served as the base for a hearty stew of chickpeas, pork sausage, bacon and bones which was placed in the middle of the table in a massive pot. This delightful and delicious meal was topped by a small, intense shot of espresso and an anise-flavored aperitif.
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Dinner was just local wine and cheese on the picnic table on the veranda off our bedroom with Margaret, foregoing the fish stew she had prepared as we were too stuffed from lunch, followed by a stroll back to the ruins of the monastery. As usual 'Gris', one of two cats and a dog living here, visited us as we slept.