Portucool

The new living arrangements could not be more different than what we've at times endured and at times enjoyed for the past two weeks. The flow of scenery past our Le Boat along with our concerted efforts to get along overpowered the cramped quarters and its potential to create crankiness.

But now we're in a mansion. A massive mansion, with a bigger pool than I've seen in most hotels. The pool is just this side of the tennis court which is separated from the 'guest house' by peach, apple and kiwi trees. I visited the owner in the guest house which is at least the size of the main house, maybe bigger. The purpose of the visit was to inform her that the key didn't fit the lock. Keys here are three dimensional with serrated edges on 4 sides unlike the 1 sided serrated edge in Canada. Seems I only tried 3 sides before lodging a complain because there's a small notch on the top of the part you hold indicating that's the top and proper orientation for entry of the key. 

I should have known. It'll be emblazoned in a tattoo  when I return. Arne says I should have known the hotel in Castelnaudary would charge me for a full breakfast even if I only have coffee. The guy at the pension office said I should have known that if I get paid for working one day in a month my pension is delayed for the entire month (I retired Aug 3rd). I should have known that Airbnb would not honour my claim for damages related to a bedbug infestation of my home courtesy of one of my guests or that they would threaten to delist me if I didn't prove I'd taken care of it. There's been lots of examples since leaving Vancouver and pointing out there was no way to have known only gets me a shrug. 

But I digress. The house was built a few hundred years ago and was enlarged in the last century. It's three stories tall though I've seen vents to a basement but have no idea how to access it. If there's a problem with the hot water tank I should have known it's down there and only accessible by a trained professional who's available the 3rd Thursday of the month. The property is protected from the rabble by a 10' stone fence with its 10' iron gate (they look a lot like the locks on the canal) In days gone by, servants would rush to the gate to turn a massive wheel to allow troops to enter or the lord to leave but today we have a remote control. When we arrived, the taxi took us through the gate that opened majestically a la Disneyland and we entered our kingdom.

There are Christian statuary ensconced in alcoves and ceramic tiles put together like jigsaw puzzles to create pictures of Jesus and his family decorate the walls inside and out. This is a very religious (Catholic) society but I'll write like an expert about that once I have my tiny exposure to it. The door to the imposing structure is ornate iron backed by opaque glass and the 3 dimensional door lock is 8 inches off the ground. Right beside the door knocker.

A heavy iron chandelier attempts to reduce the size of the cavernous lobby. The walls are covered in intricately detailed ceramic tile, the floor is marble and cool to the touch even in this heat. There's a bedroom tricked out in antiques with its own bathroom to the left and another on the right only much larger with a private jacuzzi. These are claimed by sisters A and B so Deb and I climb the dark wood stairs to the main floor where we find our gorgeous room. It faces north so stays cool and gives an outstanding view of the valley below. It doesn't have an ensuite (ahh the hardships we endure) but with everyone else a floor below, getting up naked in the middle of the night to piddle isn't a problem. We also have closer access to the kitchen. And the summer lounge. And the winter lounge. And the tv room with its bar and the two dining rooms. And the outside decks. 

The rear deck faces south and overlooks a  field freshly harvested of its corn. It's decked out with a table for ten thoughit's kind of bright and warm for breakfast but the Italian feast that Anita and Lui prepared was devoured there. There are stairs to the next floor and I went up once; more bedrooms. We have more house than people.

The west side of the house abuts a small farm where a rooster lords over his chickens and announces sunrise a half hour early. But Bob likes him. We first met Bob in Galatas which was odd considering the amount of debris on display in Paris and Athens. But Bob prefers a more organic setting, hanging with the chickens, horses and other creatures who spread their offal with impunity as they walk. Our hotel in Galatas was in farm country so Bob said Hi. Our boat floated down an open sewer thanks to the thousands of boats who also spread their awful offal with impunity. When we asked when they would be pumping out the sewage tank we were informed there was no need.

We killed Bob as soon as we met him. Then his brother - also named Bob - showed up. So we killed him too. The family was not deterred, maybe we should have put their heads on toothpicks. They came and come in droves and we've created swatters from everything at hand but they have the strength of numbers. It's a battle you can't win but can endure with a little mediation and chant "there are no flies, there are no flies..." It's their cousin Mary that creates the problems. She visits silently but leaves after a peck or two. If only she would take that itchy bump on my skin with her when she leaves.

Our not-so-humble abode is well away from the bustle of Porto which has necessitated the rental of a car. A big car. A car so big the a/c doesn't reach the back seat where the junior members of the crew are sequestered. We've discovered that not all GPS systems are created equal or think the same way and has led to a few getting losts which were quickly followed by getting founds but I'll tell you more about that next time. Right now I have to put on some clothes and join the others in town via Uber. It'll be my first time, wish me luck.