Days have passed and I already jumped forward to Seville so now there are the missing days before Seville and now after. I don’t want the rocking chair moments to be to confusing for me so will briefly explain.
Before Seville too busy, after Seville too busy, then too sick. Bugger. I am a careful planner of not getting sick. Religious vitamin c taking, hand washing, sanitising etc etc. THen there is sick and SICK. It’s normal to get a sniffle or a bit of cold and maybe have a restful afternoon or two but when you get sick, sick it’s a real bugger. Mum block your ears and read on later. I spent the days laying round wondering at what stage of not being able to breathe probably should I head to the nearest emergency department. My wheezing was enough to drive both WH and I to a new level of worriness. I feel too sick to do anything about my predicament. I know that if at home I would go to the doctors or the after hours but here just let me be and breathe. It’s all too hard.
There is nothing worse than worrying about yourself. It always feels so indulgent and as the wheeze continues and you take yet another dose of your inhaler you wonder if you are a hypercondriac, castastrophiser or an idiot who doesn’t want to try and navigate themselves through a foreign non English speaking medical system. But then the catstrophiser in you is pretty sure you are an idiot and will wind up in an acute emergency room because you were so stupid. It doesn’t help that we are in a small village with not so much as a chemist shop and then it’s the weekend. But glass half full we are at least in a AirBNB which I could just lie around and do nothing but try to breathe. Lots of shower steam, honey and lemon drink, overdosing on my preventer thinking that would help. Then googling about that and it’s really not a good idea. A couple of days ago I decided to start taking the antibiotics that I had with me and I can say that as at today I am feeling substantially better. My wheeze is now at a stage where I have had a full nights sleep lying down. So whanau and friends cast your judgements as you will. Catastrophier drama queen or idiot who got away with it? I hear your whispers and cup of coffee chat as I tap. I smile knowing you and knowing where you will sit on the continuom between the two. Meanwhile the issue is I now have very few puffs of my inhaler left so today my mission is to go on a hunt to find out how to get another one, buoyed by the fact that I can now go and hunt. Wish me luck on the inhaler hunt and I shall update you further. Mother you may now read on.
In the meantime let’s go back to Algarve. We leave Seville and transfer to Cavoeiro in the Algarve. We make a stop at a pretty fishing village and it’s pretty. It’s sleepy and quiet and I wonder what made the person put covers over their car wheels and what purpose it could possibly serve. I have to be content that some mysteries will never be solved.
We next visit a castle which I will say is pretty ordinary as far a castles go but what we do see is Storks. Lots of them nesting with baby chicks in their nests. I remember in Strasbourg last year, where the Stork is their town symbol because they bought them back from only 12 couples after the Second World War to now over 1000. Here in the Algarve they seem abundant. On their own nesting poles, or derelict buildings as below or even layered up in the giant pylons alongside the roads like multi story apartment dwellers.
We arrive at Cavoeiro and it’s very pretty. With its steep cliffs and turquoise water.
We wander into town and back along a boardwalk. It’s a slow step and an easy wander.
Along the boardwalk on the way home we see a bar down the cliff under the shade sails so we wander down for a aperol spritz and Cervasa, as you do.
That’s enough for a day.