I am awake!!!
"Is this us", whispers Prince?
"Guess so, sounds like our Alarm system!!!", I mutter back.
Best security advice - I pull the blanket over my head. This will help!?
I am scared and so is Prince (I think). Too many bad people around, too many bad things happened lately. We hold each other like frightened children when the phone rings. "It is in the kitchen", the security people confirm.
It?? what is it, I wonder.
"Something is at the window", the security man says. I am shaking badly, but Prince - my hero, gets up and with a confident and mean look he marches out, to defend his Splotchypessa.
" What is it, Prince, are you ok?"
"All ok, no monsters in sight", he replies.
" The dogs, where are they?", I yell from undercover.
"Sleeping, I guess."
I steal myself out of my security duvet and follow Prince into the cold kitchen. No monsters, no bandits, just our shadows and us.
"Let's go back to bed'.
Sleepless long times later, too busy listening to every sound and squeak, we fall back into dreamland, but wake again very early.
It is 7.30 and we decide to take the dogs for a walk on the beach. Glorious idea. I am excited! Nothing like a sunrise walk with the 'kids' on the wild ocean sands... I pull on my new MANGO leather riding pants (for a dog walk pants are allowed), a simple cashmere turtleneck (it stinks of moldy cupboard!!!) and my ( college girl look) Prada duffle coat. (one of my successful bargains from the Tuscany Prada outlet)
It is early, but never too early to look elegant. And of course, I have to make up for my unwashed-undone face. And that musky smell!
House of problems, here we go again!
Prince needs longer, but I can hear him complaining and bellowing, something ants, something humidity, something this house is...,
So much for the first day at home.
I go outside and play a bit with Puppy. She is sooo cuuuute, and loves her new Christmas toy - a miniature lifesaver, that can also float. The idea is, to teach her swimming soon... Prince arrives looking red and annoyed and we are ready to hit the beach, when he stares at me in shock.
"What's wrong?"
Insecure me: "Is it my spots and splotches"?
Shaking his head he stares at my hands and only now I see that they are soaked in blood.
BLOOD???
Puppy, puppy are you ok?
Maybe she has lost another baby tooth? Poor little one...I run over to check her little mouth, when I see IT!!! There, under our majestic chestnut tree, is the reason for the bloody mess and IT is still alive.
It is a cute little rat, dragging itself away from the puppy monster, trying to save its little life. I am ready to cry or vomit. Or both.
Poor Ratatouille! Goshhhh, it is so cute and it is making the most heartbreaking sounds. I want to punish Puppy, save the rat, but this is nature and I am a mere out-stander.
"Prince, please do something", I shout hysterically. "The poor thing is in pain. It is in agony, we must release its soul. Please do something!!!"
Prince seems shock-frozen, unable to move. Men today are not what they used to be. I start pushing him towards the little cute rodent, trying to ignore the crying sounds, it's making. Awful. Bloody evil Puppy. Why can't she be like our other dog? Afraid of everything, even her own tail, she could not even harm a fly. So there we are, watching Ratatouille in horror, unable to do anything. "Maybe we could drive over it", Prince suggests."And who will clean the leftovers" , I ask even more horrified.
" Shit, bloody day. Why it always has to go so wrong...?" Prince is loosing it, I need to take over fast!
" It is ok...it is mother nature, it is totally normal. Puppy wanted to make us a morning present...you know..It is sweet of her!!!" I'm mumbling some nonsense, which may be true, but I don't believe it myself and Prince finally moves, gets a big piece of bark and starts pushing the little bugger onto it.
The squeaking sounds are getting louder and I wonder how anyone with a heart can go and shoot animals. I once heard, that deer (again deer are coming up) make sounds like crying children, when wounded. Heartless bastards (oh, and Bastardines too) those hunters! But I must confess, that I eat game with great pleasure and also love cooking it (only kitchen ready bought pieces)...
I am such a contradiction!
What seems like a FOREVER later...
Prince has managed to get the grey fur-ball on the bark and we are now carefully, like ballerinas, tiptoeing towards the river. Bang, there goes the little rat falling on the ground, probably trying to escape the free bark-ride to afterlife. Freaking out again, Prince again starts to panic and I am trying to soothe him. He must be the only man, who has a heart for rats! I find a broken branch and push it once again on to the bark, listening to the little voice of pain. Awful. We just feel awful, but now we must finish. Juggling slowly, Prince manages to keep the rat on the bark and gently he releases it on the riverbank. We pray and wish it good luck and a part of me is convinced, that it will be fine again, maybe it was only shocked by Puppy's teeth. Wishful thinking - it does work sometimes!
Ok...
Rat buried, bloodstained hands cleaned, shall we go to the beach?
The car-ride is rather gloomy, as if the shadow of death is with us. Prince is quiet and lost in thought, only Puppy is in good spirits.
We arrive at Praia Grande and we are absolutely alone, us, the dogs, the ferocious ocean and a fat flock of pooping seagulls. They must have been eating well, since the sand looks like a piece of modern art, juicy white plops in the most imaginative shapes.
I love it...
No!, not the bird droppings, but the sea...
The sound of the waves, strong and untamable, like a passionate love affair. The scent of the salt...ahhhh...The taste of freedom and adventure...
Oh ocean, what powerful, divine force...
It cleanses my soul. It rejuvenates. It inspires...It also calls, Anna...Anna... come and play with us...
The dogs are happy, jumping and playing and sniffing and doing whatever it is that dogs are doing.
Prince and I stroll hand in hand. No-one is talking, we don't need too.
...
Aren't words often a mere filler of insecurity?
How many words and sentences would have been better left unspoken?
The art of quiet is lost in our modern world. People talk,talk, talk and most of them wooooffff!
Maybe to confirm their own existence or maybe, people are afraid of the quiet?
A mute button for the world, I think that is another invention in urgent need. (wouldn't you love a MUTE button for certain people?)
Good morning new day. Good morning wild Atlantic. Good morning Sintra and good morning poor little family rat.
Back at home I get serious about finding a new rental home. As much we love our little valley nest, the problems by far outnumber the pleasures, and if that is the case, I think it is best to move on. Just like in a relationship.
I find a few interesting things, sadly none in our preferred neighborhood. One farmhouse by the sea sounds promising and the owner gets back to me right away. We can come anytime today he says and so we take a rainy afternoon drive up north. Prince checked the way on google-map, (I am against GPS and will hold on to the fashion of maps till the very last moment! GPS, anther useful toy to shrink our brain...) but we get lost anyhow. Luckily there are a few people out, even though it's pouring and so we do arrive eventually after many guiding words and hands. The owner comes running out with 3 umbrellas and takes us for the grand garden tour. Manicured and elegant, it is not exactly what I call a farm. He smiles, "No-no - it used to be a farm. This is where I spend my childhood, and here were the horses."
Ohhh...horses?
"Now this is the guesthouse, but it used to be the stables."
Kept in a rustic and earthy chic, the guesthouse is utterly charming.
"And here were the animals, like chickens and geese."
"Ohhhhh" I am of course taken.
"But where are the animals now", I want to know.
"Oh...those English agencies we rent to, don't think animals are a good idea. Bugs and germs and stuff like that... They are afraid to catch something."
Weird people, and I thought the English love animals? Countryside? Must be the past generation, than?
The main house, with an adjoining chuch(!) has been renovated with a huge amount of TLC. Every little detail has been restored with great care and it is just a lovely Quinta. But it is not for us. It would seem empty without the sound of a big family. The 2 of us here, would feel lonely and isolated.
It is always hard for me to tell someone, NO, but Prince has no problem with this 2-letter word, as he has a gift to always wrap it with chocolate and honey... Even a complaint from Prince is delivered in such refined sweet packaging, that no-one would ever be offended by him.
The gift of complaint. The art of saying NO. If all other fails, we still could open a school?
Leaving the Quinta we confirm that our neighborhood is by far the most charming.
Sintra. St. Pedro. Colares. Galamares.
THE BEST!
Prince has to leave for a business dinner and I crawl into bed with Penelope Green's: "See Naples and die". An amusing diary of an Australian's dream to live 'La dolce vita'
Fascinating, captivating, honest and funny, it is certainly a great page-turner.
Amazon, and this nighttime story is just 3 clicks away from your bedside table. (she has a sequel of 3, all most funny and entertaining bed and beach companions)
buona notte
xxxxx
Prince is back in no time and so I leave the comfort of our cozy bed and we finally make our CHRISTMAS. Red wine, xmas-music (poor Prince, it is the last, I promise) and gift-opening. This year, with all the mess and stress, I have not done my usual magic. No knitted, no painted, no homemade anything, not even my card has been finished.
But the thought counts, no???
And the love.
MERRY XMAS PRINCE.
You are my gift and I love you
PS: I end up with a big basket full of naughty undies. Red and pink and baby blue, I am ready for rainbow-colored dress-up-games...
