Collecting Moments

We used the island of Sal as our gateway to Cabo Verde. The welcome was dusty, windy and extremely dry. So was the goodbye. Of our 30 days in the country, we spent the first two and the last four on this flat desert island. During that time there was hardly a moment of silence, only the wailing and howling that accompanied our every step. And sand, lots of sand, swirling around, flying over and getting into every possible crevice. It reminded us of hamsin in Israel that paints the sun white and the sky yellow. Espargos Our EasyJet flight from Lisbon landed at Amilcar Cabral Airport at about 5:30 pm on March 25th. First of all, we had to sort out the essentials: local cash and mobile data. The former was easily obtained by paying a commission of 285 escudos at the ATM. For the latter, we bought an ALOU 5 GB plan for 30 days for 700 escudos (plus 100 for a SIM card). Given that the airport is only 3 kilometers from Espargos, walking to our accommodation seemed like a viable option...

The forecast gave us no hope of sunshine that day—"Low clouds," it said, period. As we descended into the valley, the world around us seemed somber, damp and gloomy. The air was thick with the smell of wet soil, and even patches of green grass seemed tinted with gray. Soon, however, we began to notice splashes of vibrant color. Nature lured us with the lush green of vine leaves, the bright orange of ripe tangerines, and the delicate pink of almond blossoms. Ahead, gentle babbling of a nearby stream reached our ears. After recent heavy rains and violent storms, the water was cold and too deep to wade through in our boots, so we had to cross it barefoot. We couldn't help but envy mountain bikers gliding effortlessly across the creek while we dried our dirty, wet feet. Using a pair of spare socks for the task felt like a clever invention in the midst of our adventure. Steep, slippery trails wound through the dense forest, tall trees forming a canopy that seemed to close ...

Wherever we stay for more than a few weeks, we always find a weekend hike. It is usually an easily accessible trail of 15-20 kilometers with varied landscapes. When we lived on the edge of Serra de Estrela Park , we used to hike to an icy stream where one of us would go skinny-dipping in both winter and spring when the creeks were still full of water. Now that we've moved closer to the Arrábida Natural Park , we've begun to explore the web of trails that run between Setúbal and Palmela. The whole route is only between 9.5 and 10.5 kilometers long, but at least we can start it right from our doorstep. It has a nice climb of about 420 meters and goes over several hills. Just as all roads lead to Rome, this track actually connects two remaining parts of the Calçada Romana which once linked Equabona (Coina) to Emerita (Mérida). Depending on the weather and the season, we follow one of the four versions of the route. At different times of the year we can admire quince blossoms, c...

El Sur. O Sul. The South. A beckoning hand on the compass in winter. The magnet. The promise of gentle sun, caressing breezes and clear skies. Assuring a tranquil and carefree journey. The present. Forgiving for forgetfulness. Offering a temporary amnesia. Whispering: leave all your worries in the North, everything can wait.

We’re standing on land that once belonged to the sea. Beneath the sheer cliffs, the blue recedes to expose giant gills. They are blackened with age and jut out of the sand. The sea breathes with every wave and ebb.   It's the realm of gradual change that leaves its mark on the ground once covered by water. Time is revealed in the layers of rock.     We are here to witness, to observe, to contemplate as we walk along a soft, narrow path.       The floor of the bay is carved by salt. The turquoise lace of the waves blankets the beach. The ocean is gradually reclaiming what once belonged to it, licking the shores. These eroded cliffs yawn into eternity.         We are here to live the present as we move away from the coast and into the pine forest. In the morning we sit on a terrace overlooking the vast fields of the Alentejo. Th...

I am in Serro Ventoso, the interior of Portugal that never appears on colorful postcards in tourist shops. Here it is the realm of the green palette: pine, sage, emerald and their various shades. It is the land of white, milky mist that covers the hills. The thick fog that comes from the ocean and nourishes the soil, the locals say. People here are tough and resilient. The harshness of the landscape is reflected in their faces. They greet strangers with a piercing, stern gaze, not frowning, but not smiling either. For centuries, people have struggled in this rocky land, where rivers and waterfalls fill only after heavy rains. "When I was growing up, we had very little fruit. Only apples and figs in season. There was not enough water in this region to grow fruit," says 65-year-old Filomena. She and her nine siblings were all born in the same house where she now lives with her husband, their daughter and her boyfriend. The younger generation of the family works outside the vi...