Rota Vicentina. From Vila Nova de Milfontes to Porto Covo. December 2024

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. The sun is slowly rising, dew drops glistening on fresh grass. Hundreds of sheep that have been sleeping outside wake up and start moving, painting the bright green canvas with white curly strokes.

  We are here to simply be and savor the moment (with every sip of hot tea).