Moving On

Travel, at least on the scale upon which I’ve embarked, is no different than life day to day, except in degree. Life is compressed, compacted. The lack of routine lends itself to novelty. The morning walk is revelatory like no other. It will never happen again. The chance conversation more engaging. It will never repeat itself.

The Taoists know this, and encourage us as such, but habit is a powerful sedative, numbing our senses and our perceptions.

Three days in Obidos was a week, a month. Each day a seven course meal to be savored for a lifetime. So why leave?

Life goes on, of course. There are many more meals and walks and conversations to come. And to remain would close the door on the new and unexpected. So I purchased a ticket for Peniche, 26 km to the west, merely for the way its knob of a peninsula thrusts out into the Atlantic.

Distances by bus can be deceiving, especially when it’s local - stopping for a mother with child, school children, the elderly. But the hour went quickly. There was much to see. By noon I arrived in the town center, in the rain and without directions. Admittedly, I was a bit dejected.

Then the whisper: “Look around young man. All you need is right here.” Pa was right, of course, as he always is. So look around I did. Across the street and down a short distance was O Sebastiao’s.

I was soon seated and within minutes served a delicious fried calamari, “smashed potatoes”, bread with olive oil, and a glass of the house wine. Life is good.

Stick around a while and you’ll find that Peniche is a little rough around the edges, gritty even.

But though lacking the history and charm of Sintra and Obidos, it has its own history.

It’s long been renowned as a center for lacemaking,

its working harbor,

and the military fortress that kept the English Armada at bay and then Napoleon.

Pensioners now retire here for its affordable housing, easy living,

and its end of the day tranquility.

I won’t stay long in Peniche, but I’ll take in whatever I can.