TE19 Iberian Adventure

John Hartley

peas beside her grandmother on the veranda.

Inside sepia photographs decorated the walls. Memory and identity: the two stalwarts of the simple life. The smell of fire and fruit filled the kitchenwhereanold stoveglowed, neara sideboard laden with vegetables and bottles of crimson liquor.

“They make brandy from Medronho fruit,” Judy observed.

“According to a secret method,” Maria winked.

In the barn the potbellied Vitorino concluded our tour with his pride and joy, an ancient Massey Ferguson tractor.

“Fifty years and it still runs like new.” He boasted.

“Made in Scotland” Grandad noted, for my benefit, “You’ll find them in all corners of the globe.”

Nearby a dilapidated lean-to was home to their donkeys.

“Stubborn – Yes!” Vitorino muttered, “But you won’t find a horse in these hills.”

We settled down on odd plastic chairs – faded with age. Awooden table, beneath a weathered awning. A fly screen separated the kitchen. *** They traded broken English, pausing for Matilde to translate the occasional phrase. The conversation ebbed and flowed but never 156