TE19 Iberian Adventure

Passing Time in Portugal

An ordinary fishing village at the turn of the seventeenth century, Olhao was immortalised in Portuguese folklore during the Napoleonic invasions, when the local fishermen revolted, routing the French from the Algarve.

“The townsfolk sailed to Rio de Janeiro to inform their exiled Prince, who bestowed a noble title upon the town.”

The magnificent Baroque risen Christ in the parish church reflects the town resurrected by the courage of her citizens. We left behind the tired majesty of Olhao, a flower kept too long in the shade.

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My Grandfather was impeccably mannered and immaculate dressed, a vestige from the age of polished brogues and navy blazers, straw boaters and gentlemen’s agreements, honour and chivalry. “We can’t let the side down, can we?” He spoke as if all the British abroad were teammates. “Rule Britannia – Britannia rules the world.” Grandfather occasionally broke into song. That post-war generation harked back to a time when the Sun never sets on the British Empire. “I drove an armoured car in Oman.” Grandad reminisced, “We swam in the gulf. One of us stood watch with a rifle for sharks. They should bring back national service.”

“I though you hated it?”

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