Through my eyelashes

I saw something that wasn't there ...

Through your eyelashes …

We were on our way to Fronteira. Last week. Estrela and I. She as real estate agent. Me as an authorised representative to buy a property for friends. They are leaving the Netherlands and settling here. Near us. They are arriving in as little as two weeks and could not be here for the sale as they are wrapping up everything in the Netherlands. Emigration takes patience in dealing with what you leave behind without loose ends and a lot of bureaucracy on arrival in the new country.

Fortunately, I know my way around. That's the advantage of living in a small community where basically all government bodies are represented. Only the notary public is not. Since a few years, that has disappeared from Marvão. No succession, no this, no that. So to the next town, Castelo de Vide, but no notary there either. Only three quarters of an hour away in Fronteira is it possible to close a sale and register it in land registry and so on.

It's not the first time I've driven there with Estrela. I think the third time and Estrela always wants to drive. That's fine with me because it gives me a chance to look around. 

That day turned into quite a day. In the morning we inspected the house to be bought, went on to Portalegre where Estrela's real estate office is for all kinds of paperwork, had lunch at the Japanese restaurant - there is always plenty of time for that - and on to Fronteira. 

Estrela speaks English except to me. It's better for my Portuguese she always says. We talk about all kinds of things, about her vegetable garden project Cesta à Sexta that is now at a standstill, about the fire brigade that is building a water basin for the fire helicopter on her property. About her book project Leve Para Ler where you can drop and pick up books to read - a free library say without registration. Of course we talk about others, her sister, her family, her cousin from Italy coming to stay for Christmas and her recent trip to Marrakech. We are not bored for a moment.

My favourite landscape of rolling hills and cork oaks is gliding by. A delight to my eyes. Until something changes. Without warning. Suddenly we drive between fields of honour, war cemeteries, left and right rows and rows of white crosses cover kilometres of hills. Not a tree in sight. I look again and consider that they did not fight world wars here in Portugal. Yet this is my first thought. 

No, they are not cemeteries and do have everything to do with death. The death of nature and the viability of the region. Although thousands of small olive bushes have been planted, everything here will die a slow death as it is already happening in southern Spain. No water, no olives. There is still plenty of water here so the Spanish buy all the land Estrela tells me, for monoculture and the Portuguese government still provides subsidies for this outdated nonsense.

Yes, I am furious! Any monoculture is doomed. Be it pigs, chickens, insects or trees and bushes. While governments all over the world are mouthing off about the climate and blaming citizens who will soon have to live in the 15-minute-city (yes even in Portugal) this is hypocrisy at its finest. 

Yes, things at the notary went smoothly. House with land was bought. I tell Estrela on the way back how happy I am that our friends took courage and made the wise choice to come to and settle in this forgotten corner of Portugal where the pace is slow and the quality of life high. She does not reply and looks around while driving. We again pass the fields with white crosses. 

"Jesus," says Estrela. “Thanks for your imagination. Every time I drive past here now I see war cemeteries instead of economic progress! I won't get rid of that image again I think."