Gypsies in Portugal

I´m beginning to feel like a gypsy. When I wake up in the morning, I have to remember what town I´m in. Then I lay quietly and think about all we´ve seen the day before. Yesterday in southern Portgal we saw gypsies. Real, live, movin´ down the road to who knows where gypsies. Each had a wagon filled with all their wordly goods pulled by a single horse. They were plodding along, half on, half off, the road. It was beginning to rain, and one wagon pulled under a tree for shelter. Don´t know if I could live that way. It makes the hotels where we stay (and the RV) feel luxurious indeed.

On the other side of the coin, we drove thru a development of golf courses, 5 star hotels and luxury homes . . . all carved out of coastal habitat abutting a nature preserve. We were following a map in a brochure and looking for nesting white storks, which we did find. Five nests, all occupied, some feeding their young. Imagine having stork nests across the pond from your backyard.

The southern coast of Portugal is a flyway for birds migrating between Europe and Africa. It also has beautiful beaches and spectacular rock formations. We stayed in Lagos and drove to Ponta de Piedras (Rocky Point). 200 feet below the cliff edge were caves, arches and crystal clear water. Pongas waited in the cove to take tourists on rides into the grottos. It must be much like the Blue Lagoon of Italy. Just breathtaking. I walked down the long stairway to the cove while Gene waited up on top.