My 2019 diary (part one)

 

I’ll admit, I’ve been somewhat nervous about delving into my 2019 diary, not least because it was a year of upheaval, uncertainty and a lot of packing up and moving on. In hindsight, we enjoyed some crazy adventures in 2019, met some nice new people and experienced things we could never have anticipated when we left the UK in November 2018. That said, there were definitely (many) times this year when I would have been happy to pack up our belongings (the few we brought with us) and flee back to Wales

But that’s for later. In 2019, I stuck with my usual A5 diary, although this one was clearly a cheap one which I probably bought somewhere like The Works. That said, it does have nice wide lines and a nifty little margin for jotting down times. It clearly remained with me throughout our travels because, with the exception of a few trips home, there are no substantial gaps in entries.

I’m not going to share all my goals for 2019; suffice to say I only achieved one of them  – there was just too much going on. I have since achieved two others, although I’m still struggling to converse at any level in Portuguese.

January

My first entry of 2019 simply reads ‘Recovery day!’ which had me chuckling in the present. I can’t recall what we were doing on New Year’s Eve 2018, but it clearly wasn’t what we’ve done for the past few years, i.e. head to bed at ten and get awoken by the fireworks along the coast at midnight.

The first day of the year sees me attempting to impose some order on my life by setting arbitrary ‘work hours’, although as I don’t mention what work I was referring to I can only assume it was one of my numerous (and often unfinished) writing projects. In 2019, I will work daily from 10am–1pm with an hour for lunch. I will then focus for two more hours in the afternoon. Just for clarification, I add – rather optimistically – that ‘All other tasks, i.e. running, shopping, blogging, Facebook, pictures, etc, must be done around working hours!’ There are word counts at the bottom of my page for weeks after this.

On 6 January, we go to view a house with our German friend Jörg. Coincidentally, we now live very close to this single-storey property just south of Alcantarilha. I write in capitals ‘LOVED THE HOUSE’, most likely because it has a fabulous pool (we later learn this is unlicensed). Casa Nova is not really one house, but two tiny one-bedroom traditional cottages – one is renovated while the other is dark, smelly and rather less appealing. It is unofficially rented to a friend of the owner, which we surmise could be problematic.

At this point in my new life, I have a friend called Debbie who I go running with quite frequently. This being January, I decide to jot down three daily things which I am grateful for, a practice I keep up for … one day. And the three things I manage to come up with: a beautiful view from our rental villa window, having friends around for dinner (Nan, Dennis and Jörg) and an invitation to a video interview with Jet2 (which I did the following day and passed).

There are lots of phone calls to our solicitor as our UK house sale has stalled again. The asking price for Casa Nova increases 40k in the nine days since we viewed it and the elderly German owner decides he wants to sell but carry on living there for up to a year!

On 19 January, I ‘drank too much wine’ at Arte Bar. I’m not sure why I think this is notable as most of us drank too much wine or too much something else at Arte Bar back then (just occasionally I find myself missing those crazy, alcohol-fuelled nights out in Albufeira). What makes it worse this time is we’re all heading to the sausage festival at Querença the next day and we all feel dreadful.

A few days previously, my NHS veneer had split in two and fallen out, so a series of dental appointments began, ultimately resulting in two perfectly matched front teeth for the first time in a decade. My tooth problem means I cannot bite into anything hard – like a Portuguese bread roll – and so must content myself with a sweet potato fritter at the festival. Thankfully, this is delicious.

As the month progresses, it’s gradually dawning on us that we aren’t going to be buying a house in the Algarve before our winter tenancy runs out at the end of March. I start contacting agencies on the Silver Coast where rental costs don’t escalate until July.

The month ends with a doctor’s appointment on 30 January and a two-hour dental appointment on 31 January. I certainly knew how to have fun back then!

February

My longtime friend Sharon is supposed to be flying to Albufeira with her partner Ian on 1 February but snow at Bristol Airport means their flight is postponed for several days.

I appear to be doing a lot of soup making, which probably has something to do with my tooth situation.

We find a rental from 1 April to 30 June inclusive – it’s an apartment in São Martinho do Porto, a pretty coastal resort where we stopped for a drink while walking the coast back in May 2018. We pay a 700-euro deposit, and I pick up my Portuguese learning again just in case they don’t speak English up there. I manage an hour.

On 6 February, I usefully jot down that it’s 18 weeks since 3 October. I think this must have been the day we accepted an offer on our UK house. Unfortunately, it’s now back on the market after our buyers’ own sale is endlessly stalled by their own buyers’ issues with their leasehold apartment in Cardiff Bay. Confusingly, both buyers are called Jones. We immediately have a viewing and a ridiculously low offer, which we refuse.

I’m seeing a lot of Debbie, for walks as well as runs, and cooking a lot of chicken thighs (boy were they cheaper back then). There’s another house viewing back home and another offer. On reflection, we did have a nice home in a very pretty village.

The weekend sees us meeting up with our Welsh mates, who have finally made it to Albufeira. We head to Alvor where we run into a fellow Lliswerry Runner. Later in the week, we have a meal with them in Old Town. After a second viewing, we have another offer on the house, which we accept. Maybe things are finally moving forward?

My perfectionist Swiss dentist decides my new veneers are not quite right. This attention to detail is a revelation. My NHS dentist in Newport had been prepared to fit veneers that were different lengths, different levels of smoothness and, as another dentist later hypothesised, were likely made by different technicians. The poor-quality one fell out so often I carried a tube of Fixodent around with me for a year.

There’s a trip to Faro Island with our Welsh friends on a grey and blustery Sunday and a farewell meal a few days later. It’s always sad saying ‘goodbye’ to friends and family from home.

My eldest granddaughter reaches the ripe old age of 14 and we celebrate by heading to Monchique for a hike. Somehow ‘make lentil bolognaise’ appears – and is ticked off – on two consecutive days; I think we have to assume that I didn’t make it twice.

On 27 February, my eldest two daughters arrive with my two granddaughters (I have three nowadays). The following day we walk to Armação de Pêra, with little inkling Harri and I will be living in this little Portuguese resort by the end of the year.

March

One of the highlights of my girls’ holiday is a trip to Zoomarine on 1 March, i.e. the day it opens for the 2019 season. It is hot (and deserted) enough to fully enjoy the water park and I bravely follow the girls down the slide several times. What a fun day out, and one I’ve recommended to everyone ever since (Debbie originally recommended it to me). It’s also incredibly good value. I didn’t note what we paid in 2019, but if we were to return on opening day this year it would cost just 128 euros for the five of us.

The girls leave on 3 March when I note I’m ‘so sad’ – living apart from my daughters and granddaughters is the hardest part of moving to the Algarve.

With my family gone, the whirlwind activity steps up the next day when I sign us up at Albufeira Centro do Saude, visit a nice English couple down the road (where I probably got cake), make soup, do washing, strip beds and clean bedrooms. I’m back to running the next day, although I’m pretty sure I never even started the ‘START PUSH-UPS AND PLANK FOUR-WEEK PLAN!’

From 6–10 March, we have the ‘pleasure’ of looking after Debbie’s medium-sized podengo. The next few days feature ‘Walk Leão’ twice a day, with Harri joining us on Saturday. We head to Arte Bar on Sunday evening but ‘Didn’t stay as Leão being picked up’. I didn’t add ‘thank god’, but I’m sure I thought it.

We celebrate our eleventh anniversary on 11 March when I take myself off for a ‘long and hot’ run – I note that at 1pm it is 23 degrees in the shade on our terrace. I somehow manage to write 3,415 words the next day, which I concede was ‘Excellent!’ By 14 March, it is 26 degrees on our terrace, which even for me is ‘VERY HOT – HARD TO FOCUS’.

On 18 March, we made a really bad decision and one which would come back to haunt us. With everyone who views our Rhiwderin property seemingly determined to make us an offer and then mess us around, we decide to return to our original buyers. This is mostly because their estate agent George has convinced me their own on-off sale to Dr Jones was back on track (it wasn’t – someone was lying).

Thus, I accept a new, slightly improved offer from the other Joneses. There is even bigger news the next day when I write ‘BREXIT POSTPONED TILL APRIL 11’ across the top of the page. It’s hard to believe, but Harri and I were glued to our television during this period in the faint hope that the UK’s withdrawal from the EU would fall though at the eleventh hour.

We enjoy a barbecue at Debbie’s new apartment in Alcantarilha – it was the least she could do after all that dog walking. On 27 March, my middle daughter’s birthday, I head to Faro to walk with Denise and Geoff, who live in Tavira.

I manage to complete a running route I’d been thinking about for ages, noting triumphantly, ‘YES – DID THE LONG LOOP I’VE BEEN AIMING TO DO!’

With our time in Albufeira growing to a close, I spend my time packing up and cleaning. Our rental agent for the past three years surprises us by insisting on taking us out to lunch on our last day in town. I don’t note the name of the restaurant, but we stop off at Pastelaria Riviera for cake afterwards.

April

And we’re on the road.

Harri must have taken a few days off because on our first full day we ‘walked to the lighthouse this side of the bay 6.9km’. I’m bowled over by the infinite possibilities of having a railway station just a short distance from our apartment. So much so that I jot down the entire timetable for São Martinho to Caldas de Rainha and back again in my diary (for information, the first train leaves São Martinho at 07:13 – or it did in April 2019).

One of the first things we notice on the Silver Coast is the considerable drop in temperature. On 3 April, I note: ‘Albufeira 19 degrees and sunny, Caldas 13 degrees and sunny intervals’. I’m clearly not adapting to my new home because I write underneath, ‘Feeling really sad today – cried when I returned from my 4.5-mile solitary walk’ and then underneath ‘Debbie rang and cheered me up!’

By 5 April, the weather has further deteriorated: ‘Cloudy/rainy, sunny intervals’. I walk to the headland arch that I found out about in a vlog I’d started following (Eight Miles from Home). It remained one of my favourite runs/walks from São Martinho throughout our entire stay.

Surprise, surprise, on 8 April, I get a phone call from our buyers to say their buyer has finally stopped messing everyone around – and pulled out altogether. Despite this news, we go ahead with a pre-arranged viewing of a four-bedroom villa in Salir do Porto which is on the market for an incredible €215k (the owner was asking €650k for the pretty dilapidated three-bedroom house we were renting in Albufeira).

Our UK house sale is getting more and more complicated. I must have understood all this at the time, but six years on I have no idea what ‘Deed of variation being signed’ means. It obviously wasn’t positive as underneath I’ve added ‘No! No! No! Investor/buyer has pulled out!’ Ever hopeful – this can’t go on forever and our buyers absolutely want to buy our house – we view another house ourselves, this time a modern one with a pool in Alfrezeirão for €200k. We love it, but I do have one misgiving, i.e. ‘very remote’.

We’re not enjoying the difference in weather up here on the Silver Coast. On Saturday, it’s ‘raining AGAIN’ and on Sunday ‘DULL AND CLOUDY!’

At a local bar, we meet a friendly English couple called Denise and Mike and I hear about Silver Coast Walks, a local group they are involved with. It’s ‘RAINING! HARD!’ on 17 April, probably because I’m getting my hair cut. Incredibly, I seem to be mostly sticking to my online Portuguese learning, writing AND running – probably because there’s very little else to do in the rain.

Harri and I visit Alcobaça on Saturday 20 April and love it there. The weather improves as we head inland, which can only be a positive.

After a catalogue of disasters at the NHS dentist in Newport (yep, the same dentist as me), my youngest flies to Portugal to get her wisdom tooth extracted and the tooth her dentist broke repaired. I head to Lisbon to meet her and we return to São Martinho together. On 26 April, I attempt a local yoga class, and we view another house, this time in Venda Nova. My daughter’s dental treatment begins on 29 April.

Bizarrely, for some inexplicable reason I am logging all the episodes of Coronation Street I watch.

May

My first entry of the month is philosophical: ‘This too shall pass.’ On 2 May, my daughter and I head to Caldas where we have a ‘lovely day out’. She returns alone the next day to see the next big Marvel film. More fillings and more attempts to have alcohol-free days – not easy now we’ve discovered where all the expats hang out and it’s just a short walk from our apartment.

On 9 March, I write ‘Dr XXXXXX Jones has pulled out of the house sale!’ (I did write his full name in my diary but thought it best not to repeat it here). That’s our buyers’ house sale, without which they cannot go ahead with the purchase of ours. Modern-day me is confused as I thought he’d done that on 8 April. Clearly not! I write ‘WASTED DAY!! TOO UPSET!!!’ at the top of the page. Honestly, I think a complete overhaul of the house buying/selling process is needed in England and Wales. It’s shocking how someone, like this Dr Jones, can mess everyone around like this for months and months without one single legal repercussion.

We head to Leiria that weekend and love the place, especially the castle. On the Monday, my daughter has her wisdom tooth out. All that’s left is for the stitches to be removed and she can head back to the UK. She tells me she believes she’s finally overcome her fear of dentists, which was undoubtedly caused by a lifetime of being (mis)treated by the Newport dental team. This is good news.

With our UK house sale stalled yet again, we’re facing the prospect of being homeless at the end of June. A US hiker suggests we consider pet/house sitting during the expensive summer rental period. This is a great idea, so I register for Mind My House and immediately spot a potential two-month job in Andalucia. It sounds perfect so I apply.

On the spur of the moment, I decide to fly back to the UK with my daughter. We set off early, spend a day sightseeing in Lisbon and check out the capital’s cocktail bars before flying the next day. There are no more May entries, other than to note Harri’s parents visit for a week – and miss their bus from Caldas to São Martinho, leaving Harri with no option but to pick them up.

June

I don’t arrive back on Portuguese soil until the day after my birthday – and I choose to fly into Faro instead of Lisbon. I spend a night at Denise and Geoff’s apartment in Tavira, travelling back to São Martinho the next day.

I don’t know where my energy comes from, but I run eight miles on 6 June (nearly 13 kilometres). That evening, Harri and I do a video interview with Rosemary and Andreas, a German couple with a smallholding just outside Grândola who are looking for someone to look after their dogs, cats, goats, chickens, ducks and geese for a month in September. We get the job! We also got the job in Andalucia looking after two cats through July and August so that’s the most expensive summer months’ accommodation taken care of. Who knows, our house sale might finally have gone through by then?

On 8 June, we head to Baleal and Peniche, where it feels more like a spring day in Cornwall than an early summer’s day in Portugal. I think I’m being restrained when I note, ‘still not warm’.

I make a feeble attempt to start learning Spanish – might come in useful in Andalucia. We get our car serviced … it’s got a long drive in a few weeks’ time. The local bar owner Tony sorts it out for us, which is nice of him.

On 16 June, I dye my hair (important to note these things) and invite three lots of couple friends over for dinner. I’m a bit confused by the menu as I mention making Thai curry and lasagne  –  which seems an odd combination – then add ‘steak, potatoes and veg’ next to ‘7pm Meal at ours’.

Too much wine the night before (in my defence, the vinho verde was on tap at Tony’s bar, which meant we always drank too much) meant my six-mile run was ‘painful’. Tony’s bar, of course, had replaced Arte Bar as the place to socialise with our friends – the food was great too.

One of our couple friends offers to store some of our belongings so we don’t have to take the whole lot to Spain. This sounds perfect as their garage is in their basement. Of course, we have no inkling at this point that they will split up in the two months we are gone.

We leave São Martinho on 24 June and spend two nights in Tavira. I recall having to cook the first night because Tavira Denise is hung over, but the only interesting entry in my diary is house news: ‘V messaged and said we were getting close’. As it is now over nine months since we put our house on the market, I should hope so.

On 26 June, we leave a grey and rainy Algarve, drive 500 kilometres and arrive in a scorching hot Órgiva in Granada province. Chris and Sarah leave on 29 June after showing us the ropes – though Chris is so confused about how to clean/manage their pool the poor guy’s verbal instructions directly contradicted the printed ones he’d handed me. Harri looks it all up on YouTube afterwards and we are fine.

We hike 17 kilometres on 30 June and I make hummus. It’s funny the things we consider important in the heat of the moment … and the heat of an Andalusian summer.

July to December 2019 to follow.