it gets harder each day.
each time a big ferry leaves the port , it blasts its horn a few times. i can always hear them. it is a sound that makes my ears stand up to attention a bit like an old hunting horse when the trumpet is blown for the hunt.
sometimes i watch the ferries push off and chug gently out into the med and have a little think to myself – `someday soon i will be going home´.
not that mallorca is a bad place, its just that portugal is so good. i am sure you have read my rants over the months raving on about how much i love the place – truth be said, i am ready to return. remember, to live in portugal is the whole reason why i left my jobs in england, sold my house and possesions and took a monster road trip all that time ago. I grew my hair, stopped shaving, gave my iron and ironing board away and generally enjoyed the good things in life.
i long for the ability to go to the beach and sit there all day and surf at will, i miss bumping into my friends that are doing exactly the same, i miss the pace of life, the dusty roads, the policemen that salute you when they stop you on the roads, all of those 14 sandy beaches that i can reach within 15 minutes of home, the sunshine, the sea breeze, the bubble lounge, mareta with a wave, the dog rock at tonel, work at auto rapo, sean the mad irishman wandering in with beer and soft drinks, ben pissed as a fart, sandrina – oh sandrina, all the hot latinas that live locally, the sunsets, the sunrises, my house , the cats, the dirty germany girls, sagres, belly beach and much much more.
so , soon i will return,surf until my arms drop, fix up my house and generally get backinto the good way of life.
until then, head down and keep working.
The November Archives 