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Mature Flâneur
A Prehistoric Rite of Spring in an Age of Mass Tourism
Carnivàle 2025 in Podence, Portugal
We lolled around our B&B all morning. Teresa (my beloved Portuguese spouse) and I were in no rush to get going on such a cold morning. Our Portuguese hosts told us breakfast featured their homemade cherry jam and chestnut spread, and nuts from their own trees — almonds, walnuts, hazelnuts. The dried figs were theirs as well, and the fresh-baked bread. The cheeses, honey, dried sausage were all from local farms.
We were in Tràs-os-Montes — “Behind the Mountains” in the north-east corner of Portugal. It’s the most isolated part of the country, a land time forgot. Certainly for a long time the central government forgot about it. Infrastructure lagged, until the EU funded a highway connecting the region to Porto. As a result, people here maintained a millennia-old subsistance economy. They grow most of their own food — delicious, high quality food that is today the envy of the rest of Portugal. And, while the rest of the nation struggles with rising prices and stagnant wages, the self-sufficient folk of Tràs-os-Montes seem to have it pretty good.
But, merda! it is cold here in early March. I looked outside the window and the sky was beginning to spit a mix of rain and snow. Teresa and I put on our…
