We are going to Sao Martinho do Porto at the sound of Zeca Afonso. It is a three and a half hour journey through the North national highway towards the South, hearing nothing but the revolutionary songs that did not reflect the holiday mood that we were in. Up until now I associated this songwriter to this location that is only 100 km away from the capital of the small rectangle that is my country. The houses that stretch along the valley are painted white, surrounded with lush colors and patios with manicured gardens. Everything is so intimate in Sao Martinho do Porto. The families who live here knew each other for several generations. All major holidays they converge for this tiny dot on the map, where any day of the week serves as a perfect pretext for gatherings, to update small talk, for parties and summertime loves. The beach is a natural small bay waves that provide gentle dips and where sails simply slide in its crystalline waters. It is necessary to walk a lot in their fine sands to lose your footing. It is also a safe haven for children's play, the idyllic setting for the first salty kisses and loving complicity, reinforced by the slopes of the dunes. In the town center, local commerce animates the streets with their colorful shops and terraces in front of the sea, the Portuguese sea, the blue.
Going south is Peniche. The Atlantic is loose. It is the city of the waves. It's rough sea that draws giant tubes in the beach. It is also a peninsula, one of its extremes is the Cabo Carvoeiro that ends abruptly with the ship of Crows, a rock that broke from the land buffeted by strong winds, in the background the Berlengas islands. To the southwest on the plateau of Cesaredas, one can see the caves of Malgasta, Lapa Furada and Cova da Moura, a quiet legacy of a time when men were sheltering in its depths. It is also one of the most important ports of Portugal. The fishermen are the masters of these troubled waters and every day they bring fish and seafood in abundance for auction. It is time for a stew them and a large complicity, as if we had known for a long time, all seasoned with the words of the brave, of the unparalleled Zeca to his friends.
