At the Adega

On Sundays, after church, we walk down the hill into town and have lunch at the Adega Velha. Lunch consists of local cheese, bread and olives, (and tintinhos, of course, from those huge amphorae) usually, but today we were given bits of liver as well.

The guy sitting on the bench is Ângelo, 84 next month. Once when I walked into the Adega - a very male space - without Mike, he insisted I stay and bought me a drink. The pandemic has really aged him, and he can't drink alcohol anymore, but comes in and has a non-alcoholic beer.

Gotta go... Netty and girls have arrived for a walk. Will do gratefuls later.

Later. Gratefuls:
- lovely walk with Netty and the girls, up to the Chapel and down to the Lake; they leave at crack of dawn back to NY
- that Ermelinda's nephew, Carlos, is recovering so well, after the doctors not thinking he'd survive his accident
- Mike having a lovely heart-to-heart with Zé Maria in the Adega

Now, looking forward to seeing everyone at Sem Fim in a bit!