Walking, backpack, happiness

Simplicity is a much underrated state of mind. Easily confused with stupidity, it is a rare situation to find yourself in - or indeed, in which to find yourself. Don't get me wrong, I adore the multitasking attraction of modern technology. I can have business conversations with a boss, political debate with a key player in the profession on which I write, and a filthy chat with a colleague all at the same time - and nobody knows. Unless they can access my emails . . .  In which case, we can take one, two or all three conversations offline and into the arena of texting or Facebook messaging or private email whilst tweeting and writing news for a website.

But for now, I am restricting my fix for these things to first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Friends and family are not compatible with the simple life; and I cannot completely walk away from them as they are the very reason why I need to take a break. I need to break away, regroup and live my life a better and more accessible friend, sister, daughter - but, most of all, mumma.

Bark stripping
Today, we went for a walk. Not an amble or a stroll, but a solid, hard work, 'walking trouser wearing' walk. The kind of walk that makes the balls of your feet burn and your buttocks feel like they have done 12 rounds with a heavyweight boxing champion. We covered 20k - and kept to a promise we made before we left: to see the sun set on the most westerly point of Europe - in Sagres. But this is not simple.
Read all the forums on walking/cycling in the Algarve and they reveal a canine conundrum. They let the dogs out in Portugal - and they can be a hindrance to worthy walkers and smug cyclists. So, a taser is the answer. It stops the hounds in their tracks and strips them of their bark like the winter days strip the trees of theirs. Walking opens up your eyes - to a farmer pacing out his seed sowing, an old lady fetching her bread from the baker shop, the surf dude hostel, aptly named Good Feeling, that rents out surf boards and camper vans, and the cows and goats - and, of course, the frickin' scary dogs.

Sunset, boules - 'tis hard
We roll into town at 5.30pm as the sun is setting in the west. But our desire to sit, drink and watch the sun go down is quashed by a bigger desire to find the next bus out of town. It is cold, our legs ache and we just want to head home. The grand finale ruined by our most basic need for comfort and rest. Christina, we talk about your 500milesforsmiles charity walk as we wait for the bus with a young French couple and three elderly ladies all huddled in the shelter as the evening turns cold without the sun in the sky. Nine men are playing boules opposite as the light disappears. Simple joy.