Gah, it's so wierd being back in the UK. Everything seems like a dream. Flashes of the last few months come back to me but they are like ridiculous suprises. Did they even happen? So I get back to sorting out my photo albums and writing Hive posts, determined to have some kind of record of this snippet of a year-that-shoulda-lasted-longer-but-didn't.

After the long hilly drive up from the Douro valley where Butters broke down, we went to the place of dick biscuits and James Bond sparking wine. Okay that probably makes no sense, so let's start with a carpark. It's a good a place as any to explain a day. The app Park4Night is handy to find places to free camp (or not) and so we ended up in a carpark in a town called Amarante, which was just a place on a map for us to begin with.

But of course, like all places, it reveals its treasures. When we arrived in the carpark we were given an enthusiastic shaka by a Discovery driver, who clearly loved our car, and gestured us over for a chat in broken English. He assured us it was safe to camp, and told us he'd be back later with oranges from his tree, and he was true to his promise.

The river there was huge and beautiful. It must be wonderful to swim there in the summer. We marvelled at the ruins of the mill - probably an olive press - and how those huge millstones would have been stolen for some one's gardne ornament in Australia. Yet here huge stones are everywhere, rock solid history, so to speak.

I'm not sure if I told you before but somehow I ended up in a Portuguese whatsapp group for Landie owners. Hilarious. When one heard we were camped up at Alimante, he came down with his Series and brother in law from an hour away to chat. The Portuguese are so friendly and their Landie obsessions is crazy. Like attracts like, I guess!

So it's the brother in law that tells us about the phallic biscuits. They're a tradition in the area. Something to do with spinsters. What hilarious fun it must be to hand each other dick biscuits covered in cream. The men giggled as the explained it. Sure enough, we'd find them the next day, but I wasn't going to buy any biscuit shaped like a penis for 5 euro.

They also told us about a special sparkling wine common to the region called vinho verde (tinto - red) and the best place to get them - Adega Kilowatt - and so we followed their instructions and Jamie enjoyed it with an incredible roll with jamon and camebert for breakfast, as you do. Me, I had muesli. It was way to early for any kind of wine for me.

Pierce Brosnan had enjoyed it there too, apparently, as a signature on the wall attested.

The centre of Amarante was cool enough - we liked it. It traces its origins right back to the Romans and the later the 13th centry hermit whose miracles attracted pilgrims.

Butters went over a fun bridge which spanned the Tamega River, a notable defense during the Peninsular War, particularly in 1809, when General Silveira led Portuguese troops in defending the São Gonçalo Bridge against Napoleon's forces - even though it was captured, it became a significant symbol of Portuguese heroism strength against resistance.

Vive la resistence.

So yeah, this random place on the map had a little bit more to it than met the eye. All told, we didn't spend longer than a night and an hour in the morning here, but it was enough before the rain came in and we were on our way.

With Love,

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