Sunday Breakfast

Breakfast is included with our stay so Mark tried it yesterday and told me I had to drag my sorry bum out of bed and go so I did. We staggered it because River is an excellent dog in all but staying alone and her life has been seriously disrupted, happily yes but…, so we are allowing her to rule the roost. Another reason for that aforementioned nest. Back to breakfast. It is a lovely spread, pastries, wonderful breads, cheeses (remember that cheese from the other evening, it was here!), fruits – you get the picture. I ordered eggs since life without eggs is terrible and I ate melons, cheese and these tiny bright red sausages (swaszagggje) braised with basil I think while I waited and waited and waited. Second cup of nespresso, these machines are omnipresent here, and waited. It seems the kings and queens of our world, or at least the Portuguese world, are not pressed for time. No one around me seemed at all annoyed – life as normal, I remind myself to adjust by taking a deep breath and remembering to appreciate a different way of living. The pace is significantly more relaxed everywhere we have been but here is a step beyond that. What strikes you most in Portugal is the graciousness of those you meet, not just here, but in all the places we have been. Maybe the graciousness is partially part of just accepting time cannot be rushed – what the hell does that mean? Don’t know but it seems right somehow.