Assailing my senses...

By now, I think you know how much I love this place, how much I love hitting the water, how much I love walking through the salinas, seeing the birds, the views, enjoying the peace and quiet.

Then yesterday, this perfect world came crashing down around my head – well, only for a couple of minutes, but that was enough. Or maybe it simply made me rethink what paradise is, what it is to each and every one of us.

I woke up early, lay in bed doing some Portuguese (it’s not helping, I assure you), got up, showered, dressed, had breakfast and then decided to seek solace in the surrounding area. I’d checked outside and the weather seemed OK, and so I was off.

I headed down towards the Fisherman’s roundabout, took a right and stomped off westward. Soon enough, I was out of Fuseta and onto the track that leads on to Olhão.

It was beautiful, Simpsons-like.

Eh?

Come on, you know what I mean: a beautiful blue sky with exquisitely-puffy, white clouds. A mate of mine came up with that analogy. I can’t remember which one of my mates, but I liked it, so I’ve nicked it. Personally, I thought that maybe it was Teletubbies-like, but the others weren’t so keen on that. The Simpsons seemed to win the day, so… Anyway, I digress.

It was a beautiful day, Simpsons-like, and nature was all around: birds flying, birds floating, birds calling, a breeze lazing, puffy clouds drifting, me strolling. I was happy.

And then this paradise was shattered:

‘What the hell was that?!’ I asked myself.

There was a raucous noise coming from further down the track. At first, I have to admit, I could only just hear it, but then it grew louder. As it came closer still, I heard it come and go: loud, louder, quieter, so much louder… bloody hell, it was annoying.

And then I saw what it was.

In the distance was someone riding something motorised on the track towards me. I’m sure that the path along the Ria Formosa is for cyclists and walkers only (and the occasional lost tourist car), but maybe I’m wrong.

Anyway, coming towards me was a bloke on a mini-quadbike. It was so ‘mini’ that his knees were sticking out sideways, big time. It reminded me of when I was young, back in the UK, and they used to have miniature train tracks in various parks, for people to ride the train with the driver sitting on top of the engine, rather than inside his tiny cab.

This bloke on his mini-quadbike was coming towards me, revving, dropping the revs, revving again, fumes spewing out of the back, shooting off as fast as he could before slowing down once more. Bloody hell.

There again, he seemed happy enough.

As he came closer, I realised that he was maybe late teens. He was whooping and hollering. He was opening and closing the throttle. He was revelling in his own form of freedom – and he was bloody annoying.

I watched as he passed, swamped in two-stroke smoke, a big smile on his face.

It was then that I thought that just as the peace and quiet of the salinas is my escape, so was the space it offered him. He was loving it, and if I was his age, I’d probably have been loving it too: racing around on a smoke-spewing, chainsaw-sounding mini-bike (blimey, where will the fun be, when you’re only allowed electric crap?!). I couldn’t imagine having more fun when I was his age, and he wasn’t doing any harm, apart from assailing my senses and sensitivities, obviously.

As he disappeared behind me, and I continued on my way, I there and then decided that I need to relax more, stop being such a grumpy old man. The youth of today should be allowed to enjoy the things that I enjoyed when I was young: making a noise, disturbing the peace, doing things that make them happy.

In my youth, I was chased by neighbours, told off for producing too many decibels, shouted at for being in the wrong place. I did things that my grumpy old self (prior to yesterday, obviously) wouldn’t have appreciated. And now? Maybe that way of thinking is changing somewhat. Just maybe.

We’ll see.