Bloody hell… already?

Currently, I’m slumped on my sofa, having been out for a long walk. I’ve also done a bit of rowing (yes, I’ve bought myself an indoor rowing machine for some reason). This, of course, means that I’m dripping with sweat.

The heat is here, but that’s not what I’m talking about today. The heat is expected. No, what I’m talking about here today is the masses, the masses of humanity that have descended upon Fuzeta. It’s not August, it’s not even July. It’s still early June! What is going on?

Coming back from my walk along the Ecovia, I passed the large apartments on the western front of the village, nipped down the steps to the gravel road/path that runs alongside the water, and there I found cars parked as far as the eye could see. This normally happens in August when Portugal is on holiday. It also happens on the day that the market rolls into town. But today? This early in the summer? Bloody hell…

I continued making my way home, past the Zona Ribeirinha, past the campsite, heading on towards the beach, where I saw… bloody hell, the beach was absolutely packed! Jam-packed, in fact!Colourful parasols stood proudly en masse, hardly a spec of sand left for the latecomers who were herding their way beachward in front of me.

As I walked along the boardwalk, I could see people sunbathing, people swimming, people lounging. I could see people eating, people drinking, children playing. I even saw a couple playing Frescobol, that really annoying game whereby two people, each with a bat, hit a small rubber ball between them as many times as they can. I think you already know my thoughts on this – a mind-numbing, inane activity that no sane person would dream of playing away from the beach. So, why would they play it ON the beach?

The I heard the call… ‘BOLINHAS’!

Even the bolinhas man was out and about, selling his chocolate- and vanilla-filled doughnuts.

Yes, today the beach was heaving.

As I stood there mesmerised at the sight in front of me, I heard a loud, high-pitched droning sound. My first thought?

‘Bloody hell, already? The jet skis are back then.’

What the attraction is, I’m not quite sure, but blimey, they’re annoying – whizzing up and down just yards from the swimming area. Please just go away and do you’re whizzing somewhere else. Sorry, I feel that I’m beginning to sound like a grumpy old man… Maybe I am? Who knows? And do I care? That really is the sign of a grumpy old man!

Anyway, I made my way past Borda d’Agua, which was also heaving, and headed homeward. A couple of hundred metres later, I passed the slipway, and here it was, what I can only call, carnage. Vehicles, dragging boats on trailers behind them, were trying to reverse down the slipway towards the water, at the same time blocking a stream of traffic behind them. I have to say, they were attempting a near impossible task, since other selfish drivers had done the same thing and then simply left their vehicles and trailers parked on the slipway, virtually blocking all feasible access for others. That’s a big no-no isn’t it?

I moved on.

O farol was heaving too, as was the pavement across the road from O Farol, the pavement that I was trying to utilise. A lady was playing her accordion and people had gathered and were dancing, blocking much of the way through. The queue for the ferry to the island was even worse. It actually did block my way forward and no one was moving to allow me access. I gave up and stepped onto the road and squeezed my way alongside the stationary traffic.

Fifty metres later, I ran into Karen and Michael, and for the first time, I realised the cause of all this mayhem. Michael mentioned that today, 10th June, was a public holiday, which I sort of knew. He went on to tell me that it was Portugal Day, the day on which the Portuguese people celebrate the life and commemorate the death of the poet Luís de Comões. Comões died in 1580 and is considered to be Portugal’s and the Portuguese language’s greatest poet, often likened to Shakespeare, Milton, Homer, Virgil and Dante.

Michael went on to mention something about Comões being shipwrecked at one point in his life and then swimming to shore using only one arm, since his other arm was holding his greatest work, Os Lusíadas, out of the water. How true this is, no one knows, but you possibly learn something new every day.

So, the good news is: hopefully today is only a one off, that summer hasn’t arrived early and that the summer season isn’t extending longer than the usual one to two months.

I can accept a couple of months of not being able to move, but I have to admit, I do prefer it when Fuzeta is nothing more than a sleepy little fishing village.

Hopefully, tomorrow, things will be back to normal – at least for the next three weeks or so.