But Why Here?

A little glimpse into our sometimes not-so-quiet city.

It was a quiet Sunday morning and I decided to go for a walk around town. There were few people out on the streets. Cafes had just opened up and only a few customers could be seen. It’s my favorite time of day. I strolled over to the main square/park. Our family has a nickname for this park based on a monument that stands in the middle of the square—a name that shows we all have the maturity level of an 11 year-old boy. The town has been a buzz with the harvest festival events but on this morning, everything seemed like a typical, peaceful Sunday morning. Until it wasn’t…

It’s proper name is Jardim da Graça.

Next to the park is one of the largest, if not the largest, churches in town and connected to that is the town’s historical museum. I continued my stroll toward the church when I noticed a small group of people dressed in medieval clothing exiting the historical museum. In Virginia, this would have surprised me. In Europe? Not so much. But, I was intrigued. So, I walked by the historical museum entrance to see a very large group of people all dressed in a similar fashion. Intrigued, I took a seat in the park—something I don’t do nearly enough but always find incredibly pleasant. (Note to self: go sit in the park and enjoy the surroundings more often.) More people showed up to the museum, carrying weapons but not appearing dangerous. Again, things I would not just shrug off in Virginia. Meanwhile, on the other side of the park, members of a marching band were walking in the opposite direction. Now I don’t even know where to look—the medieval people with weapons or the marching band. Oh, the dilemma!

Igreja da Graça and Museu Municipal

I text Chris saying, “Hey, let’s grab a coffee at a cafe. Something’s getting ready to happen in this town.” What it was, I wasn’t exactly sure but there was a definite energy in the air that this was not just a regular ol’ quiet Sunday. As I waited in front of the cafe, the medieval folks came walking by, donning archery gear over their shoulders. They were headed to the town castle for an archery competition as one does when one has a castle in town and is dressed in medieval clothing.

Meanwhile, marching bands began gathering on all of the surrounding streets, warming up their instruments. Police began monitoring traffic on the street indicating the parade was starting soon. It was a parade of six of the municipal’s philharmonic bands, an event organized as part of the harvest festival. Chris and the kids joined me at the cafe where we could see and hear the various bands play. Our quiet Sunday was already off to an eventful start.

Shortly after the parade, the girls and I took a walk to the castle to try and catch a glimpse of the archery competition. Well, actually, I took a walk to the castle. Alone. Initially, the girls didn’t want to join me but then they weren’t sure they wanted to be solely responsibly for our new energetic, eats-all-the-things, puppy. They called me just after I left the house and asked to join me. So, off we went to an archery competition.

The castle was full of activity. The medieval folks lined the sidewalks and walls of the castle ready to take their shot. It was at this time when I thought, “Maybe I shouldn’t be here?” and more importantly, “Maybe I shouldn’t have an energetic puppy here?” A man approached me and kindly explained what was going on, that I was absolutely welcomed here as was my leashed dog, and provided the rules for observing (i.e., when to be quiet, when to walk, etc.). It’s like watching golf. We strolled up the steps toward the church and found a spot that offered a view of several targets. Set up all around the castle grounds and within the castle were targets to which small groups of competitors would stop at, take their shot, and write their scores. There were various types of bows being used. As I am not remotely familiar, I will refrain from trying to explain further. I can only offer that it was very entertaining and felt like a most appropriate venue for this competition. Also, my puppy was surprisingly well-behaved and we did not get shot or yelled at…mostly.¹

As if this wasn’t enough fun for my quiet Sunday, it was the last day of the Tasquinhas at our local expo hall. Each year for the harvest festival, all of the freguesias² in the municipality come together in the expo hall to serve a regional cuisine. Last year, we had just moved to the town and this event felt a little overwhelming. This year, however, I was determined to give it a try. And, my regret this year is that I only went once.

Inside the expo hall, bagpipers and accordionists were playing, wine tastings were set up to showcase all of the regional wines, regional sweets were on display, and approximately 10 to 15 little “restaurants” lined the walls of the hall. While each freguesia served a specialty dish, all had a full menu so the decision was quite difficult. We chose the one that served a Bacalhau à Brás (Chris’ choice) and Choco Frito (my choice) plus sangria…obviously. The meal was incredible and the local wines delicious.

As we made our way to the door, with our one last wine sample in hand, a man stopped us and asked if we were American. (I’d like to think we don’t stick out in a crowd but I think it’s been confirmed enough that we, in fact, very much stick out in a crowd. It’s probably the constant confused look on our faces.) We confirmed and his eyes lit up. “You are!?” he exclaimed. We stood and talked to our new friend for almost 20 minutes. His dream is to visit the western half of the United States while his wife dreams of New York City. He knew every popular American movie ever made. And, he had a really great Robert De Niro impression and was quite excited when we told him that. We said our goodbyes but not before he asked for our contact information because he wants to have us silly Americans over for a proper fish dinner.

We often get asked why we chose to live in our current city. It’s not a tourist town. It’s not a beach town. It’s not a huge city. Locals are often intrigued why we chose this location. But, I think after reading this post and looking at the pictures, it should be quite obvious. It’s such a lovely place. It’s a peaceful and quiet city…but not too quiet. We still have our exciting Sundays every now and then. It’s just a beautiful place to call home right now.

1. I stepped off the sidewalk at one point to get a glimpse of what was down the hill and was immediately corrected by a medieval man that I should not do that.

2. A freguesia is the government level under the municipality. Within a municipality there are many subdivisions or neighborhoods where smaller local government offices, known as junta da freguesia, handle residential matters (i.e., residency certificates, dog licenses, etc.).