'As we make moves out of the sweltering Algarve region, past Lisboa and up to the arid north, I am struck by the ubiquity of the homes, demeanor and general languor of the place. People of all ages carry themselves with a stately ease, immediately commanding respect and exuding confidence in their simple purpose. Stepping with swagger, bronzey leather-skinned octogenarians weave in and out of rudimentary cobble stone streets bordered by white washed walls that stretch up to red tiled roofs. Perhaps they are on their way to the talho (butcher's) or pasteleria (cafe/bakery) as the concept of a supermarket or supermercado is a bit too offensive for those who relish days past. In fact they have a word for this special brand of nostalgia, saudade, which is reflected in the melancholic art of singing fado. Saudade has been described as a "vague and constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist ... a turning towards the past." (thanks Wiki!). My cultural psychology text also states that Portugal ranks relatively highly on past vs. future orientation.
Potentially lending to this overall orientation to a bygone era is the sheer number of older folk out and about. The history-major tells me that during Salazar’s repressive regime, women were seen as mere reproduction machines (important for the purpose of providing more workers) explicating the vast numbers of seniors wherever one looks. Although the origins of this particular demographic boom might be more than questionable, the warm acceptance of an oft-forgotten age-group is refreshing to say the least. We saw a great number of hot-piece pee-paws, what with their straw Panamas and suspenders, no word of a lie.'
!Yay to ageing!
