Idanha-A-Vida

March! Oh, how good it sounds. Happiness. The doggies were civilized today as well; I took them out at 8 o’clock. Then they got their breakfast, and I — much to the great joy of Sunday and March — crawled back into bed to read for about an hour and a half. By the time I pulled myself together, the sun was shining beautifully. I made my breakfast: delicious roasted peppers, an omelet, poured myself a glass of gazpacho (a Spanish vegetable soup that you eat/drink cold), and sat out in front of the door on the little sunny terrace. I gave the dogs a “puzzle” to play with.

I enjoyed the pleasant warmth of the sun, the fine breakfast, my dogs’ quiet industriousness around me. Then I brewed a coffee, warmed some milk, took two nice cold Mon Chéris out of the box (one is not enough, three are too manyh = two is the perfect amount), and with my eyes closed I unwrapped them and placed this little man-made wonder on my tongue. There was the crunch, the tiny amount of liqueur spread in my mouth, and a satisfied sigh left my lips: yes, this is a worthy start to a day that promises to be great.

The plan was to go on an excursion to the castle of Idanha-a-Vida, which is 12 kilometers from us, twenty minutes by car. This region is very beautiful and soothing, but the bends urge the driver to stay alert. We arrived; I parked well below the castle so the dogs would have enough time to do their business and move around a bit too. 

According to the information board: “Thanks to the magnificent collection of ruins, this is one of the country’s most important archaeological sites. In the 1st century BC, a Roman city, the capital of Civitas Igaeditanorum, was founded here. Later, in the time of the Suebi and the Visigoths, it was an episcopal seat. In the 8th century it was occupied by Muslims, then in the 12th century the Christians took it back. In the 13th century it was donated to the Knights Templar, and traces of the various periods can still be seen on it today, testifying that several civilizations continuously inhabited this area.”

Description from Wikipedia: "The Suebi or Suevi (Suebi, Suevi), based on the etymology of their name, were probably relatives or part of the Swabians (Schwaben), a group of West Germanic peoples that included, among others, the Marcomanni, the Quadi, the Hermunduri, the Semnones (not to be confused with the Senones), and perhaps the Lombards. According to Indo-European linguists, the name derives from the Proto-Germanic word *swēbaz, which is derived from the root *SWE (= one’s own person)."

In the 1st century they lived in areas along the Elbe River. Some of their groups were driven from their settlements by the Huns; these partly settled in Alsace, Bavaria and Switzerland, where they were absorbed into the other Germanic peoples. Their westernmost branch, however, penetrated into Hispania around 409, where in the northwestern region it established a semi-independent kingdom. Their Christian king, Rechiart, was defeated by the Visigoths in 456, but the last Suebi territories only came under Gothic rule in 585.

The Western Goths, or Visigoths, were the western branch of the Gothic people that split in two at the end of the 3rd century. They created their first independent state in the neighborhood of the Eastern Goths in what is now Romania, then, due to the Huns’ attack, they moved west. Their last independent state existed in what is now Spain until the Arab conquest. The origin of the name Visigoth is the Latin Visigothi, or Wesi, meaning good, worthy, so it has nothing to do with the noun ‘water.’"

Armed with all this knowledge, we set off to explore the place. At the entrance to the castle, two dogs greeted us. They immediately got to work, and my dogs underwent a serious inspection. Fortunately, they found everything in order, although one of the guards followed us for quite a while.

As we passed by the bell tower, a stork flew over us. I noted the place (it was easy, because there was only one bell tower in this small village) and I hoped I might see it again today. I really like storks. 

There are truly many old memories in this little place, yet I was much more captivated by nature. I had a very pleasant walk with the dogs on the other side of the bridge built in Roman times (then rebuilt, rethought here and there, and rebuilt again), where I also let Gerbeaud off the leash. He immediately gave himself over to his passion for digging;  they could drink from the fresh water of the little stream trickling at the foot of the hill, and Panka happily grazed on the vibrant green grass.

On the way back we were very lucky: there were two storks in the nest, and they even put on a show for us: both of them were clattering. Clattering is a form of communication and they use it on several occasions. As an amateur biologist, I judge that these two storks (because it is early in the season) were not mother and child, but an expectant father and mother. “Clattering is one form of greeting between storks. For example, when one member of the pair returns to the nest, they often greet each other with clattering. This behavior strengthens the pair's bond and helps maintain attachment.” I learned this from Wikipedia. Of course, clattering can also be caused by territorial defense and warning the chicks. What’s more, even in the case of an empty nest they clatter, signaling that the nest is occupied and that they are ready to defend it.

At the beginning of the video the phone “shakes” because with one hand I was holding Gerbeaud's leash and an impudent cat was strutting about in front of him behind the safety of the fence.

Slowly we walked back to the car, I gave the dogs water and we set off for home. Opposite the hill our house stands on, there’s a serpentine road such that as we go up, and I look out the window to the left, it feels as if I were sitting on a plane and the aircraft were just taking off. Slowly I leave the landscape behind me and beneath me. Of course, it’s not the first time I’ve seen and experienced something like this, but for some reason now it became very conscious in me and this feeling, this sight, really grabbed me. My senses are sharpened :o)

At home I opened a pleasant, nicely chilled white Vinho Verde, I wrote, selected photos, cooked; meanwhile I listened to Best of U2, sang and danced. 

After dinner I booked our next accommodations: two nights in Porto, three in the Douro Valley.

Then a little round with the kids and good night.