APAPS 1: What´s In A Name ? or APAPS begins again.

This is what I sent round to a select few the other day:

“Amigos de Peripatetic Breakfasters de Silves

“I am being reminded that I should restart the early morning walks, mainly in the Silves area, that we have done for the past few summers. The APBS has nothing to do with the AWWs who can still walk, nor the WAGs who are trying to relive the old days when they could still walk.

The APBS suits restless individuals who can get up early, stretch their legs for an hour or so, and can then concentrate on getting a breakfast. The numbers have to be kept small, because there are one or two ladies who don´t want to be kept waiting too long for their fried eggs and tomatoes, and we don´t patronise large, fast-food eateries. So let me know please if you do want to take part this year.

There are one or two others who want to join in but, as I say, numbers should be limited, and I will only get in touch with them if any of you elite few wish to opt out. (Don´t mention BREXIT !)

This Wednesday we will start at 7 am near Silves, but the exact location remains a secret until I get your replies.

PS. Aristotle was a guy who used to teach while walking around the Lyceum in Athens, and peripateticism is one way of referring to the philosophy of Aristotle, but we don´t need intellectual rigour on these morning strolls. The mental focus should be on the breakfast to follow.”

I had several replies, in a variety of styles.

Rod was on his way to UK; Antje was also offshore; Ingrid was busy with social commitments, as was a new invitee, who shall remain unnamed for the time being..

PauladeV wrote:  “Many thanks for your generous offer, but I regret that because I am losing so much sleep over the referendum, I am unlikely to be other than in a comatose state as you set off from Silves at 0700.  I subscribe to the view that if God had wanted us to force ourselves out of bed, at what is often colloquially described as 'an Ungodly hour' he would not have ordained 10 am or so starts for the WAGS.  I am perfectly able to absorb a Full English, or even a tosta mista without the necessity for nocturnal rambling. And further there is the serious matter of bowel habits, which only come to pass when my body and senses have settled into the day.  Therefore I must decline, but as a sop to your bizarre and curious proclivities, I am prepared to put it to Myriam that to maintain our honour and standing in the community she should sacrifice herself, and I will sacrifice my morning cup of tea which she would normally bring me when Good Morning Britain comes on the TV.  For those that put personal comfort before suffering, the LAGOS Branch of the WAGS will continue to embark on walks local to LAGOS, starting well after the sun does, and with the mission of a quest for the perfect tosta mista. See you post meridian, Paul.”

(Thanks, Paul; we will not dis your bowels, no way) 

Frank wrote:    “Morning John, can't match Paul's epistle! I think it is going to be very hot. I will decline. I guess you saw 42c at weekend.  a lot of pre watering.”

(Not sure if that´s a no for just the one walk, or a no for the whole summer – but always welcome, Frank)

Janet wrote:   “Dear John, I was about to respond...promise....but the last couple of days have been so hectic.  After a lovely trip to Porto do Mos today with the family I came back to the car with children to find the front tyre completely flat.  Then no jack in the rightful place.  Find my  emergency roadside call out doesn't cover this situation.  Son in other car goes home to collect said jack. Back he came , changed tyre, spare tyre pressure to low to move car, back home for pump, pump up tyre, drive to Pneus place, punctured tyre no good, two new tyres on front of car....exhausted.  Can't sleep so early morning reply! I would have loved to send you a witty response to your email but not possible.  I would love to walk this summer but have family commitments until the last one goes on the 14 th July.”

(Wit and punctures are irreconcilable bedfellows, I guess.)

But despite all these declines, a reasonable wee group still managed to assemble at Restaurante Mira Rio promptly at 7 am, namely Hazel, Maria, Myriam, Ros, Yves, and JohnH.

In an attempt to retain tradition, the ex-photographer then tried a starter photo, but found that he had lost the selfie timer knack completely:

 

First, he misses out totally.

He then has to bow in apologetic Japanese-style. 

Finally, he makes it.

Starters (left to right): JohnH, Myriam, Aristotle (pour le jour), Ros, Maria, Hazel.

We didn´t hang around after that, because the Restaurante´s coffee machine hadn´t yet built up enough steam pressure to provide starting shots. So the walk took its accustomed route along the canal towards the Clube Nautico. Aristotle (Yves) tried his best to philosophise as we went, but the volume of cheerful feminine vociferation threatened to drown him (out). Fog warning:- the noise is likely to be even louder next week.

Without any untoward incident, we reached the Clube Nautico and its shady verandah.

Bar closed as usual, but plenty of notices on the walls to attract our attention. One in Portuguese seemed to say “We may be out of ice but, with beer, vodka and wine, who cares?” Maria and Myriam debated the poetic possibilities of the words.

Maria claiming that they rhymed; Myriam asserting that there was an essential word missing. And then we had a briefing on the Portuguese conditonal tense. All very intellectual, having Aristotle beaming with pleasure at the momentary academic trend of the conversation until I had to call a halt to all the schoolroom stuff and to give the order to march on.

A few moments later and we were plunged into deepest jungle.

The girls found themselves having to fight some of the toughest lemon grass this side of the Darien Isthmus. But they made it through without too much complaint and we carried on, then swung south-westwards up a modest hill on a dirt track, and then made our way back down to the canal.

Here, Maria made friends again with the German couple living in the little Cottage by the River and, as we chatted with them, we introduced ourselves as being of, respectively, Malaysian, Chinese, French, Irish, Portuguese and Scots origin. Not an Englishman in sight !

But the lure of breakfast was too strong for all this international fraternisation to continue long, and we set smartly off back along the canal. All was going smoothly when two tremors disturbed the calm of the morning. The respective merits of butter and margarine were being debated pre-breakfast, when Hazel was to be heard very clearly saying that she preferred margarine to butter – she actually meant the opposite – but even so Rose nearly fell into the canal with shock. Then Myriam disappeared and failed to turn  up at the end of the walk.

Back at the Restaurante 15 minutes or so later, we were all busy ordering our snacks and drinks and still there was no sign of her. I was beginning to wonder how I could explain things to Paul – to lose 17 per cent of the walkers on a walk like this would simply not be acceptable -  when I succeeded in making phone contact with her and was able talk her down into a safe landing. What had happened was that she had stopped to answer an urgent phone call and had lost sight of the rest of us and then had walked on and on to the end of the canal way past the Restaurante. Being a very, very  senior AWW she of course didn´t panic, and had even took the time to photograph some duckling before retracing her path.

In her own words, “Here is what I captured when I continued on my own to the end of the canal today. The mother duck escaped from me by flying down to the river! There were two ducklings, but one dived into the water. ”

This is our track for the day with what I guess was Myriam´s private excursion shown in green.

The urgency of the phone call was because the Lo/Akehurst penthouse in Lagos was without electricity, the fuse box trip switch refusing to reset, and Myriam was required to deal with this and the EDP long-distance. One can but guess that Paul, left to his own devices, had mucked up the system while trying to recharge the batteries of his new electric bicyclette. (See below).

Anyway, with Myriam safely recovered, all ended well for the day; or it would have, had it not been for the manteiga episode. It had by now been definitely established that butter was the preferred spread, so all tostas, torradas, etc. etc. were ordered specifically with manteiga, and our good hostess confirmed that manteiga would indeed be provided.

They all came out with margarine.

Conversation then reverted to true Aristotelian educational mode once more and we estrangeiros were instructed that manteiga is a generalised term covering all buttery look-a-likes and that, to be precise when ordering, one should ask for manteiga de vaca, and further that, if one is to avoid the possibility of being served with a bifana de vaca with margarine (are you still with me? do pay attention at the back), one should really specify manteiga de leite de vaca. Rose, being cautious as well as patriotic, will bring her own supply of Kerrygold in future. Why not indeed ? After all, Kerrygold butter comes from the milk of grass-fed cows that are free of growth hormones. The unsalted version is an all-natural, cultured-cream Irish butter with a complex, nuanced flavour. Right on!

Yves maintained the Irish theme by changing into his very smart Leinster strip, apparently of Irish cotton/linen stuff despite there being a small descriptive label inside saying Made in China. We voted in Ireland´s favour  - watch the football – deciding that it meant that only the label was of Chinese manufacture. He also used his Gallic charm to persuade our good hostess to part with the Cristal panama advertising freebie.

And Yves also contributes the following photo of a mystery object taken during the walk for this week´s Caption Competition.

Answers, on a postcard please, to Yves.

Peaceful as our surroundings at Mira Rio were, we weren´t entirely cut off from the real world. Temporarily non-walking associates were in touch with us even as we breakfasted.

Rod sent a text from Faro: “Whilst you are doubtless roaming the dawn hills we are plodding through the Faro airport security line ( probably in excess of statutory WAGS 10k!)
Join you in July!
Rod”

and Paul chipped in: “Alas I failed to toe the line. 7 am start in Silves is against all WAGS principles. Myriam might have made it as she definitely wasn't here when I woke up.
      I went out for the inaugural ride on my new ebike. I managed just over 12 km in 45 minutes,  but at a great cost to my undercarriage,  back and wrists.
    The hills were not a problem  except for the downhill when I reached frightening speeds, but the pedal assist level 3 and CVT gear tech made the up slopes feel flat.
Have a good trip,  and see you in July
        Paul”

I suppose that we will now be kept updated on Komoot each time Paul goes out on his ebike, that is, if he manages to keep the batteries powered up without blowing the whole of Lagos´electricity network. We await photos of the new bit of kit.

And now, to conclude, an explanation of why APBS has been changed to APAPS. It struck me that APBS wasn´t a particularly snappy acronym and also that Amigos de Peripatetic Breakfasters de Silves was a rather clumsy mix of Portuguese and English, verbally and grammatically. Then I discovered that Portuguese which, of course, has always had a perfectly good word for breakfast happily also uses the word peripatético. So, with a felicitous alternation of A´s and P´s, we arrived at:- Amigos de Pequenos-Almoços Peripatéticos de Silves.

It should do us for the rest of the summer.