Either An APAPS Postscript or An APAPS Early Warning: 2018.10.31

Acting on a mistaken belief that the WAGS had gone into temporary abeyance with Rod stuck on a Danube sandbank south of Budapest, yours truly invited a select few to come on a recce-cum-walk with Hazel and himself on Wednesday 31st October, the idea being to explore a few of the hitherto-unknown tracks in the hills behind Pedreira which had become open to view following the Monchique fires in August.

In the event, Rod had apparently avoided the riverine sandbanks and, for reasons I am currently finding it  hard to follow, had also escaped also the clutches of the Neapolitan Mafiosi, and did return to advertise a WAGS walk but, alas, that was only after my limited invitation had been issued and accepted.

As it happened, three charming ladies then dropped out at the last moment for their own private reasons; and so it was that only Yves turned up, somewhat hesitantly it must be said, on a rather damp day.

It was in fact damp enough for most of the local work force in Pedreira to have taken refuge in Retiro dos Pescadores where they were busily engaged in knocking back the odd aguardente or two while surveying the weather, and they looked on in amusement or amazement ( it was hard to tell which) as the three of us donned our rain gear and set off into the early morning mists.

A new track was found and successfully ascended. What is more, we found that it soon linked up with other well-known routes. One or two pieces of the jigsaw remain to fall in place but I guess that I now have a reasonably new variation of a route for APAPS next year, or maybe even for the more energetic WAGS this season.

We were heading into the far north, going quite well, when the mists descended with a vengeance and we decided that we should not go on where we could not see.So we turned for home.

In the event, the three of us covered 13.5 kms, and that was only because I missed a key turn off point on our route home – blame it on the weather – and then had to back-track; but it should be a 10 km track with not too much of a climb when finalised.

Total time:- 3 hrs 59 mins

Moving time:- 3 hrs 20 mins

Average moving speed: 4 kph

Ascent:467 metres.

No umbrellas were unfurled on this walk.

But never mind the details, back at Pescadores, hot coffees,sopas da feijãoa and double medronhos more than compensated for our having been out in the rain. And the expedition had given Yves ample opportunity to practice his monsoon photography skills and indulge in a bit of photographic licence as well:-

And for those of a disturbingly statistically –fixated turn of mind, here are a few key numbers summarising the 2018 APAPS season, (2017 equivalents in brackets).

Aggregate of walkers 134 (115)

Total ascent 2826 metres ( 3229)

Distance covered 89.98 kms (87.78 kms)

Aggregate of breakfasters 139 (121)

Number of eggs consumed 348 (303)

Rashers of bacon 417 (363)

Buttered toasts 556 (484)

APAPS 18.12. 19.09.18: Casa Esperanca End-of-Term Extravaganza

The early morning sun was still struggling to rise above the horizon when the first arrivals came in, demanding their immediate coffee fix.They sat down to natter,

remembering no doubt the previous year´s end-of-term session when Yves had arrived on crutches, for some long-forgotten reason,

and Janet had departed in a reboque truck.

No such drama this year but, even so, it took a lot of prodding to stop the nattering and to set up the Starter photo. The only one ready for the first shot was Sascha:-

but, eventually, we got there.

Present, from the back:- Chris, Paul, Rod, JohnH, Yves, Myriam, Ingrid, Dina, Hazel, Antje, Jill, Terry, Maria.

And Sascha and Java on parade, too. There were also four other genuineTilley hats besides the three in the photo.

The walk was uneventful, along the well-known Torre e Cercas tracks.

The Track

The statistics (for what they are worth, the main interest of the day being the breakfast):-

Distance: 6.99 kms. Total time: 2 hours 7 mins. Moving time: 1 hour 44 mins.

Average moving speed: 3.4 kph. Ascent: 171 metres.

Tilley co-efficient: 54 percent, or 62 per cent under Aussie Rules.

A garden tree seemed to be of interest to some.

When we arrived at the cross-roads for the first time, the two designated cooks left us and headed back to tend their hotplates.

Later on, Ingrid paused to take a lengthy swig from her bottle, which attracted speculative glances

Ingrid with bottle

while the Leader sat patiently.

Back to base in just over the two hour mark, to be greeted by that most welcoming of home-coming odours, frying bacon.

And so to breakfast.

I have scoured the works of APAPS´ two patron philosophers for their thoughts about this defining moment of the day, to little effect. Aristotle pays it no attention although, of course, his mantra was  μηδὲν ἄγαν (nothing too much.)

Confucious, likewise, ignores it, while still having a lot to say about food. For instance:- “harmony and blending of dishes is important in a meal”;  “eat only until seven tenths full – control of portions promotes longevity”; “food and friends are inseparable parts of life”; “you need not limit drinking, but do not drink to the point of confusion.”

But then, when I was short of inspiration on the subject, Paul pointed me in the direction of St Thomas Aquinas. Now, this hair-shirted worthy´s writings are not among my normal bedside reading, I have to confess, so I was intrigued to see what he would have to say. But what I found was not at first at all encouraging. Thomas Aquinas was something of a guru to the  Europeans of the  Middle Ages and it seems that they largely eschewed breakfast, because, in his Summa Theologica, he had listed praepropere—eating too soon—as one of the ways to commit the deadly sin of gluttony; the eating of a morning meal, following that logic, was generally considered to be an affront against God and the self. This was all beginning to look to me like another like a dead-end. I didn´t want to have to rely again on the familiar Somerset Maugham quotation about three English breakfasts a day being the only way to eat well in England.

But then I found that there were some exceptions to those Middle Ages prohibitions. Labourers were allowed a breakfast—they needed the calories for their morning exertions—as were the elderly, the infirm, and children. I am sure that, as APAPS and perhaps WAGS, we can be included in the labourer/elderly category as being extra-calory-entitled. And, besides, since we exert ourselves by walking beforehand, then surely the sainted Tom would admit that the  APAPS are doubly justified in partaking of a post-perambulatory repast and pronounce his benediction.

So, after swilling down our choice of Tomato Juice Specials or Buck´s Fizz, we could, with a clear conscience and without fear of gluttony, attack what our two splendid cooks had laid on for us. Luckily, Yves (when he could stop from fooling around with flowers and bouncing rubber eggs) ……………………

……………………..was at hand to record the delights before us.

“Our two splendid cooks”

And this is what we were offered – not just a feast for the eyes, but great scoff.

And the Punters seemd happy enough.

Ingrid with another bottle

There was tea service for the afficionados,

while JohnH had fun pouring the Buck´s Fizzes, once he had managed to stop the fizz exploding on uncorking the bottle. Apparently the secret to keeping the bubbles in the bottle is, according to the Whittles, to stick a finger up the bottom………………

………….of the bottle.

This will require some practice. How one does the thing with the finger while at the same time holding the bottle securely and easing the cork out of it, I don´t yet know. Well, I have a year to work on it.

There were sideshows to the eating and drinking, of course.. Myriam and Rod seemd to be getting on quite well

until she suddenly tried to strangle him

with one of the prize metre-long beans which Hazel was trying to sell.

Then the Paul Visme T-shirt Boutique made its appearance in a side room -

and potential customers had their measurements taken, JohnH even being forcibly stripped by an enthusiastic salesgirl in the process. No photo of that available, thank goodness.

But just to remind you of the great value you will get for your money, here is the special product proudly modelled by the creative artist for the camera man.

Place your orders now.

But to return to that philosophical question of when does good eating over-step the mark and become gluttony, let us just consider for a moment a list (from Wikepedia) of some of the foods that may be included in a full breakfast:-

• “eggs; fried, scrambled or poached
• fried or grilled bacon, also referred to as "rashers" or "slices"
• sausages or sausage patties
• white pudding
• black pudding
• kidneys, grilled or fried
• potato, either sautéed or served as chips, potato waffles, potato bread, potato cake, or hash browns
• bread, usually toasted or fried
• soda bread (common in Ireland, and available in both white and brown varieties)
• pancakes
• baked beans
• fried mushrooms
• fried, grilled, or tinned tomatoes
• fried haggis (in Scotland)
• oatcakes (in Scotland)
• fruit pudding (in Scotland)
• potato (or "tattie") scones (in Scotland and Ireland)
• sliced sausage, also known as Lorne sausage (in Scotland)
• Spam, often fried in slices (in the UK)
• laverbread (in Wales)
• grilled smoked mackerel/kippers
• cockles (in Wales)
• hog's pudding (in Cornwall and Devon)”

As you can see, our breakfast selctions are comparatively modest; we can safely acquit ourselves of any charge of gluttony. “Spam” ugh !  Although I do rather like the idea of kidneys (devilled preferably) and fried haggis for next year.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, that´s APAPS for another season.Thanks for your attendance and, especially at this closing breakfast, for your contributions in kind and in cash, Hazel´s Bombeiros Fund has benefited by some Euros 82 as a result.

(Photo credits: Antje, Hazel, JohnH, Myriam, Paul, Yves)

Stop Press

For his particularly super photos, the pictorial sub-committee have just awarded Yves the Distinguished Insignia of the French Army Knife.

And, to close, a song in praise of sparkling wine. Right click on this link

https://youtu.be/rMEnLaoXolY 

for “Viva Il Vino Spumeggiante”

(Mascagni: Cavalleria Rusticana: Jonas Kaufman.)

APAPS 18.11.5: 12.09.18: Poet´s Corner or Pedreira one more time

Why walk number 11.5?  And why Poet´s Corner?

To answer the first question, one has to be sensitive to, and allow for, the RCB´s superstitions. He was concerned that, if this had been APAPS 12 (which it would have been in this year´s series – if the cancelled APAPS 18.7 is still included in the series, which it is ,numerically speaking – please do keep up at the back and please do pay attention), then the season´s  Grand Finale at Casa Esperança would have been APAPS 18.13. So, by fractionalising the number, I hope to have set his mind at rest. Goodness knows what he is going to think when he sits down at said Grand Finale and finds that we are a company of 13, which at the present moment it looks very much on the cards.

As for the second question, well, I am really at at bit of a loss how this all came about (although I have done my best to identify the poets/lyricists involved)

What happened was the notice about the forthcoming walk was sent out as usual, i.e. date, place, time,etc., etc..

First, I got a poetic reply:-

“When the blue sky has chased the gray skies far away we will be walking ‍♀️ ‍♂️””

(A reference to either “We´ll Meet Again “ Vera Lynn or “When Grey Skies Turn To Blue” Chris Rea )

This reply seems to have been copied to all, because the next reply was:-

“Yes we will be there  soon after dawn has cracked, when morning gilds the skies!”

(German 19th Century Hymn, I think)

This in turn inspired the submission of the following semi-quatrain:-          

“When morning, in the bowl of night, has cast the stone that put the stars to flight.......”..

(Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam /Edward Fitzgerald)

This one  “provoked” a further response from Paul because he has tended to look upon that particular poem as his personal fiefdom. So I challenged him to submit a couplet of his own in turn, whereupon he came up with, not a couplet, but a complete sonnet:-

“Full many a glorious morning have I seen
Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye,
Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;
Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
With ugly rack on his celestial face,
And from the forlorn world his visage hide,
Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:
Even so my sun one early morn did shine,
With all triumphant splendour on my brow;
But out, alack, he was but one hour mine,
The region cloud hath mask’d him from me now.
Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;
Suns of the world may stain when heaven’s sun staineth.”

(William Shakespeare of course)

While I was perfectly happy to get all this stuff (because, hey, it certainly helps to fill up the blog) I was at a bit of a loss as to what to contribute myself, and I had nothing from Belgium, China, France, Germany, Malaysia or Portugal, or indeed Scotland to offer. I had thought of:-

“The heather was blooming, the meadows were mawn,
Our lads gaed a-hunting ae day at the dawn.”

(Robert Burns, of course)

but then I was worried that not everybody would understand all of that.

I had remembered

“when rosie-fingered dawn…….”

(Homer: no,not Sappho, this is a family publication after all)

but then thought the better of it.

Then Yves submitted this lengthy verse

“Le soleil du matin doucement chauffe et dore
Les seigles et les blés tout humides encore,
Et l’azur a gardé sa fraîcheur de la nuit.
L’on sort sans autre but que de sortir ; on suit,
Le long de la rivière aux vagues herbes jaunes,
Un chemin de gazon que bordent de vieux aunes.
L’air est vif. Par moment un oiseau vole avec
Quelque fruit de la haie ou quelque paille au bec,
Et son reflet dans l’eau survit à son passage.
C’est tout.

Mais le songeur aime ce paysage
Dont la claire douceur a soudain caressé
Son rêve de bonheur adorable, et bercé
Le souvenir charmant de cette jeune fille,
Blanche apparition qui chante et qui scintille,

Dont rêve le poète et que l’homme chérit,
Evoquant en ses vœux dont peut-être on sourit
La Compagne qu’enfin il a trouvée, et l’âme
Que son âme depuis toujours pleure et réclame.”

(Paul Verlaine)

A free translation will appear further on in this blog which at the moment is cruising along in self-writing mode.

And to round out the international aspect of our wee group, Myriam contributed the following poem:-

江南好

風景舊曾諳

日出江花红勝火

春來江水绿如藍

能不憶江南

(白居易  Bai Juyi)

Translation will also follow later.

“What about the walk?” do I hear someone cry? Ah yes, the walk. Assemble at 7.15 am for a prompt start at 7.30 am had been the rallying call and, would you believe it, we did exactly that, even managing to fit in a brief “Who´s got the shiniest bald patch?” competition before taking the Starter pic.

The Starters: JohnH, Hazel, Yves, Jill, Terry, Paul, Myriam, Maria, Rod, Janet, and visitor Diane from North Carolina.

Java also present.

Absent:-  Dina (injured), Ingrid (on Real Estate business), Antje and Chris (breakfasting only).

The Track

A well-known route, nothing unusual to note.

The Statistics

Total Distance: 6.25 kms

Total time: 2 hours 16 mins. Moving time: 1 hour 45 mins.

Average moving speed: 4.2 kph.

Total ascent : 223 metres.

The burnt landscape still gave us much to ponder over, even as we took in the new colours.

Not quite dead yet

Looking On The Bright Side

( Right-click here for a bit of music

https://youtu.be/u2UP86bciVA

it makes a break)

Then back to the walk.

    Some spiders had survived

Tilleys to the fore

Then there was the Pescadores breakfast, as good as ever, plus grapes and figs from Senhor Bento´s horta

We were then treated to our first-ever breakfast cabaret, tentatively entitled “Measure For Measure”, starring Myriam, which was a sort of sales pitch for a new line in  Algarve Way/Via Algarviana T~shirts designed by leading maestro Paul. At first, the presentation of the design itself went sedately enough….

but then things began to go swifly downhill when the star of the show demanded public participation and, armed with a wicked measuring tape, seized upon unsuspecting men in her audience.

There were no takers for Paul´s offer to provide similar fiitting room services for the fairer sex.

And now back to the poetry and the translations I promised you.

Re Paul Verlaine, Yves had added:- “For those of you whose appreciation de la belle langue is perhaps limitée, here is a loose translation verging on the nearly approximate; for technical reasons (this writer ain’t no poet, basically), there will be very little attempt at iambic scan or metric rhyme, let alone the use of perceived correct Engrish (q.v.) On y va?”

Verlaine (1844 – 1896) a somewhat louche character, to put it mildly, was a leading light iin the Parisian Decadent movement. This is Yves´s off-the-cuff translation into English:-

“The glow of the morn’ sun warms the oats and porridge still soggy
While the blue bits are still as cold as the night.
We go out for no other reason than we are Walkers;
We follow the levadas and their tall yellow thorny plants
On a grassy knoll with the odd fig-tree.
The air is bracing: here or there a bird flies by
With a stolen tit-bit in its beak and a cat on its tail
Its reflection on the water lingers after it’s gone and
The moggy curses how cold the water is…

However the dreamer cherishes this landscape
Where the Fox’s Glacier Mints caress
His dream of adorable ‘appiness and rocked
The charming mamaries of that young maiden,
A ghostly white apparition that sings and sparkles

And that the poet dreams of and man covets
Evoking in his wishes that might be scoffed at
The Companion whom he has found at last, and the soul-mate
That his soul has ever called for and cried for.

That tender and warm presence at hand’s reach
When the day is new and the night is cold
Just as she gently places her soft foot and playing toes
Against his kidneys and whispers loudly in his sleepy ear:
“Get off my half of the duvet!””

The Phrogue (with apologies to Verlaine)

And Myriam´s poem is by a famous Tang dynasty poet 白居易 Bai Juyi, 772-846 AD. She explains that he was an outspoken government official, critical of the higher authority. Hence his postings went up and down like a yo-yo, depending who was on the throne.His favourite post was in Hangzhou, a scenic place by the river. There he improved the drainage systems and waterways. The poem is a reminiscence of the beauty of the place.

He was a pioneer of the new movement of realism by which a group of like-minded scholars revolutionised writing in simpler ways in order to reach a wider circle of readers. Hence the number of characters in each line are not equal, unlike the older forms of poetry. BTW, he was a very productive poet, liked drinking and produced the most memorable pieces after he had had a few glasses, hence nicknamed Tipsy Poet!  (he´d be an ideal blogger, then.)

Her rough translation of the poem:

“South of the river (Hangzhou) is beautiful,

Knowing well its scenery,

The rising sun turns the flowers flame red,

The water green as grass,

Arousing uncontrollable reminiscence!”

(Not too keen on the green water aspect, myself.)

To close this blog, the customary closing quotation:-

“Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure,
Like doth quit like, and measure still for measure”

                                                                            (Shakespeare)

and some music to walk away to:-

(right-click)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cr73nqSBHTo

(Photo-credits: JohnH, Hazel, Myriam, Paul, Yves.)

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