Warning: this blog contains descriptions that readers of a particularly delicate disposition may find unsavoury
Our numbers this week were slightly reduced because the Dynamic Duo (or the TerribleTwins, if you prefer) had called off for different but very cogent reasons. Be that as it may, the rest of us assembled at Poço Frito´s Café Martins where I had been led to believe the door would open at 7 am sharp..
It didn´t.
We hung around for a bit in expectation, which gave various photographers a chance to experiment in the rising sunlight
and which enabled last minute adjustments to walking essentials walking to be made.
Eventually, a Starter Photo was taken outside the firmly closed front door.
Paul looking remarkably chipper despite being denied his expected coffee boost
Present: Yves, Rod, Jill, Java behind Terry, Paul, Myriam, Dina, Maria, Hazel, JohnH
and we moved off at about 7.15 am.
There is not much to say about the walk itself which was pretty gentle going and we adopted a pretty gentle pace to match.
If you want statistics, well, you can´t really get them much better than this “Screen Grab” from Paul´s Viewranger.
All there, except to say that the Official Leader´s distance is 7.36 kms.
Near a big house, we were greeted by some enthusiastic puppies.
which allowed Yves to show the gentler side of his character:
Both during the walk and after, there was, inevitably, much talk about the recent devastating fires. This map illustrates their spread, 27,000 hectares:
What the map obviously can´t show is that, even in the midst of the badly affected areas, there are some stretches of land that mercifully escaped completely unharmed, such were the vagiaries of the blaze and the winds.
Talking about vagiaries, the Leader´s sense of direction wobbled a bit, and we had to trudge off piste a bit through some grassy areas
Then we came across a fence that shouldn´t according to the Leader´s reckoning have been there in the first place, ditto some goats.
This meant that we had to trespass briefly through an orange grove; luckily we had the key for the gate to let us out.
A little bit later, as we turned for home, Myriam was reminded that she had proposed a topic for conversation during the walk which is undoubtedly of abiding human interest. This was her link.
Apparently, it has been the unassailable right of every Parisian male since time immemorial to pee in the street. Paris buildings in the early 19th century had no public toilets, because there was no adequate sanitation system. As a result, the city was extremely dirty and stinky, especially when the population zoomed over one million. But during the 1830s, the prefect of Paris began building public urinals—for men only—all over the city. They were called vespasiennes, and named after the Roman Emperor Vespasian. He was Emperor from AD 69 to AD 79, but not a lot is known about Vespasian’s life and brief rule, except that he was a highly competent general who built the gigantic Flavian Amphitheatre, better known as the Roman Colosseum.
His famous aphorism “Pecunia non olet” (Money does not smell) refers to the terse response he gave to his son Titus, who was complaining about the unpleasant nature of the Urine Tax his father had imposed on the product of the city’s urinals. (The first public toilets ever, by the way, were introduced by Vespasian in 74 A.D).
Up until then, Romans had simply urinated into pots that were emptied into cesspools. With the introduction of public urinals, the liquid waste could be collected and sold as a source of ammonia, which was used for tanning leather and by launderers to clean the patricians’ white woolen togas.
Today the Latin phrase is used to mean that the value of money is not tainted by its origins and even though public urinals have become a rarity, to this day they are still known in Italy as Vespasiani (Vespasians). And the French borrowed the idea from the Italians.
I can remember visiting Paris in the 1950s and there were still quite a lot of them around. One could, for example, be strolling down the Champs d´ Elysée, chatting with one´s girl friend, step inside the unit for a moment or two for the necessary, while still chatting uninterruptedly with her, she of course remaining outside. Recently, there was only one vespasienne still left
But a modern version is now being introduced, called the “Uritrottoir” – a combination of the French words for urinal and pavement – the designer said it offered an “eco solution to public peeing”.The device is essentially a box with an opening in the front and a floral display on top containing straw which transforms into compost for use in parks and gardens.
Men only, of course; one admires the ladies for their…. endurance ?.
Yves explains the vespasienne.
Not everybody on the walk was totally enthralled by this topic, the human interest quotient notwithstanding, but it kept Myriam and Hazel deep in conversation for several clicks, in a wide ranging survey of the toiletry practices of China and the Sub-Continent..
Nearer home, Myriam updated us on Mike and Jyll Pease and their ongoing saga in Switzerland, and then the golf course hove in view..
The day being a holiday for the “Ascension of our Lady”, I was beginning to get apprehensive that, despite our booking for breakfast having been accepted, Café Martins might not after all be open when we got back . I didn´t have a Plan B.
Hallo, how did these two get in here?
Two Ladies of Poço Frito
Oh, it´s just Yves with his camera – always on the lookout.
But my fears were unfounded. This was a new breakfast venue for us, although WAGS had had bifanas here before. The proprietress had told me she would do her best to do an English breakfast and I think that because she had worked in th UK for some time she had some idea about what we were looking for. All in all, not too bad.
Petiscos were on the table ready for us. The eggs were, of course, all broken on this occasion, ovos mexidos being on the menu. Dina was introduced to the outlandish practice of having tomato in her bifana. but she managed.
Don´t ask Myriam what´s in the bottle
Friendly service and staff who took the next pic which Myriam sent to the Peases with our greetings.
Unfinished Business
I don´t know if Paul ever did get a correct answer to his riddle which was, if you remember,
“Why did the French chef take his own life in Portugal?
“Because he had lost the azeite !”.
To put you out of your misery, translated into French, “azeite” is “huile d´olive”
and the solution is
“Because he had lost the will to live !”
Keep them coming.
Postscript
Myriam left her little bottle (which she describes as a urinoir) in the Café and, when she went back to collect it, Snr Martins presented her with this fig.
And a quotation to close:-
And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted “Open then the Door.
You know how little while we have to stay,
And, once departed, may return no more.”
(The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, trns Edward Fitzgerald)
(Picture credits: Hazel, JohnH, Myriam, Paul and Yves.)
5 comments:
And a poser for this week, (apart from Yves and his puppy).
To the calling circular for the walk, I replied "Yah Mo Be There".
Apart from the obvious meaning that I will be coming to the walk, possibly with a Higher Authority, what other connections with APAPS Breakfast Walks and conversations could there be?
John has already had the answer laid out in detail, but he may have forgotten already!
Thank you John for your extensive discourse on Parisian Walkways (Phil Linnot, take heed?): the expression of pure shock on my (attractive) features -it says here- is due to the admission from my fellow Walkers that had not realised there IS an entrance to a Vespasienne and one is NOT expected to use the outside wall to gain relief... Well they may hang their Tilleys in shame!
Les mots me manquent...
Of course the big question is whether anyone reads the comments - nay - reads the blog.
On the walks and at the breakfasts, there is plenty of comment, yet most, except Yves and myself, remain mute in the face of the purple prose that John extracts from his muse on a weekly basis. At least a couple of words thanking the blogger for his existence would be appropriate. A consistently excellent and thought provoking read.
OK Yves I give in. What is the Phil Linnot(sic) connection, apart from his middle name being Parris? As I discovered Phil Lynott was the lead vocalist for Thin Lizzy, who had a brief but drug fuelled career until he died in 1986 at the age of 36 from sepsis and pneumonia, a common cause of death among druggies.
Lynott, ok point taken; never was very clever with names... Indeed it is the Thin Lizzy connection and his beautiful tune 'Parisian walkways' even if some of the lyrics are a bit shaky...
Good point about the lack of encouragement for our Chief Blogger!
Post a Comment