Day 43. Sunday 20 April.

Alleluia! Easter Sunday. Over the first cup of tea, T googled to find listings for a ‘unique Easter celebration’…and found a flower procession through the streets in the neighbouring town, Sao Bras de Alportel. ‘Let’s do toast and go’. It was only 10 mins up the road on a damp morning, definitely not beach weather at 12 degrees.

Arrived well before advertised start time of 1000 and followed others who we presumed, were going in same direction to town square.The streets bordering the town centre of the town were artistically decorated with around a kilometre of flower carpets, prepared by the community, a collective work that begins days before with the collection of spring wild flowers, gathered by teams of women from fields close by. The fields are indeed carpeted with daisies, rock roses, purple pea blooms and others – wild fennel, lilies and so on. T overheard a conversation about how and when the blooms are picked (Good Friday),  stored in fridges and then laid out on the streets from 0400 on Easter morning. It’s a huge task and clearly, prayers are said for good weather!

Crowds gathered at town square (thousands of people), there were barricades at several points and for nearly two hours people waited for the procession to begin. Again, T overheard women who’d been part of the flower collection teams telling a family visiting from Ireland that of course the procession wouldn’t start on time (1100) because men were in charge of that! The women were obviously British expats who now live in Sao Bras (a town where there’s no stress…that’s why people age so well). They explained further that the procession of ‘flower torches’ is an all-men thing – women are only involved in gathering the blooms. 

 Although quiet enough when we arrived, a clear photo was almost impossible, as no sooner was it framed than someone moved in front to get their shot. There was an amount of silent cursing, in a way inappropriate for such a day.

The festivities begin at 9:30 am, with the opening of the streets to the public. At 10:00 am, in the main church, the Eucharist of the Resurrection is celebrated (we didn’t attend this one), followed by the long-awaited Alleluia Procession at 1130, which goes through the flower-filled streets to the sound of the traditional hymn: “He is risen as he said! Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!” Well, that’s the official timing. The procession didn’t start on time for two reasons: firstly, it’s Portugal, and secondly many of the men had been drinking since the early hours (so the rumor went) and were more than a bit late getting to the start position.In fact, the pre-procession of men carrying their elaborate (or minimalist) flower torches as they headed to the start point was a double treat.

More and more folk arrived, taking up positions along the route – and jostling for a better one. Photography became even more problematic now because everyone had their cameras/mobiles aloft for that winning shot, so there were lots of photos with crowd heads and mobiles in them! Umbrellas opened and closed, there were tense dialogues between short and tall attendees (“I can’t hold it higher, see the length of my arms”…body language said it all!) and of course, there were the selfies. The torch bearers passed and the chanting became rather competitive, a bit like the Kiwi haka, or other  similar ‘religious practices’ at footy in Oz.

Meanwhile, in the quieter part of the town square, the Easter cake sellers were protecting their goods as the rain showers came and went. Indeed a very different Easter celebration.

After a quiet afternoon, took a circular stroll of a few kilometers around our local area, chatting a couple of times with locals or other visitors, and enjoying the abundant wildflowers, many of which were familiar. One of the fist sights we came across was a field with cutouts of blue sheep: we learned from a guest of the house that there were 70 of them, representing each year of a birthday being celebrated. Each one had a photo on one side and a text on the other, in a glazed ceramic.

We later again came across the water fountain, later explained by two Portuguese men, seemingly father and son (with a grandkid throwing rocks into the river) as a community water supply derived from fresh water from the hills. Absolutely drinkable we were assured by the two: who aren’t from around here. Not about to test it.

T had wanted to find a cork tree walk…well, here it was in our backyard!

The afternoon finished in glorious sunshine (maybe at 1700 folk were on the beach, but our little garden beckoned with tempura tapas and time to light the fire. An Alleluia Day!

Dinner. Tapas: Tempura vegies – broccolini, button mushrooms, peixinhos da horta (flat green beans). Secundo: Leftover chicken with cous cous, cumin, brocolini and red capsicum. No potato.