Under the Carob Tree

May 30, 2015

So we’ve been here in Portugal for four days now – our yearly vacation time together, when we both are on the move so much individually, and both have work. Usually when we come here we sleep for the first day, and then are off gung ho exploring the area – and seeing amazing things. This year we have both not been moved to explore a lot yet. We’ve slept for the first four days, interspersed with sitting by the pool reading (me) or watching Japanese movies (him). Perhaps because we have three weeks this year, instead of the usual two, and can take this time to rest before gearing up to go out.

Five years ago, we decided to take a cruise across the Atlantic, for our 40^th wedding anniversary. Unbeknownst to Norio, I wanted to do something else as well. I was reading a ship thread on Cruise Critic one day, and someone asked “Whatever happened to the ‘Singing Captain’?” A response came that the Singing Captain had retired to Portugal but that he had a website and CDs for sale. Off I went to check this out – and ended up connecting with Captain Kent Ringborn, formerly of Royal Caribbean International – and ordering ten CDs. While on his page, I also saw the note about “Portugal”. ‘What’s this?’ I wondered? So I emailed  - two years in advance – to see about booking a week in ‘Captain’s Cottage’. It turned out to be this wonderful rental place owned by Kent and Inge Ringborn. When Norio and I got off the ship in Barcelona we had a car rented, and drove through Spain via Valencia, Malaga, Alicante, Cordoba, Seville – into Portugal and on to this beautiful place in a tiny part of the Algarve called Moncarapacho, twenty-five minutes from the airport in Faro. From that time on we skipped the cruising and came directly for two weeks every year in May.

I was thinking last night how friends are made. We connected with the Ringborns via a website renting for vacation, and now are good enough friends that last night I could sprawl out on the sofa on their patio, glass of wine in hand – as if it were my own home. When we come here now, and walk in the door, it’s like another home away from home. We know where everything is. We feel at home. The general rule is if you use something, you replace it for the next guests – and that’s all. 

More to the point, I think – we and the Ringborns are friends – and we look forward to our yearly visits with them.  I think they look forward to our visits too.  There is never a dearth of conversation nor things to commiserate about, or even things to celebrate.  Norio and Inge – the more serious ones, have in-depth conversations about everything; Kent and I are the ship nuts, and can go on at length about who is on what ship where. Kent sings in the Algarve Pop Choir, which I hope to sing in - if only for the fun of going.

This year, we have become aware that we needed some soul-restoring. I am sitting under the carob tree by the pool  The Japanese have a phrase “inochi no sentaku”, the washing of the spirit. Here in the clear air, blue sky, swallows swooping back and forth, under the carob tree – we are rested and restored.

I admire bloggers, especially the RevGals who are becoming friends. I don’t know how they find the time or energy to blog regularly. My brain is always a mash of things. But here, where there is nothing but the sun, warmth, birds singing – and only faintly the sound of the A22 nearby – I feel like writing. Here we are under the carob tree, beside the still clear waters of a beautiful pool.