Like a vivid dream, what should remain as a memorable memory, can often be fleeting. Yet a nightmare, or a distressing event can seem to remain locked and available for recall long after.
The brain seems to operate in a totally indiscriminate manner. It gives no choice in memory matters. When pushed to bring the past to light, it stubbornly refuses. Like a petulant child. Stamps its feet. Demands a sweetie before obliging the parent’s wish. Expects you to perform weird and whacky routines. Just to demonstrate who’s really in control of the situation.
Yet, surely it knows that without maintaining memory, we become isolated from our very self. Its lazy characteristic can all too easily create a lost soul.
Day 25 – Campigir Sao Torpes needs to be wiped from our memories. With Stalag 17 lookalike shower facilities, cold water wash-up sinks that just about manage to cling on to an outside wall and dilapidated pitch, a one night stay is more than enough for two lost souls.
This site’s one saving grace – being within a fifteen minute walk of the local beach.
Day 26 – We move on. Not far. 10K. In search of something better. To Camping Costa Vizir – Porto Covo. Interrupt our journey with a few hours sunbathing. This is how we remember Portugal’s beautiful and rugged coastline.
