Day 1
On Thursday we went to a tack shop in Porto Alto where I acquired a presentation bridle and whip, some spurs and a hat for Noodle. Quite restrained I thought. Had a late lunch at a little place which used produce from its own farm; dropped Antonio off and prepared for outing no. 2.
Next was a trip to Quinta da Ferraria, the other side of Santarem. We met up with Teresa, one of my Facebook buds and all round fabulous person, to go and look at a mare I'd had half an eye on for some time.
The quinta was awesome! Huge, very well presented, lovely place. The mare herself was extremely sweet and latched on to us straight away - arg. She is very well put together, good lines and moves really well, graded at 72 points though she has not had any babies yet. She is small at 14.3h but is ridden by children so very calm and giving temperament. If we bought her we'd have to have more land first. Anyway here she is:
The breeder has offered to put her in foal to a stallion called Zico, so we had a look at him too. He was a gorgeous silver at about 15.2h, very compact and well put together. We saw him in hand, at liberty and ridden. This is Zico:
We also saw some daughters of Zico and the rest of Luis's mares, not to mention a drop dead gorgeous young stallion called Cofre - Tigre in a bullfighting body. Wowee.
Afterwards we spent a very pleasant hour chatting to Teresa, catching up on all things Luso and in the process finding a rider for T for the next breed show, so very excited about that. Thank you Teresa for a wonderful afternoon; it was a true pleasure to meet you.
Day 2
With much anticipation Noodle and I set off to Campo Grande for the festival on Friday. So nice to have the festival back at what many consider to be its true home and more to the point back in the place where it was when I first went back in 2000. Not to mention where we first met Q. Let it be said that a combination of circumstances caused us to arrive (a) later and (b) more turgid of bladder than planned, but that was soon forgotten as we met up with fellow Luso enthusiasts and enjoyed a beer, a bifana, coffee, cake and lots of Luso eye candy. I quickly lost count of the number of Spartacus sons and daughters on display. We nosed around the stalls and I availed myself of the opportunity to acquire a programme, a pair of chaps and a very nice portrait of Filipe Graciosa replicating a glorious passage.So a lovely day, awash with sun, Lusos and bonhomie. Marvellous. As evening drew on we made our way back to the car park, frowning a little as I was quite sure the car wasn't where I had left it. Hmmm. Walked up and down a bit until forced to conclude that yes, the car was Definitely Not There. Difficult to relay the range of emotions that washed over us at this point, but probably best summarised by "oh fuck".
So. Car gone, what to do. Got hold of a number for the car park admin; "fala Ingles?" One quickly realises that the smidgen of Portuguese one relies upon for the basics of restaurant ordering and kindergarten-level pleasantries will really Not Do in this sort of situation. Car park people didn't have it. Called the rental company, got a nice lady called Silvia to ring around for me, who thinks it's very unlikely to have been nicked. It's about now that the realisation washes over me that this was now a PAYING CAR PARK and guess what, I hadn't noticed. I could blame it on all sorts of things but what it comes down to in the cold light of day is utter blondeness. Fuckwittage even. A monumental cock up, the price of which we were about to embark upon paying during the course of the next few hours.
Silvia calls back to inform me that the car has been towed, gives me the details and advises me to get a cab to the car pound to reclaim it. The good news is that it's not too far away and it's open til midnight. We spend a pleasant half hour trooping around to find a cab, and eventually flag one down near the stadium. Off we tootle to the area reported to contain the car pound; no pound to be found. Engage in animated conversation with a number of cab drivers and eventually alight upon one who knows where it is, and gives us directions. On arrival at said pound, I am asked to produce my documents which, luckily, I have on me. I suspect we would still be there if I hadn't. That's 120 Euro please. Resigned, I hand over my card. Sorry, we don't take that type of card, they said. Please try anyway, I said, tiptoeing by now around the brink of a yawning chasm of desperation. Needless to say, it didn't work. Natch. Find the nearest Multibanco, the nice lady advises. Where is that? I ask. In the zoo, she replies. Of course!
We troop back the way we came, into the zoo and track down the Multibanco. Back to the pound, at which stage a queue of fellow fuckwits/miscreants/blonde people has formed and we are obliged to wait while they are dealt with in a fashion which can only be described as glacial. Arg. Arg. Finally, our turn again, I hand over the wedge and eventually we are shown past the array of burly security men through the tall gate with spikes and barbed wire on it to our trusty steed. Well, I say we but Noodle is impelled to wait outside. Perhaps they were concerned that she might try to make off with another of their prized impounds, as though we are a pair of hardened car thieves and not just a brace of incompetent Johnsons.
Finally, the ordeal is over and we can worm our way out of Lisbon feeling, it must be said, battered and beleaguered by our three hour epic contrived entirely from our own stupidity, back to Sobral and the sanctity of Antonio and Joao's house, wondering all the while if a freak tsunami would thunder through the streets of Lisbon at any moment and wash us away, or whether a rogue asteroid would hurtle from the sky and bury itself in the roof of our car just to add the cherry on top of the pile of steaming doodoo. As it was none of this happened and we made it back, somewhat frayed but with the black humour reserved for these sorts of occasions fully restored.
Day 3
In the morning Noodle got a riding lesson with Antonio and Lusitano, which went well aside from a spot of panic at the canter. Not entirely surprising since it was her first one since she last rode as a kid and fell off on her first canter.
Another afternoon at the festival, only this time without incident. We eschew our planned feasting at the fabled Jockey club buffet in an effort to make up ground on the previous day's unforseen expenditure, and tuck into another bifana. And some cake. Spend the entire afternoon watching an array of classes and manage to arrive home again unmolested by any sort of disaster. Not a huge number of breeders present but the crowds were healthy and it was also gratifying to see that not everyone is intent on breeding Lusosauruses.
Day 4
Another lesson for Noodle on Lusitano, regrouping confidence and developing her balance at the trot. Lusitano was such a good boy and really looked after her. We decided to go to Obidos with Antonio and Joao instead of spending another day at the festival, to see a bit more of Portugal. Obidos is a very old town near Torres Vedras and the fact that it is the centre of Ginja production only mildly influenced our decision to go there. Ginja is an excellent liqueur traditionally served in chilled chocolate cups. We enjoyed mooching around the town and catching a couple of tunes from a band dressed in mediaeval clothes playing funky mediaeval music. I imagine the belly dancer represented Portugal's strong Moorish influence but in any case she was really good and it all hung together surprisingly well. We also found a boyfriend for Knickers.
Day 5
Morning: lessons for Noodle and I. I rode a large but quite sluggish Luso stallion called Astro and Noodle had a lunge lesson on a dun gelding, during which she gained top marks for really finding her balance in trot and making her first steps towards conquering her cantering fears. Go Noodle! We also met in the flesh the sires of our boys, Assirio and Galheteiro. We watched Assirio being worked and he was fabulous - hopefully I can post a video clip soon. Galheteiro was so sweet - an old boy at 23 but still strong and secure through his back and very nicely conformed, along more traditional lines.
We didn't have long afterwards for pleasantries as we were due to drive over to the Alentejo for a visit to the Coudelaria Monte de Tramagueira, near Teja. Let me tell you it's a long drive straight after a lesson and with no time for lunch or coffee, during which time I learnt that woman cannot survive on pasteis de natas alone. Still, it was all well worth it as we had THE most fabulous time meeting the utterly charming Filipe, owner of this magnificent 300+ ha farm and the delightful Angelique who works with Filipe and is doing some fantastic work there with horses. The yard and boxes were immaculate and all the horses had a constant supply of hay. Don Soberano is a truly spectacular stallion and I look forward to seeing how he develops in his career. We spent a wonderful couple of hours meeting all the horses, and I quite fell in love with a one year old Assirio daughter and a two year old colt who is exactly the stamp of horse that I like. Good job my pockets and wallet aren't as capacious as I'd like them to be. All of Filipe's horses are really friendly and well conformed, and of course schmoozing with Lusitanos is one of my all-time favourite pastimes, so we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. I realise I have used what might be considered an excessive number of superlatives to describe our afternoon, but it really was that good.
Day 6
All that remained for day 6 was to make our farewells and depart for the airport. We caused some consternation to the TAP staff when presenting the whip for travel, and ended up having to wrap it up in newspaper before they would allow it into oversized luggage, while the agent told us all about how he rides once a year and invariably ends up with a sore bum because he doesn't do it often enough. Grinning at both the shared experience of sore bums and the incongruity of the conversation in that particular setting, we went our separate ways and headed off into the bowels of the airport - where we waited, and waited, and waited, for 5 extra hours in fact. Yep, the plane was delayed "for operational reasons". So instead of getting home mid afternoon and looking forward to catching up with everyone at leisure, in fact we arrived home about 10pm, just over 12 hours after we left Sobral.
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