so many empties.

 TUESDAY 15th MAY.

i dreamt of them, and Stromec and cycling shorts, but i was thinking about lying head to head with Mareks dredlocks before i fell asleep – the tinkling of pinecones – the eucalyptus that wears its bark like rags on a mummy – the branches of the trees above me as i lay on my sleeping bag like neurons and the stars their brilliant thoughts, or their essence for electrical impulse – well, i must – tengo que hacer – but i stop after 20 metres of starting – its a question of perspective, looking back –

gosh the wind was cold this morning as i cycled along – but a wee stop at a mirador and a coffee did the trick – when i hit Tamanhos i had a touch of panic, i thought i d missed my road, but Celorica was signposted, away from the dual carriageway, and it was downhill weeeheeeee –
so now i ve stopped, i ve seen the n17 signposted, i ve done my shopping, and am off to take photos and explore for a couple hours while the heat passes out of the day – i see couples driving along in their caravans and envy them, a little – i m thinking about Om –
oh and ! where are these fields of lupins?
i ve seen chocolate salami, wow, but mercifully am not hungry, there will be plenty opportunity to pull food out of the bins in Porto, for sure – 
‘consecrated to Munidia , by f. of Malgeino, from the 1st AD….
the eagle and the trout… ‘remarkable victory when in 1198 by union of Portuguese troops including hostile military forces of Celorico, and its major D. Rodrigo Mendes, against military forces of King Afonso of Leon  – the spectacular victory was attributed to the divine intervention of the lady of Acores – the siege ceased when an eagle flew over the castle and dropped a trout inside the walls. the trout was prepared as an offering to the enemy. this suggested abundance, that food inside the siege walls was plentiful. given this, the aggressors retreated and the siege ended.’

well that was Celorico. and i spent ages looking for a place in the shade, and then hours and then hours in the shade waiting for the heat of the day to pass. in retrospect, i m an eejit. but thats Captain Hindsight for you.

sometime later, lover, when we are in the moons of our firstlove, we will build a little hut in woods, and stay there for a few days in silence, just looking into each others eyes
because no-one has wanted to do that with me lately, but my eyes maybe are muddywaters, and the veils of Isis have been drawn over the windows to my soul
i want to let you in.

remember the time, in Hungary, i slept by the side of the supermarket, with Fickle the pig as my pillow? it was raining and the side of the shop was dry. i feel a bit like that here in Nelas, but its hothothot –
Nelas – finally – the arbitrariness of decision-making – Superbock beer is good, the barely surfaced road from Contençao was good, the friendly man in the town was good, it made up for the horribleness of the n17 road and the inability of my legs to function. i think i m tired. and it must have been intuition, at Celorico, that made me want to turn back, the agonising over the decision, but i guess i m glad i tried it – again its proving impossible to travel in the heat, things look up when the sun goes down –
i felt wretched, pushing my bicycle up the hill from the Mondego river, and no-one gave me a lift, but then i didnt ask for one either – theres so much glass by the side of the road, it reminds me of Ireland –
the black cat, lying in wait of play, the man with the loud footsteps who stops at the automotive store – does he say something, as i go past? does he think i m a nightwalker?
now orange blossom, and lightly coloured foxglove, and even a gorse bush but its too scorched from the heat –
i didnt find the rock with the inscription, i should have stayed on the battlements, watching the swallows zoom past, it was fresh there, a fresh surprise.. stupid fizzy guarana, exploded all over me, and the gel saddle (i m sure i must have sat on an ant hill and this will no doubt make it worse, my glasses, SO MANY EMPTY HOUSES, dear god, we d have a field day, G.

i like the guy at the cafe, he gives me cold beer when i ask for it, anything cold is a godsend lately, the last cold thing was that ultra fizzy lemon drink in Lumbrales, 2 days and one country away.
i lost my green earring, one day archaeologists will find it near Villa Franca – 
almost better than the smell of hot fig trees: the cold air rushing between your legs on a hot day when cycling downhill on a bicycle.

in Nelas, square cobbles again, but stars in white, 85c for a beer is rather fantastic, but i am afraid of being asked where i am sleeping for the night…
going up the hill towards Nelas, to show them that Irish girls can do it, but i have no flag –
and Tony texted, to ask how the biker chick was doing, but i was too hot and bothered to answer, will get back to him tmoro, the reddest of clover, a menu of tisanas, but now i just want saltwater, the sea, the ocean, open up and receive me – still, the vinegar has proved useful already, to take the sting out, , my arms have been bitten a lot since since Barca.
my head began to rant a bit on the climb up to Mangualde, i take this journey to get out of a depression, but you wouldnt even understand the word, maybe thats why I changed direction – and the young guy who gave me straight on!! ten km!! directions was simply, refreshingly lovely –
i m forgetting my own advice about breathing through the nose and picking it out at the end of the day, but i havent swallowed any flies lately, at least –
the rose gardens here are impressive, there are lemons after Contençao –

cut with Occams razor –