CU Last Tuesday
Some bad news and why off-grid living is like golf
Leaving our careers and living off the grid in rural Portugal to become builders, wine experts and tiny hoteliers was never going to be easy.
Sometimes our dogged determination inspires us we can do anything, other times we find ourselves frozen by frustration – usually while being bogged down by bureaucracy.
It’s been a week of even more horror stories about builders, of hours-long phone calls to try and clear up delays in the town hall processes and meetings with quantity surveyors and building engineers.
But last Tuesday was something else.
The purpose of the trip down to the Algarve was Millicent’s appointment with the car doctor, but we also had a long list of big shops to visit.
When Ikea is an hour and a quarter away you have to make a list – and check it twice – and we also had various painty and decoratey things to pick up for the guesthouse refurbishment.
We’re still working out which shops here sell what, and I find it very easy falling down DIY shop rabbit holes – much to my wife’s frustration.
Driving up the ramp to the Feu Vert speedy mechanic shop, stress levels were in the red after a bickering morning of pretty much everything we needed being out of stock.
Being cut up but another driver for the last space as I worked out how we could park with as little reversing as possible pushed me over the edge.
I dramatically stopped right outside the mechanic – in everyone’s way – and got out of the car – I’d switched into belligerent mode.
It rarely happens and when it does it’s mostly self-destructive.
I did it in Kandahar once when President Hamid Karzai’s security goons put our camera behind a pillar for a press conference.
When the guys I was angry with said “you must leave” I said: “right then,” and stormed out of the compound for almost certain kidnap or assassination to make “my own way home” to Kabul through Taleban territory.
Fortunately, the NATO commander was coming in as I was going out and he suggested it wasn’t such a good idea.
Sometimes I like exploding things to see how they land.
After the predictable fuss caused at the mechanic’s shop, I got back in the car and right on cue Millicent helped me out with some top class dangerously jerky reversing which persuaded everyone it was better if she went straight into the garage.
We, meanwhile, went straight over the road to a shopping centre for a late lunch and there was nothing positive I could see in the world.
We had dreamed of sushi, but the food court narrowed down our best options to be a toss-up between Israeli or Egyptian…and the donner kebab came out on top.
I don’t remember my last sober donner…but this one wasn’t too bad….nowhere near as bad as the news that was to follow.
“We don’t do automatic gearboxes,” the man from Feu Vert said.
Presumably that’s the kind of thing mechanics should tell you when you bring the car in, rather than an hour later.
Ana heroically hit the phones and managed to find a Land Rover specialist who would see us straight away…but didn’t have time to do any work on the car. Better than nothing.
I introduced Millicent with the five things that are currently wrong with her – starting with the there’s no going back reversing issue.
But before even getting to that he noticed – which I hadn’t – that instead of the brake lights going on when we brake, the front headlights flash. Not ideal.
He knew his Land Rovers, and after a bit of peeping with a torch, a revving of the engine and the clunking of the automatic gearbox, the diagnosis was not good.
“The car needs in a new transmission, but it will cost €3,500,” he said. We bought her for less than €3,000.
So electrical issues aside, there’s apparently something loose in the gear box so at any time Millicent might just stop working.
Even less ideal.
There are few things I hate more than looking for a cheap new second-hand car…and with a shiny new red Toyota Hilux on its way from Durban – allegedly “before September” – it’s even more frustrating that Millicent couldn’t have been relied on for a bit longer.
Thankfully Ana likes Facebook marketplace rabbit holes and by the time we had driven back up to the Alentejo there was a car ready for us to see.
We think a Suzuki Vitara or something similar is the way ahead…a good beach car with a removable roof, enough space for Simon & Garfunkel to stick their heads out: small and affordable.
But in high demand.
The one we saw was in a pretty poor condition and then every single one Ana found for the next three days sold before we could even go to see it.
I supposed the worst time to by a beach car is when everyone is thinking about going to the beach.
But as we arrived back home on Tuesday, just before dark – hours later than expected – we saw something that lifted our spirits.
Paulo the digger guy had finished clearing the eucalyptus roots and beautifully levelling the land where we will build.
Suddenly we could see the view, imagine the stunning new buildings, visualise the little vineyard and start imagining where the pool and the woodland footpaths will be.
We both thought “wow” and how amazingly cool our guest lodge could be.
So that’s why off-grid living is like golf: most of the time it’s pretty rubbish and things are really hard and frustrating – and then something great happens and it keeps you going.
“If it was easy everyone would be doing it,” one of our friends said about trying to build here.
Every day continues to be a school day.
We are meeting more and more builders and engineers and getting a bigger picture of how it might work and who might do it.
Yes, construction materials are inflating weekly, but we are gradually nibbling away at sanding and spray-painting the guesthouse shutters and windows.
Parts of Lisbon are seeing COVID-19 rates going up, but we got our first vaccination and get the second in a few weeks.
And Millicent is still going for now – even if her right indicator is now working at triple speed, and oncoming cars get to see when we brake.
Bring on next Tuesday.
I loved this, similar builder problems here in rural Cornwall - we only wanted a shower and he’s been here 9 months finding one issue after another ! Now a tree seems to have happily burrowed its way through the septic tank. Have fun you guys !!!
Love your adventures, so beautifully written, though that isn't a surprise! Despite all the trals and tribulations you face, there is ALWAYS something positive in your stories. You and your wife will look back at all this, one day and won't believe what you endured.... it WILL be worth it❤️