After a 24 hour trip from Atlanta, we finally arrived in Tavira (Tabira in Arabic) last night. The 7.5 hour trip on KLM from Atlanta to Amsterdan was inhuman. I am never taking KLM again, sauf pour the already booked return I already have. Then again, maybe I may never return.
Almost immediately upon arrival, I felt I was finally in a place I could hang my hat for a while, that I could leave Florida forever and write here in peace, far away from Trump and the nonsensical country America has become, blah blah blah.
The view from the apartment is commanding. This morning, I discovered swallows — des hirondelles, as I told my wife later — on my balcony.
There a distinct farmish scent in the air: immediately the word foin popped into my head. Hay, but I don’t know why I first thought of the word in French. I don’t know why I am suddenly thinking in French in Tavira; it must mean something that I will find out later.
I put some of my things away, and immediately fell into a deep deep dreamless sleep, sleeping better than I have since April, when I returned to the US from Gouna.
I already love this place so much, and hope I can soon find a flat in town I can afford to rent here. I think I will check out places by the river, which is where I would want to live, closer to the main part of town.
Well, time to go check out where the Casa Simeo is located, and maybe buy stuff, then at noon, meet the American expats my wife hooked up on social media. I’ll put up new pics of that later, but meanwhile, enjoy these: they are mostly of the apartment we are renting in Tavira.