When I first came to Algarve, I thought I had
to blend in, I went to British bars and met
expats, who had never been to a Portuguese
restaurant, yet spent time whining about
the country they lived in now and the country
they had left. Undeterred I tried to fit in and
bought second hand golf clubs and became
a member of a nine hole golf course.
I found the so called sport tedious, but was
intrigued by what is called the rough where I
found bird nests, rabbits and beautiful flowers.
“Fu*k the nature follow the ball,” an irate Brit
shouted at me. In the mood of fitting in, I did
that, but I let my membership payment lapse.
