The Tragic Death of Victorino de Medeiros Aguiar

História, em verso, da morte trágica de
Victorino de Medeiros Aguiar

History, in verse, of the tragic death of
Victorino de Medeiros Aguiar

by Luiz de Medeiros Cabrinha
Livramento — December 1951

Portuguese original (left) and English translation (right), stanza by stanza

	PORTUGUÊS (ORIGINAL)	ENGLISH
1	Peço ajuda ao Senhor Para contar este horror Vou versar esta história Com o coração comovido Vou gravar o sucedido Como tenho na memória	I ask the Lord for help To tell this horror I will put this story into verse With a heart moved I will set down what happened As I hold it in memory
2	Pai e mãe que cria um filho É sua luz é seu brilho O amor do seu coração Se, se piza um quase nada Fica de alma magoada Que fará morto então	A father and mother who raise a son He is their light and their brightness The love of their heart If he is hurt by even the slightest thing Their soul is left wounded What will they do, then, with him dead?
3	Sinto um alarido um barulho No dia trinta e um de Julho Foi uma hora fatal Mil novecentos cinquenta e um Nunca me lembro nenhum Desastre assim igual	I hear an outcry, a commotion On the thirty-first of July It was a fatal hour Nineteen fifty-one I never remember any Disaster the equal of this
4	Tudo quero decifrar Jesus me há-de ajudar E eu lhe peço entendimento O pai e a mãe são nascidos Mais os seus filhos queridos Naturais do Livramento	I want to make sense of everything Jesus will help me And I ask Him for understanding The father and mother were born Along with their beloved children Natives of Livramento
5	Com treze anos de idade Criança na mocidade Foi ver a Sagrada Luz Pois Deus lhe talhou a sorte De morrer de terrível morte E já lá está com Jesus	At thirteen years of age A child in his youth He went to see the Sacred Light For God cut out his fate To die a terrible death And now he is there with Jesus
6	Ele com um tio trabalhava Aonde gado guardava E nisto se foi criando O rapazito era esperto Fazia tudo ao certo Já o pai estava ajudando	He worked with an uncle Where cattle were kept And in this he grew up The little boy was clever He did everything right He was already helping his father
7	Do gado sabia tratar Estava um primo a ajudar Soltou o gado foi á água O boi atraz não deixou Pela cabeça amarrado o levou Que triste dia de mágua	He knew how to look after cattle A cousin was there helping He let the cattle loose, they went to the water The ox would not leave him behind Tied by the head, it carried him off What a sad day of sorrow
8	As vacas água beberam Eles um pouco se entreteram No lago do Pico da Pedra Um cigarro esteve fumando A morte lhe estava chamando Do perigo ninguém se arreda	The cows drank water The boys lingered a little At the lake of Pico da Pedra He was smoking a cigarette Death was calling him No one steps aside from danger
9	Quando se foram embora Naquela péssima hora Tinha a corda em si amarrado Para um fósforo riscar Quando o boi estava a puchar Na corda dois nóz tinha dado	When they went away In that terrible hour He had the rope tied around himself To strike a match When the ox was pulling He had made two knots in the rope
10	O rapaz saiu para a rua Sempre a andar continua Com a corda em si amarrada Na estrada um curvo dava As vacas não se avistava Nesta hora dezastrada	The boy went out onto the road He keeps on walking With the rope tied around him The road made a bend The cows could not be seen In this ill-fated hour
11	Na corda o boi um puchão dava Ele com as mãos segurava Mas não conseguiu aguentar O boi deitou a correr Nesta hora sem aparecer Ninguém naquele lugar	The ox gave a tug on the rope He held on with his hands But he could not hold out The ox took off running At this hour, with no one in sight No one in that place
12	O rapaz não se aguentou então Andou de rastos no chão O boi ainda mais corria O priminho a gritar e a correr Mas não lhe pode valer Naquela grande agonia	The boy then could not hold on He was dragged along the ground The ox ran even faster The little cousin screaming and running But he cannot help him In that great agony
13	Coutadinho que triste sorte Em que agonia que morte Se viu nesta ocasião Ele atraz do boi ficou Quando a corda rebentou Gasta de arrastar no chão	Poor little one, what a sad fate In what agony, what a death He found himself in on that occasion He was left behind the ox When the rope snapped Worn through from dragging on the ground
14	O primo ao pé dele chegou Neste momento o chamou Victorino ainda gemia Ali no chão estatalado E todo ensanguentado Que ninguém o conhecia	The cousin reached his side At that moment called to him Victorino was still groaning There, sprawled on the ground And covered in blood So that no one would have known him
15	O rapazinho aflito Dezata num choro num grito Ao ver o primo a morrer Achando-se ali sózinho Nestas horas no caminho Sem mais ninguém aparecer	The distressed little boy Broke into crying, into screaming Seeing his cousin dying Finding himself alone there At such an hour on the road With no one else appearing
16	Dois homens trabalhando estavam Bem ao longe apreciavam Aquele choro tão sentido Deitaram-se logo a correr Para a rua a vir ver O que tinha sucedido	Two men were working Far off they noticed That heartfelt crying They set off running at once To the road, to come and see What had happened
17	Os homens chegaram primeiro Mas também um cantoneiro Apareceu de outro lado Ele assim a dizer Nunca me lembro de ver Um caso tão desgraçado	The men arrived first But a roadman also Appeared from the other side He said, just like this: I never remember seeing Such a wretched case
18	Pelo rapaz dizer mandaram E os três homens lá ficaram Logo passou um polícia A criança a correr vai Como fica a mãe e o pai Ao saber esta notícia	They sent the boy to tell [the family] And the three men stayed there Soon a policeman came by The child goes off running How will the mother and father be On learning this news
19	O polícia foi a correr Para cumprir seu dever No telefone foi falar Porque assim o devia Desceu ali á freguesia Para a autoridade chamar	The policeman went running To do his duty To go and speak on the telephone Because that was what he had to do He went down there to the parish To call the authorities
20	O morto ali jazia E na cabeça se via Um buraco como um punhão Que até os miolos se soltou Que o cantoneiro ajuntou Espalhados pelo chão	The dead boy lay there And on his head could be seen A hole like a fist So that even the brains came loose Which the roadman gathered up Scattered over the ground
21	O primo desatinado a correr Para aos tios ir dizer Sempre num choro sentido Um homem lhe preguntava Pelo que é que chorava Se alguém lhe tinha batido	The cousin, frantic, running To go and tell his aunt and uncle Always in bitter crying A man asked him Why he was crying If someone had hit him
22	Senhor ninguém me bateu Foi meu primo que morreu E disse como tinha sido O rapaz ao homem contou Tudo quanto se passou E como foi sucedido	Sir, no one hit me It was my cousin who died And he said how it had been The boy told the man Everything that had happened And how it came about
23	O homem o serviço deixou Para o dito pasto foi O gado esteve amarrando E depois quando acabou Por mais ninguém esperou Para o tal sítio foi andando	The man left his work To the said pasture he went He was tying up the cattle And afterwards, when he had finished He waited for no one else He went walking to that place
24	O rapaz a casa chegou E á mãe assim contou Tudo como sucedeu Cansado veio à corrida E diz ai titia querida O Victorino já morreu	The boy arrived at the house And told the mother like this Everything as it happened Tired, he came running And says: oh dear auntie Victorino has died
25	A pobre mãe coutadinha Quase que ficou doudinha Em pensar que está sózinho Aquele seu querido filho Que é sua luz o seu brilho Saber que morreu no caminho	The poor mother, poor soul Almost went out of her mind Thinking that he is alone That beloved son of hers Who is her light, her brightness To know he died on the road
Pranto de Mãe A Mother’s Lament
26	Ai meu Deus ai meu Jesus Em mim se encerra a negra Luz Paciência que hei-de fazer Ai filho filho querido Não pensava teres morrido Sem eu te poder valer	Oh my God, oh my Jesus In me the black Light is shut in Patience, what else can I do Oh son, my beloved son I never thought you would die Without my being able to help you
27	Ai filho se eu soubesse Ou se Jesus me dissesse Que hoje a vida ias finar Tu não morrias sózinho Sem ter amor nem carinho De tua mãe te poder beijar	Oh son, if I had known Or if Jesus had told me That today your life would end You would not have died alone Without love or tenderness Without your mother being able to kiss you
28	Já não tenho mais prazer Custa-me não te poder ver morrer Filho minha luz querida Se tu tivesses doente Havia estar permanente Pedindo a Jesus vida	I have no more pleasure It pains me not to have been able to see you die Son, my beloved light If you had been ill I would have been there constantly Asking Jesus for life
29	Vais baixar à terra fria Eu fico sem alegria E sem ter felicidade Mas também o teu triste pai Em morte té buscar vai De treze anos de idade	You will go down into the cold earth I am left without joy And without happiness But your sad father too Is going to fetch you, in death At thirteen years of age
30	Lá foi o tio e o pai E mais alguém dali vai Ao saberem tal notícia O triste pai ao lá chegar Querendo o filho abraçar Não teve ordem da polícia	There went the uncle and the father And someone else from there goes On learning such news The sad father, on arriving there Wanting to embrace his son Had no permission from the police
31	Senhor guarda diga-me então O motivo por que eu não No meu filho posso tocar Senhor que infelicidade Primeiro a autoridade Tudo tem que examinar	Mr. Officer, tell me then The reason why I cannot Touch my son Lord, what misfortune First the authorities Must examine everything
32	Neste instante se fez tudo Chegou o delegado de saúde E o sub-chefe do estado O doutor logo examinou Está visto como se matou Por sinal está amarrado	At that moment everything was done The health officer arrived And the deputy chief of the state The doctor promptly examined him It was plain to see how he came to be killed Indeed, he is tied fast
33	O doutor diz levam-no já Pois se sei não vinha cá Num grande diligencia Porque era um crime de morte Mas nasceu com pouca sorte O pai tenha paciencia	The doctor says take him away now For if I’d known, I would not have come here With such great haste Because it was a crime of death But he was born with little luck Father, have patience
34	Ai filho desventurado Como estais desfigurado Paciencia triste sorte Foi Jesus que te chamou Não viste mais quem te criou No dia da tua morte	Oh unfortunate son How disfigured you are Patience, sad fate It was Jesus who called you You did not see again those who raised you On the day of your death
35	Nesta estrada tão comprida Ninguém te salvou a vida Meu Deus que aflição Ninguém gritar te sentiu Quando vieram acudir Já môrto estavas no chão	On this road so long No one saved your life My God, what anguish No one heard you cry out When they came to help You were already dead on the ground
36	Meu filho que agonia Tu te viste neste dia Deus te tem no paraíso No estado que tu estás Quando a casa chegares É um dia de juízo	My son, what agony You found yourself in on this day God has you in paradise In the state that you are in When you reach home It is a day of judgment
37	O pai dizia assim Tão triste foi o teu fim Filho minha luz querida Pois eu por ti muito fiz E foste tão infeliz Bem criança já sem vida	The father said this: So sad was your end Son, my beloved light For I did so much for you And you were so unfortunate Still a child, and already lifeless
38	O pai com o filho se abraçou E num lençol o enrolou Dizendo que triste fim Na flôr da tua idade Que grande infelicidade Mas Deus é que quis assim	The father embraced his son And wrapped him in a sheet Saying, what a sad end In the flower of your age What great misfortune But it is God who willed it so
39	Quando o filho a casa chegou Tão aflita a mãe ficou Quase que perdeu o sentido Os tios dizem Jesus Senhor Olhar para o morto era horror Ver como estava ferido	When the son arrived home The mother was so distraught She almost lost her senses The aunt and uncle say "Jesus, Lord" To look at the dead boy was horror To see how wounded he was
A Mãe em prantos The Mother in Tears
40	Ai que cena feia e triste Em que agonia te viste Fico em negra escuridão Ao lembrar-me este dia Não tenho mais alegria No mundo no coração	Oh what an ugly and sad scene In what agony you found yourself I am left in black darkness When I remember this day I have no more joy In the world, in my heart
41	Querido filho adorado Hoje vais ser sepultado Minha luz minha doçura Mais em meus olhos não reluz Filho oxalá que Jesus Achasse a tua alma pura	Dear, adored son Today you will be buried My light, my sweetness No longer shines in my eyes Son, I pray that Jesus Will find your soul pure
42	Quando chegou o caixão Pois tudo chorava então A mãe num choro sentido O padre veio no mesmo instante A mãe diz querida luz brilhante Adeus, adeus filho querido	When the coffin arrived Everyone was weeping then The mother in heartfelt tears The priest came at that same moment The mother says: dear shining light Farewell, farewell, beloved son
43	Adeus luz do meu olhar Jesus para si te quis chamar Para o eterno paraíso Ai! Filho eu fico sem tino Adeus querido Vitorino Até ao dia do Juízo	Farewell, light of my eyes Jesus wanted to call you to Himself To eternal paradise Oh son, I am left out of my wits Farewell, dear Vitorino Until the day of Judgment
44	Ai! Mundo mundo de enganos São todos do mesmo pano Ningém sabe o seu acabar Por Deus está destinado De pó o homem foi formado E em pó se há-de tornar	Oh world, world of deceit All are cut from the same cloth No one knows how theirs will end It is destined by God From dust man was formed And to dust he shall return
45	O mundo é jardim de flores Peço desculpa aos senhores Se notam algum defeito O versista que isto versou Diz que Deus é que nunca errou E é quem faz tudo bem feito	The world is a garden of flowers I beg your pardon, ladies and gentlemen If you notice any flaw The versifier who wrote this in verse Says that it is God who never erred And who does everything well

Livramento, Dezembro de 1951
LUIZ DE MEDEIROS CABRINHA

Notes from Kris

This poem by Ana’s grandfather Luiz de Medeiros Cabrinha was written in 1951 in a folk style very popular across the Portuguese world, used to commemorate local tragedies, and often distributed as pamphlets. These served as news, memorials, and communal memories all at once. I found the poet’s apology in the final stanza, and his expression of humility a little odd, but then I leaned this was a convention of that poetic tradition. There is also limited use of metaphors; it is written flatly and honestly, more as testament to the tragedy, like a witness statement, and it is also written in very plain Portuguese, which gives it so much force. A rhyming pattern is maintained in each stanza, with the first two lines rhyming, the fourth and fifth, then the third and sixth. The English translation does not attempt to follow this rhyming pattern.

Azores 2026 - A Final Walk and Thoughts On The Trip

I awoke early and lay there for a while wondering what to do. We didn’t have to leave for the airport until noon so there was time for something. I thought of trying for another swim. I considered a neighbourhood walk. The prospect of a hot beverage and some writing held some appeal. But there was one thing left on our list we’d hoped to do - a walk along the Lagoa oceanfront trail, which we had discovered during our last trip, and I had thought about many times since then.

Ana decided to pass, so I drove a whole five minutes to the start of the trail, which is at the restaurant Ondas do Mar. It was a beautiful morning, overcast but warm, and almost no wind. The trail is not long, maybe a kilometres or two, but it is a good one to take slow and absorb the surroundings: the pitted and black basaltic volcanic rock, the gorgeous natural ocean pools, the vegetation crawling across the ground, the sundial, the ocean vistas, but also the man-made phenoms facing landward – a large animal feed factory and towering grain silos, an urban farm field leaking farm smells, perfectly sculpted volcanic rock walls, the rocky backyards of homes backing onto the trail.

I took my time and savoured every step as I considered our visit.

These last two trips here have felt much more like slices of living in the Azores than vacations. We have gotten to know the family here much better and spend a lot of time with them doing family things. There have been the administrative tasks, then this time a funeral, not things you are usually required to do on vacations. We’ve also avoided as much of the tourist stuff as possible (except for the caves this time).

We have now been visiting the Azores together for over 25 years. I can’t even remember how many trips we’ve made during this time, maybe 7 or 8? During the first trips we were overwhelmed with everything we saw. The one big question we had was, “Where are all the tourists?” It just had so much to offer and the only visitors were expatriated Azoreans returning home to see their families. There wasn’t a single American chain restaurant on Sao Miguel the first time we came. I felt like I’d discovered a lost world. And I still don’t believe the Azoreans really knew what they had back then. But I think they probably do now.

What’s changed on Sao Miguel? Well, for starters, there are way more cars on the island. This was particularly evident this trip. Every street is jammed with parked cars. Streets that used to be clear or maybe had a car or two are now packed from top to bottom. Cars park on every available space from boulevards to vacant lots to sidewalks, sometimes making a street impassable to anything but the smallest vehicles. Tio Manuel’s neighbour has five people living in the house and five vehicles. Many other households are like this too. I don’t know how this can go on, and I suspect it won’t be long before the government has to put some tough policies in place to slow the growth as it is not sustainable. But it does seem to be a clear sign that people here are generally doing well, at least financially. The other bizarre thing is they are overwhelmingly gas cars. This is on an island powered by clean geothermal electricity. Something has gone terribly wrong with government policy. I always imagined the government here would someday outlaw gas passenger vehicles. But then cousin Tiago told us that it is illegal to leave a power cord on the sidewalk connecting your vehicle to your home. But since the vast majority of people do not have garages and use public street parking, how are they supposed to charge their vehicles? It is a messy situation.

Another change is the prices. Prices are generally higher than they were before (like everywhere) and it is no longer a cheap place to visit. Saying that, there are spectacular deals on a few things; namely cheese, beer, wine, bananas, some vegetables, and bread. Meat, fish, and most vegetables are about the same as home. Gas and clothes are way more, as is the dollar store type stuff and specialty items. The cost of housing has rocketed up, like pretty much every other developed country in the world.

Finally, there used to be derelict houses all over the island and beaten-up buildings, and many signs of poverty. You see very little of this now – another sign that things have improved…at least for some or hopefully most people.

What hasn’t changed is that our family considers it a difficult place to make ends meet. Everybody here has to work hard and they don’t earn a lot of money. But yet, I think most folks here have not traveled much, so really don’t know what it’s like living in other places. In fact, Ana’s cousin Carmelia who works at the university, recently asked a class of 40 how many of them had ever left the island. One person raised their hand. I think the locals see the tourists arriving here with money falling out of their pockets, and members of their families who emigrated to the US or Canada decades ago returning with money to spend (but possibly returning home broke…). It’s easy to get the wrong impression and assume the money comes easy everywhere else. I don’t think that’s the case. It seems to me there are as many opportunities in the Azores as there is anywhere else…maybe more. The opportunities for enrichment are here, but you can also choose to take a traditional job, live modestly, and have a pretty damn good life, going to the beach when you want, never having to shovel snow, sleeping with your windows open, breathing clean air, eating natural and locally grown food, drinking great water from your kitchen tap, and having access to decent public health care and schools.

Would we ever live here? Probably not, at least not permanently. But I see us continuing to spend time here, and probably longer stretches when we eventually wind down our work careers. My most compelling dream is to sail our boat here one spring and spend the entire summer in Sao Miguel, as well as exploring the other eight islands of the Azores, five of which we have never been to.

I thought about all this and more as I walked.

And now as I try to capture these thoughts in words, I also consider what I would like to do here on future visits. It’s good to make notes for Future Kris and Future Ana to read next time they are planning a trip.

Here are a few ideas:

• Get close up to one of the geothermal power plants on the island
• Get a tour of the Salcicor meat factory in Feteiras
• See how the mobile milking operation works for the cows grazing at the tops of the volcano craters
• Spend some time with the craftsman building the volcanic stone walls
• Do more scuba diving (I’ve only been once, many years ago)
• Go to a play or art or cultural event
• Visit in the summer to do snorkelling along the coastlines
• Do many more of the official trail walks (there are 30 of them)

Azores 2026 - The Window to Hell

Yesterday’s merrymaking was of such ferocity that Ana and I decided we needed to do a morning trail walk. I had my heart set on the Janela do Inferno (Window to Hell) trail, as it sounded so metal and wicked. By the end, it was a nearly three-hour affair, through eight kilometres of such a variety of landscapes it was hard to believe. It began with a long, slowly then rapidly ascending walk along grassy and serene meadow roads and trails with magnificent vistas over the ocean and the city of Ponta Delgada and hussies of cows to the left and right. The trail markers led us across a bridge over a dry river, then a narrow but deep valley up and down steep staircases, then into a 100-metre-long dark concrete tunnel that required crouching walking and had half a foot of muck and water in some spots, which put Ana in a dark mood indeed after we emerged and the natural light exposed the filthy condition of her favourite white fashion sneakers. In fact, I took a look into her eyes and I think I saw a window into hell, so maybe that’s where they got the name.

From here we entered a forest with a few more tunnels and a huge, ancient aqueduct. The midpoint of the forest trail was the actual window into hell, which was simply a big hole in a cliff from which water spouted and, surprisingly, there seemed to be a series of water collection systems pipes that, I assume, that formed part of the municipal water collection system. The path eventually exited the forest and we were back into grassy meadows and cows, then after a while ended up on a steep downhill road, then an equally steep path that was muddy, washed out, and rather grown in, suggesting we had lost our way, but then it emerged in the town of Remedios, where we found trail markers and scrambled up and down some steep streets, then popped out right where we had parked the car at the trailhead. The good news is Ana was able to clean her shoes back at Tio Manuel’s house, bringing them and her mood back to pristine condition. I checked her eyes again and the regular window into sweet heaven had returned.

Tio Luis and Geneveva stopped in for a visit as we hoovered up some of the many leftovers for lunch. Sadly, they were unable to make the party the previous day, but they were probably still cleaning up their house after the smashing party they hosted the weekend before.

Ana had a few things to do so I found a bit of time to sneak out to the beach. I had my goggles and had hoped the ocean had flattened with the low winds so I could explore the underwater world. But it was rougher than I expected, and I was the only person on the entire beach. I walked in up to my knees, then had a flash of a rip current pulling me out to sea, or a wave rolling me over, or some other unfortunate accident, and got completely spooked. Strange, I can’t ever remember me making such a mature decision concerning the prospect of a glorious, but risky, ocean swim. Am I growing up? I hope not.

After I returned and got cleaned up, we realized we had a bit of time before yet another scheduled evening event. So Ana and I went first to Tia Ana’s local church where Ana magnificently worked through some funeral and will administration with the priest, then we drove to the town of Caloura, which is home to one of our favourite watering holes on the island, and enjoyed a plate of mussels and a drink to the sound of the ocean waves crashing into the volcanic rocks, right below the restaurant deck.

After picking up Ana’s folks we drove to Ana Margarida’s house for the final evening meal and final event of our trip. I thought maybe it was going to be a memorial sort of thing for Tia Ana, but it was just a nice meal together with various members of her family, and such a kind gesture from a remarkable lady who took care of Ana’s aunt right to the very end and beyond.

We returned to base camp sometime after 10:30 and found Natercia there waiting for us. There is nobody, and I mean nobody I have ever met who has as much energy as Natercia. Sadly, I was demolished and said a quick hello and goodbye then retired upstairs, leaving Ana and her folks to finish up the evening.

Tomorrow, we return to Canada.

Azores 2026 - Dinner for Breakfast and a Sunday Extravaganza

Our original plan to visit Restaurant Faria in Ribeira Grand for the Sunday morning rise and shiner dinner for breakfast, but the owner was on holidays so they were temporarily closed. That was a real bummer as our breakfasts here had become one of the highlights of recent trips. Imagine arriving at a slightly skudgy Portuguese café restaurant at 7am, being promptly served a large metal pitcher of red wine, baskets of fresh bread, then told the day’s meal options include octopus stew, beef stew, potato and chorizo soup, fried rabbit, fried fish. There is no menu. There are no prices. One time we went there with a crew of twelve and to make space for us, the owner kicked out two local dudes who were taking up a four-person table. They just had to find someplace else to sit. The wine pitchers are instantly refilled when they run empty, as are the bread baskets. You can wipe your mouth and fingers on the tablecloth. About two thirds of the way into your meal you realize two things. First, you are getting rapidly wasted on red wine on Sunday morning. Second, you’ve misunderstood breakfast your entire life.

Well, cousin Paul Fernando, as usual, delivered. He told me to be at his house at 6:30 am and we’d be going to a similar restaurant, but in Porto Formoso. Nobody else on my team wanted to go, so it was just Paul, Natercia, and me. In twenty minutes (a very, very, very long ways to travel for breakfast for typical Sao Migueleans), we arrived at Silenco Das Palavras, which Paul Fernando pronounced to me very solemnly as we entered.

“Silence of the Words?” I asked.

“Silence of the Words.”

I thought about it for a second.

“What does it mean?”

“I have no idea.”

It didn’t matter. Of course Paul and Natercia knew most of the people there, including the server, and he quickly seated us at a long table then brought out a big jug of red wine. The venue was smaller than Restaurant Faria, but nicer, and very cozy. Paul Fernando had warned me earlier that this place only served soup, like that was going to make any difference to my enthusiasm for a winey Azorean breakfast. The soup was served in steel bowls, and was mostly broth, collards, potatoes, carrots, and other floating substances which were difficult to identify, but  worked together to produce a formidable and delicious soup. As I was into a few spoonfuls, the server returned with a plate for each of us that contained the reason for the deliciousness of the broth – boiled meats. There were ribs, pigs feet, and shingles of beef. I did an autopsy on the pigs feet with my fork, teasing out as much flesh as I could and tossing it into my soup. I can confirm that pigs have a hell of a lot more meat on their asses than in their feet. I did the same with the beef and ribs, sucked the bones, then gobbled up the rest of the soup, with the help of the fresh bread as sponges.

We had a lovely meal together, and it was only ruined when Paul Fernando said he had to take a leak then snuck away and paid the bill. I will have my revenge.

Before driving back, we stopped at the port area and then beach area of Porto Formoso. I had never been here before and it was lovely, especially the beach which was devoid of humans and being punished by the large boiling waves crashing into the black sand, crafting a different beach. We stopped at their favourite café/gas station on the way back and enjoyed espressos and a pastel de nata. Yes, it is possible to get fantastic coffee, not to mention fancy liquors, gifts, and baked goods at a gas station.

Once back at base camp, the cousins started arriving and all flew into action, as today was the John and Maria Borges sponsored family home picnic. A lot of things started to happen. A raging wood fire was started in the brick oven. Squash and apples were skinned and cubed, other squash were halved, buttered, sugared, and doused with port wine. Potatoes peeled and boiled, onions fried. Coleslaw made. Trays of natas, pumpkin pie, rice pudding, Halloween monster cookies, and cakes were brought in from vehicle trunks. Tables were assembled, clothed, chaired, and set. Music was queued. Yams were foiled and fired, as were the squash apple casseroles. Mini-chorizos were bbq’d. Buns were sliced. Trays of cooked chickens and fried fish were purchased. Wine bottles were uncorked. Beers were opened. Juice was poured.

It was a magnificent affair. Everybody came. It lasted all day and into the night. An Azorean family jamboree. A jantarian extravaganza. Uma festa do comida e bebidas e amor.

Best, none of the Borges/Olson contingent had the requirement to report to work the next day.