As we discussed in my previous paper on this subject, the secret to making the best chicken in the world is Piri Piri. If you don’t know by now, Piri Piri sauce is to Portuguese Chicken what Cagney is to Lacey. B1 is to B2. The Tardis is to Doctor Who. Without a great Piri Piri, chicken is just chicken. It has no mojo.

The origins of the sauce come from Angola and Mozambique, who both have ancient versions of chilli sauce and who customarily use chillies in their cooking. You could almost say that chilli occurs no where else in Portuguese cooking, at least only as an exotic ingredient and certainly not in any other national, fundamental dish.

In trying to crack the recipe par excellence I’ve gone to neighbours, to friends, their parents and grandparents, to restaurants and to the internet. All recipes for Molho Piri Piri have as their basis malagueta chillies, olive oil and whisky. The most common variations are using a different alcohol or vinegar, and adding lemon, garlic, bay and other spices.

I’ve tried a few now and I was happy with my own lemony brew which I shared before. But now I have turned to the master (or mistress if you prefer), Elvira, and it is her recipe which I will declare the perfect piri piri sauce.

It is just goddam delish. Not too hot, thick enough to stick, and mighty tasty. Note however that Elvira refers to her chillies as piri-piris, and most other recipes refer to malaguetas as the variety to use for this sauce, so here I have specified malaguetas too. I’ve had too many different explanations about whether malaguetas are piri piris and whether or not piri piri is just the correct translation of the english word chilli, which we spell in a variety of ways further illustrating the elasticity of language. Blah-de-blah-blah. Maybe Elvira herself will drop by and give us the final word on this piri piri / malagueta lingistic phenomenon. Ditto Isabel.

8 red malaguetas (about 8-10 cms long, finger width, but not sweet like Thai chillies)
3 green malaguetas
teaspoon of sweet paprika
zest of one lemon
clove of garlic
200ml extra virgin olive oil
pinch of rock salt
wine glass of either balsamic vinegar, port, brandy or scotch.

Even in this situation I will still only use recipes as a guide. Not because I don’t think Elvira’s is perfect, but because I know how I like it. I can never see the point in only one clove of garlic, for example. I used three. My lemon zest seemed a bit skimpy so I added some more, and I chose a nice bottle of scotch for the punch,  giving a small glass to the sauce and the rest to me. But one day I will try the balsamic version. Balsamic & chicken sounds wild and amazing.

You put all the ingredients into a blender or a food processor or a bamix thingy and grind it up until it looks good. I marinated my chicken in it for a few hours before barbequing.

Super seriously yummo, and it also makes a boring pork chop very worthy.

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My brother in law started this one off by saying that watching the Portugal vs. Ivory Coast match was enough to turn a straight man gay. “They were like gods,” he said. And although I’ve never been one for football worship in any way, this World Cup I know exactly where he is coming from. There has been some spectacular beauty out there on the pitch, not only defined by an Grecian physique or a Roman nose, but a divine masculinity of classical athleticism and gymnastic skill.

portugal vs. ivory coast

Sometimes the harmonisation of the team can turn a game into an all male performing art. Germany’s play, especially in the Australian and English matches, was elevating to watch like a ballet or opera. The Portuguese, against North Korea, made the game look too easy, and the players’ pride and joy was so potent that it spread throughout the whole country for a moment. Slovakia vs. Italy was operatic in its passion and hate and despair.  But sometimes the performance never gets there. Nigeria vs. South Korea was just boring. It’s been hard to enjoy watching England play, with their absence of pride or enjoyment. They are the antithesis of New Zealand’s enthusiasm and sportsmanship. So heroic were the Kiwis that they made defeat look like triumph.

Friends of mine will think it is most peculiar that I have gone soccer mad. I’ve never actually been averse to the football of Europe, and I even pretentiously thought of it as a culturally superior game to the gang-banging thick-necked vulgarity of rugby league, the sport which predominates in my home town. Of course the reality is that soccer in Europe isn’t classy at all, but populated by thugs and spivs and corruption. Just check out the suits on the Slovakian coaches… gangsters minus the style.

One contention I have had is the nationalism which comes with sport. “Love just one nation, and the whole world we deny” as Michael Franti says. Flying the flag and all that rot… it’s loathsome. However, being an expat gives a context to your national identity, and it also helps to spread your nationalism further. Not only am I an Australian, but also a Kiwi (by continent), a German (former resident) and a Portuguese (by adoption).

Another of my former aversions to spectator sport was its irrelevancy. But at last, now I get it :- it’s the diversion itself from all things worrying and important that gives it substance. Football is the opium of the people.

If you don’t understand what the all the fuss is about, but would like to take the trip and forget yourself for 90 minutes, here are my beginner’s watching tips: First you need to focus. You need to keep your eyes on the ball at all times, in the same way you work your concentration when trying to see a 3D picture. Relax, allow yourself to be hypnotised. Anticipate the moves of the players. Become the player. Once you can focus easily and re-focus when distracted, you’ll be able to start checking out what’s going on on the wider field, but to get started it’s imperative that you get into that focussed zone. It’s a quiet trance-like state which will have you feeling the pace, snapping at the refs, and emoting loudly when there’s a goal or a near goal. Second. Watch the violence. Slapping about the opponent is a essential tactic. It’s a messy side effect of desperately trying to get the ball off them at high speed and even though it’s against the rules, it’s actually a serious device. Actually, no, not serious – just like two 7 yr olds brawling. Stepping on a foot, gouging an eye, tripping them up – it’s all part of the fun. I can hear you’re about to object so let’s rush to #3 – Theatrics. Pretending you are hurt is another significant scheme of the game. It wins your side time and if you are convincing enough you might persuade the ref to give out a yellow card and/or a free kick. But I don’t really think they are all bunging it on – certainly a kick in the shins with studs and a knee in the ribs would have me writhing on the ground and crying like a baby too – it’s just funny how un-tough these guys can be when they want to be. Apart from these three characteristics of the game there’s not that much more you need to know. There are some rules, but they aren’t really important, nor particularly interesting. You can pretty much commit the rest of your brain to perving.

cristiano ronaldo for armani, and jesus navas, spain

Starting with the Portuguese team. Over here we are rather familiar with the sight of Cristiano Ronaldo on the tele and magazines and everywhere else. With undies and without. But in his native habitat he is something special. He is a star. And who can’t be moved by that dazzling smile even when he misses a goal? He’s a terrible show pony, but hey, he’s entertaining.

vincenzo iaquinta - italy

He’s perfect, but that’s nothing when compared to the Italians. Watching an Italian football game is a lot like being in Italy itself: so many spunks you don’t know where to look. Cannavaro, di Natale, Iaquinta – I wept with them at the end of the Slovakia match – so sorry am I to have to kiss them goodbye this week. Ditto the Kiwis, not just pretty but so nice! Helping up the Italians after elbowing them to the ground… so sweet.

fabio cannavaro - italy

It’s not like you have to hunt too hard because there are cuties in every team. Rodriguez of Argentina, Navas of Spain, Honda of Japan. Bendtner of Denmark. Van der Vaart of Holland. Even those mean slavs have a few hotties, like Kopunek. The German team is a little overloaded with looks. There’s Cacau, Aogo and Boateng for starters. And here’s the bottom line. Maybe I’m a little biased, but none of the players I’ve singled out is a slouch on the field. To state it plain, they are not there for their looks. Sure, some like the blessed Cristiano and the revered Rafael Van der Vaart are savaged when they play less brilliantly than usual… but that’s the whole problem with being a saint. Just one miracle will get you the title, but for the rest of your career you cannot get away with being a mere mortal.

cacau, germany

I’ve got a radical idea to make the game even better. To make the players purer and worthy of worship. To give the sport all the nobility it aspires to. Freedom from corruption and cheating… Don’t pay them. Like in the Olympics, let their talent, not their price, speak for itself. Would Beckham have played so well without the riches? Yes. Were Pelé or Maradona as good as Ronaldo, even though they didn’t earn anywhere near as much? Of course. Better, many would argue. Would kids in the Bairros still dream of being Kaká or Messi? You bet. Would a rose not smell as sweet?

a beautiful shot by annie leibovitz for louis vuitton. maradona, pelé and zidane.

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Most everybody has heard of the Festa dos Tabuleiros, which takes place in Tomar roughly every 4 years in July. Actually, there is no set date: a month or two ago the mayor called the populace and asked them if they wanted the festa next year (YEAH!!! roared the crowd) and if anybody was willing to be the mordomo¹ (VICTAL!!! Shouted the crowd on behalf of the very popular mordomo of the last festa). So, after the three celebratory firecrackers were thrown in the Praça, it was settled. But there were times when it was every 2 years and some press for a Festa dos Tabuleiros every year. As a matter of fact, this big event in Tomar dates from the 50’s: before that, every parish made its own separate procession in honour of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost Sunday, where young girls dressed in white carried baskets of bread interwoven with flowers to be blessed in church.

Nowadays, only one parish keeps the tradition every year, Carregueiros. Here, the flowers of the fields don’t fear the showers of May, unlike the paper flowers of the big production of Tomar, that made the whole thing move to the rain-proof month of July. Here, the Holy Spirit has not been forgotten, just like in the distant-cousin-festas of the Azores. Here, no tourists, virtually no outsiders, only the local youth donning the traditional clothes capped by the most modern haircuts and fancy sunglasses.

First the Band, followed by the Brotherhood carrying the Holy Spirit’s crown and flags and then the couples with their offerings to the Holy Spirit (or perhaps it´s really Ceres) pass under the windows of Carregueiros’ Main Street and the residents lean out over their best bedspreads to throw petals at the crowd.

The procession takes place between the two churches of the village, and small children carry their little baskets with flowers with great gravity and even greater courage.

The walk is long and the lazy are already waiting at the second church watching the long, colourful snake approach through the fields, up and down, and finally up a steep flight of stairs.

For thirsty onlookers, the “water” man has a mixture of beer and soda (a little beer and a lot of soda, to maintain the decorum of the festivities), and for the hungry there are bolos da cabeça to help them wait for lunch.

After mass everybody walks back to the centre of the village and the first church, where the baskets are blessed. The bread is then distributed among the people, who keep it throughout the year in the hope that they will be blessed with abundance.

The great Festa dos Tabuleiros of Tomar, that attracts hundreds of thousands of visitors, brings together the Tomarense who for a year work tirelessly to transform their city. But the connection with the mystical origins of this celebration is all but lost. Here in Carregueiros, and even more in the Azores and Brazil, the cult of the Holy Spirit still echoes the utopia of a Third Age, which would bring universal and egalitarian love and total freedom which comes from the direct inspiration of the Holy Spirit.

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I’ve been researching this post for the last three years and on doctor’s orders, it’s got to stop.

There are just too many cafés in Central Portugal and having to sample all of their coffees and pastries is going to be the end of my arteries and me. I can no longer justify a diet of pasteis, bolos and caffeine for the sake of the blog. Sorry.

In any case the parameters of my research have become blurred. Do I stick to the boundaries of the three Beiras regions or shall we just call it Central Portugal instead? Is it really a post about the best pastelarias in which case does it become a study of fabrico proprio? Is it really just a competition of coffee brands, because I think I’ve developed a preference for Delta. What if I catch a great café on an off day? What if they do the best duchesse in the region and I order a marselhesa by mistake?

But the main reason to stop is that there are just too many good cafés and a post can only be soooo looong…

So I’ll just tell you about my favourites (so far) and you can tell me yours, ok? Let’s go.

How I judge a place. The coffee has to be good on successive visits, with or without milk, bastante quente (who actually likes their coffee luke warm? I don’t know) and a good café IMhO serves directo whether you ask for it or not (or if you can’t tell the difference, that’s impressive). These things show a respect for coffee.

Either a good range of pastelaria, or a unique, small range. I look for specialities, or if they do a classic exceptionally well.

And that’s it: this is not about interior design, comfortable chairs, history, fame or even the temper of the staff… it’s just strictly a coffee and cake experience.

There are certainly many good places. What made it to this selection is being exceptionally good, and I do confess that the surprise of their sometimes obscure locations may have influenced their ranking. How do they compare with my favourite cafés of Lisbon? Certainly not well for décor(!), but for the quality of their coffee and cake, yes, I do believe they are as good.

In alphabetical order, we start in Avelar… a funny little town with really nothing much to recommend it except a pretty church, the Casa Farrica hardware shop and this outrageously good pastelaria. When I was new here I thought I was a genius to discover a cute side alley old fashioned little café which then abruptly closed its doors. I felt guilty and unfaithful when I decided to go to the new big modern place, whose pastries were possibly even better… until I realised it was the same place, they had just expanded. Phew!

Pastelaria Rocha’s thing is sonhos, and they don’t call them dreams for nothing. Their miniatures are adorable and their savoury things also are great.

Ansião is also nothing much of a place (sorry Ansianense) but it does have Pastelaria Diogo, or two, actually. Massive display of goodies, consistently good coffee.

In Condeixa-a-Nova, conveniently located across from the centro de saude, is O Pote de Mel. It is slightly infamous for turning out more unusual creations, in life threatening sizes. If you’re up for something truly decadent, pop in here for a escrapiada or a delicia. After your blood tests.

Technically still in Condeixa, but tucked away in a bairro they call Urbanização Nova de Conimbriga (it’s off the roundabout that joins the IC3 to the IC2, towards Soure) is a little gem of a café called O Bom Forno. It serves more polite, but no less decadent, cake portions of divine invention.  And they make the cutest baby berlims I’ve seen. Chocolate berlims too. And it’s wookie friendly.

Coimbra has a few good places. There are three close together on Rua de Sofia near Praça 8 Maio. My favourite is the old fashioned stand-up-only Pastelaria Palmeira, whose speciality is the weird-but-yummy pastel de santa clara. Almost next door, Pastelaria Penta has a bigger range of mouth watering sins and arguably better coffee. Across the road, Pastelaria Sirius is also very good.

When in Leiria I always go to Martin & Thomas on Praça Rodrigues Lobo. It quite rightly uses “gourmet” in its self description and indeed would not be out of place in any modern foodie location in the world. Great bread. Great everything. I think of Leiria as the Braga of Central Portugal. It’s civilised. It has Zara.

And now to Tentúgal and Vouzela. But these places and their pastelarias are SO good that they deserve their own day trip posts. It’s certainly worth going all the way to Vouzela for a visit to Café Central, and to eat a pastel de Vouzela. But the town itself is such a treasure that it’s a destination in itself. Similarly, at first glance Tentúgal’s pastelarias dos doces conventuais look like a truckies´ stop. But Tentúgal not only has an exceptional café but an unforgettable restaurant and a fascinating historic church as well. It’s not just a lay-by, it’s a lay-day.

But after visiting hundreds of other cafés, I always come back to my local. Pastelaria Pingo Doce in Figueiró Dos Vinhos, behind the Câmara, is so inconspicuous you’d normally not notice it. The coffee here is just as I like it and while I’m very fond of their bolos de arroz and tigeladas, it’s their pasteis de nata that are by far and away the best in Central Portugal. I’m tempted to say, the best outside of Pastéis de Belém. I know, it’s a big call, but I have tried, I have tested and I have the belly to prove it.

I would like to hear I’ve missed something in Castelo Branco, or that there’s a gem in Guarda (I’ve never been to Guarda). Have I passed on something in Pombal? Fundão? Do you have a favourite in Aveiro? Does Sertã have something hidden? Anything new in Lousã? Let me know. Not for any more serious research, no, just in case I’m passing…

innocent and unassuming... and the best pastel in the region

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I sometimes get emails from people who are looking to simplify their lives. They are tired of the stress, the traffic and noise of the city, of working all their waking hours for little personal reward and never having enough time for the people they love. Perhaps you too are wishing you had more time to do things you actually enjoy? Would you like to escape the tyranny of spending and consumerism and the desire for things you don’t need? Do you fill your life with possessions as a reward for the pressure, pain and emptiness of modern living? Maybe you’re thinking about downsizing, having less clutter, no more drawers overflowing with unused mobile phone chargers. And you would like to reduce your carbon footprint, and have a more sensitive relationship with Mother Earth? Can you see yourself, happy and free, running naked through a sunny field of daisies?

WELL SNAP OUT OF IT YOU DAYDREAMER AND GET BACK TO WORK.

If there’s one thing I know now it’s this:

POVERTY IS OVERRATED.

Yes, trouble is, once you have a healthy cash flow it’s rather difficult to remember what it’s like not having one. Of course, I know you’re not planning on being poor and desperate, but if you’re going to give up working your bum off, then you are inevitably going to have to adjust to living on less. A lot less. And then, as time goes on, even less and less. It sounds fine as an idea, but believe me it is extremely difficult to change your mentality from “rich” to “poor”, and to change it fast enough to keep pace with your economic status.

How much do you need to live on in Portugal? The minimum wage here is €450/ month: I cannot see how anyone can live on that. I get by, in a painfully, unhappily, penny-watching way (see the Support button below) on about €600, and some months this blows out dramatically: all it takes is a sick car or dog, an insurance bill or a visitor or two and my budget goes out the window. I estimate that a couple with a cat should budget for $1200/month or €15000 a year. PLUS accommodation – allow another €250/ month for renting a 3 bedroom house (you’ll need a guest room, or two). Readers please throw in your two cents worth on this, as costs, as people, vary region to region.

Debt is the enemy. I seriously do not recommend giving up work if you have any debt. What you are undertaking is already enormously financially challenging and complicating the risk with old financial baggage is a bad idea. If you have a mortgage at home or on your new life, then either you or your dog needs a regular job. Sorry about that.

Should the math still be working in your favour, I have this to say. Doing without feels quite good at first. But after a while the novelty wears off and you’d rather have back a flushing toilet, a kitchen with plumbing, a shiny black golf and a goddam dishwasher. So here’s my first piece of advice for those who are persisting with the idea:

1. Don’t Throw the Baby Out With The Bathwater.

I know some people who have tossed their lives away, like me, but they are still living comfortably in a house with modern appliances, eating interesting meals, and maintaining proper standards of personal hygiene. Their secret has been better financial planning coupled with a more moderate approach to deprivation. In essence, they started with more money and they did not elect to live in their ruin.

So, if your other half (or your other identity) is advising caution and saying `let’s give it another 6 months and then we’ll be more financially secure´, then listen to them. On the other hand, that advice would not have saved me. As a freelancer, I may have been waiting forever for that last 50 grand to appear, and it is critical to getting a new life that you don’t put it off forever and to know when you have to make the leap. So if you think your team mate (or you yourself) is just procrastinating and they don’t really want to go and live in Portugal, then dump them and move on.

The point I’m trying to make is when you’re making-frugal, don’t go overboard. Going from living in a penthouse to living in a tent is not nice. Try not to overestimate your stamina and try not to underestimate the length of time your money has to last.

2. Start Living Frugal Immediately And Be Committed.

Somehow you have to guess at the most basic living conditions you can tolerate for an unknown period of time… and then start living that life and stick to it. Even though your money hasn’t run out yet try to live as though it may run out tomorrow. It might sound a bit contradictory to the first advice, but this is about not living in denial about your financial situation. As soon as you stop earning you need to stop spending. Make a long term budget and be sure to include a bucketload of contingency.

One of the trickier things is getting other people to understand your new situation. I am still being invited to skiing trips in Val d’Isère when I haven’t earned a dime in three years. And I don’t even like skiing. You’ll have to tell your friends and family loud and clear, and over and over. No more lavish gifts, no more expensive restaurants. You are Frugalling. You may have to start a blog as well or get a tattoo on your forehead.

3. Go Bush

Mission Frugal should involve the switch from city to country.

The biggest advantage for country living for the ex-city materialist is the absence of temptations. I really appreciate not being surrounded by shops full of shiny things. And there’s something about living in the city that results in needing $15 cocktails on a Friday night. As much as I miss the food, I am glad that I cannot accidentally blow $50 on a sushi tray. Thank god rural Portugal is not a glamorous place – or rather, it is a very unpretentious place. One may comfortably go about looking like a sack and no one snorts or huffs or looks you up and down… On the contrary, I’ve been complimented on my nice dressing gown.

4. Making Friends With The Natives

Let’s now assume you’ve quit your job and moved to Portugal.

Your Portuguese neighbours will be an enormous support and resource to you, even if they want to kill your dog. Firstly because frugality is a way of life in rural Portugal, and secondly they will help you overcome the foreigner/local price divide.

In most places in the world, foreigners are presumed to be better off than the locals, based on the simple principle that you’re travelling and they’re not. It is now your job to undo this misunderstanding. You will ingratiate yourself with your neighbours by complaining about the price of things, griping about being poor and moaning about your poor health. Once you graduate from whingeing you can move onto the higher subjects like local supermarket specials. After that it’s carte blanche on cheap tips: what price they get on sand, which car mechanic won’t rip you off, and what you should have paid for those onion seedlings. And all this invaluable assistance just for your time, your witty banter and your liver.

Unlike your friends at home, your Portuguese neighbours will not expect you to bring a fine wine every time you drop over. On the contrary, my neighbours have scorned all my gifts like home made jam, spaghetti sauce and marinated olives because this gift giving nonsense is just not on. It’s not because they are stingey or ungrateful (no siree, just watch them force food on you) it’s because they don’t have money to waste. Christmas is the best. They gave me crap (but useful) gifts like tea towels, and in return I gave them crap (but useful) things like tea towels.

4. Trading

I discovered the village bartering system by accident. Tia Maria had been abandoned by her children (they went to France to work) which meant she had to walk up and down the hill to tend to the crops. It’s a bitch of a hill and she’s 30 years older than me, so we’d throw the pumpkins the back of my van and I’d give her a lift. No biggie. But then in return she’d try to give me three weeks worth of green beans, a dozen eggs and a bottle of wine.

Once we’d negotiated a more restrained quantity of produce, this became a regular thing. Then I realised that everyone was up for this trading thing. Next door would drop over some lemons, I’d leave a bag of dog food my dog doesn’t like. Lately we’ve been getting into car swapping, internet access for labour, land clearing for firewood.  Of course it’s been going on between them for ever: one historic transaction was when one neighbour fixed the other one’s car for 6 jars of honey. It seems so right that I wonder why we aren’t living like this all our lives…

5. Grow Your Own

Of course you’ll need something to trade, and your exotic city tastes may help. I can’t compete with my neighbour’s talent for horticulture, but I can offer them things they don’t grow or have never tried. My stuff has novelty value. And other friends will appreciate your efforts too – so instead of bringing a bottle of wine you can take a pot of basil, cherry tomatoes or some rocket – things we can’t often find in our local markets. Of course anything else you can grow in your garden will help your frug-style. Growing stuff in Portuguese soil will be made easier if you also raise chickens, and while you’re at it, get a pig, some goats and sheep too.

6. Think Global, Buy Local

The biggest immediate saving to you is that you’ll spend less on petrol, but that’s the next point. You have to buy locally because rural areas are in rapid decline and things will get more expensive if we don’t invest in our tiny towns. Your custom with local business will help you forge relationships which will get you better prices in the long run. If you don’t take an interest in your local shop you might find that it no longer exists next year.

While regular customers are the most valuable, you should try to share the love around. The most obvious example is to buy whatever you can from local markets and not from big supermarkets. At the market I even prefer the smaller, older stallholders who are not importing fruit and vegies, but growing it themselves. Your money goes directly into the local’s pocket and keeps the local economy working. Just now a neighbour proudly showed me some apples that have come from Argentina… can you imagine the real cost of those apples, and can they be so much better than what’s hanging on the tree outside? Maybe they are not paying the extra cost right now, but the economy and the planet’s environment is, and if you’re thinking big picture, it is relevant to your personal operation frugal.

7. Step Off The Gas.

Apart from the urgent need to stop burning fossil fuels, the cost of petrol and the distances you often need to travel in the country is a major handicap to the frugal life. I consider every hour in the car costs me nearly €10. Most of the time I’m better off spending more on individual items at the nearer corner shop than driving further to the supermarket. And I prefer to buy things from my neighbours for more than I’d pay elsewhere because of what I save on petrol. It’s a strong argument for using the bread, fish and veg trucks that visit the village. My neighbours, the dedicated bargain hunters, once recommended I buy car tyres about 1 1/2 hrs drive away. So those cheap €20 retreads really cost me €35 each… and they’ll need replacing again in a year’s time… see more about “false economy” below.

When you have to use the car, take your foot off the gas. Driving slower in this country may even save your life.  And while on the road I try to encourage others to slow down too.  I flirt lasciviously at men who attempt to overtake me, which works a treat. My parents had a test of not using the accelerator on the way home from the shops. In turn us kids would do it too, and make it more fun by not using the brakes either… I still do this today, when there are no other cars around, of course.

8. Beware of False Economy.

There are false economy traps everywhere. Initially I bought cheap vacuum cleaners, cheap power tools and kitchen appliances which all had to be replaced. Buying stuff at the bottom of the market is rarely worth it unless you are really only using it once. When I researched my purchases properly by using organizations like Choice (Australia) I bought things that actually worked, and still work today. Beware especially the lojas chinesas (el-cheapo import shops) in Portugal. I have some strict rules about the things I am allowed to buy in them. I can’t tell you how many hose fittings I’ve been through because I stubbornly refuse to spend three times as much for something that actually functions. So instead I buy things that break before I get them home. Clever.

Frugal shortcuts; Electricity is not your friend. Use the free Espaços Internet if you are only an occasional net user. Give up cheese, or save it for restaurants. Eat less meat. And if you like to take a coffee, you should do as the Porties do and drink espresso… a 55c café is the kind of treat you never have to do without.

For specific prices consult the following:

http://www.mosqueteiros.com/. They publish their brochures on line for both groceries (Intermarché) and hardware (Bricomarché). See “Folhetos”.

More groceries http://www.clubeminipreco.webside.pt/index.htm

Groceries and larger stuff http://www.modelo.pt/promocoes/folhetos

Now, nudie hippie dude, go forth and frugal yourself!

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