Fartura frenzy at Pernes market

There was no problem waking the kids up this morning; they were dressed and had whipped themselves up into an excited frenzy before we had even finished breakfast. But it wasn't a birthday party that was on the plan for today, nor a trip to a swimming pool. We weren't even off to the zoo. No, the reason for the Santa Claus-like excitement in our family was: it was market day in Pernes!

Upon arriving amongst the dusty cars and pick-up trucks stocked high with melons, the kids immediately rushed to see if it was there again, cutting a path through the groups of old friends gathered in the shade to discuss the week’s events.  There were whoops of delight when they glimpsed the stall they had been talking about all week: farturas!! Tasting a lot better than their name would suggest, these fried doughy treats with sugar, lemon and cinnamon are undeniably delicious; worth a week of waiting.

As we sat under a plane tree munching our prize, I asked the kids why they loved the market so much. I expected them to immediately shout “farturas!!” in unison, but Child #1 had a more surprising and profound reply.

 

"The market brings people together," he said, between mouthfuls of sugary dough. As if to emphasise his point, a man came up to me at that very moment and started a conversation. Since I hardly speak any Portuguese, this of course evolved quickly into a sequence of smiles and gestures, and ended a moment later with a firm handshake, pats on the shoulder, and more smiles all round. (In fact, all my Portuguese "conversations" tend to go this way...).

“You see, that would never happen in Luxembourg,” continued Child #1, “and that's why I love Portugal so much”.

 

The kids were thirsty post-fartura, so they each took long drinks from the cool, fresh water fountain in the main square. Suitably refreshed we explored the market, wandering through the stalls of mostly local fruit, vegetables, sausages and cheeses. Clothes traders shouted out the price of their wares (5 EUR for everything, as far I could understand). The smell of chickens roasting on open wood fires was impossible to resist. In the market hall, unfamiliar fish awaited their ultimate fate on fast-melting ice, whilst the bakery next door was doing a brisk trade in soft crusty bread so simple and delicious that one wonders why it isn't made everywhere. Taking a later break at the playground (yes, the market square has a playground!), Child #2 managed to charm a distant cousin* into giving her some money for a second helping of fartura... In short, it was another blissful morning.

That lunchtime we feasted on chicken, bread, cheeses, olives, sausage, tomatoes and a variety of fresh fruit, just as we had done the previous Friday. As we ate, we discussed on how much better life in Europe would be if there were more small-town weekly markets and less big-town supermarkets: Less car usage, less packaging, more local produce, more “bringing people together”. Then someone casually observed that this was our last Friday in Portugal, and therefore our final market. We continued to eat our chicken and olives in reflective silence.

 Daisy the bus visited the Pernes weekly markets on Friday 5^th August. And the Friday before that. She wants to go back as soon as possible.

*Joelle’s mother is originally from this region of Portugal.

(c) 2016 Jonathan Orr