Towards the south, there’s Eugaria on the left, Colares on the right and, smack in front, seemingly the whole mountain. From the top of the hill, the sea on the western horizon, Palácio da Pena on the eastern, and glimpses of houses here and there, like jewells on the greenery.
The real-estate agent showed it to us more or less in desperation, after we had successively turned our noses up at her complete portfolio of apparently more desirable plots in the pine forest at the bottom of the hill. «I suppose there’s another one I can show you», she finally huffed. «Up there …» – Dismissively, probably hoping to get rid of us and to return to more lucrative clients.
And she brought us to the Hill.
At first we didn't understand it, kept waiting for the catch – to be shown some dank spot behind a wall, for instance, or a bog on the northern slope with no view and no sun exposure. But she waved her arm and said “This is it”.
“It” was a long, narrow strip of land straddling the hill north to south. And we couldn’t believe it.
It was what we’d been looking for all along. An unimpeded view. Size enough (just under the proverbial “acre of land”) to plant trees, of which there were very few. Isolation enough to give one the illusion of being in the country.
That there was a small run-down vineyard only added to the charm (the road at the northern edge is Alto das Vinhas – Vineyard Heights –, and indeed there remain a few here and there in neighbouring plots).
The catch would come. But at that moment, for the moment, our cup was full. That was in 1999.
