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 Olhao
Half a century ago, Olhao, swimming in salt and lost
to the world, lived only from the sea. Those who were not mariners, were the
sons of mariners or the grandsons of mariners. Some were smugglers whilst some
fished off the coast and others fished on the high seas. There was fish a
plenty and the life was extraordinary. The boat went to buy in provisions in Almeria or Gibraltar, or sailed up to Sao Martinho taking figs from the
Algarve, coming back with a cargo of apples." This is how the writer Raul
Brandao describes Olhao, a town which the sea seems to have spirited over from
somewhere in North Africa. Life here follows a different pattern from
elsewhere, in the tangle of streets in the Barirro da Barreta, the bustle of
the port and the boats in the river mouth. Some have called the cubist town,
in reference to the white square houses, each topped with a terrace for drying
fish or figs, with hardly a tiled roof in site. In the summer, the kitchen
moves out into the street where the sardines, fresh form the fishing nets,
cook on charcoal grills.
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