It is possible that some of us are closer to when we emerged from the swamp than others. Or have a clearer connection. I started life in Europe and remember going to the beach as an extension of everyday life, just a slighter longer walk. The great river Tagus was right there at its estuary, mighty, languorous, oily and full of promise. The river beaches were delightful and quiet. But we as a family liked to experience the towering waves of Caparica, its extensive silken sands and dunes and eating sea snails with a toothpick, having to shout over the noise of the breaking Atlantic Ocean.
Children are spectacularly able to express the true joy and fright of facing the perilous sea. There are crabs nipping at your toes; Portuguese Men of War lurking, fluid just near enough to be thrust against your body on the next wave; the hollow of the water suddenly thundering over your head: no wonder there were so many shrieks and gulps of salt water and hysterical laughter and pretending one was not frightened... oh, I remember that thrill. Just along the coast, in Belem, the Portuguese maritime adventure is celebrated in stone. The very pier from which the tiny sail boats left those many centuries ago, full of sailors who were desperate enough or foolish enough to want to go and check if it was really true that the world suddenly finishes and the sea tumbles you into the infinite abyss, the void of nether space... stories so lurid and vivid to make a child's mind fill with wonder and desire to experience adventure such as they did. And then there are the many churches round about, remnants of where the ships and sailors were blessed by the Catholic priest, urging and encouraging them on their way and embarking as well, to spread the gospel and civilise the unbelievers of other lands. It was an innocent time, and a cruel one. This is such a ship. Its pennants wave half submerged, half triumphant, in the mad wind of hope; its chapel enshrines relics and beliefs; its ornate windows shelter cruelties and dishonour, the mission of enslavement and torture, greed and ambition. We pay even today the wage of this crime and yet we also taste the sweet taste of doing something bigger than ourselves.
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