Benafim and Thereabout. (Algarve.

Portugal) The road I walk on is flanked by old stone walls, in fact, the scenery is crossed by these walls but most of them have fallen down by now, and behind walls almond trees. I can t think of anything uglier then these trees, grey, spindly with a few nuts hanging here and there like discarded Christmas decor of yesteryear. But come February I will wake up to a beautiful sight, the almond tree will be full of pink and white flowers, which it sheds, petal by petal, fooling us to think it snows in fairyland. Then it will be full of vivid green leaves, not drab green like olive tree, but verdant as a woman s dress when going to a new year ball. This landscape has not seen war for eons, dictators, presidents and generals have ruled and gone; they never came here where the land has nothing to offer but beauty. But if you listen well to nature s murmour, you can hear an echo from an unseen minaret an Imam s melodious voice calling the faithful to prayer. (Once upon a time Algarve was ruled by Moslems)