Page 20 - SpontaneousSuccessMatos

sound of waves lapping and crashing below my window
and the chapel bell atop the nearby cliff ringing,
signaling that the fishermen had safely returned and it
was time to start selling their catch.
The main street, a lazy ribbon of cobblestones,
meandered down to the fishermen's beach, where the
Hole in the Wall, a ramshackle shop crammed with
everything from fresh figs to fishing tackle, doubled as
the village post office. Up the road, a sleepy café, its
tables shaded by brightly colored umbrellas, offered
respite from the sun, while two restaurants, one
doubling as a taxi service, promised culinary delights and
a ride home. Unassuming doorways concealed hidden
tavernas, their enticing aromas of wine, aguardente, and
espresso mingled on the cobblestone streets.
Three days into my adventure, I found myself at the
Hole in the Wall, a birthday card for my mom tucked
into my pocket. The wooden floorboards groaned
beneath my weight as I stepped inside, the scent of old
paper and olives filling my nostrils. A tall, distinguished
man stood at the counter, his pen scratching a signature
onto a package. The woman behind the counter, her
English halting but her smile warm, beamed at him.
"Finally!" she exclaimed. "Today is lucky day, Senhor
Tomaz."(In Portuguese, “h” is pronounced like “y”).
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