The bench was concrete and had been in the sun all day. I sat down and put my bag between my feet. The timetable under the plastic cover said the next bus was in three hours.
I had been in Vila Nova de Milfontes for almost two weeks. Long enough to know which bakery opened first, long enough to stop checking the map for the route back from the river mouth. But not long enough to have learned the bus schedule properly.
I arrived at the stop at something like half past two. The bus had left at twenty-six past. I could still see its rear end rounding the corner by the petrol station, slipping behind a white van. Four minutes. I stood there with my hand still in my bag looking for the wallet I’d already found.
He was already on the bench. A man in his sixties, maybe seventies, with a canvas hat and brown shoes that had been resoled more than once. He had a paper bag on his lap and was eating almonds from it, one at a time, placing each shell into a separate fold of the bag. He didn’t look up when I sat down but he shifted slightly to make room, which is how I knew he’d registered me.
Neither of us spoke for the first hour. He ate his almonds. I watched the road. A woman walked past with two dogs, one old and one young, both the same yellow colour. A motorbike went by with a surfboard strapped sideways to the back. The rider had sandals on. I thought about saying something about the sandals but didn’t.
I’d come from the north side of town, where I’d been looking for the bakery I wrote about earlier, the one with the dense bread and caraway. I’d stayed too long. The woman behind the counter had given me an extra pastry because it was the last one and she said she didn’t want to carry it home. I ate it on the walk to the stop, slowly, and by the time I got there the bus was gone.
The man finished his almonds. He folded the bag carefully, twice, and put it in his shirt pocket. Then he leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankle. He looked at the sky the way someone looks at a ceiling in a room they know well.
A car parked across the road and a teenager got out and opened the boot and pulled out a beach umbrella that was too big for one person. The teenager dragged it across the pavement and into a shop. The man on the bench watched this and made a small sound, not quite a laugh.
The second hour was easier. I stopped checking my phone. The shade from the shelter’s roof moved about a foot across the concrete. A cat appeared from under a parked lorry, walked past us without stopping, and slipped behind a wheelie bin. The man nodded at the cat the way you nod at a colleague.
Around five the light changed. The road surface went from pale to the colour of old brick. The petrol station had a hand-painted sign for ice cream and a woman came out to wipe down the freezer’s glass top. She looked over at us once, then went back inside. The man took his hat off and put it on the bench beside him. His hair was white and cut very short.
I asked him if the bus was reliable. He said sometimes. I asked if he was going far. He said no. He said it in a way that made me think the question itself was wrong, as if the bus was not a means of getting somewhere but a thing that happened to you twice a day.
The bus came at six. It was on time, or close enough. The man got on first. He showed a card to the driver and sat in the front seat. I sat three rows back. He didn’t look around. I didn’t say anything. I’m not sure he would have expected me to.
I thought about the way he folded the almond bag. Twice, and then a third fold that made it flat. I do something similar with receipts I know I won’t need. I don’t know why. He probably didn’t either. Or maybe he did and it was obvious to him, and I missed it.
If you’re thinking about it
- The coastal bus runs once in the morning and once in the afternoon. Arrive at the stop at least ten minutes early.
- The timetable printed at the stop is not always the same as the one online. Check both if you can.
- Bring water and something to eat. There is no café within easy walking distance of the main stop.
- If you miss the bus, the next one may be three hours away. There is no taxi rank in town.
- Walking between the main beaches is possible on the cliff footpath but takes longer than the map suggests.
I’ll be here a while longer.
