Even more - Campscape Beira Marvao Alentejo

The Dance of Wandering Thoughts and Questions – by Ronaldo

How — for God’s sake — did you end up here? How did you find this place? Are you open all year? Where do you go when you travel? Do you miss Amsterdam? Do you ever regret your move? Do the Portuguese accept you, you know, being… you know? What’s the temperature here in winter? Why a saltwater pool and where do you get the saltwater from? Do you have a lot of friends here?

These sometimes very personal questions arise, we think, from disassociation. People suddenly find themselves in a totally detached and ancient landscape, yet are hosted by a married, mixed-race gay couple from Amsterdam (and originally São Paulo). Two cosmopolitan city boys in the apparently empty, fairytale-like border region of Portugal and Spain.

No, we aren’t nature freaks, don’t grow our own vegetables. We don’t do or know anything about permaculture. In the very beginning, we were even scared of our own donkeys. We don’t do anything holistic (as far as we know), no gong or scent therapy (other than cattle bells and the smell of eucalyptus trees). We can barely distinguish a hoopoe from a sparrow, let alone that we know the names of all the trees and plants on our estate.

We don’t do yoga, and for relaxation, we drop some drops of our enriched homegrown olive oil. We don’t even like camping and certainly aren’t fans of campsites.

Traveling
To already start answering one question: we don’t travel anymore. Our joy is to close the gates now and then, enjoy our beautiful estate, do some necessary landscaping without being ambushed by questions. (Every three months, we drive a water truck to the Atlantic coast to take in some saltwater.)

But rest assured, we have traveled enough in our lifetimes. Being a childless couple, we were never bound or limited by school holidays. So what everyone plans to do after retirement, we already did, in our prime. Don’t believe it? Here we go: we’ve traveled to all countries of Western and Southern Europe, Morocco, Kenya, Gambia, Cabo Verde, Tunisia, Egypt, Ghana, South Africa (twice), Tanzania, Zanzibar, Israel, West Bank, Brazil (many times and all over), Suriname, Curaçao, Costa Rica, Panama, Cuba, the United States (several times), Canada, Japan, China, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand, Bali (three times), Sri Lanka, New Zealand, and Australia.

Our travels were always about meeting people and avoiding busy tourist hotspots. We didn’t chase monuments — monuments don’t drink wine with you at midnight or tell bad jokes over breakfast. We chased people.
Grabbing opportunities to get to know, enjoy, and taste daily local life, with its (often hidden and unknown) pleasures. I mean, how many castles, cathedrals, temples, and excavations can you see?

Our motto: what you don’t know, you can’t miss! Our FOMO (fear of missing out) was coming home with photos of all the must-see spots (which are exactly the same as those in the travel brochures) and not with the stories and adventures we had with newly made local friends. Sure, we did see many attractions, visited beautiful beaches, went parasailing from Table Mountain, got our scuba license in Bali… but these were never the highlights of our trips.

In 2014, we stumbled upon our favourite travel trick: delivering other people’s brand-new motorhomes across continents. You pick up a motorhome (often brand new) at the factory and have a couple of weeks to drive it to its destination. Our first trip was from Minneapolis to San Francisco—a 23-day trip that led us to many amazing national parks and offered a constant change of scenery and experiences. We weren’t limited by any itinerary or prior knowledge about the places we would cross. We just used our eyes and ears, ready to explore and seize opportunities as they came. What an eye-opening trip that was!

We never stayed more than one night at a campsite, but on that one night, we often got caught up in deep and exploratory and entertaining conversations with fellow travelers.

Time and Space
I’m a human geographer, once specialized in recreation (now replaced by tourism and commercial leisure), town planning (replaced by project-driven capitalism), and city marketing (which, luckily, is still unknown in Marvão): I ❤️ Marvão
The basis of human geography is that every person can only be in one spot at one time. Everyone has their own time-space path, which results from personal characteristics, preferences, opportunities and constraints. Things get really interesting when individual time-space paths coincide and interact, creating… opportunities!

This was my job in Amsterdam, where I operated in the schizophrenic relationship between social policies and urban planning. My eventual burnout in Amsterdam (did I already mention that we’re in Portugal because of my burnout?) was partly caused by my lifelong fight against urban planning that doesn’t focus on shaping conditions for interaction but instead, creates even more constraints for those with limited access to urban opportunities, resources, goods and services.

Road-tripping was so nice that in the following years, we also did relocations of campervans from the Ducato factory in Italy to London, then one in West Canada, another in the States from Minneapolis to Miami, and again one from Florence to London. In New Zealand, we drove from the Southern to the Northern Island, as everyone did the opposite.

Being on the road amidst beautiful, often empty landscapes and crossing time-space paths with so many interesting (non-metropolitan-oriented) people who were not driven by the shortsighted search for never-ending (economic) growth brought us all kinds of new insights.

Burn-out
So, I got a burnout at the end of COVID while working on the spatial plan for Amsterdam 2050. I’m still thankful to the urban planner who wrote the opening sentence: “COVID has shown how crucial it is that Amsterdam is part of the global economic network.” Well, I never got over that one. To me it was obvious that COVID showed how crucially important the immediate living environment is for the social, physical, and mental wellbeing of its citizens. But, money over humans, so … hello BURN-OUT. I just couldn’t live anymore in, or work for, a city that was heading for the capitalist abyss. And mind you, this was all happening under the most left-wing administration Amsterdam ever had. The elite were imposing their lifestyles on people (lifestyle interventions), and were celebrating average statistics as a goal to achieve for all. Differences are okay as long as you participate in raising productivity. LGBTQIA+: let’s put everyone in a box with a capital letter to eventually argue that all boxes are equal. What the fuck! Why raise my sexual preference and argue that I’m part of a gay community? Well, I better stop here… It’s probably obvious that I was suffering from a severe burnout.
(Being gay is -in our experience- a non-issue for the Portuguese, and most of all a private matter. Certainly not something to raise or talk about.)

When I got a call that I had to do a reintegration trajectory to get me back into productivity, my state of mind got even worse.

Vitor saw my fight and desperation — he had to save me. First, he showed me a castle in France that was for sale, then a naturist campsite in France. And as I just had to escape the suffocating metropolitan urge for growth, the enormous complexity of every discussed subject, the relentless impulses of metropolitan life, and the constant weighing of words to stay politically correct, I was seeking and needing total seclusion to re-create myself and rebuild the free and untroubled Ronald I once was.

Inspired by Vitor, I found a website called camping-te-koop.com (campsites for sale). I sorted by price, and yes indeed, the cheapest one was Camping Beira Marvão.

So, almost four months into my burnout, we drove illegally to Portugal to visit the campsite—and actually also to buy the place. An oasis in the middle of an amazing but apparently deserted landscape. We both immediately felt the positive energy on the estate and a sense of coming home. The only problem was that it was a rather unsuccessful transit campsite.

Within six months after I called in sick, we had quit our jobs, sold our house in metropolitan woke Amsterdam, and became campsite owners in one of the most beautiful but poorest and unknown regions of Portugal. Never waste a good mental breakdown!

Recreation… re-creation?
Recreation time is something everybody needs for a healthy balance and wellbeing. For most people—74% of Europeans live in urban areas—recreation is associated with staying in (mostly man-made) nature, getting away from too many, constant, and uncontrollable incentives. But just as much, recreation is about social quality time feeding connection and reflection. We all need both ends of the spectrum.

The first months at the campsite were exhausting. As the word spread, we got very busy: two huggable Dutch/Brazilian gays, one even Black, settled on a campsite in Marvão. We were ticking quite a few diversity boxes in the politically correct aftermath of the COVID period. Our renovated and renamed Terras Amsterdão was filled with drinking and smoking… Dutchmen. And actually, I didn’t recover from my burnout—it deepened. I was still having the same conversations, still confronted with breastfeeding coordinators, and discussing problems of faraway countries measured by Dutch standards. And… the Alto Alentejo wasn’t empty at all. Both campsites in our vicinity were owned by gays, and there was already a huge group of European immigrants organizing yoga and pizza parties, putting a claim on us to become part of their… world-bettering “community” of nature-loving, self-sufficient, holistic, permacultural expats who were unknowingly initiating the first phase of gentrification of rural Portugal.

Camping Beira Marvão was a transit campsite for (often big shiny white) motorhomes filled with pensionados who mostly stayed one night on their way to the Algarve. The biggest goal they had visiting Serra de São Mamede Nature Park was… satellite reception.

Turning point
After the initial success, it became very quiet. We aren’t on a main road, and the only reason some drove the extra mile was the discount card from one of the 20 campsite organisations the campsite was associated with. Burn-out squared!

And that’s the point where we -inspired by our roadtrips- adopted ‘less’ as a goal—to become a refuge in a world focused on always more, more, more. To not compete on price with fellow campsites, to turn this place into a destination for the few instead of a parking spot for the many.

The first thing we did was quit almost all camping organizations and remove our phone number and email from as many sites as possible. Then we introduced a minimum stay of two nights (judging the reviews apparently illegal in France). After a year, we became adults-only (Portuguese outrage!). We became a Campscape: an escape from campsites. From year three on, we only offer spots for tents, caravans, and campervans smaller than seven meters (it doesn’t matter whether you stay in the middle of nature when you’re at the same time surrounded by white walls of motorhomes that go out driving during the daytime — so we forbid that too).

And you know what? We became a place for recreation instead of tourism or hasty commercial leisure.

The Portuguese Connection
It was at least 30 years ago that I read about regression therapy. And as I (still) am afraid of heights, I treated myself to a session, open to any previous lives I had. The therapist whispered me into a kind of trance and asked me where I was. Surprisingly I heard myself describe myself as a kid wearing a brown jellaba with primitive sandals playing games with other kids. We were at a small dusty square in a clifftop village playing soccer with an object that wasn’t a football. At one point, I chased the object, hit a small knee-high stonewall at the edge of the square, lost my balance, and fell into the rocky abyss … Dead! Hence my fear of heights.

In 2021, Vitor and I went to explore Marvão and its castle. We walked the narrow streets and followed the village walls. Just after the last houses, but before the castle, I felt as if I was struck by lightning. I was unable to move or speak. And although it wasn’t part of our conversation (for the last 25 years), I suddenly heard Vitor say: Maybe it was here… And we both knew what he was referring to: I was at the exact spot where I, as a Moorish kid, fell off the wall and died.

The Boy on the Wall – A Marvão Whisper
Locals say that long ago, a boy climbed the ancient walls of Marvão to watch the valleys breathe. One summer afternoon, he leaned too far… and vanished. Some claim a sudden gust took him; others say he saw something across the Spanish border calling his name: Ronaldo, Ronaldo, Ronaldo!
His body was never found. On quiet evenings, just before sunset, a shadow still walks the wall. Sometimes it’s a boy, sometimes just a flicker. Tourists dismiss it as imagination — but the people of Marvão know better: the wall remembers who fell, and never truly lets them go.

We went to the health center to register and meet Doctor José, who speaks English.
“Welcome Vitor and Ronald!”
Huh, how do you know us?
“Everybody knows you, welcome to Marvão!”
But we’re here only one week, and we don’t know anybody yet!
“Yes, but everybody does know you! Welcome to Marvão!”

I told him about my burn-out and my dislike of antidepressants (which already made me a zombie once).
“Get up early, work, walk, be active!”
After some small talk with Vitor, he looked me in the eye again and and slowly slid two prescriptions across the table .
“I have looked you in the eye, and if you want: this one is for immediate panic relief, and that one for long-term recovery.”

When I got home, I checked with a physician who was camping at the estate: interesting choice, and no antidepressants.

RAIA
The Spanish are the extroverted Iberians, the Portuguese the introverted ones. We live right in between: ‘A Raia’ (on the borderline). Marvão is sometimes called “A Raia Alentejana” and offers a blend of Portuguese and Spanish influences in cuisine, music and festivals.

The Portuguese tourism boards are enthusiastically promoting the Raia region’s traditions and folklore… but exclusively in Portuguese, and only to the same 3.9 million Portuguese who already enjoy that sort of ancient leisure. Meanwhile, they completely overlook the 252 million English-speaking Europeans living in urban jungles, people who are desperate for the deafening silence and boundless emptiness of the Raia as an antidote to metropolitan madness — and who might, incidentally, also be willing to pay for that privilege.

The Raia receives €320 million from the EU among other things for “cultural heritage and sustainable tourism” — a goal that, judging by their language-locked marketing and their steadfast refusal to answer my emails in English, apparently means “keep the foreigners out.” I have to say, I admire the commitment to the cause. Sustainability translated to Don´t do it!

Understandable from a cultural history perspective: every Raian thought or answer has a bipolar side: one in (countless) willing words, but “Amanha de manha” (tomorrow morning). They bring us posters about activities in the area, but the information is only available in Portuguese. So everything (fortunately) stays as it is and has been for centuries. No mass tourism, no McDonald’s, NO ENGLISH (although almost every Portuguese under 45 speaks it). It’s actually admirable that they keep the hooded processions for the many Saints to themselves. And as they’re heavily subsidised, they don’t really need the tourism; festivals are free, and the entry fee for the castle is €1.50 (but only when someone is actually present at the entrance booth).
Yes, we have Portuguese friends, but we don’t visit them—we just accidentally meet them at the supermarket (or hire them to do some work).

I’m also a Raiano, I know how to sell our Campscape, but at the same time, I limit access to paradise to the happy few. The ones who can read through the irony and sarcasm and get curious.

A Life-Changing Experience Campscape Beira Marvao Alentejo
Some places change you because of what you do there. This one changes you because of what you stop doing.
We guarantee — yes, guarantee — a life-altering experience at our Campscape. On one side of the recreation-spectrum, you’ll meet absolute silence (not the flimsy, relative kind) in unspoiled nature (not the man-made kind). And if the skies are kind, you might even meet the Milky Way. Here, the alternative to “hasty tourism” awaits — no frantic checklist, no chasing must-sees for your Polarsteps diary just to prove you “did it all.”

On the other side of the spectrum, you can simply be yourself among a diversity of equals — because under the stars, we are all small and alike. The RAIA is yin and yang: introvert in its timelessness, extrovert in its flavours. Your time-space path will cross with ours and a few other wandering souls, and it will likely change forever. Maybe you’ll stay longer than planned. Maybe you’ll skip Évora and do Elvas instead, because a new friend over dinner at Amsterdão suggested it. Life-changing, because in your time-space path, there’s no such thing as travelling backwards.

No, we’ve never regretted our move. In the beginning I was afraid I would miss the stories and diversity of people we met along the way. But now, we’re hosting a lively mix of divers and international visitors — each bringing their own stories to share.
We created our own judgement-free Amsterdão, where it can be chilly, but never below zero. Where the wintersun is just as warming as the summer one. And yes, we have a saltwater pool — for those moments when there’s absolutely nothing else left to ask, and you still can’t stop talking long enough to enjoy the silence.