November 2nd and I’m in Portugal. I can’t say it’s not nice to be back here again after almost a two years away. I know it reasonably well now. It’s full of charm, uniquely different from a lot of Europe and I have just discovered my new favourite Portuguese meal. It is however also a country I have had a mixed relationship with.

I have been a lot here since I was first introduced to it indirectly in the late 90s, but in the last ten to fifteen years my visits have become sporadic, with often years between trips. I sort of moved here briefly in 2001 and stayed for a little over a year, pre-Brexit! I was in need of a change from an overpaid and hedonistic, but stressful and deeply unsatisfying career in advertising, a career that did my physical and mental health no favours at all. I sold up in London and bought a house in the hills, which at the time I thought might help clear my head. Instead it did the opposite. It was an ill advised purchase – a remote building, off-grid, with no water, electricity, or legitimate license to be there. I was naive and spoke little or no Portuguese back then and had put my trust in some people I knew who lived there and did speak it. They had also found the ‘house’ and encouraged me to buy it and did all the negotiation and legal stuff on my behalf. I would like to think it was just ignorance on their part that I wasn’t made aware I was buying an unlicensed house, but I can’t help but feel that the process was probably driven more by their interest in the sales commission, than a genuine desire to help; it seems like a lot of people are constantly on the make, whoever that might be from.

I was drawn away from Portugal in 2002 by a long project working across Africa, and then back to the UK. Life happened and my son was born in 2004 and my life focus changed. The welcome, sometimes demanding but thoroughly enriching and life changing responsibilities of fatherhood kept me there.

I’m back here in Portugal for a week, to try and set in motion some positive steps towards getting this tricky, but long term project back on track. Inevitably, in between meetings with my fantastic lawyer, electricians, other contractors and a very welcome chance meeting with old friend who I happily sat and chatted with for an hour over coffee and a tosta mista, there is always a fair bit of free time. And what better way to fill that time than hanging out with what feels like another old friend. I have brought the Hasselblad with me, to re-photograph something I had shot on digital when I was last here a couple of years ago. Digital is starting to feel to me a little like cheating. The process seems almost too easy and too immediate. It’s certainly far less satisfying for me, than shooting on film, which often requires quite a bit more thought. I head off to find the location, a ninety odd minute drive from where I am, in to the Alentejo and a very sleepy village with a rather beautiful church at its centre. The weather isn’t quite what I was after and sun is a little obscured by cloud, so the dramatic, deep orange hues of the late autumn sunset that I had been hoping for are instead more pasty and far less interesting. As I’ve made the effort to be here, I take a few shots anyway, fully intending on coming back again at some point when the light might be more photogenic. I sort of tick that one off, get back in the rental and head back south towards the apartment.

It’s an hour after dark now and artificial light has come to life en route. The lights of tiny hamlets and lone houses appear in the distance, dotted about like stars on the otherwise dark landscape of the sparsely populated Alentejo. A bit further south and signs of habitation and light pollution from bigger villages, industrial units and petrol stations increases. I spot something by the motorway that rather interests me and make a mental note of roughly where it is. Later that evening, I spend an hour or so on the laptop trying to find a way to get to a good photographic vantage point. The next day I’m driving along unmade, muddy tracks, to investigate a suitable access point and I find a parking spot a few hundred yards away from my target. I feel a bit like a sniper on a recce. That evening I’m back with the camera and the moon is almost full. I hop over a fence, make my way up the path and set up. There is already a roll of slow Kodak Portra in the camera, so finish that off, load another and wind through that one too. Excited by the subject matter, I’m not content with just those two rolls so decide to return the next night with my 645 mag containing a roll of Portra 800 that I must have loaded a few months ago and forgotten about. This moon is full this time and the sky is cooperating with a light scattering of interesting shapes, all illuminated. These are long-ish night exposures so I work out roughly what I think they should be, but I also make sure I bracket this shot quite broadly as I don’t currently fully trust the prism meter on the camera.

I’m back in the UK and it’s raining heavily today. I have just dropped the rolls off at the lab and when they come back to me later this week, if I think any of them are any good they will appear on here sooner or later. I’m also toying with an idea for a series of pictures, born out of thoughts regarding the subject matter. I enjoyed my trip, despite my mixed feelings about the place, I’m not sure that would have been the case had I not chosen to take the cameras. Photography occupies a space of my life in a very positive way, leaving far less time and room for negative stuff to creep back in. I’ll be back to Portugal soon enough to manage the building stuff, needless to say the cameras will accompany me.