art On our search for pottery we stopped in a small town named Redondo.

Music:

The main street in Redondo, Portugal

On our search for pottery we stopped in a small town named Redondo. It was a very nice place and we decided we should look for something to eat. We had not eaten since early morning. A small cafe with a narrow sidewalk out front offered sandwiches, a cool drink and a small table with two chairs in the shade. It was quite hot for October. The owner spoke some English, was extremely graceful, and it was delightful to be hovered about as though we were special. The four or five other men sitting inside were getting more than there normal lunch time distraction. The pottery manufacturing operation was only a few blocks away. A medium-sized shed housed a half dozen workers all working at specialized tasks. A large shirtless man with strong hands was "throwing" the pots while others were stomping on the clay in large vats filled with water. One man was tending the kiln and several women were painting the baked plates and bowls by hand with vivid colors. A young girl who could speak a bit of English asked if there was something we wanted. After a few side conversations with her co-workers she took us to a small shed and let us pick from their recent work. There wasn't a lot to choose from but the feeling of picking our own bowls from the production source delighted us. We were very happy as we left the little white village with blue trim. All the villages we came across had white houses with a trim of yellow, blue or light green. All houses in a village had the same color trim. It was a happy day! Redondo!





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