I sometimes think my Germanic arse is on the very starting point of a similar process - hiding in the Lusitanian hills from a crumbling empire and honing my food growing skills. When shit hits the fan my family can join me and once again, we’ll blend into the local population and copy whatever is the current public vibe as well as we can. This country is where you end up when you have crossed all Europe running away from something, and then you hit the Atlantic coast and have nowhere else to go …