LOBOSANDAUS

I

September 15th

My dear Uncle,

In accordance with your instructions, I am writing to put you au fait with the details of my arrival in this district of Nigueiroá and, more precisely, in the small town of Lobosandaus, the seat not only of the district capital but also of the local school to which I have been appointed thanks to your paternal protection and munificence.

Situated on the lower slopes of the range known as the Serra Grande, Lobosandaus has a population of one hundred inhabitants and has made a strong impression on me. It lies silent here as the oblique sun of these last days of summer lends it a Mediterranean air, dry and clear. The market place is a field of oaks several centuries old: it forms a terrace and is surrounded by cast-iron railings with two rosettes by Malingre, in the style of those at the Esplanade in Ourense, making an excellent belvedere that overlooks the plains through which meanders the small river known locally as Das Gándaras although in maps it is called Lucenza, as at its highest point it passes through the parish of that name. On the far side of that expanse of broom and brushwood, amongst whose undulations dolmens are not uncommon, looms an immense dark wall crowned by crags in unexpected shapes, like strange sculptures resembling fantasy organ pipes. This is the Serra known as do Crasto, which stands facing the Serra Grande. The boundary stones of Portugal are planted on its highest peaks. Even now, as I write you this letter, moments before I present myself at the school to take up my post, I can see from my room this awe-inspiring expanse of wasteland, on which the cattle belonging to these herdsmen graze and the early blossoms produce the clear, heavy honey that has brought such deserved prestige to the district of Nigueiroá. For the fact of the matter is, Reverend Uncle, that no sooner had I arrived than I was invited to take up my lodgings here at Aparecida’s, and found them highly satisfactory.