Gliding up hills

When I was a student in Lisbon in the early nineties a friend of mine cycled down from the north of Spain to the capital. It was July. All the Portuguese in the villages were sitting in the shade of fig trees and bus shelters, watching the world go by when along came this red in the face, dripping wet, young man on a mountain bike. They looked on in bemusement, shook their heads and generally agreed that he was ‘maluco’.
Even my Portuguese partner’s father was puzzled and asked, ‘Couldn’t he afford the bus?’ Times change. Portugal is now swarming with cyclists (even in July) – so much so they are a danger and a liability as, in most places, cars and cyclists vie for the same space.
I love cycling but I have bad knees so when I moved to a small hamlet in Monchique (where there are lots of hills) ten years ago I invested in an electric bike. My partner was outraged at the price (‘You could buy a car for that!’). I ignored him. It was a good move. I can pedal to Monchique (15km) along eucalyptus shaded roads in about 40 minutes. Okay, the serious cyclists usually overtake me (red in the face) but my neighbours look on in admiration as I glide up the hills without hardly breaking into a sweat. Admittedly, electric bikes have still to catch on here. But times change.

About the author

Lisa Selvidge teaches online creative writing courses for universities in the UK. Her fiction includes “The Last Dance over the Berlin Wall” and “Beyond the Sea – Stories from the Algarve”.