Trás-os -Montes : a weekend up the country

So,
After last week's laziness, problems and so on, what else to do but to be going up the country, as old Canned Heat would say?

I did. I went to vist my grandma and rest of relatives up north, near Spain, 3 hours away from here (that is a very long time in Portuguese trips, by the way). It is a land of celtic traditions, dry, sometimes looking like some Western-spaghetti setting. It is the most beautiful landscape ever, the poorest region as well. Some houses are still made of stone and the little villages seem to be caught up in the too fast pace of progress, in a paradox of modern time. In the 60's and 70's many went to France, Switzerland and now everyone has some relatives there (like me). They come back sometimes and build the few very rich châteaux you see absurdly among the small houses on the dirt roads. After that, the youth went away to be the first to study in the big cities. Now, they are ghost villages, almost, where little old ladies sit outside and look at the few cars that pass by each day, as if they had never seen one. People grew up with no light or water and they tell you stories of when all the babies in the village died because of a rough winter. People treat freezers with reverence and are extremely proud of having one person in the family with a University degree. Knowing how to read and write well, 50 years ago, was a great rare thing.

For me, all this is such a distant reality. It leaves me out of place, feeling strange and uneasy. I cannot talk about myself as I do normally. I don't know how to do it really. I guess this is the big Portuguese generation gap. Our grandparents did not go to school and now we go on to do university. Rock music did not reach this place, nor did any sexual revolution. It was a medieval society 40 years ago, with landlords and servants, with no connection to the outside world but the travelling salesman. Now, they have a small heliport.

It is somehow fascinating to have my origins in this place. At the same time, I fell it is not my place at all. 3 days living there makes me depressed, bored or simply feeling restless: you see no one, you have no internet, you are not taken into consideration (young women talking in adult converstaion? nope..). Life is so different... I guess that is the thing: where you are from is not always where you belong.