Ed 5 Clara Retreat 2

Edition 6

Diesel - Dust - Medronho

Nomadic Stories

Pereiras-Gare Train Station

Across the abandoned train station at Perreiras Gare, a house stands rooted in the hilly landscape, while the Lisboa–Faro train rattles by, reminding Chop Suey there is another world nearby.

Here, the journey slows, a chance to drop roots before moving on. Campo bikes hum through dust, carrying life’s rhythm across the hills. Evenings gather everyone at the café, where beer, Medronho shots, and familiar check-ins turn gossip into care and survival. Off-grid dwellers drift down from their cabins to share space and stories. Some nights, the sidewalk outside the bar transforms: chairs lined up, when local musicians play soulful music to a small crowd.

The Old Station & Sunday Rituals

The station no longer sells tickets. It keeps something else now. On Sundays only, it turns into a hunters’ spot, quiet, low-key. It now is reborn as a hunter’s hide out, holding tradition. Smoke drifts up from a small fire where they grill whatever the day gives them, usually birds or small game. It’s not meant to be welcoming or explained to others, it’s theirs. A habit, a connection, something that fits naturally into this place. When night comes the tracks slip back into silence, like they were never disturbed.

Later, walking home after a late-night visit, Chop Suey slows down sharing the railway bridge with giant toads, moving forward like prehistoric moonwalkers under a silver sky. The old station, the hunters’ grill, the toads on the bridge, it all feels part of the same world, moving at its own pace, unconcerned with who’s watching.

Giant Agaves and Ancient Rocks

The message drops: “Up for a culture dive in Padrão, near Beja?” And so, Chop Suey packs up again, landing in a place steeped in stories. History is present: Beja, Serpa, Évora, cities draped in ancient glory, with monuments telling tales of battles, empires, and faith.

Across the plains stand menhirs and dolmens, huge ancient stones carved with strange symbols no one fully understands anymore. They’ve survived for thousands of years, quietly watching over old rituals, beliefs, and the early human imagination. Walking through this landscape feels almost meditative. It feels like moving through ancient spaces, through time itself, with the past piling up around you.

Same Old Story, Different Play List

But beyond that beauty lies a tougher reality. Ancient soils that were once full of life are now worn out by monoculture madness. Row after row of olive, almond, and pomegranate trees, shaped into squares, drenched in chemicals, turn the land into green deserts.

Where aristocrats once held power, fieldworkers still carry the weight of the work. Today, many are Indian immigrants, spending long days in the fields for very little pay. In the past, Cante Alentejano filled the air, songs of longing, resistance and survival. Now, everyone works alone, headphones in, using personal playlists to break the boredom and push through the day.