Across the road there is a man on his knees building a very long pavement out of very small stones called calçada. This is how most pavements are made in Portugal, by a man bent double with the sun on his back, a small hammer in one hand and a rock in the other.
The work looks murderous and repetitive to the point of catatonia – chipping the stone to make it fit, hammering it into a bed of sand and reaching for the next one. The maths illustrate the utter monotony of this job – each stone is about 7cm square so it takes a thousand repetitions of this movement to fill an area about the size of a children’s paddling pool. I was not exactly surprised to read in Wikipedia that it is rare to find a calceteiros who enjoys his work.
Laying calçada - a slow and repetitive job
It is probably not much consolation to the people that lay the stuff but it does look good. Calçada gives the picturesque appeal of cobbled lanes to even the drabbest neighbourhood, and can look amazing when the white stones are combined with black to create gigantic art works in public squares and plazas.
But it is hopeless as a pavement. Calçada has two significant weaknesses as paving material – it is treacherously slippery when wet and the surface is often uneven, making it a delight for the elderly or those not totally sure of their footing. And it gets worse as time goes by and the passage of feet polishes it to a fine lustre.
The elderly here will often ignore the pavement and walk in the street and I am sure they are not just being awkward – I think it is because they figure the cars are less dangerous than the pavements.
This does not deter the many women in this country who choose to dress elegantly in high heels for even the smallest of errands. The stone must play hell with their heels but they have some innate aptitude for getting down the pavement without falling or getting their heel stuck between the stones. And they do this without looking down.
Personally I like calçada. It may be rubbish at its job but it adds to the character of the place and there is a lot to be said for a country that puts appearance before practicality. But then I’m not the one wearing high heels.