Portugal, the beautiful land where I live if I cross the village road to my writing studio, is at a crossroads. Being in somewhat better shape than Greece, it has over the last year implicated the entire Austerity Diktat that the Beurocrats and the Abominable Troika forced upon it in exchange for a helping hand. The result? Debt to GNP ratio, which used to be 107, is now 118. In normal parlance: they are now far deeper in shit than they were before they were ‘rescued’. Throughout the Lusitanian hills and valleys, one hears a whisper in the wind that echoes Diderot’s ‘Jacques le Fataliste’: Je ne veux point de ses secours, ils sont trop chers... (I want none of their aid; it costs too much…)
So I figured that this week’s Saturday Snapshot ought to convey the Portuguese predicament. This road sign stands a few miles away from my village in the wooded hills.
Of course, what the sign doesn’t tell you, is that - if you do take the left turn – you will run into an immense ice age boulder smack in the middle of the path after about a mile. Nothing but a bicycle can pass. Tell me again that the Portuguese aren’t fatalistes…! I guess they’ll need it once the Greek Tragedy comes their way too.