Border line

For three months, I walked along the oldest border in Europe, the Portuguese border. From the mouth of the River Minho to the mouth of the River Guadiana, I walked 1400 kilometres, following an invisible line defined by watercourses and 5211 numbered rectangular blocks, Boundary Markers, the physical representation of the idea of country.

Indissociable from the border line is the adjacent area, called the Raia on the Portuguese side and the Raya on the Spanish side, peripheral land, historically associated with periods pf war. Thanks to that mechanism of great practical scope, the Schengen Agreement, I took advantage of my total freedom of movement to go from the Raia to the Raya every so often.

Along the way, lots of surprises, lots of discoveries, lots of idiosyncrasies: Couto Misto, a place that was neither Portugal nor Spain, an independent microstate until 1868; Olivença, Portuguese in law, Spanish in fact; contrasting landscapes, intensely green in some places, as barren as the dry skin of a lizard in others, deserted places, forgotten communities, ancient cities; I learned about some daring projects and some disastrous ones; I met all kinds of people, from normal people to local authorities, entrepreneurs, charlatans and prominent social figures. I took it all in because, from the very first step I took, my aim had been to build a comprehensive document about the border area and the people who live there.