“And after ‘salmagundi’, we have ‘salamander’”. (With apologies to those for whom that evocation of Twenty Questions means nothing.)

Looking back over the hundred or so posts that I have published over the last two years, I note with astonishment that I have made absolutely no mention of amphibians. The time has come, I feel, to rectify this appalling omission.

Aristotle mentioned in his writings the folk belief that the salamander can extinguish a fire through the frigidity of its body, but appeared not to accept it. Pliny (possibly after experimenting by throwing a salamander into a fire) was explicitly sceptical. Nevertheless, the folk belief persisted and, in the Renaissance period, when cloth made from asbestos was brought back from China, it was claimed that the yarn was spun from the salamander’s fur that was impervious to fire.

For the alchemists, the salamander was the creature associated with the element of fire, and was even born from fire, like the phoenix.

It seems likely that these beliefs arose because of the salamander’s habit of hiding beneath damp logs. It is conceivable that, when these logs were brought into the house and placed on the fire, the salamander emerged, as if from the fire itself, in an attempt to escape from the heat.

The salamander, despite appearances, is not a lizard, but an amphibian. It lays its eggs in ponds, just as they are about to hatch, and the larvae develop in the water. Curiously, adult salamanders are very poor swimmers.

The fire salamander, with its distinctive yellow and black colouring, is common throughout Europe, including Portugal, preferring a damp forest habitat at fairly high altitude. I suspect it is native to the region around Penamacor.

And what, I hear you ask, has all this to do with us? Well, on our second stay with the kids in Portugal, in midwinter almost two years ago, we initially found the open wood-log fire in the salon rather romantic. However, by the end of our stay, the noxious fumes, the ubiquitous ash, the heat escaping up the chimney, and the constant danger of sparks leaping into the room, meant that much of the romance was gone. We decided that, on our next visit, we would research installing a cleaner, healthier, safer and more efficient wood-burning stove, which, Micha’el assured us, was becoming increasingly popular in houses such as ours.

Of course, by the time of this, our next, visit, the kids had endured (without complaint, I must add) a second winter of open fires. Despite the sunny weather we enjoyed in our first three weeks here this time, we wanted to get a stove installed before we left, so that they would be ready for the imminent colder weather.

And so, last week, the kids obtained, through their network of friends, the name of a reliable local stove installer, and last week we arranged for him to come and take a look at the fireplace. Paolo certainly looked authentic, with his weathered features, gnarled hands and stitched hard-leather homburg. Micha’el was impressively able to negotiate Paolo’s Portuguese, and he gave us the names of three hardware and building supplies stores in Castelo Branco where we could buy the stove and the pipes that carry the smoke up the chimney. Once we had the materials, he would be able to complete the job in one day, included cleaning the chimney, at a labour cost of 80 euros.

In addition to his skills as an installer, he was also able to provide linguistic expertise. The kids had asked him about a forno de madeira (literally, a wood oven), but he informed us that what we were talking about was a salamandra. Knowing about the legend of the fire lizard, I was tickled pink to hear this name. Subsequent research reveals that similar stoves are also called salamanders in the USA (although whether that is more true in Arkansas than Manhattan I hope one of my American readers will be able to tell me).

Over the next day, I conducted some research online. I discovered that, to calculate the required output from the stove, you should divide the cubic capacity of the space to be heated by 14 if your home is well insulated, and by 10 if it is not. The resulting figure is the kilowatt capacity you require.Put like that, it all sounds fairly straightforward. The website even included a line-drawing of a neat rectagular room, showing how to calculate the cubic capacity.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve never lived in a neat rectangular room, and the ‘space to be heated’ in our house in Penamacor is certainly not easily defined. The fireplace, in which the stove will stand, is in the salon, which comprises a rectangular space eaten into by a generous chimney breast, to which is added a small square area of entrance hall. However, wooden glass-panelled double doors, usually open, connnect  the salon to the kitchen, which is much narrower than the salon. Leading off the kitchen is a short passage leading to a utility room on one side and, on the other side, a wash-basin alcove that then leads on to the bathroom.

A little thought and discussion led to the conclusion that we should aim to heat the salon, hall, kitchen and passage. So, four fairly straightforward rectangles. Except for the fact that from the salon an open-plan staircase leads to the first floor with its two bedrooms and office.

In the end, I decided to add to the calculation the cubic capacity of the staircase, even though my C grade in ‘O’-level physics allows me to say with confidence that heat will escape upstairs.

The other imponderable for me was the question of insulation. I suspect that what an English website means by ‘if your home is not well insulated’ is not what a Penamacorean website would mean. I felt that I should perhaps divide by less than 10, but it was impossible for me to estimate by how much less.

A little more research indicated that stoves tend to fall into the following groups: 5-7 kilowatt, 8-10 kilowatt, 11-14 kilowatt, and so on. Calculating on the basis of dividing by a bit less than 10, I thought we should be looking for an 8- or 9-kilowatt model, and I suspected that anything bigger would be overpowering for the very narrow salon and would cost more than we wanted to spend.

We were now armed with everything we needed: an idea of the kilowattage, the right word – salamandre – and Google Maps, and so Bernice and I set off last Thursday on a shopping expedition. In the first store we visited, an assistant with excellent English was able to answer all our questions, and, to our delight, we found that the cheapest model in the store (which the assistant warmly recommended) had both an impressive efficiency rating and an output in kilowatts (11.4) that should be more than enough. It was, in addition, small enough to fit into our fireplace. I noted with interest that the (Portuguese) handbook that came with the stove suggested dividing your cubic capacity not by 14 (well insulated), nor by 10 (poorly insulated) but by 8.5 (Portuguese-insulated).

Somehow, I managed to persuade Bernice (who readily admits that her attention span for shopping rivals that of a goldfish with ADHD) that we really had to visit at least one more store. Fortunately, all three stores Paolo had recommended were within the same industrial zone in the southern end of Castelo, and it only took a few minutes in the car to reach the second store. There, it took us scarcely longer to realise that there was nothing on offer to rival what we had already seen, and so we reurned to Bricomarché.

This time, a different assistant helped us. He had surprisingly little English, but by this stage we felt like near experts in wood-stove Portuguese, and so we were happy to place the order with him. Of course, by the time we added to the cost of the stove the cost of the chimney pipes, and the cost of delivery, we didn’t have quite such a bargain, but we were still within our budget. To be honest, we had no choice over delivery. I had no intention of attempting to load a cast-iron 24-inch suitcase into the car, not with my back.

The assistant assured us that he would deliver the stove the following day, around 10AM. He wantred to know whether anyone at our end would be able to help him carry the stiove in, and we generously volunteered Micha’el. (At this point, we found ourselves wondering what we would do if we were an old couple – which, I suppose, in this case, we are – living alone. However, if we were, we would call a friend in the village to help. Our house is, after all, in a close-knit community.) We then gave the assistant Micha’el’s phone number (remember my experience with the tow-truck driver last week) and were persuaded, at the till, to join the store’s customer club at no charge, having already almost earned 10 euros off our next purchase. The application form required my tax number, passport number and full address with postcode, none of which I know off by heart, but all of which are, theoretically, easily accessed on my phone. So that took just another 15 minutes, after which we left the store with a fine sense of accomplishment.

In due course, 10AM the following morning (Friday) arrived, which is more than can be said for the stove. After a couple of phone calls, it finally arrived just before 3PM, thankfully still a good couple of hours before Shabbat. In a relatively short time, the driver and Micha’el had unloaded the package from the van, brought it in, removed the cardboard wrapping, lifted the stove from its wooden pallet, tilted it and screwed the adjustable footpads onto the base and slid the stove into the alcove where it will sit until Paolo comes to instal it. (Micha’el was quick to ask that the driver leave the pallet, since it represented useful wood.)

At this point, Bernice came in and said: ‘That’s not the right model. The handle is different.’ Indeed, when I checked the spec sheet, I saw that this model had a capacity of 10.5 kilowatts instead of  11.4, and an efficiency rating of C instead of B.. The stove itself had no identifying label, but the driver checked our order against the label on the carton and insisted it was correct. We were equally insistent, and he phoned the store to clarify. After sending a photo of the stove to the store, he very apologetically explained to us that the label on the carton did not match the stove inside.

So, he and Micha’el slid the stove out of the alcove, tilted it and unscrewed the footpads from the base, lifted the stove onto the pallet, wrapped the cardboard around it, carried it outside and loaded it back onto the van. He assured us that he would deliver the correct stove the following day (Shabbat). Micha’el then explained to him that this was inconvenient, and, to our surprise, he said that he would deliver it on Sunday morning, leaving Castelo Branco at 9AM. This meant he should be with us around 10.

Today is Sunday. 10AM arrived, which is more than can be said….However, by 10:45 the driver was here, with the correct stove, which he and Micha’el unloaded…Well, you get the picture. Again full of apologies, he even brought Micha’el a compensatory extra pallet that he presumably had on the van from an earlier delivery.

Later today, Paolo arrived, to inspect the stove. He conducted a long conversation with Micha’el, during which I persuaded myself that we had bought an entirely unsuitable item, and that, in addition, the pipes did not fit the stove. However, when Micha’el eventually translated, it transpired that my fears were completely unfounded. He will come on Wednesday, bringing dust-sheets to trap the dust when he cleans the chimney. He stressed that we should keep Tao well away during the cleaning, although I know that Tao will be fascinated to watch the assembly of the pipes and their disappearance up the chimney. We now also know that Paolo has a 4-year-old grandson and a 2-year-old granddaughter who are the light of his life!

All being well (and although it seldom is around these parts – most jobs seem to take two attempts – I have a good feeling about this), we should have a fitted working stove before we leave on Thursday morning to fly back to Israel.

Which is probably just as well, because we have had fairly persistent rain over the last couple of days: perfect weather for splashing in puddles, then sitting at home well wrapped up, eating buttered toast with Marmite.*

*Personally, I can’t even type the M word without feeling bilious, but Bernice, Esther and now Tao are all Marmite fanatics.