Portugal travelogue!

The Final Countdown

The excitement was palpable as I woke the next morning. I grabbed a quick slice of toast and made sure I had everything I needed for my dive… Mom planned a laundry run since this hotel actually had on site laundry. Hopping a cab to the marina I ended up with a driver that (while he didn’t compare to last year’s Thai Steve McQueen) did his best to re-enact the movie Ronin. It’s a good thing I don’t get car sick as showing up at a dive trip already nauseous isn’t the best.

Back on solid ground (temporarily) I made my way down to the actual waterfront at the Marina where it was early enough that most of the cafes hadn’t even opened. I’d even beaten the dive shop staff in which is saying something. Eventually they opened up, I got my final paperwork signed and began gearing up, finding that thankfully they hadn’t been lying and had a wetsuit big enough for my shoulders (though it was cavernous elsewhere.) Both guides weren’t fooling around and had full drysuits (a sealed system suit that keeps the body dry and offers better thermal insulation while also becoming more complex for buoyancy/pressure control. The rest of the dive group was a young pole on his final certification dive, a middle aged german guy who filled out my size of wetsuit a lot more and a young woman, also from Germany, who had a camera rig probably worth around 4k. Unfortunately due to the cert diver we weren’t going anywhere too fancy but were told it was a nice reef with surrounding sandy bottom. I’d had hopes of doing a dive at an artificial reef/sunken navy ship but given it was off season only the one boat was going out.

Heading out to the boat was a new dive experience for me, I’ve never gone for a dive somewhere that had you gear up almost completely in the shop then walk for a fair distance only to unload again on the boat. The gear was top notch with a proper weight vest, almost new BCD and a basic computer provided. The boat itself was a relatively new rigid inflatable with no sunshade, I wouldn’t have been a big fan on a hot summer day but on this particular day it was fine. It was at least well set up for gear and only about half loaded so we flew. Strangely enough it turned out that our dive site was pretty much right off the point of our hotel.

By the beach later on

Geared up for the final drop off the German guy and I buddied up and dropped down the anchor line with our guide/cameralady. Initial impressions weren’t great and weren’t buoyed by the fact that one glance at the water had the leader handing out high beam led flashlights. Vis at the surface was at most 5 feet and hopes that it might get better further under the swells were quickly dashed. IIRC bottom was at around 14 meters and we didn’t even see that until our fins hit which of course doesn’t help much for visibility either. For those of you that don’t dive, when you’re doing this type of guided dive you keep an eye on your buddy and your dive leader basically at all times.  This becomes very difficult when reading your wrist computer or gauges takes a second look and your fingertips are clouded on an outstretched hand. That’s where we were at, at best visibility was 1m and with the sediment frequently less. We managed to see one nudibranch on what was more of a solitary rock than a reef but, even with high beams my buddy and I lost the dive leader until he circled back, then we lost camera girl and while I was clearing my mask my buddy disappeared. The dive leader managed to get us rounded back up, looked around… visibly sighed as much as you can in dive hear and gave the thumbs up (which in dive signals means, let’s go up) unspooling the alert flag.

Credit to him for actually doing the safety stop as though we’d done a full length dive and even then we temporarily lost my buddy again. As we broached the surface he was immediately apologetic but said he was cancelling the dive for safety reasons. We all totally understood even as I was somewhat heartbroken at the complete catastrophe my diving this trip had become. The certifying diver and his instructor stayed down for their full dive but as certification in that situation has you basically locking eyes with the instructor the whole time it was less complex for them. When he was back on board the rest of us told him (backed up by the instructor) that certifying in that mess meant he was definitely ready for diving anywhere.

Resigned to our fate I did my best to enjoy the boat trip back. It was at least a lovely day for that. We assured the dive leader that we understood his decision and he admitted that it had been bad earlier in the week and he’d worried the rain and waves the past bit had made it worse. As we reached shore he admitted he doubted they’d try to go back out again before the following Tuesday (this being Thursday I think.) Apparently in summer the wind patterns work better for sweeping sediment back out to deep ocean but the prevailing wind at the moment was being unhelpful. To their credit they gave us all a full refund, there was non-refundable ‘boat fee’ despite the fact that we’d gone out.

Luckily the café next door was fully open upon our return and a few of us settled in since despite the abbreviated dive we’d still done most of the work and had the usual post dive munchies. A bargain five euro full English with two eggs and double meat hit the spot and despite the aborted dive and cancelled second dive it was actually not super far ahead of when I’d planned that I got back to the room. The laundry excitement was over and we ended up just enjoying the sunny rest of the afternoon.

That night the resort’s Ocean Bar was hosting a low rent trivia night and we decided we should at least attend one resort event. I really enjoy pub quiz/trivia night things but never really get a chance to do them at home given how few of my friends ever leave the house. Unfortunately the clientele factor reared its head here too. A few VERY drunk brits showed up and began screaming (usually wrong) answers and singing badly over the music round. It got so bad that half the room was telling her to “shut the F up” and the poor quizmaster was being as insistent as a hotel service guy can really be. Eventually her husband dragged her off but not before she’d driven off at least one couple who was playing. I still enjoyed it but between her drunken nonsense, other drunken nonsense, a very brit centric question pool (understandably heh but I’m about as anglophile as it gets for tv tastes and some were beyond obscure to me) and the final results showing that everyone playing out on the patio out of the quizmaster’s sight was cheating, things could have been better.

The next morning we finished packing, threw the luggage into storage and went for a last walk into downtown/stroll along the beach. Having an oceanfront meal will probably be my lasting memory of Albufeira, in this case another delicious breakfast. We walked around town a bit more and also grabbed a last Gelato but before long we were back on the train to Lisbon. Usually on a trip I try very hard to avoid retracing my steps exactly but unfortunately with the way our timing worked out it was very much easiest to just take the same train back. As for Albufeira and the Algarve, I’d definitely not stay in Albufeira again as it’s just not my scene but I’d definitely re-visit the Algarve at large (and probably rent a car for my entire time just for the freedom factor.)

We’d hemmed and hawed about where to stay in Lisbon upon our return. Since we were leaving at 6 in the morning our final day we knew we really wouldn’t be sleeping much that final night. At the same time staying out by the airport didn’t really appeal. In the end we ended up back with our friend Luis at his slightly lower end guest house, but, happy to see us back he gave us the ground floor suite (NO STAIRS) which was actually even nicer than our previous room. He invited us over to the B&B wanting to see us for breakfast too which was nice as we got some more information about our final touristy thing of the trip in advance. Seriously, if you’re going to Lisbon consider staying with Luis at one of his Zuzabed locations, he has everything from guesthouse to private suites with courtyards.

Dinner and Cider Al Fresco @ the Night Market

It turns out the night markets we’d visited when last in Lisbon basically ran the exact duration of our mainland stay. We ended up back on the hill to try something new and enjoy the view once again. Give me a bottle of Somersby, a serrano ham and cheese sandwich and a chocolate shot of ginja to finish and I am a happy boy. That being said there was a noticeably less hectic vibe in the Bairro Alto that night vs. the previous week. I guess the previous week had been the height of carnival and tourist visiting. It was still busy but we explored a bit further afield as we had less picking through the crowds to do.

Chiado
Bairro Alto

Ever so shockingly we managed another custard tart but, more interestingly, when Mom went in search of a coffee we ended up in a bookstore café. This turns out to be the oldest continuously operating bookstore in the world: Livraria Bertrand. Built into the base of a particularly gorgeously tiled building it’s mix of modern touches and absolutely ancient looking barrel vaulted ceilings. Even with most of the books in Portuguese I could spend a lot of time there, but in the end bought a very nice leather bound Tolkein companion and was delighted when they stamped the flyleaf with a store stamp.

Mural in the Book Store
Livraria Bertrand


The next morning we grabbed our breakfast with (and said our goodbyes to) Luis and got a few of my pre-research decisions confirmed for us for that day’s trip to Sintra. Luis told us he’d get our cab called and ready to pick us up at 4am right in front and not to worry about anything else. We’d gotten a later start than I wanted and lingered longer at breakfast than I expected so, having confirmed that we could bypass the train lines with our already filled travel cards… we arrived at the train station to see none of the lines that we’d walked by the previous weekend. Things were definitely noticeably calmer, it made me wonder just how much shorter the lines at the castle would have been. That said, the train still filled up pretty much to the max and the lines for the palace in Sintra were not short (though not aided by them only having 2 of 5 ticket windows open.)

PAlace of Pena model

Sintra is not far out of Lisbon proper and has long been a retreat for the wealthy and was usually the summer residence of Portugal’s current ruler. The hillier/forested lands apparently trend much cooler in summer and held hunting pleasures not found closer to Lisbon proper. Towards the end of the Portuguese Kingdom it became the home to an explosion of romanticist architecture of which much still remains. One of the main draws is the Palace of Pena. Built on top of (and incorporating chunks of the existing architecture of) a 16th century monastery it has a variety of very diverse architectural elements both inside and outside. Heavy archways are lightened by fanciful carvings and large terraces command fantastic views across the gardens, down into the valley and off to the sea in the distance. It is a gorgeous place well suited for a palace though somewhat blasted by gale force ‘winter’ winds that particular day.

Palace of Pena from below

The place very much has the feel of a toy palace and I wasn’t surprised to discover part of the inspiration was Neuschwanstein despite the very different styles. Despite the playful nature of the architecture there are still a number of heavy defense elements built in. A heavy drawbridge guards a heavily switchbacked road with gunports that eventually emerges into the main courtyard.

Palace of Pena
Interior Courtyard of the Palace
Intricate Ceilngs
Some of the interior furnishings varied wildly in style

The interior is just as eclectic in design elements though this is perhaps accentuated by some of the bizarre choices the curators have made in what items of furniture to leave on display. I’m sure to some extent this is dictated by the state of their collection but there are definitely some rooms that have a bizarre mix of eras/uses that aren’t original. It’s a fun visit. The Palace itself occupies a hilltop and is surrounded by a sprawling garden with extensive up and down that we honestly didn’t see tons of (you could easily spend a day just on the palace and the grounds if you took your time.)

Palace de Pena – Back Courtyard

Ocean Theming

Taking the bus up and down from the castle there were occasional views of various other romantic architecture examples. Many of the noble estates from that era do their best to match the palace in their fanciful natures (if not in scale.) A faux gothic castle at one turn might disappear only to be replaced with an overgrown swiss gingerbread house. It’s really quite something and most are still private residences.

Streets of Sintra
Quinta and Gardens

After a quick meal and exploration of some of the shop streets we realized time was getting short and we set out to explore what Luis had said was his favourite part of Sintra: The Quinta da Regalaira. If the Palace of Pena is fanciful then the Quinta da Regalaira is pure fever dream. Built around the turn of the 20th century the estate is an extensive folly (in the architectural sense: a usually decorative building built to imply that it’s something it isn’t.) The entire estate is meant to evoke his personal beliefs and philosophy and this is conveyed in ways that are… eclectic to say the least. There’s even a large amount of Masonic and Knights Templar imagery.

Quinta Gardens
Folly tower

In one corner of the park lies the Palace which is (relatively) small but impressively decorated in elaborate gothic decoration. Across from it sits a tiny Catholic chapel just as decoratively designed but unfortunately mostly off limits.

The Chapel

The grounds are where things get absolutely ridiculous. The plot of land is (surprise for Portugal!) quite sloped and is roughly formed into terraced areas with winding paths between them. One of the more impressive discoveries is that tunnels are everywhere. Mostly hewn directly into the rock, most meant to look natural the network of caves stretches all over the place as a labyrinth and I suspect we didn’t even see half of them. One tunnel we took brought us up and out behind a waterfall over a grotto with hopping stones to cross the pond. The tunnels also connect to ‘initiation wells’ which are almost like a tower built below ground, spiral staircases and intricate designs meant to convey the appearance of a place for ancient rites.

Towers are everywhere above ground as well, some designed to appear ruined, some evoking Moorish or Portuguese age of exploration architecture. The faux ruin aspect is a bit difficult as a modern visitor because the local government only acquired the estate from private ownership in recent years and is clearly still catching up on some deferred maintenance (Portugal’s austerity spending cuts likely not helping.)  Honestly it’s kind of impossible to really convey the prettiness and the oddness of it, it ended up being probably one of my favourite stops of the trip though due to pure unexpectedness.

Folly Tower with Weirdo on top
Hobbit Hole

Back in Lisbon we sadly started to come to terms with heading home. While in some ways we were ready for a rest and blessed Prairie flatness there’s always still a melancholy that comes over you when it’s time.  We still had to get to the airport early however so we took a last wander about town, grabbed a last meal and tried to grab a few hours sleep. We ended up safely making it to the airport this time other than a blind panic about what to do with the keys for the room as Luis had told us they’d open the stairwell next door to his office to drop them off and they didn’t.  Thankfully he didn’t seem to be screamingly angry at us later.

Quinta Gardens

Hop one of the flight brought us back to Ponta Delgada on Sao Miguel in the Azores, tiny home base of our island hopping carrier and a 8ish hour layover. I’d been trying here and there to find us some form of tour to kill a few hours of that layover. It seemed a shame to be sitting there that long and not see some of the island. Unfortunately I’d more or less struck out and when we arrived I started calling tour companies on the phone, most of whom either only ran full day tours or simply didn’t answer. In the end I suggested we just go ask a cabbie how much a round trip to Sete Cidades (a set of crater lakes on one of the island would be since from google maps it didn’t seem far.) The answer was a surprisingly not terrible 50 Euro so we took out some cash and went for it.

Rolling Azorean Meadows

It was unfortunately a very cloudy/misty day on the island and I was a little leery of getting to the overlook and seeing nothing due to cloud cover but things thankfully cleared more and more as we drove. Our cab driver’s english was definitely not quite at the level of those in Madeira/Mainland Portugal but he did pretty well and stopped at various viewpoints (or often just on the side of a road) to show us the sights. Vaguely part of the same shelf of volcanic islands as Madeira the Azores are a lot more worn eroded. Long gentle hills separate a few taller peeks and the fertile soil makes for vibrantly green meadows everywhere, most filled with cows.  There were times I was very much reminded of New Zealand and, even more forcefully, of Cornwall as verdant slopes suddenly disappeared into forbidding rocky sea cliffs.

Sete Cidades Lake(s) from Vista do Rei


We wound our way up into the hills on the west end of the island and eventually reached the overlook on Sete Cidades. Sete Cidades is a fairly large stratovolcano that makes up a good chunk of the western half of Sao Miguel and is best known for a number of lakes within its caldera. The Lagoa de Sete Cidades is a twin lake separated by a narrow gap that has noticeably different colours in the two halves. Unfortunately with  the lack of sunlight the colours weren’t as pronounced as they are in some of the photos we’d seen beforehand but it was still a gorgeous sight from the viewpoint above. Back in the eighties someone built a very fancy hotel here but it failed relatively quickly and is now mostly a ruin. Reading online it appears someone recently purchased it and is planning to reopen it but we certainly saw no sign of that. While it does command a gorgeous view in pretty much every direction it was pretty windy up on the viewpoint and our driver said things were much windier in winter proper. From the viewpoint we took the winding road down into the caldera, stopping at a viewpoint over another smaller lake (apparently there are quite a number of crater lakes on this volcano) and eventually reaching the shore. Nestled along it is an isolated little village, picturesque but extremely quiet.

The Abandoned Hotel
The twin lakes and village
Sete Cidades Village Church

We took a slightly different route back to the airport with our driver taking us into what he said was a popular picnic area for the locals set along another mountain top lake. The clouds had by this point mostly retreated, it was still heavily overcast but the vistas of the island had properly opened up. On our way back down from the volcanic massif we came to a spot where we could see down the entire length of the island and from coast to coast. It really isn’t a large place. Honestly as pretty as it is I’d really wonder if there’s enough there to do to keep you busy for very long. Our tour lasted a little over two hours and we drove over a solid ¼ of the island I would guess? Yet as we boarded the plane later we talked to a number of people who had spent an entire week here AND had been before. I could definitely see the appeal in spending some time on Sao Miguel and some time exploring the other islands as well.

Back at the teeny airport we had a bite and settled in to wait for our flight. The final transfer from international to domestic at Pearson was the usual gong show but we eventually made it home more or less on time after what was about 25 hours of real time since we’d woken up that morning. All in all it was a fantastic trip. We definitely had our issues (luggage based and otherwise, in fact as I finish writing this almost a month after we got back we still haven’t gotten our payment from the airline) but overall it was a fantastic trip filled with beautiful sights, friendly people and great food.  I’d happily go back, not just to explore more of the places we went but also to go further afield, Porto and the wine country and more of the interior beckon for one. All in all the trip was a rousing success given it more or less all came about from ‘oh, there’s an RCI on Madeira, that might be interesting.’ One thing that tempts me a bit now that I wouldn’t have expected before would be one of the cruises we saw in Madeira, some of which apparently hit the Azores and the Canaries/Cape Verde as well.

Thanks to all those that followed along as ever and apologies for the lateness of the final post. As I think I mentioned I left for a wedding in California a week after getting back from this trip and have been playing catchup since. If anyone has any questions/wants any info please let me know.

Cheers and see you next time.

Someone was happy to see me home!

Road trip to The Rock

Our Gibraltar trip day dawned in depressing fashion. Sheets of rain could be heard when I first woke but had at least lessened to occasional sprinkles by the time we first threw open the drapes post-shower. Dawn had broken, but not by much on this grey grey day.

We were set for a long drive to Gibraltar partly from pure distance but also from a lack of a coastal highway around Spain directly from the Portuguese border. Heading east from Albufeira we passed all the remaining towns of the Algarve, it honestly would have been nice to explore a few of them even in a tiny way for potential future visits to the area but unfortunately time was too tight and we cruised on towards Sevilla.

Seville is a town I’d love to visit, it has a ton of beautiful architecture and lots of remaining moorish influences. Unfortunately my best route path showed us avoiding most of the city. Cut to a few hours driving later and the expressway taking us closer and closer to downtown Seville and yours truly getting increasingly worried that we’d somehow missed the exit (the signs in Spain being ok but not quite as idiot proof as Portugal.) Eventually I gave in to the worry and chose a likely looking exit for a map check/bathroom stop.

Somewhat hilariously it was the exit for the Seville IKEA and I instantly made a beeline for the parking lot reasoning that a) it would be empty at 9:30am local (we lost an hour crossing into Spain) and b) the restrooms would be sparkling clean and free (a plus in the land of pay toilets almost everywhere.) A quick check of the map had revealed that we had managed to turn off just before the proper exit (trust your nav skills Tristan) so after our pitstop and a coffee/danish refill at the restaurant we got back on the highway and continued our journey. Personally I think it’s silly that we ended up at IKEA but hey, if you’ve been to the IKEA there I think you can say you visited a place!

Being in Spain was a little confusing to the old brain. We’d both finally gotten to the place where we were instinctively saying Obrigado/a for thank you and were now back in the land of gracias. On the upside though I don’t pretend I can speak spanish with any fluency I can read a heck of a lot more of it than I can Portuguese.

Travelling east we seemed to be keeping up and even gaining on the storm with occasional sheets of driving rain forcing me to slow down from my 120kph cruising speed, but as we turned South towards Cadiz and Gibraltar the occasional patch of bright sky gave me hope. I really didn’t want to spend 8 hours driving to get there and have the whole place ringed in rain and fog. Unfortunately as it was we didn’t get the full effect of driving across what I knew was a very pretty stretch of Andalucia.

Moorish Castle Remnants – Gibraltar

I imagine most of you know the whole deal with Gibraltar but I’ll do a quick coles notes version here. It’s current status is that of a British Overseas Territory but the population considers themselves proudly to be ‘Gibraltarian’ and most speak English, Spanish and a quick mutating local creole that was near incomprehensible but for the occasional modern word snuck in in the few snippets of it I heard cab drivers speaking. They resent anyone seeing them as colonists or Spanish. Unsurprisingly I guess as they’ve been here forever other than a brief period during the war when a large chunk of the civilian population was evacuated to Madeira (I believe I mentioned that in an earlier post.)

First seized from Spain by the British in 1704 and ceded ‘in perpetuity’ in 1713, the Rock is territorially quite small. Spain has been trying to get it back ever since but the population is resolute in wanting to remain British. The border with Spain was actually closed for many years (60s to the 80s) and the Spanish Government still purposely creates delays and chaos for people returning to Spain from the Rock whenever they are having a snit with Britain (such as currently with Brexit issues.) The Gibraltarian population voted overwhelmingly and unsurprisingly against Brexit so it will be interesting to see what happens going forward.

The harbour

The ‘city’ portion lies on the West side between the Rock itself and the harbour. Most of it is built along a couple of main streets (one pedestrian only) and an increasingly number of large hotels and condo blocks sit along the water line. I’m a little murky on the tax haven status of the place, I know it was once quite the hq for international gambling firms and other such businesses but apparently the rules have changed a bit. There are still a large number of Spanish who come to buy electronics and other high value items (and Gas hilariously) at lower tax rates. A large portion of the workforce actually commutes from Spain as living on the rock is quite expensive and there are also ferries to Morocco, visible across the straight on a clear day (only 8 miles at the narrowest point.)

Casemates Square

The Spanish bloodymindedness about the place extends to helping anyone get there. Street signs have zero mention of either Gibraltar or the Spanish bordertown until you’re literally at the exit proper. It’s annoyingly petty. Thankfully the weather had cleared enough that as we emerged from a nest of buildings on the freeway I could just say “oh there it is” as the famous profile came into view. Following the guidance of some helpful online folks we got ourselves parked in an underground car park on the Spanish side and walked to the border crossing (also very few signs.) Border control was super casual going in (not even sure the dude could have said what country our passports were) and we walked our way into our third Country (and fourth or fifth territory depending on how you count things) for the trip.

Spain beyond… (the border is more or less that open stretch beyond the runway/airport)

There is only one entrance to Gibraltar. You cross the narrow tidal flats that once made attacking the place such a pain. Now since it’s the only reasonably flat area within their jurisdiction it’s a runway! Imagine sitting at a railroad track waiting to cross except for some reason the police also stretch across tire spikes… then an A321 suddenly blasts by at full throttle taking to the sky. It’s bizarre. With the barriers open there’s a narrow road and narrower footpath that everyone boots it across fairly speedily as getting stuck behind the barrier means a sizable wait.

The Rock itself dominates the skyline rather thoroughly and even from a distance you can pick out some of the caves and gunports that made it an absolute hellmouth to an advancing army. Unfortunately after that first good look the weather closed in again and we huddled under our raincoats as we walked into town proper to Casemates Square. As mentioned earlier Mom had been here before but I was blown away by what a little ‘slice of Britain’ it is.

People hiding from rain in the pub

Obviously a lot of that is catering to tourists but I’m guessing other bits remain due to the place being maintained mostly as a fortress until relatively recently. Many of the fortifications remain in place, the appropriately named Casemates square and area has a number of restaurants and galleries physically built into the defensive walls. Space is at a premium here so narrow alleys run off the main pedestrian street and are lined with tons of shops. Most of the alleys still have their old names as well so looking at the business guide you’ll see a shop advertising their address as 10 Engineer’s Lane or Crutchett’s Ramp. Quintessential British businesses (proper pubs! Marks and Spencer! a Pie shop!) are occasionally dotted with something extremely spanish (Serrano ham mmmmm) but overall if you plunked me down at one of the intersections I would probably guess I was in an old seaside town in Cornwall. We didn’t walk amongst the new hotels so the illusion was mostly maintained and the contrast between the busy Gibraltar and the fairly run down Spanish bordertown with ugly modern buildings was notable.

Fortification remnants everywhere

We’d unfortunately assumed correctly that the cable car to the top would be closed due to the gusting wind, something the cabbies insisted on telling every time we passed one of them. Neither of us was sure it would be worth a trip to the top as the rain was driving and even the pubs were too full to sneak into to wait it out. Miraculously just as we got to the bottom cable car stop (cable car closed today! taxi tour!!!) the rain stopped and we discovered a small cemetary built into a former defensive moat. The stones were mostly quite faded but a nearby plaque revealed that this was Trafalgar Cemetary and contained the remains of many who had fallen in that famous battle. Nelson’s body had of course been repatriated but it was still an interesting bit of history out of nowhere for a nerd like me.

Trafalgar Cemetary

With the skies seemingly clearing we relented to the onslaught of taxi touts and decided to hop one of the tours. Pretty much every taxi in Gibraltar is geared towards giving this tour and they mostly drive 9 seater minibuses to do it. The tour goes when the bus is as full as the driver thinks he can make it, much to the disgust of the french woman sitting next to me who had apparently been under the impression that they were getting it to themselves. Listening to her mutter away not knowing I spoke french was highly entertaining.

Our first stop was an overlook over Europa Point. Though it was still fairly hazy one could quite clearly see the nearest point of the African Continent across the way and to confirm this fact there was a giant brass plaque announcing the rock as one of the ‘Pillars of Hercules’ of the ancient era. Honestly one of my regrets for this trip is not managing to squeeze in a quick trip to Marrakesh or something just to get a first hop to Africa off the old bucket list.

The entire top of the rock is a nature reserve, the ticket included in the tour price and only registered vehicles can enter the maze of narrow usually one way roads. One of the things I was most blown away by is the number of actual residences still up here, all of which must command amazing views of the city and Spain across the bay (as well as astronomic maintenance costs.) We followed the switchbacks up farther and farther until the entire harbour was laid out below us (originally all Royal Navy, now a mix of Navy, commercial and cruise terminal) and onto St. Michael’s cave.

St. Michael’s Cave

St. Michael’s Cave is the grandest of the many many maaaaaany caves and tunnels that honeycomb the rock. One of the largest sections was actually enlarged and made livable as a protected hospital for potential WW2 casualties but was never put into use, it has since been converted to a concert hall venue for 400+ people. Most of the extremely impressive formations are still in place however and actually the miniscule reformation of stalagtites since the 40s gives you powerful comparison to just how impressively old the other foundations must be. One of the fallen formations has actually been polished as well the better to see the rings of the formation.

Concert Hall cave
Stalagtites

The cave entrance was also my first close up look at one of the colonies of barbary macacques that roam the rock. Cheeky monkeys (despite lacking tails they ARE monkeys though they’re often referred to as barbary apes) in every sense of the word, one has to keep a close eye on their belongings around these brats. You’re explicitly told to leave any plastic bags behind in the car as they know they often have food and will just rip them apart.

Cheeky Monkey

Our driver took us up as far as you can go by car (a brave hiker on a less slippery day can get a bit higher up) for a more in depth monkey visit as well as one hell of a viewpoint on the spine of the rock, sheer drops in both directions and our first view of the West side of the rock (a small hotel complex and a few beaches.) Here mom had to tell off one of the monkeys as he had the camera bag half unzipped before I could turn it around to stop him.

Sheer drops on either side with the tip of the rock behind

Motoring along that same spine at high speed was a bit unnerving and my french lady was gasping at every quiver of the van. The rest of just concentrated on the view, not like there was anything we could do anyway (though I’m definitely glad they only allow authorized vehicles up there.)

A moment after being caught undoing the camera zip

In addition to the gorgeous St Michael’s and other natural caves there are over 31km of dug out military fortificaitons and tunnels in the rock. Portions of these have been opened to the public at several spots and the ones we visited are known as the Siege Caves as they were first created and used for defences against the great siege laid by the Spanish and French. Gun port after gun port command views of the foot entrance, the harbour approaches and anything else of military importance while larger command posts, radio rooms (in the later eras) and ammo storage line the inner walls. Dioramas with soldiers are set up multiple places but the most impressive thing is the sheer scale knowing that even the vast area we’re allowed to walk down is only a tiny section of the larger whole. The Rock must have been terrifying to approach even with the guns quiet, knowing any instant a wall of flame could erupt raining steel.

Great Siege Tunnels
Vantage point of the siege tunnels

Back in town proper we succumbed to the longings of our blood and had a traditional pub meal (Steak and Ale Pie and Fish and Chips,) hit Marks and Spencer in memory of Granny (mmm bakewell tarts and turkish delight) and somewhat reluctantly began the process of heading back to the car. I was so glad the weather had cleared because I really enjoyed my visit but adding a night or two in Sevilla and doing a day trip from there/exploring the city might have been a better option in retrospect.

Arriving back at the runway we hit a closed barrier and a mob of people leaving work. A few minutes later an Easyjet flight landed right across the pathway, super weird to actually see happen even after having walked across the runway earlier.

Road closed, plane landing

Once back at the car we settled in for the drive back but with the delightful change of wide open skies even as the sun began to set. The Andalusian countryside was suddenly much more open and visible and the golden hour lighting made the rolling hills and valley look like something out of a movie. It looks like such amazing country to go riding in and horses and ranches seem to be everywhere.

As we got back on the main highway towards Sevilla we were stopped at a police checkpoint. I have no idea what they were looking for, I didn’t even roll down my window. They seemed to be pulling people over at random but didn’t seem to be doing booze/drug testing so who knows. They had outriders blocking all the exits as well for anyone trying to avoid the checkpoint. Bizarro. Night fell soon after that and we cruised back through the city and towards the border.

The contrast between the Spanish/Portuguese side of the border is pretty striking in density. There are a few population centers and what appears to be parkland along a big chunk of that coast in Spain, then once one crosses the border the Portuguese side is busy the entire coast. I’m guessing part of that is Spain being way busier on the Costa del Sol Mediterranean side but it’s still kind of odd as you’re driving along. Arriving back in Albufeira late we parked the car and grabbed a late-ish dinner to refuel. Unsurprisingly after 8.5 hours of driving on unfamiliar roads I was pretty done for the night.


The next morning we used our last few hours of car-having to run a few errands. Bought our train tickets for the return to Lisbon, went and made sure they had a wetsuit that fit me at the dive co. etc. Then after dumping off the car we walked back into the old town for lunch and more or less just had a lazy day.

Do you have food?

The End of the ‘World’

Getting out of Lisbon was a piece of cake. We slightly overdid our lead time due to mild concern about how often the metro would be running on a sunday but after a wait we were plunked down on the train and headed south towards the Algarve. One of the best views of the journey came not long after departure as we crossed the river over the massive bridge that’s basically a shorter twin of the Golden Gate. The sunny and breezy morning had the sailboats out en masse and it again brought to mind a shadow of what this harbour would have looked like at the height of Portugal’s golden age of exploration.

Further south after we’d emerged from Lisbon’s suburbs we passed into the more arid sunny region. Most of the journey we spent passing olive groves then later just endless orchards full of oranges. Even in the towns you’d see people with massively prolific orange and lemon trees bursting with fruit. To a Canadian that’s just such a foreign site. Given we were crossing pretty much the entire bottom third of the country the journey was over surprisingly fast and I had to prod Mom awake as we pulled in to the tiny station at Albufeira.

The Algarve area of Portugal is the entire south coast and is incredibly built up with small communities. It relies almost entirely on tourism but is also an increasingly popular retirement destination for people from colder climates. Albufeira itself is one of the more populous small cities but to be honest most of them run into one another so it’s hard to tell where the borders even are. Despite the sprawl there’s still a lot of wild looking coastline here and it’s a very pretty region.

Sunset from our room

A short cab ride later we were back at the oceanside at one of the weirder large resort hotels I’ve ever been to. Mom set about checking us in with the documents while I inspected the lobby. I was more or less instantly laughing at the barrage of rules posted everywhere and (correctly) assumed they were aimed at drunken Brits as everything was in English. There were more usual signs like ‘don’t wear swimwear into the lobby’ and ‘no smoking in the lobby’ but also ‘no feeding the cats,’ ‘do not buy fruit’ and, most ominously ‘We are a family resort and any behaviour like a hen party is not tolerated.’ It was an absolutely sprawling resort and clearly had absorbed several nearby hotels as well.

The place was in off-season mode and clearly understaffed, after finding out they’d ignored our request for two beds we had to have a room change and were told we were getting a ‘free upgrade’ of which we really couldn’t see any sign once we were in the room. It turned out to be a simple room about the size of a large Grand Forks hotel room but with a small kitchenette built into the back wall. It had obviously recently been remodelled, was quite confortable and nice, but was definitely on the small side for one of Dad’s places.

Albufeira looking back towards hotel

Heck, even finding the room took some work as (defying pretty much any resort convention ever in my experience) you accessed the room on the balcony side and the arrows really didn’t make that clear (the rooms near the elevator had normal room doors.) There was also only an elevator on one end of the entire massive block which meant that most of the older elevator crowd for your entire floor was walking past your balcony door… and only window… which you wanted to have open for the view and breeze… so they could pretty much always see in to your whole place. Since it was one of the small rooms there was no couch either so people walking by just looked in to see you lounging on your bed late in the evening. Honest to god just a terrible design. Yet, we could see the waves crashing in to the point, the beach at the foot of the hotel was a lovely sandy cove nestled in between limestone cliffs and the sunset that night was spectacular.

View from the room

Portions of the hotel were clearly run as an all inclusive and the bars and restaurants were quite expensive for an a la carte guest ($25ish Canadian for a very so-so looking buffet) so we never ended up eating at the restaurant. The main pool was supposedly ‘closed for maintenance’ but no one touched it while we were there and it just sat there looking gorgeous and empty. They clearly just didn’t have the staff to watch it, the one open pool was far too small for even the limited number of guests but also wasn’t heated. The ‘don’t feed the cats’ sign was explained when we a sudden swarm of (well fed) ferals on our way to dinner.

Look at all that maintenance underway…

Walking (surprise surprise) up the hill we ran into a group of Albertans who clued us in to the closest good supermarket. We’d actually run into some Nova Scotians on the train as well when I noticed the Blue Bombers shirt he was wearing (a gift from a Winnipegger daughter.) The top of the hill had us arrive at the section of Albufeira known as ‘The Strip’ a multi-block section of restaurants, bars and souvenir shops that seems to be trying to channel old school Niagara Falls or Atlantic City. We quickly discovered (as I feared from some research) that the place was somewhat of a Brit Stag/Hen trip destination and was a bit… trashy. On a sunday afternoon at an off time of year it was fairly tame and large sections of the strip were even totally shut down (in some cases permanently looking, in others renovations were underway) but pretty much all the restaurants open had touts outside trying to get you in.

Reaching the top of the strip we headed down one of the main boulevards and serendipitously found a very nice little bakery (something we seem to have a knack for) and got some bread and morning muffins before walking further down to find the Pingo Doce supermarket. Despite the heavy load of drinks and things we’d bought to stock the hotel room for the week we started walking back and in fact made it most of the way back down the strip before deciding to grab some lunch (after all this time my first Piri Piri of the trip.) We spent the rest of the night settling in, exploring the weirdness of the hotel a bit more, playing cards and enjoying our first english tv in a while as they had our first non-news English channels of the trip.


The next morning we walked the 3km along the coastal road into Albufeira’s old town proper. Along the way we admired a number of vacation homes large and small, many with elaborate flower gardens blooming all about. The coast is a strange mix of ultra developed more modern sections and more run down micro-condos. Overall it’s really quite pleasant and the views from many would be spectacular, especially the couple right at the top of the sea cliff before we walked down the long hill to the main beach.

Fisherman’s Beach

Albufeira’s old town is nestled on and above a wide sandy beach known as Fisherman’s beach though the town’s boat traffic is now in a modern harbour/marina a few clicks east. With Mom’s coffee addiction having her near collapse we settled down into a seaside cafe and enjoyed the breakers rolling in. Weather wise the wind was up and it was probably one of the colder days of the trip. Nothing by our standards of course but the cafes all had wind shelters up and the locals were bundled up like it was -30, we zipped up our hoodies.

This guy kept looking down to keep an eye on everyone

Further back in the maze of streets of the old town you could see what had once been a small fishing village but was now more or less entirely tourist. A spacious and quite pretty main square is surrounded by restaurants and bars. I noticed that one of the gelato places had my favourite (Amerena sour cherry, see Rome post years ago) and instantly bought us each one which we quickly dispatched while roaming the cobbled streets. One end of the town has a tunnel bored through the rock leading to the next small inlet and beach. Wikipedia tells me that this was once the main visitor beach (as fisherman’s was covered in boats) and it would make sense, though on this day it was particularly windswept.

Overall the town proper had a lot more charm than our end of things, though that’s not really surprising. It definitely had a bit of the same bar vibe though.


I’m worried that I’m sounding a bit snooty when I call places trashy but it’s sort of hard to describe if you haven’t travelled to places like this. You have to remember that to Brits going here for a boys or girls weekend is way cheaper than it is for us to go to Vegas and for a certain type of Brit (and to lesser extent French/German/other) they treat it much the same way. The point for them is to maybe get a bit of sun but mostly to pub crawl and get absolutely blasted. As a result many of the bars are just trying to look like British football bars, one site actually told me ‘Albufeira is known for its irish pubs.’ Riot police have even been called in to deal with mobs of them at times.

Honestly the closest analogue I can probably give for most of the people who are reading this and don’t get it is imagine a Daytona Beach gearing up for Spring Break vibe, except it probably hits that every weekend during high season/christmas season. Thankfully at this time of year that wasn’t going to be a problem, but the vibe was still there. Also thankfully, like Daytona the scenery still manages to be beautiful despite the commercial surroundings.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed my time here, but if I returned to the Algarve I’d try to stay in a different town with a more laid back vibe (and probably have a car the whole time.)


Upon arriving we’d noticed that there were a number of tours further afield and with the sea temperature not really conducive to much swimming (though I was going to dive on Friday) we thought maybe we’d do one of them. Gibraltar sounded appealing as I’d always been kind of fascinated by the place and Mom had been there eons ago with Granny and had found it worth the trip. Unfortunately a bit of research into the tour revealed that you started stupidly early, spent your first 2 hours gathering other people from other hotels, then when you arrived the tour didn’t include going into Gibraltar at all, you had to pay extra or do your own thing. Since we kind of wanted to see a bit more of the coast anyway we decided to rent our own car.

Cape Sagres

So at lunchtime the next day we loaded up our new Citroen estate and headed west to explore the rest of the western Algarve. It was a cloudy day that seemed to be threatening to break into storms at any moment but in the end we never actually saw any rain. Navigating was mostly painless, everything was super well marked and we bopped our way along the coast to Sagres, Portugal’s (and Europe’s) most southwesterly town. Once the final staging base for many voyages around the horn and to the new world it’s now mostly known as a surfing destination.

Surfers

As with the rest of the Algarve it’s small beaches nestled between outcrops of cliff. Yet here the cliffs are even more impressive and the waves crash in much more aggressively as it faces the open Atlantic more directly. The surfing is particularly good as a result I’m guessing, though I think that’s also a factor of the availability of multiple beaches facing different ways off the point so there’s probably a solid beach for almost any wind direction. That said we also saw a couple of looney bins taking some crazy curls right next to a sheer rock wall so it’s not like some surfing types need anything.

One of several Feral Siamese we met

We explored the fortress on the point. It turned out to be more of a fortress wall protecting the entrance to a towering point. It’s the former site of Henry the Navigator’s nautical school though to what extent it existed is the subject of some debate. Henry himself was definitely a driving force in starting Portugal’s age of exploration and helped develop the newly designed caravel that would drive those travels. What exists of the fort at this point is mostly remnants, battery platforms and stupendous views. The caves and holes in the rocks lead to some excellent blowholes as well, one of which they’ve surrounded with a concrete echo chamber to really augment the sound of the surf.

Cape Sagres

We walked the entire perimeter of the fort/point before moving on as we wanted to see the literal end of europe before sunset. Cape St. Vincent is just a couple minutes down the road and is the southwesternmost point in Europe. These days there’s a small lighthouse and gift shop. If anything the cliffs here are even more impressive as they tower over the crashing green waves. It’s a wild place and you can really imagine just how scary it must have been to stand here and look out into the void you were about to cross, particularly as the sun set and the waves grew darker and darker.

Cape St. Vincent

With night fallen we set out home to our hotel and made ourselves a pasta dinner/had a slightly early night before the big trip the next day.

Sunset at the end of Europe
Lighthouse at Cape St. Vincent

Having fun storming the castle…

Editors Note: WordPress has yet again decided to completely revamp the editor so this may not look consistent with the other posts.

Our second morning in Lisbon started with a concrete plan to hop the picturesque old tram and take it up to the Alfama/Castle district to explore.

View from our guest house

Breakfast was a nice get together again with our host and this time with our fellow guests as well. They were a married couple and two coworkers from the Seattle area who’d just been to the Mobile World Conference in Barcelona via Paris/Amsterdam. There was a brief window where I once thought I might get to go to that conference back in my coding days so I admit a bit of jealousy. Luis gave us all various bits of advice before we scattered, telling us the most interesting way to walk up to the flea market before heading onward to the castle.

We started on our way back down to the Baixa taking one of the shortcuts we’d discovered on our previous night’s wandering and decided to take a slightly different route down to the water. In doing so we checked out a nearby church we hadn’t had time to see the night before. It had burned down in the 50s and been rebuilt but keeping much of the fire damage to the original stone, interesting but also quite odd looking. Outside, one of the many Ginja joints that are essentially a tiny closet in a large building and decided that breakfast indulgence would be alright (since it was pushing brunch time anyway.) Gijinha is a liqueur made from a sour cherryish fruit (the ginja) that many Lisboetas seem to drink almost religiously. More or less anywhere you walk in the city you’ll see one of these teeny bars that sell literally only this one thing and locals stopping it for a quick shot with or without fruit. We’d sampled it on Madeira as it’s popular all over Portugal but the omnipresence of it in Lisbon was kind of amazing. The liqueur itself is essentially the same brandy that’s in Poncha with the cherry sugar and some cinnamon infused in it. It’s both strong and smooth and often served in a little edible chocolate cup (one person told me this started in one place in Portugal and has spread.) On this occasion we were given our glass shotglasses and stepped outside, had cheers and sampled, spitting out the pits like the locals.

Reinforced for the day ahead we began walking down to the tram line only to discover (again) that they were just too crammed with people to make getting on (if it was even possible) appealing at all. As previously discussed we were in Portugal over the fairly extended Carnaval period so tourism numbers were probably way up (I definitely got the feeling at times that there were more Portuguese travellers in Lisbon visiting the capital than you might normally expect but forgot to ask Luis if that was the case.) In the end we decided just to walk since Luis had given us what he said was the most interesting route.

Tram Car (very full)

Interesting was code for “Hilly oh my god more steps” in some ways but it was definitely intriguing. The Alfama neighbourhood is pretty much the oldest extant neighbourhood of the city and was at one point (in moorish times) more or less the extent of it. Since it’s more or less all built on the steep hill up to the castle it was spared from most of the tsunami destruction (perhaps firmer bedrock helped with the earthquake too, I’m not sure.) and as such the streets here maintain the old narrow twisted patterns that were originally meant to confuse invaders and work equally well on tourists. Even I was glad for google maps that day. (I love you Luis but your claim there would be signs pointing at the castle everywhere was BS unless you were on the tramcar path.)

Typical “street” in the section of Alfama we walked

As you make your way through these narrow staircase/alleys you can run across almost everything. On one landing there will be a tiny postage stamp sized square with two microscopic bars and a couple of tables set out… on another you’ll see a magnificently tiled old home towering up 3 stories but only about six feet wide. In the Moorish/Medieval days of the City the nobility lived at the top of the hill nearest the castle and you can see this in the expanding size of the homes as you climb higher. Later the the district became home to the poorer citizens (fishermen etc) and there are signs of this in some of the decorative motifs. These days it’s known more as the immigrant area of the city with swaths of construction labourers from Portugal’s former colonies, India etc coming and staying in the neighbourhood during the pre-recession construction boom but with the cooled economy and austerity measures it’s changing once again. Apparently there are numerous public baths and laundries because many of the very old buildings lack any remotely modern conveniences.

You run into these beautifully tiled buildings out of nowhere in the oddest places

Eventually we reached the top and found the aforementioned flea market which was incredibly lively. It’s definitely a proper flea market and not just a tourist thing as vendors are selling everything from vintage clothes, furniture and broken toys to artisan goods and food. I saw a very near old map of Madeira that I was sorely tempted to buy but as it was still early and I knew I’d be carrying it around for six plus more hours at least I didn’t see how it wouldn’t get wrecked. If I’d just been visiting Lisbon the rest of the trip there were definitely some neat furniture things I would have at least examined too but the rest of the trip was so mobile/seat of our pants that I just didn’t want to even look and fall in love with something that would take too long to arrange shipping on. (Plus I’m fairly sure this was around the time that Dad told me my hot water heater had broken so I was feeling extra poor with every euro spent.)

Heading uphill (some more!) from the Flea Market we came to the Church of St. Vincent de Fora which was vast and impressive and is the burial place for a number of Portuguese monarchs. We also discovered that the area near the castle appears to be where some well established ceramic workshops were located. Again I wish in some ways we’d been finishing our stay in Lisbon as I saw a few things I might have picked up had we not been looking at then hauling them around another week+.

The ridiculous altarpiece of the Cathedral of St. Vincent

A fairly long line greeted us as we waited to get in to the Castle grounds proper but it was absolutely worth the wait as the Castle’s ridiculously defensible vantage point gives it and its grounds one hell of a view across the entire city and the River Tagus out to the ocean. As the site has been host to basically every fortification the city has ever built it’s archaelogically/historically kind of a mess as a site to visit, but also interesting for that. The exhibit of artifacts recovered at the site has a ton of things from the Roman era through to the early portuguese state. The inner portion of the castle itself is mostly the fortress built in the moorish era but there are also later walls from era where it became the protected seat of the Governor or King of Portugal depending on the era. Eventually as it became less necessary to always be behind thick walls the royals moved to swankier digs (as in most European countries) I believe originally in the Baixa (the valley below the castle) then as previously discussed out to Belem after the earthquake. From then on the castle was apparently just a military stronghold/storage depot and as such isn’t a particularly well preserved example of castle-tude, but it’s impressively stout and you can see why the legends of a Knight sacrificing himself to hold open a gate during the siege to force out the moors might be true. Not much was getting through or over those walls. Definitely neat to explore given the views it commands and the less safety paranoid approach the Portuguese monument folks take.


Mom with Gnarled Tree
Castle of St George/Sao Jorge
Looking down from one of the turrets

The terrace of the castle gardens is every bit as nice a visit as the castle itself. Gnarled old trees, some so split they’re essentially two trees growing in a helix, dot the grounds everywhere and even on a scorching day I imagine it’s easy to find some shade and look out at the city. The grid pattern of the rebuilt Baixa is very evident from up here and one can imagine the Marques de Pombal standing on that very spot planning his grand scheme. One can also sadly imagine the horror the soldiers standing guard must have felt watching their city tremble, burn and drown below them. We got an interesting dose of Carnaval as we were winding up our visit as well with a giant team of young folks streaming into the castle holding banners and wearing odd costumes. Out in the garden we got performance dancers standing near the walls and on pillars near the exit were crow people squawking at passerby.

In addition to fake crows the castle had Peacocks
Looking back at our guest house from the Castle Mount
Castle Harlequiny carnaval folk

By the time we started making our way back down the hill we were starving (and mom was getting hangry.) Given the time it didn’t make a lot of sense to have a big meal but most of the restaurants nearby had only pricey large dishes at a heavy tourist hotspot markup. Again I don’t mind paying a bit but some of those places definitely had a vibe of mediocre food you’re paying for the view.

Lisbon Cathedral

Luckily Lisbon has transformed many old news kiosks (the round european style ones) into mini cafe ‘qiosques’ that sell sandwiches and cake and ice cream and the like. We ran into one on a cute little square that according to Steves is ‘the best place to get the pulse of the neighbourhood’ and grabbed a cured ham and cheese panini, a couple of ciders and did some peoplewatching. Honestly these are some of my favourite moments when travelling in Europe, you can sit there ages if you like, you can take your beer across the street and sit on a park bench if you want and watch the world go by.

After a bit of a recharge we visited the nearby Lisbon Cathedral. While it’s the oldest in the city it’s also been rebuilt many times due to earthquakes and lies on the site of a former mosque and a roman street with shops and sewer. they are trying to currently redesign the site to make everything visible.

Meandering back towards our guest house through the streets we ran into a few more sardine stores. The Portuguese are super into canned fish (all canned fish not just sardines) and also export large amounts of it. Somewhat hilariously to someone from mostly sardine hating north america this has led to lots of touristy sardine shops. That old tourist spot standby of “have an X from the year you were born” actually gets applied to sardines in Lisbon!

Ferris Wheel o’ Sardines!

We also sampled an afternoon sweet at the Confeteria Nacional which, while it desperately needs a take a number system, served us delicious cakey things picked at random from the display case. It’s been serving sweet treats at this location since 1829 and the interior decor doesn’t look like it’s been updated much in the past century. We may or may not have also grabbed another Ginjinha to fortify us for the climb back up to the guest house.

Dinner that night was an absolutely phenomenal burger and great fries at a little place in Bairro Alto. Everything made from scratch and super tasty. Wandering around after trying to work off dinner we ended up in a weird little ‘half irish pub/half dance club’ called Cheers (with the logo) that had a very talented fiddler/guitarist playing and a small table free. While we were originally just planning to have a quick drink they were so good we ended up lingering til after midnight despite having originally planned an early night to pack for the train the next morning.

Musical duo at ‘Cheers’ playing everything from Erasure to Andrea Bocelli

All in all I felt like we’d crammed in a fair bit for our first visit to Lisbon and we knew we’d be back before the flight out so there was more still to do… for now it was on to the Algarve by train.

Of Trams, Tarts and Towers…

Here there be monsters

Lisbon is NOT a flat city. It’s the kind of place where if it was SimCity I’d edit the map because there are too damned many hills.

Our host Luis joined us at the B&B breakfast table (a buffet of various things and freshly made eggs and bacon if requested) and while chowing down he helped us make a plan of attack for the day. Luis is a vibrant little man who seems to be building up a small empire of mid priced guesthouses here in the trendier old neighbourhoods of the city. Even so he seems genuinely delighted to greet every guest personally and help them learn about the city that he clearly loves. If you’re ever heading to Lisbon his places are heartily recommended.

First up was pre-buying our tickets for the train to our next destination and then dropping off our laundry. I managed to convince mom that we should just use the service as that was easiest both in terms of location and not waiting around all day during some of our lisbon time. Getting our tickets came first though but that was thankfully easy due to the train station nearby having a long distance office despite being mostly for local trains. That didn’t stop the lady in the office from being grumpy about us making her work, though she lightened up at least a notch once she realized we didn’t want tickets for Sintra (having passed at least 3 posters that said Sintra upstairs not here.) The laundry wasn’t much farther away then we were able to explore the Baixa for real.

In 1755 Lisbon suffered a devastating earthquake (somewhere offshore, estimated at about a 9.5) and subsequent tsunami that destroyed large sections of the city. The tsunamis even reached Cornwall, Barbados and possibly Brazil. The quake also had the misfortune of hitting on All Saint’s Day when thousands of candles were lit for masses everywhere in a very catholic city igniting a massive firestorm. The resulting devastation left the center of Lisbon essentially non-existent and a now earthquake paranoid king fled the city and set up the world’s swankiest campsite a few miles outside town leaving a minor noble in charge. He (The Marquis de Pombal) eventually became a pseudo dictator under the King but in his early days he set about rebuilding the Baixa district (a flat valley between two large hills) to exacting specifications. Portugal was reeling financially from the aftereffects of the quake but the rebuilding needed to be done. The resulting construction was an early example of a planned city and has a very strict grid pattern, uniform heights and facades that are mostly uniform. Pombal didn’t rebuild many of the churches that were destroyed, but those he did rebuild also use the similar facades in most cases. It’s really quite the effect and apparently most of the buildings also contain innovative anti earthquake/fire methods for the time as well.

Some of the tile facades

It’s really quite impressive, though a closer look reveals a lot of abandoned upper floors. Apparently rent controls have been in place for 50+ years and many landlords no longer maintain anything and some of the buildings are just rotting out other than the stores/cafes on the main floor. Hopefully that can be turned around before it gets out of hand. The other effect of the earthquake of course is that though Lisbon is one of the oldest cities in Europe (it predates Rome apparently) there is little evidence of that in the tradition city center. While these buildings are old from the perspective of someone from our part of the world by Euro standards they’re barely teenaged.

The large plaza where we first emerged from the subway is known as Rossio by the locals and may once have been a roman racetrack, now though it’s our starting point as we head slowly down to the waterfront and the giant Praca do Commercio (originally designed to be the commercial entrance to the city.) On the way there we travel through the Arch of Triumph, one of the few really extravagant bits of arty architecture Pombal allowed as part of the original reconstruction, ever so shockingly there is a representation of him on it. The plaza itself is vast but so full of sunglasses sellers and other nonsense that I put on my shades just to deflect them.

Pombal’s Arch of Victory/Triumph

At Luis’s suggestion (warning us that the Castle hill would be more interesting the next day when we could also see the flea market) we decided to do the sights of Belem that day. We had originally planned on taking one of the city’s historic trams from the plaza to what is essentially a suburb of Lisbon (it’s where the King’s tent city was set up as mentioned earlier) but they were so incredibly packed that I called an audible and we took a regular city bus instead. As much as I loved the look of the trams I would have been standing packed like a sardine and unable to see out the window anyway at my height. From the bus we got an interesting view of public art projects and a seafront (well riverfront but the mouth to the Atlantic is very nearby) with hundreds of old warehouses/shelters re-purposed for more varied uses such as sports complexes, restaurants or art galleries. The river itself is still teeming with boat traffic large and small and if you squint a little bit you can imagine what it must have looked like during Lisbon’s maritime explorer heyday.

Monument to the Discoverers

We started out by walking to the riverfront to see the Monument to the Explorers which is a large sail like tower with a Caravel prow mounted by the leaders of Portugals. Lead by Prince Henry the Navigator (since his obsession with exploration and missionary work kickstarted the whole thing) and covered by others such as Vasco de Gama it’s a pretty monument commanding a view of the entire harbour.

Henry, Vasco and the Gang

Also on the waterfront is the Belem Tower, an elaborate and gorgeous harbour defense fortress built on a small island just offshore. It was apparently once farther out in the water before changes made it now only separate by a small tidepool. We didn’t feel the need to go inside but it was quite impressive.

Torre de Belem

The Jeronimos Monastery (Order of St. Jerome, sadly not Geronimo 😉 ) is a ridiculously elaborate church and monastery built on the site of one of the small chapels visited by fishermen and explorers to bless their coming voyages. It got steadily more elaborate during the age of exploration as the Kings taxed the spices coming back from the new discoveries and kept building (Most of Portugal’s wealth from its heyday went to churches and elaborate homes for the wealthy patrons.) It now incorporates several museums in the old monastery spaces and the church is truly massive and impressively ornate.

Monastery

Jeronimos Monastery Church

Church interior

In addition to the ones in the monastery Belem has a cluster of other museums. Slightly misled by our guidebook as to the cost we checked out the modern art collection at a museum within a sprawling arts complex on the shoreline created by a Portuguese billionaire/art patron. As with all modern art not everything was to my taste but the collection is diverse and truly impressive. I thought of my cousin Stephanie checking out a Calder and some Rothko works.

Last but not least Belem is home to the ‘original’ custard tart of Portugal where it’s known as a Pastel de Belem. A place that churns out tens of thousands of them a day and gives them to you hot after you make it through the line. They were worth the wait though we later had one in Lisbon that was at the same level. It’s certainly not worth the trip to Belem just for this specific version but if you’re there anyway….

Since we had somewhat of a firm deadline on getting back to the Baixa in time to get our laundry we had to say goodbye at this point (though most of the museums were shutting anyway.) Hopping back on the bus we ended up at a Plaza near Rossio (Praca Figuera) that had a large and hopping night market underway. Deciding that the laundry could wait a few minutes we sampled various goodies, bought some cheese and nuts and regretfully decided to wait for proper food a bit later.

All the ham

Once the laundry was stowed we set out to find some dinner. Though we thought about eating where Luis had recommended but to be honest both of us were a bit tired of ‘typical Portuguese’ as most of the restaurants insist on calling it and we went back exploring the Bairro Alto. This pretty quickly paid off though as we found another night market on an upper hill lookout that had an amazing view of the city lights. Oddly we ended up ordering some sort of tasty pork sandwich from a stand that offered a large amount of Madeiran food but ours was apparently a Porto specialty. Two Ciders, some hot Sangria and a local band later we were pretty ready for bed after a long day, especially since we had another heavy day planned.

Night Market

End of Madeira, on to Lisbon

Our flight out of Madeira was unfortunately not until later in the day (I would have enjoyed getting the full day in Lisbon) but thankfully we were able to make the most of it and not just sit around with our luggage. After bopping into town we had quick breakfast at our fave bakery then walked down the seafront to where we could catch a bus up into the hills to the Botanical Gardens. Once we found the right departure stop the ride was easy and we were deposited right outside the gates of the sprawling park.

Birds of Paradise

Created in the 60s out of the plant collection/studies of one of the religious orders which was expanded into a full scale municipal garden at this location. It’s a really diverse collection and designed to be flowering pretty much constantly (though the whole island does that.) There are sections for endemic Madeiran plants, wide variety of palm samples, topiary, orchids, other flowers from around the world as well as a sample of agricultural plants and herbs from the collection.

Cacti

Some of the sections are really sculpted, others are left a bit more freeform and wild. It was worth the trip for the views alone as it’s up at the same height as Monte (which we visited previously) but hangs over a much sharper cliff looking down into Funchal. There’s also a water feature that is perhaps more vibrant in summer but at this time of year was basically just the home for a symphony of croaking frogs with one of the resident cats occasionally looking down and trying to decide if he wanted frog legs for lunch.

After a quick drink and a visit with a local dog who roams around looking for friends (we saw him hopping in a fountain in the gardens to cool off) we hopped the bus back down, said our goodbyes to Funchal and headed back to the hotel. Thankfully the wind wasn’t too crazy and flights were landing as normal, being somewhat of a plane nerd (not to mention curious about this weird airport) I was happy to see an old school observation deck after security. Nominally it was the smoking balcony but it overlooked all the runway operations. Eventually we headed off on our short hop to Lisbon (direct thankfully and not back to the azores first.) It was somewhat of a wrench saying goodbye to our bags so soon after actually recovering them but we crossed our fingers, walked out to the plane and boarded by the rear door.

Madeira turned out to be pretty great for somewhere I’d never actually given much thought to visiting. It’s gorgeous, very different and everyone is incredibly friendly and welcoming. I think we did a pretty good job at exploring but I think if I returned I’d probably rent a car and spend a bit more leisurely time exploring some of the outer towns.

It was a quick flight to Lisbon followed by a trip via subway to the old part of Lisbon. We eventually surfaced in a darkened square and began making our way towards our b&b dragging our (thankfully present) bags across Lisbon’s slippery cobbles. At first glance things seemed a bit seedy as I was offered hash twice in the first couple minutes of walking. Lisbon is also a fairly hilly city and our newly trained calves got put to work hauling our luggage upward and onward. Looking at some reviews online as well as a note in the Rick Steves book for Portugal had directed us to a series of rooms run by a fellow called Luis. We were in the Zuzabed B&B which we later learned was the owner’s former house. It was the top two floors of a narrow building, another 3 narrow staircases up to our small but cute and clean room with a view of the castle hill.

Lisbon

After getting us settled in Luis recommended a restaurant for a late dinner but unfortunately they were already closed for the night before we got there. We ended up following his alternative advice and heading up into the neighbourhood called Bairro Alto which was more or less just up a couple more flights of stairs. This bohemian maze of twisty cobbled streets was still quite busy with people at the dozens of bars and restaurants. We eventually ended up at a dinner and fado show restaurant again which seems to be turning into a first night tradition for us. Dinner was good but we were pretty ready for sleep not long after in hopes of coming out strong the next morning.

Spelunking

Somewhat frustratingly despite my best efforts I was unable to secure a dive while in Madeira. Many of the dive shops on the island weren’t starting operations until March or April because it’s “winter.” I thought I’d found one eventually but communicating with them was a constant pain and when I told them I was in for tuesday and asked for final details I didn’t hear from them again… hell of a way to run a business. In the end it seemed likely they were only shore diving in a pretty but not particularly exciting little cove… To be honest I’m guessing they didn’t have much interest and decided if they ignored me they wouldn’t have to work that day.

Punta Oliviera just west of our resort, path seems to be a relic of an earlier era

In the end I slept in a bit and we had a good walk around the shoreline and around the point. For whatever reason Madeira in general and this area (Canico de Baixa) in particular is very popular with Germans. While the area right by our hotel has a number of other hotels/small apartments even a 3 minute walk up the road in either direction takes you past a number of small rental homes ranging from a teeny walkup to larger multi bedroom homes with gorgeous gardens and balconies overlooking the sea cliffs. Unfortunately my german wasn’t really up to checking all the details but I may look them up once home out of curiousity.

After a couple hours of going up and down hills/steps/cobblestones we realized we hadn’t had lunch and decided to try the Taverna we’d seen on the way into the hotel zone. It was pleasant but kind of hilarious in that multiple times we were left alone for ages on the patio. It was pretty much the only place on the trip so far where we had much of a language barrier (the amount of English spoken by people in the service industry is astounding.) We ended up finishing the evening with a drink on the patio.

Wanting to explore a bit of the north side we booked a tour out to the volcanic caves with a couple of side stops. The tour itself had a bit more content from the tour guide this time and we were in a small Renault minivan. Honestly one of the more interesting things he let us know was just how many of the tunnels we passed through were relatively recent. He kept pointing out crazy zigzaggy roads going up volcanic ridges and telling us that was the old road to go where we were going. I can only imagine how long the roughly 30 minute drive would have taken before the tunnels. There was a burst of construction that finished roughly 15 years ago where they built an absolute whackload of tunnels and the highway that follows the south coast up in the hills. It’s a seriously impressive round of engineering.

We took the main road over the mountains through one of the few passes and eventually reached the entrance to the caves. A series of lava tubes large and small (some enlarged to allow easier access) they made a loop a fair way into the mountain. There were a number of different lava formations left behind that were neat to see. Somewhat hilariously in some of the larger water pools local winemakers had set up an experiment to see how their wine aged in the more or less uniform temperature water. It was a neat tour but the 3d video afterwards in the educational center was hilariously bad.

Wine Testing

Moving on with our driver Antonio we visited the village of Sao Vincente. We were somewhat baffled when he drove up to the upper village then slightly back down the road and directed us to walk down the steep road then staircase. We followed the path down slowly and had a peek at the simple but pretty church and tiny graveyard, the newness of some of the stones made me think it was a graveyard of the “you get 20 years in the ground then we throw you in the mausoleum” variety.

Sao Vincente

Moving onwards Antonio pointed us on the walkway down to the sea along a gently flowing river that clearly gushes hard when the rain is falling. It was actually the first time we’d seen strong breakers coming onto shore and I was honestly surprised not to see anyone surfing. It was a pretty spot and we both would have really enjoyed sitting down at a cafe and enjoying it for a while… unfortunately with this whirlwind tour that wasn’t really an option.

Sao Vincente shoreline

The last stop on our tour was actually another spot from the Travel Man episode, a cable car down to an isolated beach on the west coast. We didn’t have the chance to go down, but the view from above was breathtaking. I believe it’s one of the highest sea cliffs in the world. Apparently somewhere nearby there’s a glass floor observation deck that must be truly terrifying.

On our way back into town our fellow passengers decided to get dropped in Funchal and we decided on the spur of the moment to do the same and got out on the waterfront for a quick lunch. Somewhat happily we then discovered that the carnaval stuff we’d seen being set up earlier was actually now active even if they parade obviously wasn’t going to be for a day or two. We ended up grabbing some chorizo buns to take back for dinner and tried a few treats. Ginja (a portuguese cherry/berry liqueur, more on that later) in a chocolate cup. Crispy crusted chestnut tarts. A new tangerine poncha we hadn’t tried before. All delicious!

Carnaval

Winding our way back into the old town I decided we should go up to an area we hadn’t been to since the first day of exploration and there was a fantastic guitarist playing in the church square. We’ve been kind of shocked at how many buskers here have pretty elaborate sound systems. This guy had one heck of a pedal board set up and was doing a variety of styles over the hour or so we listened to him play. The Poncha was delicious, the sun was shining and the music was good.

Old Town Cat

Together with the carnaval sneak peek was an excellent treat and a nice way to (almost) end our time in Madeira. We decided to take the public bus back to the resort for the first time. It turned out to be pretty painless. Not a ride for someone with vertigo though as all the twists and turns on a high cliffside road that were slightly wild in a minivan were even more in a tall bus with a driver gunning it around the turns. It stays off the highway and snakes along the cliffside towns and stopped within a 5 minute walk of the resort. Honestly if I ever visited again the Madeiran bus system seems pretty fantastic, I guess that’s required in a town with so much up and down.

Carnaval, Nuns and the Russian Madeiran

The stress letdown of finally having our bags, our clothes, our toiletries meant we finally slept soundly that night. Saturday morning we even had a solid sleep in and fairly quickly decided to just have a relaxing day (the courtesy bus wasn’t running but we later discovered that the city buses worked pretty well for the area.) After some toast we headed down to sit by our pool (and overlooking the cliffs) and relaxed with our books for a couple hours. It was gorgeous and sunny (around 23c I believe) and we ended up trying the (outdoor) pool but it was completely unheated and was sitting a a temperature closer to the normal ‘winter’ temps for Madeira so it was pretty much West Hawk on May Long/Lake Superior type cold. Had a quick swim to stretch out my hip that’s been giving me problems again since my tailbone accident but didn’t linger in there super long.

We’d noticed on google and on our bus ride down that there was a german restaurant up the hill and we thought some schnitzel might be a good ‘different’ dinner. Unfortunately after huffing it up a few levels we found the place was closed (we saw activity later so it seems like they likely open March 1st like some other things here.) In the end we ended up at another Madeiran/Portuguese place close to the hotel. It was in the Garden of an older small hotel and seemed in fact to partially built into the oldest part of the hotel. The kitchen seemed to be in two converted rooms and the bar could easily have been a former lobby. Though we didn’t have anything that required it, many of the meat came on giant skewers where the waiter would come to your table and set up a stand then hang your meat from it. It was sort of halfway to the Brazillian steakhouse method. Our choices ended up being tasty and after a lovely meal (and mother indulging in her 2352nd fancy coffee of the trip) we retired for some cards. It was a nice recharge day after going hard since arriving.

Parade A-Frame

This period (it seems to vary by the individual town) is the start of Carnaval here on the island. We’d booked what was called a tour but ended up mostly being a mildly guided shuttle to one of the more traditional towns on the Northeast part of Madeira to see one of their events. Apparently their festival is sort of a local thing adapted into a carnaval thing once that became a ‘thing’ so it goes by a few names. The highlight was what we were told was a ‘children’s parade’ that was actually just an incredibly slow moving parade of bands, children’s dance groups, floats with local pastoral scenes (an active building of a teeny a-frame traditional house for one) and agricultural things.

Parade Weirdness

Parade Bands

We enjoyed the wackyness for a bit then as the parade finished explored the town square which had some sort of entertainment going on (it seemed very talky but people were enjoying it.) Everywhere around the square there were booths with food and drink, almost exclusively Poncha, Bolo de Caco (portuguese flatbread wrapped around various meats/cheeses/garlic butter) and skewers of beef pork or chicken cooked over embers. As is the norm in europe you could carry your hooch around so we sampled a few things then made our way back up to the bus and town.

Traditional Madeiran A-Frame House

Town Square

Going to and coming back from Santana we got our first good look at the far end of the airport from the ground and it’s absolutely incredible. Tons of concrete pillars holding up the entire runway extension most around 70m high according to wikipedia. Between the limited space and the winds here it’s easy to see why it’s in the top 10 most dangerous airports in the world.

Not my image but you get the idea…

Settling back in at happy hour we ran into the same couple that had commiserated with us on friday night and got a recommendation for a different tour company/made a booking. I also scouted out what looked like an interesting russian run cafe nearby while snagging some drinks/chips for the room.

Monday was another day of gorgeous weather and we were thankful as we had booked a tour to go up to what’s called Curral das Freiras or the Nun’s valley. Though we actually started the day popping into Funchal and having breakfast back at our favourite bakery and stocking up on bread for back at the suite. We also explored the absolutely gorgeous Se Cathedral in Funchal which is simulaneously grand and impressive while still maintaining aspects of being a fisherman’s/working man’s place of worship.

Se Cathedral

I’ve been to plenty of hilly or mountainous places in my time but Madeira is definitely the most ridiculously and suddenly up and down. The relatively recent volcanic origin seems to be to blame for the incredibly sharp ridgelines that appear in certain areas. Nowhere we travelled was this more evident that the way up to Nun’s valley. Overlooking the town itself is a hotel and overlook high high up on a ridgeline and accessible by what used to be the main road into town before one of the major tunnel projects of recent years created a giant ramp tunnel. It’s absolutely amazing how sudden and severe the dropoff is and it was odd to climb up to the lookout then look down on birds soaring high above the town but still hundreds of feet below us.

Curral das Freiras from the overlook

The town itself is best known as a cultivator of chestnuts on the island and they produce chestnut cakes, chestnut liqueurs, roasted chestnuts etc. There is even a chestnut museum and a festival at the end of summer. It’s not a particularly exciting town other than it’s picturesque location so after a quick look around we grabbed a drink and a slice of cake (without checking the prices) and I had a bit of a heart attack after as I realized it had cost us the equivalent of $27.50cdn. Ah captive tourist pricing at it’s finest (though desert in general is quite pricey at restaurants here, part of the reason we’ve mostly stuck to bakery treats like our fave custard tarts.)

The valley road downward from the overlook

Arriving back in Funchal we managed to just make our transfer and got back to the hotel to realize that we’d never had lunch other than the cake… but also weren’t actually that hungry. I suggested we try one of the restaurants down the hill towards the water and we ended up wanting something light. We ended up at the place I’d bought drinks at the other night. Though presented as a “snack bar” and having aspects of a minimart/liquor store too, the cafe portion was fantastic. I spotted something called “russian ravioli” on the menu and asked the owner if they were Pelmeni. He seemed instantly enthusiastic that I knew what they were and told me they were handmade in house as was his sour cream (something I imagine would be difficult to find in madeira otherwise.) They were in a word… heavenly. Ultrathin dough, mix of beef and pork and spices, juicy and flavourful and served in a little clay pot. The place is owned by ex-pat Russians (mother and son) and it showed as they were the best pelmeni I’ve ever had in Portugal of all places. Alex (the son) insisted on giving me a free (very large) shot of vodka that I ‘HAD TO’ drink before eating the Pelmeni.

After our meal he also insisted we take some free dessert treats home and invited us to his friday violin concert which sadly we couldn’t make as we leave thursday. One of the local soccer teams was playing against Sporting Lisbon while we were there and a number of locals were enjoying the game which somehow lead to Alex and I talking about hockey. Turns out he’d seen Calgary touring in Russia as a younger lad and had loved my all time favourite player Theo Fleury, small world.

The Wicker Man and the Vengeful Winds

I can tell I was writing that last post very late at night as I left a few things out as I raced to finish and go to bed. We actually fit in a trip to the Museum of Sacred Art as well before heading out to our suite.

Words to live by…

It was an interesting place, the building itself has apparently been variously church administration/housing, a school, a training center and now a museum. The collection is quite impressive for a small museum though not particularly well lit/designed in my amateur opinion. The focus is quite narrow but Madeira’s status for many years as the home base of what was the largest catholic diocese in the world (basically all of Portugals overseas territories back when they had a serious empire ranging from Brazil to Angola to Macau) means that some of the Church art it contains is of a larger scale/higher quality than one might expect on this tiny island. There is more or less an even split of silver church implements from the pasts of the island’s many churches (processional crosses, candlesticks etc,) wooden carvings (some from no longer extant churches, some which have seen better days) and a large collection of large scale paintings, many of which are triptych panels. The paintings are predominantly flemish and reflect the fact that at the height of Madeira’s importance in the lucrative sugar trade there were strong trading links with the low countries.

Friday morning dawned reasonably early as we’d booked the hotel’s courtesy bus for 9:45 (actually we’d tried for 10:30 but a german couple had hemmed and hawwed for 10 minutes the night before then taken the last two slots.) We ended up going down early and asking the front desk person to call the baggage company again, to hear that the bags would supposedly arrive later that day. Fingers crossed we hopped into town.

This hotel’s courtesy bus is kind of ludicrous. It doesn’t run on weekends, doesn’t run into town after I think 2pm? and only does 4 runs back for the 6 runs in it makes. There is definitely an odd current of “we couldn’t possible have a backup person for that job” at times in Portugal as we also ran into that at a restaurant the other night with ‘oh no, we can’t make you pizza tonight, the pizza making guy is off” even though that was like 1/3 of their menu. The most frustrating thing is that the last run back to the hotel is quite early so there’s no way to stay in town for dinner without paying a roughly $30cdn cab fare or taking the very slow city to city bus (though that barely runs saturday/sunday.)

Regardless, as it was a gorgeous day (we’d thought about running this itinerary an earlier day but the clouds were very low) we hopped the cable car up to the neighbourhood/suburb/town (it’s hard to tell) of Monte. The cabe car runs about 4 km up the hill to an altitude of about 1000ft. It’s far enough fast enough that the weather is noticeably cooler even without clouds hanging about but since we were having unseasonably warm weather it worked out well for us.

The view from the cable car itself was extraordinary, it follows one of the volcanic ridges for most of the path and is often right over people’s homes. It was an interesting new perspective on the areas we’d been around most at first but we quickly passed being able to peek at more domestic neighbourhoods. Somewhat odd was the frequency in certain areas for absolute ruins of houses, to the point where the tile roofs were gone, were right next to spotless homes that were either new or renovated so as to be indistinguishable, some with solar panels (solar water heaters appear to be making strong inroads here, understandably.)

Cable Car about to arrive in Monte

Must be nice having people staring down at you constantly…

Arriving at the top we found narrow cobbled streets, steep hills in all directions and the apparently famous gardens of the local hotel. The cost was a bit pricey for a visit and we’re planning on a later visit to the supposedly much better municipal gardens so we settled for a view from the overlooks and made our way up to the ‘Our Lady of Monte’ church, home of the burial in exile of the last Austro-Hungarian emperor. His tomb is a pilgrimage site for Austrian/Hungarian royalists and we saw many flags pinned to the archway. It’s a fairly small church but quite pretty and commands a fantastic view. That combined with the slightly cooler weather in summer is apparently what originally drew the wealthy types from the city below.

Our Lady of Monte

Near the church is the town square. ‘Town’ is a bit much as the neighbourhood is quite spread out. While originally in the 1800s I’m sure it was mostly a cluster of houses there are now small streets and houses tucked in more or less anywhere the geography allows it. Many of the houses are quite impressive and even in the smaller spaces there are beautiful gardens. There was also previously a rack and pinion railway leading up (and slightly past) the square, but it closed in 1943 and now there is just a very staight street leading part of the way down, most of it on large arches through the gardens. Actually there’s also a boarded up train station on the square that is apparently planned to be a tea room when the upper section of the track is eventually reopened but that plan appears to be on hold based on the age of the sign, my guess would be a pre-recession plan cancelled by Portugal’s austerity measures.

Monte Square

We found a small cafe in the square and Mom indulged in some early boozy coffee action since it was a bargain (and looked delicious if you’re into that sort of thing) and perhaps to calm her nerves for the excitement that was to come. As we were by now already quite missing our dogs the couple of pups wandering around the square were nice to see, though there are certainly a large number of strays on the island these seemed to be actual pets. The old man running the cafe was quite an oddball and it was somewhat of a production to get the drinks and eventually pay but the square itself was lovely and relaxing there with a drink felt like a very ‘european’ experience.

Monte Pup

The sleds themselves getting set to go

Next up was one of the things I’d been most looking foward to, the wicker sled ride! Something we’d seen on the Travel Man episode, sliding 2+ kilometers down the hill in greased wicker baskets has apparently been going on for more than a hundred years. They’re genuinely just more or less a wicker setee on a wicker sled greased up somehow and gliding on normal pavement. Part of me had memories of Chevy Chase in Christmas Vacation. The origin of the baskets is apparently some of the original goods transport in the earlier days. Two pilots in uniform and straw boater turn and tease you but genuinely keep you under control however much they might want to tease you otherwise. Of particular note is the fact that this is a) a public road and b) has intersections with actual traffic which is disconcerting even if they clearly have someone watching. I did record some video, not yet sure how it turned out but here is the clip of Richard and Robert doing it on youtube ( https://youtu.be/ju-FpD6r57Y?t=127  ). The walled gardens/homes form pretty much the entire path and either side of the road is a narrow drainage channel that is often gushing with water as well and feels like something you don’t want to clip with the basket edge. You reach speeds of up to 40kph apparently and though it feels fast it’s also somehow very placid feeling. I was impressed with Mom not outright screaming but she did leave some claw marks in my leg on one turn. All in all it was a blast and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Mid-run on the wicker

Another basket arriving

We decided to walk down the rest of the way to Funchal. Regular readers will know I have a loathing of hopping a cab at any touristy place knowing they’ll try and soak you but I also actually wanted to see more of the real neighbourhood. It was incredibly steep by anyone’s standards, not just prairie folks, but was entertaining to see the odd mix of places that people live on this oddball island. In some places larger modern houses sit behind old walls and vibrant gardens or small ancient looking houses have spanking new wrought iron fences, in others you’ll find an older mansion turned into a guest house or hotel. The occasional small cafe appears on a tiny one way road and one wonders if they survive mostly on tourists walking downhill wanting a drink. That being said it has been rare here so far to see a business that is patronized by tourists only.

Average Street Width

The walk took a fair while altogether. Not only is it steep (my calves were complaining for a while) but the upper 3/4 are very narrow, most places only just wide enough for a car and a pedestrian. While some of the locals (mainly schoolchildren) who passed us may have nonchalantly walked by, in most places we pressed ourselves to the wall as a car came by (usually about 15kph too fast for what is probably safe.) Eventually we found ourselves reaching Funchal central and found the burger joint that we’d seen recommended previously (Lived up to its reputation, if you’re ever in Madeira seek it out.)

Lunch definitely continued the bizarro disconnect in prices here to me. Dinner (or full lunch) is not cheap. Some places have a dedicated lunch menu which seems to be smaller portions of the dinner menu) at a cheaper price but not universally. Most of the restaurants serve traditional Madeiran food primarily, this is usually seafood and some meats, usually 12-20 euro at most of the but it comes with full sides. These prices are pretty universal most of the places we’ve been with prices skewing somewhat higher out here in resortland and slightly lower in the oldtown. Yet ‘snack’ food (what I’d consider a more traditional lunch) seems ridiculously cheaper. Some places have burgers and sandwiches for sub 3euro, rarely ever more than 5. Grabbing an amazing gourmet burger (mozza di buffalo/pesto/tomato on a beef/lamb mix,) a delicious plate of panko chicken fingers, fries and two pricier but delicious scratch made lemonades clocked in at less than the price of a dinner entree. It seems to consistently be so too, there’s a lack of ‘in between’ options pretty much unless you want pasta. It just seems odd.

After burgertime we checked out the (surprisingly deep/large) mall below the fancypants hotel where Richard and Robert stayed but had zero luck finding anything we wanted clothes wise. The stress of the missing bags at this point was reaching a high point. We ambled slowly back through town and eventually each found ourselves some extra underwear at varying small shops, explored some nicer souvenir stores and did some peoplewatching (even at a well above normal 24C there were some people wearing ludicrously warm looking coats.) We both kept nervously making jokes about walking in to see our suitcases arrived and breaking down crying but there was an increasing worry our luck was never going to turn…

…and sure enough, the front desk man awkwardly met our hopeful gaze with an instant shoot down. Turns out the afternoon flight from Lisbon had been forced to turn back by high winds. He had no confirmation as to whether it had successfully landed the followup attempt or if our bags were even on board. Were we going to have ANY luck with flights this trip. Even the flights we WEREN’T on were having snags for us. I forget which one of us suggested it but the fact that happy hour had just started in the lounge for the central hotel was certainly serendipitous.

Sitting on the balcony of the bar overlooking the sea we couldn’t help but laugh. We ended up chatting with a couple from Ireland who thankfully put up with our bitching for a bit and shared some tours they’d taken that we might like. We tried but our thoughts obviously kept coming back around to the latest setback so after they went to dinner we stayed for our second drink (free for happy hour) moved inside the bar proper and watched the ‘Late Night Duo’ band play for a while. Hilariously there was a young (german I think?) girl who obviously did dance classes who ran into the bar not long after they started and began her own interpretive dance pretty much non-stop for 45 minutes while her parents finished up in the buffet next door. At first it was adorable but eventually she had moved right up next to the band and was pretty much amazing us with her inexhaustible stamina. Occasionally she’d run back to her parents but when the next song started she’d be back in the bar (liquor laws not so strict here.)

Our burgers had been so late (and augmented by a gelato) that hunger took a while to hit but eventually we went back and ate our leftover pizza as we listened to the waves crash in…

…until suddenly…

…the phone rang…

“Hello? Your baggage is seeming to be here”

I don’t think we’ll ever again navigate the maze of corridors and stairs to the main reception that fast again. I nearly fell on my knees and hugged my suitcase. Back at the room we quickly checked and found them untouched and both instantly changed into our actual bed clothes. I think we eventually watched another episode of something but the stress letdown was pretty instant and we dropped into a deep and finally peaceful sleep not long after.

Total distance travelled by us so far: ~7000km

Total distance travelled by our bags so far: ~10000km

Poncha to the gut: Madeira Continued

edit note: While it was a bit overcast the days in question it wasn’t quite as grey as it seems. I can’t really white balance the photos easily while on the go so imagine some more warmth in them.

 

We actually managed to stay up reasonably late that night but I’m fairly sure as we hit our overly tiny pillows that night we were both out within seconds. Even the next morning we managed to sleep through a fair bit of noise before we were roused but honestly we really didn’t feel any jetlag. My only real complaint is that putting back on the socks I’d already worn for more or less two days was an experience I really didn’t need.

I will try not to turn this into the unending story of how not having your luggage sucks but it was definitely odd trying to find a few replacement items to tide us over. Finding socks was surprisingly difficult. Most of the small men’s stores in town didn’t sell socks and underwear at all, when we finally found some those that did either sold terrible thin touristy ones or teeny ankle socks. Shirts were almost as bad for a guy of my size as most portuguese shops don’t stock much for people over 5’8″. Still other than the quest for socks our first full day was pretty great.

There are a number with nautical themes

 

We started out more or less retracing our steps from the night before. We’d slept late enough that the fish market was more or less done for the day but many of the food vendors and flower vendors were in full swing, as was the small bakery nearby that we’d read about in our lonely planet pocket guide. Man was LP spot on with that recommendation. We got two giant ‘croissants’ (more of a croissant shaped semi sweet bun) toasted up with butter, cheese and ham and drinks for the equivalent of under $5. My mother only finished have of hers it was so large. We also decided to grab a couple of Pateis de Nata (Custard Tarts) to have later on.

Pau de Canela

Exploring the old town a bit more in daylight gave us a chance to see a bit more including some more of the painted doors previously hidden in the darker alleys and one of the older churches on a small square. The buildings are definitely still a mix of maintenance levels but you can definitely see the district throbbing with the life it must have been lacking before. It’s a hopefully sustainable mix of art and commerce that keeps things busy but isn’t a tourist only hangout. Private homes and apartments lie between and above the new businesses and you still see a mix of young and old locals hanging out at one of the microbars sipping a poncha or a local Corral beer.

Barking at the door

Poncha! Oh yes… Poncha. A traditional Madeiran drink that’s more or less a high octane rum punch (and also the more basic background of the Caprinha.) It’s made with a distilled sugarcane alcohol that packs a punch muddled with local honey and citrus juice. The traditional way would be with lemon, but many of the local ones have some fresh squeezed orange juice and Passionfruit versions are also tasty and delicious. We had one that first night and pretty much at least one a day since as they’re delicious and often quite cheap at the street cafes.

Heading towards the end of the old town the cliffs begin to climb again leading to another old church and some spectacular views along the coastline. For us prairie folk not so used to hills of any kind it was also the beginning of our calf muscle workouts that will continue into the later stages of the trip. At this end of the Funchal coastline there’s also a small fort that once help fend off pirates and the like during the era when Madeira was an important sugar (and later wine) producer.

Looking back across Funchal from just past the Fort

As we’d more or less reached the end of the old town we turned around and walked the length of the Funchal waterfront. For an island that relies on tourism so heavily it was really nice to see that the city’s waterfront isn’t just a mass of large hotels as it is in so many places. Some form of public walkway makes up most of the shoreline (sand beaches are not really a thing here since the island is so geologically young) with a strip of park or garden between it and the main oceanfront avenue. Most of the big modern hotels are in fact west of the city center in a ‘hotel zone.’ Many of the buildings closest to the water in the downtown area are still administration buildings, a historic fort and of course that necessity of necessities, a McDonalds :p

Funchal

A large portion of the locals are seriously well dressed. I suspected (and later confirmed on wikipedia) that the number of banks meant that Madeira was some form of tax haven, but even outside of downtown you often see large groups of people very elegantly attired for a random thursday afternoon. Most are also wearing quite snazzy footwear and we are both considering picking up some shoes at some point on this trip. Somewhat hilarious for people of our origin, many of these folks are also acting as if their winter was actually cold and wear wool jackets and scarves. Though the island has a number of climates and up on the peaks it can definitely be a bit colder… the Funchal ‘winter’ is in February an average temp of 18c. Part of the tourism draw of winter here is actually all the flowers that come out at this time of year. Birds of Paradise and other things exotic to us bloom freely here and liven up the landscape with colour, many of the gardens appear to be planted in such a way as to be a sequence of different blooming periods across the year.

We walked more or less the length of the center of Funchal, admiring the flowers, checking out the chestnut and gelato vendors and laughing at the newly arrived cruise ship with “Fahrtwind” stencilled on the side (which I believe means tradewind but I still laughed.) At this point there were two large ships and a smaller more vintage cruiser berthed with many shore parties roaming around. Nestled beneath them is the museum dedicated to (the ego of) Madeira’s most famous son: Christiano Ronaldo. The CR7 museum apparently houses a bunch of his personal trophies, jerseys etc. Outside is a pretty terrible bronze statue of him which was apparently controversial among some for being noticeably well endowed… presented without comment is a photo of said statue.

CR7 in front of his eponymous museum/hotel

Having vaguely decided that perhaps we needed socks that didn’t feel and smell as if they’d perhaps gain sentience we headed up from the shoreline into the more commercial part of downtown. We passed what appears to be a gorgeous old theatre sadly shut tight, but discovered the municipal gardens in the heart of downtown. It’s an elaborate garden (every time we’ve walked by since there have been at least 5 different groundspeople working) and also contains a small amphitheatre and cafe. Large old growth trees provide a canopy over varied flowers, fountains and waterfalls. It really has a feel of an oasis in the city.

We spent the rest of the day exploring the commercial district, eventually found some socks and then meandered back to our hotel before we grabbed another (more basic) dinner in the old town to wrap up day 2.

We knew that our airline didn’t run a flight out of Toronto the day after we left so day 3 was potentially the earliest we’d get our luggage. Anticipation was high, but we also had to transfer to our ‘permanent’ digs in Madeira which are actually well outside of the city proper on the coast. We reloaded our carryons, bid farewell to our residencial and continued our exploration of the city for a few hours until check in time.

I’m a fan of a show called Travel Man that Richard Ayoade of IT Crowd fame does on uk tv. Basically he takes a celebrity guest and does a weekend away in various places one can reach from the uk for a quickie holiday. His episode on Madeira had mentioned some of the things he’d already done and we had a bit of an aha moment as we stumbled across the shopping mall that was the ground floor portion of the fancy 5 star hotel that he and Robert Webb (also a personal fave) had stayed at.

After a quickie bakery lunch once again we found ourselves near the Santa Catalina gardens up on a cliff overlooking the harbour. Another gorgeous greenspace in a very pretty city, it also contains the first chapel built in Funchal as well as a small monument of thanks from the government of Gibraltar in recognition of the sanctuary and care offered to the many Gibraltar civilians evacuated here during World War II.

Once it was time, we hopped a cab up and out the same winding road and back towards the airport but turning off at the town of Canico (which is more or less just an outer suburb of Funchal at this point.) Here the very rugged coastline does have a line of hotels and condos. Our cabbie was not the most conversant in english but we managed to converse in a broken mix of languages where we wanted to go. Unfortunately he also wouldn’t listen to me as I told him that yes we were on the right street and stopped twice to ask for directions or to read a sign over and over when we could see where we wanted to be. Thankfully the second time he asked for directions we knew we had arrived and were already on our way out of the car when the man confirmed it.

Any hopes of luggage were dashed when we arrived inside to find blank looks from the front desk staff. Morale wasn’t improved when I received an email not long after informing us that “Hooray, your bags are on flight XXXX to Punta Delgada (the azores) and will arrive in Porto (on the mainland) later tonight. We are (obviously) not in Porto, have no plans to go to Porto. Later on after we were settled we asked the front desk manager to call the luggage folks on our behalf as I hadn’t been able to get through and we thought someone batting for us in Portugues might be helpful. Sure enough the baggage company claimed that the email had been a mistake and our bags would be on their way to Funchal soon (hah! It was definitely not.)

Our new home

Thankfully the condo itself was gorgeous. Small kitchenette, large bathroom and two very comfortable beds flanking a living room with balcony that overlooked the pool, cliffs and ocean beyond. It was a very welcome bit of luxury to two canadians starting to feel extremely grubby. The complex is made up of a fairly old but well maintained central hotel that was probably a very chic place in the 60s when the airport here first opened but is now a bit basic. Another newer hotel is on the east side and our condo complex (the newest buildings) are on the west.

I’m genuinely curious how different this area is in summer. Only in August does it ever get what I’d call truly hot here (an average of 25 degrees with little rain) but the outdoor pool is unheated. The lido area here on the oceanfront looks very neat in design but is all roped off at the moment. It’s also rather battered looking and I genuinely can’t tell if the missing guardrails/ladders etc are pulled out because it’s winter and no one swims, if they’ve perhaps been battered by particularly bad winter storm months back or if they’ve just not been maintained in a couple years. The hotel website has recent (or at least recent-ish) looking photos of the area well painted with lifeguard chairs and equipment.) It’s disappointing as I had hoped to get in the ocean, but it wasn’t as if I had a swimsuit at the moment anyway.

Looking pretty abandoned (doesn’t look much better in a shot someone took on google maps a year and a half ago either)

After the gut punch of still being without clothes, toiletries, my scuba gear etc for at least another day we went for a long stroll along the top of the cliffs. Further down from our hotel we passed a Riu Palace resort (one variant of wish we’ve stayed in in Puerto Vallarta) another older but very large hotel overlooking a small bay with a large oceanfront lido area, also looking very abandoned. (Though a photo on google does seem to perhaps show some people using the tidal pool there.) If not for the relatively new Riu (and another new-ish resort in the other direction) I would just think this area was perhaps a bit of a relic but perhaps I’m missing something?

The rugged coastline, somewhere down there is the complex’s currently off season dive center.

We did run across a few obviously feral cats. We’ve actually met more than a few stray dogs on the island but these were the first cats. They all seem really well looked after. More than once we’ve stumbled across little feeding stations where people have put out food and water for these animals and of course weather wise there isn’t much for them to worry about. While walking along the coast that evening we even found a little house someone had made for some of the ferals that lived near the ‘beach.’

Feral Cat Shack

After we’d explored (and really worked up an appetite on the hills) we went to a small pizzeria I noticed on the google map for some comfort food and some Poncha. Thanks to now having a kitchenette we could even keep leftovers for a quickie lunch or dinner later. Still as we strolled back downhill to the condo it was hard not to think about what we’d do if our luggage didn’t arrive the next day.