Six Weeks in the Algarve of Portugal

As I indicated in my main blog we spent six weeks in the Algarve during February and March.  We stayed at our usual haunt Rocha Brava; which is about 40 miles west of Faro.  We like the coast in this region because it is virtually all low rise with the exception of Portimao which is a good sized city.  In addition we really enjoy the cliff based beaches that are so warm in the spring.  This year I wrote up a few ditties that I include here.  This one is intended for our yacht club newsletter of which I am editor.

Thoughts from Portugal

I am writing to you from sun soaked Portugal. As you read my musings from beneath the Iberian sun you may notice the effects of the E1.49 vinho from the Intermarche Supermercado where my wife drags me to shop. I really don’t mind as the booze section is bigger than a 7-Eleven at home. Portugal is paradise for lovers of wine, olives and restaurants and if more of you don’t submit articles for this newsletter it might be renamed the Wine Lovers Guide to Portugal.

  

You may wonder why we go to Portugal in the winter instead of Florida, Arizona or alike. It is a very good question that I ask myself every year and now that I have a passing knowledge of Portuguese, I can ask myself in a foreign language.

  

To start, there is the issue of getting there. You Yankee wannabes just hop in the old Caddy and other than slowing down at the border so they don’t fill you full of holes, you’ve got in made. I mean, come on folks, you’ve got Cracker Barrel all the way to Georgia so you’ll come out five pounds heavier before you even get there.

  

But me, no way Jose (actually it’s Joao for John in Portugal). They are very sensitive about being mistaken for Spaniard’s (remind you of any other group?).

  

But I digress!

   

First, we have to book our house in Portugal which is quite easy these days because the British economy is in the loo and all the Portuguese have to fall back on are the Germans, Dutch and need I say Canadians, as the Americans don’t know the place exists.

  

Once the villa is settled we have the little matter of getting there. Our first option is flying out of Toronto on an Air Transat charter. This is the Toronto to Faro flight (Faro is in Portugal just in case you were not aware). Now Air Transat or AT should be known as the Ancient Travellers airline. I say this because the once a week flight to the Algarve (southern part of Portugal) resembles a silver tea service once everyone is seated. The flight takes 6:59 minutes exactly (I jest, it’s actually 7 hours), but at the 6:45 mark you are greeted by the spectacular sight of Cape Saint Vincent appearing out of the Atlantic. Portugal appears as the plane descends to about 5000’ and begins its final approach into Faro, sixty miles away. It’s enough to relieve the neckache from a seven hour flight. Realistically the first option is your only option unless you are a damn good swimmer or willing to do a connection through any one of many connecting points in Europe. Don’t do it! We know many who have. It’s a headache and takes much longer.

  

Your reward upon arrival in Portugal is a warm blast of Iberian sunshine and customs agents who wear suits instead of six shooters and are actually nice to you. Of course the next stage is picking up your luggage, but everyone is so weakened from the flight (we are old after-all) that they just stand around gabbing and inquiring about where you live in Canada. Why hurry, it’s Europe?

  

Picking up your rental car is the next exciting experience as you transcend the language barrier of insurance, shared drivers and jaunts to Spain. We find that most people who have not previously rented in Europe have no clue about the process or the legal and financial ramifications. Experience and curiosity are great teachers. For instance, rental car prices for six weeks can vary from 500 to 1500 euros for exactly the same vehicle and coverage. Usually, it is a Canadian travel agent pocketing the difference.

But I digress!

  

Now just about the time you Yankee lovers are bedding down for the night in Richmond, Kentucky or some other cutsey college town that Colonel Sanders came from, we are circling our rental car to check for previous damage before signing off on it--yes, you should do that! Next we spend several minutes sitting at the controls trying to understand the vagaries of the modern European automobile; which is always a standard shift unless you pay through the nose for an automatic. Once that is attended to, it is “Gentlemen, start your engine”, as your heartbeat rises to 160 at the thought of your first roundabout.

  

When the engine roars to life you’re positive the pistons are coming loose until you remember that it’s a diesel with gasoleo in the tank. Yes, gasoleo. That is the European name for diesel fuel. Go figure, especially when a German by the name of Otto Von Diesel invented the diesel engine!

  

Slowly you exit from rental lot, past the airport taxi men in their Mercedes hauling machines as you eye the first roundabout exiting the aeroporte with every sign in Portuguese. What a thrill as you head towards your new casa.