Our last day, June 1. Fitting, because June is the start of the real summer season here. You can tell, too, because suddenly the pedal-boats, stacked teasingly on the beach in “boat zones” are out, lifeguards man the beaches, parasailors abound, even the sunshiney weather has stepped up a notch. Hotel prices jump and food portions fall. Amazing how it happens over night.
The beaches were crowded with revelers.
If there’s one thing I actually like about this part of the Algarve, it’s that it’s family friendly. Everywhere you look, there are kids playing in the sand, burying their siblings or making a scene in the freezing water. And in places where there aren’t kids, there are pregnant women basking in the sunlight drinking mocktails while their husbands sit by watching the surrounding kids and looking worried. I’ve always hated places like Cancun, big teen-age parties where everybody gets drunk and stupid and topless. Here, it’s toned down a bit, a little more grown up. Late nights without the obnoxiousness.
I’ve also decided places like this confuse me. Here I am, trying to speak at least a few phrases in Portuguese, but it’s proving to be much like Dubai: English the common language, because not many people here are actually FROM Portugal. Many are Indian or Southeast Asian or Eastern European, looking for summer jobs and (in the case of the Europeans) a chance to see sunlight. So half the time, you don’t know WHAT language to use, even though you’re very much in Portugal.
We also woke up to a very pissed of Mama Seagull. If we could tell by the egg fragments littering our balcony this morning, the eggs had hatched, and mom was in no mood to deal with us humans. As long as we were sitting down, she was content to merely “caw” at us crossly, but if you would venture to stand up and look out onto the street... that simply could not be tolerated. She would commence a series of intricate swoops designed, I’m sure, to bamboozle predators, before coming in for the kill, striking at you with her viciously webbed feet. I saw it happen to Jonmikel before running out there with a towel to chase her off, saving the day. Her attacks were fairly harmless, and if you kept a close watch on her, she never made a close pass. But it was pretty amusing to watch Jonmikel’s already scruffy hair become more ruffled under the beat of gull wings.
At any rate, today was the day of our sailing trip. We purposefully chose a small sail boat because the last time Jonmikel was on one, its rudder broke and it was all downhill from there. This particular ship came complete with beer and pirate costumes. And two annoying Irish children whose parents allowed them to play with the ropes that ties the sails down… probably not the best of ideas.
But boats are always nice. I’ve never gotten seasick, not even sailing around the Cape of Good Hope, which is notorious for making people turn green. I found my sealegs easily on this small ship (though I’m sure there would be many SASer arguments as to whether it is actually a “ship” or a “boat”… big difference); every time I climb on a boat, I remember how much I love them. I have no idea how to sail one, but the whole thing is so very… calming. I love looking out and seeing nothing but water, and the freedom of knowing that with a boat, tomorrow you could be somewhere entirely different, where the world is different, where your life is different. You can only ride so far on a train or drive so far in a car.
The trip was quiet and calming, with the two-man crew pointing out secluded beaches and cities along the coast, taking us into small alcoves of turquoise waters, yellow caves and red cliffs. When they put the sails up on the way back, I was amazed at how smooth and fast the boat moved, though it took quite a while to get the sails situated in exactly the right spot to get us to go in the right direction. I guess if the wind wasn’t right back in the old days, you just did a lot of sitting. But it was a fitting and relaxing end to our vacation, plus I’ve now decided to live on a boat.
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