“Algarve You Up!”
Our first night in the Portuguese capital was anything but a peaceful one. As we gently lay our weary heads on our ultra-soft, side-sleeper Slumberdown pillows for what we believed would be a full night’s kip, the unmistakable tones of Mike Posner began emanating from a run-down building just a few metres from the van. We had, unwittingly, parked within bass-vibrating distance of a portside nightclub – which was just getting started. After fifty-six pills in Ibiza, we had had just about enough. 8:03 am the following morn was the absurd time they finally ceased torturing our ravaged souls, offering us a single hour’s respite before the car park we found ourselves in became its own hive of activity. We were not in the best of moods that day but felt obliged to explore our new surroundings, nonetheless.
A far more pleasant experience it was too. Trams, hills, cobbled streets, and numerous sellers of weed/meth/cocaine – a real something-for-everyone city. Having turned down my eighth offer of hash I met up with Lowri in the local market for some luncheon following her morning of van teaching. A bustling arena of Portuguese cuisine with more vegan options than we’d seen on the entirety of the trip thus far – I smashed the soy and terminated the tofu. I also caught a stray wing to the face from an insolent indoor pigeon but, thankfully, that wasn’t enough to ruin my Thai green curry.
I can’t quite put my finger on why I preferred the city of Porto over Lisbon but prefer it I did. Despite the truly miserable weather we had in the north, it had more of an appealing edge than its larger, southerly sister. It had something about it that would make me consider risking a twenty-six point turn in the city centre in front of honking locals to return, something which Lisbon did not. Anyhow, this is not a competition between the two, and we were soon back on the road in search of some more consistent rays from which to power our weary leisure batteries – the Algarve ought to do it.
We drove until one is able to drive no more, to the lighthouse of Ponta de Sagres to be exact, which lies at the most south-westerly point of the country, and of mainland Europe herself. Despite the blustery conditions, we were just about able to consume a pot noodle and a warm stubby next to the precipitous cliffs without tumbling dramatically to our deaths – which was a huge plus. However, one must be extremely considered about where one parks of a night in this part of the world as the GNR (Portuguese National Guard) enjoy nothing more than waking peacefully sleeping van lifers by slamming on the side of their vans with their extended truncheons and telling them to bugger off (stronger language probably used). Which is exactly what happened to us the following night – we were quite perturbed.
Despite our uninvited nocturnal disturbance, it is impossible not to find this part of the world more than just agreeable – particularly in ‘winter’. Each of our days down south was greeted with twenty-plus degree warmth and zero cloud cover, not a cumulonimbus in sight. Beach and beer days in mid-November is certainly something we could both get used to. Especially given the pristine splendour of the shores, often enclosed by hidden bays and dotted with concealed coves, and the lack of other humans – a smattering of surfers at most. Our favourite, Praia do Beliche, was where we spent most of our time, swigging on sangria and attempting to make our Welsh relatives as bitter as possible by sending them photographic updates of our Portuguese paradise. Unfortunately, on this trip at least, we cannot remain in the country for the entire winter, unless the UK locks down and we are ‘forced’ to ride it out here (fingers crossed).
Albufeira: our final stop and Portugal’s answer to Benidorm, Blackpool, and Bogner Regis combined. We considered spending a night here, long before our arrival, but a brief mini-train ride around its heart was more than sufficient evidence to rescind our prior plan. Portugal, as a whole, proved to be a magnificent host for our fortnight there and passed our future wintering criteria with flying colours. For now, we return to the southern reaches of our previous nation: España.
J
