Lisbon to Albufeira

While walking around in Caldas, Liesel had purchased some cough sweets for me. It was nice to be able to stop coughing for a short while. But now, in Lisbon, I had little time to think about minor medical inconveniences.

The good news is, our second bus would depart just a few bays away from where the first one had parked up. Our tickets were scanned by the driver, Liesel boarded and I had time to visit the public convenience conveniently located just another few bays away, but there was no time to visit the shop to buy anything.

When I got back to the bus, I thought it was strange that the lady driver had been replaced by a large man. But these things happen. A commotion from behind, some plonker bashing on the window, calling my name. Oops, it was Liesel. Yes, I am the plonker for very nearly boarding the wrong bus and ending up in Timbuktu or something.

The display on the bus showed that, as we proceeded in a southerly direction, the temperature outside was slowly rising.

Our final destination was Albufeira on the south coast of the Algarve region. An area visited by my baby sister Pauline half a century ago! Our friends from Anchorage, Cath and Hans, are staying here for a couple of weeks and they very kindly invited us to join them. Which is why we’re here at this time.

Hans picked us up from the bus station very quickly and took us back to his and Cath’s house a bit outside the main city centre. Hans drove a car, he didn’t literally pick us up. Not in this heat. It’s a lovely house but what drew our attention first was the pool. Having dipped our toes yesterday in David and Glen’s pool, we now had a taste for such luxury.

We sat outside and ate and chatted and watched the Moon rise, following Jupiter into the sky. We spoke about mosquitoes, but I don’t think we encountered any. And we both slept much better. Since you ask, my coughing fits were by now less frequent and less violent.

We sat around a lot but Hans drove us to see Praia dos Arrifes, a beach with cliffs and golden sands.

I found the walk along the rocky, undulating path quite difficult, because I was wearing sandals. But I managed not to trip or fall or slip or twist an ankle.

We love birdwatching and so the walk on the well-constructed boardwalk at the lagoon, Lagoa dos Salgados, was brilliant.

We have our herons at home of course, but we only usually see only one at a time. There were dozens here, some in the water, some standing by the water and many higher up, not quite hiding in the bushes.

There was one stork too, standing in the water and, best of all, a long way in the distance, flamingoes. They migrate here from Africa to enjoy a cooler Winter. Well, their timing is a little off this year, I think! It was the first time Liesel and I had seen flamingoes in the wild. But, as I say, way, way over there.

Here for the birds but we stayed for the goats and sheep, being shepherded underneath the boardwalk. Yes, of course I started singing that song from The Sound of Music.

The boardwalk came to and end, so to complete the loop, we walked over the sand dunes and back along the beach.

As always, it’s a good workout walking on sand, and through the sea when a wave deigned to wash over our feet. It was sparsely populated, and we can only imagine how busy the beach gets during the high tourist/visitor season.

On the way home, we stopped off at a supermarket. The man at checkout asked if we really wanted the pineapple, freshly imported from Azores. Well, yeah, why not? Because it costs twenty-eight euros. Blimey! Liesel gently cradled it back to the shelf.

Indoors, Hans kindly shared his bottle of beer with me, Chimay, brewed by Trappist monks in Belgium. Mmm.

Again, we sat outside chatting and watching the Moon rise, about an hour later than last night, which meant of course that we got to bed about an hour later. And we had a good kip. Followed by an early rise.

Yes, a relatively early rise. Why? So we could visit a couple of places before it became too hot. So grateful to Hans for doing all the driving, thank you!

We drove to Alte and amongst other things, we admired the many, many, many roundabouts, each adorned with a sculpture or other work of art.

These might be the only dolphins we see on this trip, but as Liesel said, it’s unlikely that anyone would drive across rather than around the roundabouts.

Alte as its name suggested, was high up in the hills, and in fact, quite hilly. Some of the street art is good fun.

It was good to see that yarn-bombing is a universal phenomenon. It looks like the local equivalent of the WI ladies have been very busy with their crochet hooks.

There is an amphitheatre, with an old stage made from stones, although I suspect some of the seating is more modern. We had a nice, easy walk, taking into account the temperature, the gradient and how our various bodies and muscles were reacting. The cobble stones were as slippery as those in Porto, and vehicles, mostly very small cars, navigated the narrow streets in a very skilful manner. We just jumped out of the way when necessary, cowering behind wheelie bins.

The colour of the earth matched the temperature beautifully, too. Here and there we saw cactus, but maybe not as many as I’d expected.

There is a castle in Silves which we visited. Another hilly place, of course!

Photos displayed in the church of St Mary, of local people, somehow hinted at an Islamic past. And, sure enough, we enjoyed picking out the Islamic geometric patterns at the castle and elsewhere.

The castle is a main visitor attraction and so was probably the busiest place we saw on this trip, apart from the bridge in Porto. We walked around the ramparts, with no safety net, something I’m sure wouldn’t be allowed in England, unless they installed railings. Being the king of the castle has its benefits, we could see for miles in every direction,  buildings over there, well-organised crops over there and, best of all, if you found yourself between two of the merlons on top of the battlements, you could enjoy a nice, refreshing breeze, for a few moments.

We stayed at the castle for lunch, rather than, as originally planned, walking down the hill to a particular place, and all the way back up again! Yes, I think the need for comfort outweighed the need to walk and increase the step count. I don’t think any of us expected it to be this warm at this time of the year.

Over lunch, Liesel started telling us about Dora B Trail. The name rang a bell, maybe an old mutual school friend of theirs? But no.

Door of Betrayal

In most cases, medieval castles had several doors of different types, although small in number since these were vulnerable points of access and needed their own defence mechanisms. In fact, it was common to find multiple defensive devices associated with the doors, such as corbels with machicolation, flanking towers, pits, barbicans, etc.

As well as the main door, which connected the citadel to the old city, there was also the so-called ‘Door of Betrayal’, opening on the opposite side of the main door and with direct access to the outside, in a disguised form and with smaller dimensions. Through this access it was possible to carry out raids on the enemy, as well as to discreetly bring in military reinforcements or supplies. We cannot exclude the existence of other false doors, the purpose of which was to break up besieging forces who, after making their breach, were not led to the interior of the fortified compound, but rather to dead-end Compartments.

We decided we all need a Door of Betrayal at home too, a way to get rid of unwanted callers.

On the way home, we stopped for popsicles.

Very nice, very tasty and very refreshing. As always, we’re thinking, we must remember this place for our next visit. And next time, we’ll come a bit later in the year, when it’s cooler. And then, of course, we might be more inclined to visit the archeological museums and other venues inside. But that’s all in the future.