Portugal

Six word Saturday

Random images remind me of ‘home’

In the midst of packing, and abysmal English weather, I pause to look back at what I have to look forward to.  One of these images might get me into trouble when I return.  My very last day, when the dry river beds weren’t, but the company was good.

I hope Spring has sprung for you.  Wishing you all a wonderful weekend!  Let’s get straight to the point with Debbie and her Six Words.

Jo’s Monday walk : Furnazinhas

This isn’t a walk so much as an amble into the sunny Portuguese countryside, but with the potential for a great deal more.  Furnazinhas is a small village, sometimes used for an overnight stay, at the eastern end of the Via Algarviana.  The whole walk runs from Alcoutim on the River Guadiana, the border with Spain, all the way to Cabo S. Vicente on the west coast.  You can break it down into stages, whilst taking in some of the Algarve’s most picturesque scenery.  Furnazinhas is a tranquil and lovely place to stay.  There’s a sense that time has passed the place right by.

It’s a small village and, arriving by car, we passed swiftly through it, then parked alongside the narrow roadside and walked back in.  It was one of those days that wasn’t going to plan.  I had tried and failed to join an exercise class in Tavira that morning, and plans to join Becky and Robert for lunch had fallen through.  The sun was shining brightly, so I tucked my pet lip away, and we headed for the hills.  My husband was convinced that the village would be a disappointment too, so I was wearing flip flops and intending to go to the beach afterwards.  For once, he was totally wrong.

Some places just speak to you immediately, don’t they?  As we strolled into the village, absorbing the silence, this sleepy little place was already getting under our skin.  Almost our first sighting was the signpost pointing out the PR10.  A stone slabbed lane led off through the village towards the hills beyond.  The realisation dawned that I needed my hiking boots to do this place justice.  Or at the very least, trainers.

We stopped to examine a map, and realised that we could have had two choices.  The PR9 was a circular 7.7km route, with a variety of ups and downs, while PR10 was a linear and flatter 7.8km, and a part of the Via Algarviana.  Unable to sensibly follow either, I determined to explore as much as I could of the village.  An elderly gentleman, seeing our interest, seemed happy to chat.  Before much longer he was leading us across the road, to his father’s former stables.

What a lovely surprise!  First he showed us the house where he and his wife live, when they don’t have guests for the Summer.  Then he unlocked the door of the smaller house opposite.  Steps lead down into a beautiful dining room, with a bedroom sleeping 4 above.  The old stone walls and ceilings of wood and bamboo give the place wonderful character, while spanking new bathrooms wouldn’t be out of place in a glossy magazine.  A small kitchen sits at the rear of the property, with barbecue looking onto an expanse of garden.  It had so much charm, I couldn’t stop smiling.

He explained that he’d worked in Faro until his retirement, but now he liked the peace and quiet of the countryside.  Who could blame him?  He said with a smile that he could always pop back to the city if he needed a bit more ‘life’.  Meanwhile Casa do Lavrador, the conversion of his Dad’s place, seemed to provide him with contentment and a living.

Having walked as far as I could through the village, I crossed over to explore the back streets of the opposite side.  An old lad, on a disability scooter, looked rather incongruous as he performed circuits, nodding at us as he passed.  A couple, deep in conversation on a doorstep, looked up, but scarcely paused to draw breath.  I was starting to feel hungry.  In the garden of a house set back from the street, a couple of gents were busy tucking in.  I could see no sign to indicate a restaurant, but it might well have been.

Like most Portuguese villages, there were signs of abandonment.  The young have to leave home to find work, and not everyone wants to return.  Terraces of crops and trees lined the fields behind the village.  Somebody had been hard at work.

I expect you’ve guessed that I’ll be going back, equipped with water and some proper shoes.  We may even rent the cottage and relish the peaceful life for a few days.  If that’s something you’d like to do, Casa do Lavrador is a Turismo Rural, and the phone number is +351 281 495 748.

The Via Algarviana stretches for 300km across the Algarve.  The website includes details of the trail, places to stay and a very seductive video.

Something to think about for the future?  I hope you’ll join me next time.

Many thanks to all you lovely people who follow me, and especially if you’ve shared a walk.  Please find time to read and share.  You can put the kettle on first, if you like.  I’ll wait.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Join Drake in the desert?  He always makes such excellent company :

Sand excursion

Or simply gaze at the still, calm water with Irene :

Mirror Reflections

Emma has a good grumble in Mumbles.  Justified, I think :

Walking the Gower Coast; Limeslade and Langland Bays

What has Marsha been up to lately, you might be asking yourself?

Thrill of a Lifetime: How Novice Kayakers Navigate the Mangrove Tunnel of Doom

Feeling intrepid?  Sue leads the way.  Even on holiday, that girl can’t rest!

10 Tips Before Hiking Camelback Mountain, Phoenix

Treat yourself to the sweet scent of rosemary and lavender.  Becky had a wonderful Easter Sunday :

The ‘carpet strollers’ of São Brás de Alportel

A blockbuster of a share next, from Denzil :

The ‘In Bruges’ movie walking tour

No Jude this week, but Victoria does a stirling job on the Cornish coast :

4 Stunning Walks on the North Coast of Cornwall

Let’s finish with a flourish (and an icecream) and go hunting Eastern Water Dragons and penguins, with Karen :

Spit Bridge to Manly Wharf

That’s it for another week.  I think I’ll be back to sharing an English walk next Monday.  My Jo’s Monday walk page will tell you how to join in.  Please do!

Old Quarteira meets new

Quarteira is one of our ‘go to’ places for a lazy stroll.  It’s a bit of an anachronism, with high rise hotels and apartments dominating the seafront.  Stroll along the lengthy promenade in one direction and you come to the Fish Market, with a little harbour beyond.  The ‘smart’ resort of Vilamoura is on the horizon.  High rise of a finer calibre.  Stroll back the way, and where the promenade ends you have a wonderful expanse of beach.  This way lies Vale de Lobo, and the truly ‘smart’ set.  I don’t really belong in either, but I don’t mind to take a look, now and then.  I rather liked the exhibition of fishermen, erected by the sea.

But the real purpose of today’s post is to share with you a little of what Quarteira was, ‘back then’, before the developers arrived.  A series of signboards have been placed along the front, flashbacks to the 60s, and I found them fascinating.

The backs of the signs indicate their situation on the seafront.  I haven’t kept to order, nor have I included all of them.  A couple I find particularly poignant.  Life wasn’t easy back then.

I don’t know how much of the small print you can read, but one of them tells of the ‘Vestigios Romanos’.  Offshore the remains of a Roman settlement were found.  Now that’s antiquity!  But let’s end with a smile.  Wednesday’s are market days and I have a fondness for the cheese stalls.  This character was peddling his wares.  Salad, anyone?

Linking this to Becky’s Past meets Present.  I hope she likes it.

Six word Saturday

From one little angel, to another?

I’ve had this sweet little Smile in my head ever since I saw Ben’s fun Weekly Photo Challenge.  I squared her for Becky’s March challenge but somehow she never managed to slip in.  I hope you’re all smiling this weekend.  If not, go and see Debbie’s Six Words!

Escaping the rain

Time to kick back and have a little fun in my life.  I don’t know about you but I’m tired of all this rain.  And I haven’t shared with Paula in the longest time.  I really loved the elegant lady in her Black & White Sunday, After and Before.  I thought I’d share my husband.  Discreetly, of course.

He always complains that I only ever show his back in my photos.  Perhaps he’ll like this better?

My Place in Tavira

Sometimes words tumble around in your head, eager to evade the paper.  I’ve been following Cathy’s latest venture over at Wanderessence with interest, as she evokes a stream of memories.  Some of you may already know that I plan to move to the Algarve, in Portugal, this year.  Estate agents are almost at my door, the spur I need to start sorting through almost 30 years of squirreling stuff away.  What can I not bear to part with?

Sifting through a pile of photos, mostly of Dad and my Polish family, I pull out a couple of battered exercise books.  Evidence that I had tried to learn both Polish and Portuguese, unsuccessfully, I might add.  Several of the pages were loose, and came away in my hand.  I began to read…. not grammar at all, but the story of my early days in the Algarve.  It all came flooding back.

What is it that draws you to a place, asks Cathy?  She suggests that you keep a detailed diary to help you reminisce.  The pages I had stumbled upon took me back to 2004.  Our immaculate navy blue and white, new bathroom had plumbing problems and had to be bashed about to resolve them.  The whole street seemed to shudder and shake as our bathroom was ‘mended’.  It was an agony to listen, so we escaped while sanity was restored.

The previous October we had taken a one week holiday in Vilamoura and done a little scouting around.  I’d never been to Portugal before, but had liked the sound of Tavira.  A ruined castle overlooking the river, and a ferry to take you out to the beach.  Could it be as nice as it sounded?  Autumn that year was a little mischievous, but the patches of blue in the sky made up for the puddles of rain in the streets.  I lost my heart, right there and then.

February 2004 saw us return for a couple of days, to finalise a sale and rush around buying a few basics.  A bed and some yellow canvas deck chairs came first, I recall.  The plates, we brought with us from England, that April, our first proper visit to our home.  The excitement of  first outings and purchases!  A trip to Faro to buy an acoustic guitar, regarded as an ‘essential’ by our son.  The soft magic of the ilha.  And later, in July, a blow-up dinghy which gave such pleasure, as he and a mate paddled across there.  My heart was often in my mouth as a ferry chugged a little close, but they would emerge spluttering and teasing each other.  A repair kit seldom fixed the leaks for long.

The memories crowd in, one tripping over the next.  The joy of Summer fairs, paper flowers bedecking the bandstand.  Our first drive into the Algarve countryside, enthralled by the greenery and the rolling hills.  Balmy evenings by the riverside.  Azulejos, of course!  The pride in showing visitors all of our wonderful discoveries.  That never ending blue sky and sea.  Sunsets on the roof.

Fourteen years later, many things have changed, but our love for Tavira remains undiminished.  Neighbours have come and gone.  Our favourite cafe, Anazu, is now just a memory.  The garden we started so optimistically has fallen victim to the weather.  It’s time to move out there and give it the nurturing it deserves.  I hope I’ve given you a sense of the place, and what draws me back.  Many thanks to Cathy and her legion of ideas on how to enhance the travel experience.  Please pay her a visit.

Six word Saturday

A place to go back to?

I think so.  Wouldn’t you?  Do you have a Favourite Place asks Cheri in this week’s Daily Post Challenge.  This is mine.  The Eastern Algarve.

Have yourself a beautiful weekend and visit Debbie with Six Words.