Monday 12 October 2009
I’ve been away. You might have noticed. I’ve been to Portugal and various other places, but have been home long enough to have written a post about it. Unfortunately, when I got home I was so swamped with e-mails (over 1000) and letters/invoices/statements/bills relating to the business. Far too many. I set about reducing the number in the pile and am still working on it, but I won’t bore you too much with that. Suffice it to say that dealing with them has left me feeling less fond of my computer than I normally am and although I’m spending time on it every day, it’s mostly business-related and therefore not that interesting.
Instead: Portugal. Wow! I’m one of these people who’ve always looked down on the Algarve in the same way that you might look down on somewhere like the Costa del Sol. I’m sure they have their merits, but I’ve never really seen why you’d want to go to the same place as thousands of other Brits. The British on holiday are, as a rule rude, demanding and generally embarrassing in their attitude to local customs, people and food. I expected it to be similar during this holiday.
To begin with, our hotel was lovely. Large but quiet since we’d chosen to go off-season. This meant that some things normally available to the holiday-maker were closed for the winter, but on the whole it made for a peaceful break away.

View from our hotel balcony
Since there were eight of us on the trip (all female) we decided on an excursion at the beginning of the week and opted for an all-day Jeep Safari into the ‘interior’, a trip that promised in the brochure to introduce us to the ‘real’ Algarve. Our driver, Rogerio, picked us up from the hotel and we all clambered into one jeep. We drove away from Vilamoura and were gradually joined by other jeeps from the same company before heading to a small craft room for our first briefing and to meet a local basket-maker. He was pretty old and was plaiting palm-leaves into long strips ready to sew together to make baskets. According to our guide his age is relevant as it seems he and others like him will be the last generation to do this. Younger people see how little money is to be made in this way and have headed off into the towns, where the main industry is tourism and pays much better.
We were then driven into the mountains where Rogerio (who’d obviously got our measure fairly early on) drove up and down the sides of the hills along dirt tracks at about sixty miles an hour. Thank goodness we’d all heeded his warning and put our seatbelts on or I’m sure at least two of us would have been bounced out the back. He stopped every-so-often to explain something of interest: pomegranate, almond, fig, orange, date, carob and olive trees, wild lavender, thyme and rosemary, and the tradition of the cork trees which can only be harvested for their cork every nine years. The whole morning was fascinating. We stopped in a small town for coffee and carob cake, then again at lunch time in a little restaurant. During the afternoon we were driven through small villages, waving at the locals and replying to ‘bom dia’ with the same. If you ever go to the Algarve, I can thoroughly recommend one of these trips.

Pomegranate Tree

Stripped (harvested) cork tree

Along the dirt tracks

A jeep-load of dusty girls plus one happy driver!
On the following Monday we discovered that one of our group had chartered a cruiser as a special surprise for Debbie because it was her birthday. It was an incredibly generous gift which we all got to share.

It came complete with a crew of two who took us out along the coastline on a two-hour trip, whilst plying us with wine and nibbles! We decided we could definitely get used to this way of life.

Enjoying the view

Leaving Albufeira Marina

Portuguese coastline

Our 'captain' impressing us with his rock diving skills!
We came home on Thursday morning and were back in chilly England before lunchtime. All in all we had a wonderful break away and if you ever get the chance to go to Portugal, I can thoroughly recommend it.