I used to think that those who holidayed in the same place year after year had no imagination. I could never understand those who went to Florida every year when there were so many other places to go.
My husband Tony dragged me to one of those free timeshare places in Orlando one year, and it almost cost us our marriage. The presentation, complete with a free golf game, was hell-bent on getting us to buy. “What would be your dream vacation?” the sales agent smugly asked. “It would be a trip to Croatia,” I replied.
The agent was stunned. “Croatia?” she asked, “I am not sure where that is.” Needless to say, I didn’t respond. I realized that the woman had obviously never traveled beyond the US, believing that there was no destination better than the place she called home.
Apart from the bellicose and arrogant discourse from Donald Trump, we have pretty much dismissed the US as a place to spend our money. That has led us to Europe and Portugal, our home away from home. It has been eight years now and we happily return spending more and more of our vacation here.
It isn’t just for the weather because, as I write this, it is a cool 14 degrees and cloudy. Yes, it beats the snow that is battering Canada right now, but the Algarve in the winter seldom gets above 20 degrees and can be windy and unpredictable.
It isn’t for cultural activities because, in the Algarve, there is not much in the way of artistic endeavours with the exception of Fado, soulful music that many feel is too morose. It isn’t for the food which lacks sophistication and depends highly on fish or the shopping malls which are dominated by cheap Chinese goods.
While Portugal used to owe much of its attractiveness to value, the Canadian dollar has steadily plummeted against the euro, eliminating this as a reason to come here.
Yet there is something that brings us back here. We’ve travelled extensively, with recent trips to Norway, Asia, South America and many European countries (including Croatia), but none have the special cache that this country affords. People here are not effusive but honest and hard working, helpful but not patronizing. There is a genuineness hard to find elsewhere, a desire to accommodate without bending over backwards to please. Perhaps people here just want us to take them as they are.
Tourists and locals alike walk everywhere. The sidewalks here comprise small flat cubes of limestone called calçada that are hand cut and laid. It amuses me to see the same areas from last year where these stones are heaving from roots of trees or broken from years of use. While I have to be careful where I place my feet, there is comfort in knowing there are no caution signs, no rush to repair what nature has upturned.
On my trip to the local grocery store, there are countless stages of construction, with rebar and cement blocks lying haphazardly where workers are building new establishments or fixing existing ones. Bougainvillea grows on the high privacy fences along the road, with deep fuchsia and orange colours miraculously blooming on the same plant. It lifts my spirits to see how nature manifests itself along this unremarkable road.
The regional Intermarché is a small establishment stocked with fresh fish and ready-made meals of roasted chicken and potatoes, sauteed vegetables and substantial soups made from the leftover prepared meals from the day before. There are wonderful salads and a dessert called serradura with cream and berries that I cannot resist. The sweet aroma of fresh breads and pastries hits me as I enter this neighbourhood shop. These delights, including the famous pastel de nata tarts, are comparable to the best in any country.
I select the soup laden with fish, some pre-cooked pork slices and dessert and load them into my knapsack. Mid week we will go into town and do a larger shopping. I have become friendly with the rosy-cheeked fish monger in the Continente store and, while I shop for other items, she will clean and fillet some local fish for me.
Dourada and Robalo are my favourites, white fish with flavors unlike anything I have had before; simply baking these filets in the oven with a few herbs makes my mouth water. Together with buttery fingerling potatoes and some fresh broccoli, we thoroughly enjoy this unsophisticated local food. Even cooking here is pleasurable, simple meals without fuss and the need to create masterpieces.
As I continue my walk back to our rented apartment, I pass some of the rugged red rocks that dot this route. As a child, I was fascinated by rocks with their coloured striations and patterns. Even in the coal delivered to our house, I found sparkly treasures. Here in the southern part of this wonderful country is an incomparable collection that makes my heart quicken.
I love the variegated cliffs, the vanilla, strawberry and grey limestone boulders which are mounded like soft ice cream and tumble down to the ocean. Exploring the top of these wonders is a joy. Cliff walks abound here; navigating the paths that run through beautiful greenery and pastel wildflowers between heaving roots and the crimson rocks with the rushing waters of the ocean below is a pleasure for hikers and casual walkers alike.
The beach near us has been deemed by social media sources as one of the very best in the world. Falésia Beach, as it is called, stretches on for miles. Bordered by the limestone cliffs above, its soft beige sand is dotted with small scalloped shells. While this stretch of the coast is a treasure, it is only one of many where I could easily spend a day relaxing with a book. In the Algarve, each beach and its glorious rock formations along the coast are both unique and enchanting.
Arriving back at our apartment, I take stock of my trip and the enjoyment I experience whenever I go on a simple walk. I take a deep breath; happy to have chosen Portugal to be my home away from home… my happiest of places.
By Carol Victor, a frequent visitor from Canada who has fallen in love with Portugal.
