As soon as I rise, I explore the headland that comprises the forteleza and marvel at the amazing cliff-top scenery. Old rusted canons still point out to sea. The ragged reddish cliffs stretch into the distance as far as the eye can see. This really feels like the edge of the world, that I could see to the end of the ocean if the world was flat. Its immensity feels like an invitations, a dare.
Nick and Michael are strolling too, on their own. I return and back my bags. The hostel serves a simplifies breakfast consisting of two bread rolls, butter, jam and coffee – just enough to get backpackers out the door and out of their hair. As soon as we finish eating we leave.We return to the main square. The square is very simple – an open space filled with chairs and tables surrounded by small shops and temporary kiosks that sell different types of foods and souvenirs. The shops are not worthy of my camera, but the square is memorable as it is a gathering place for international backpackers. The condo and time-share crowds have the rest of the Algarve, but the backpackers have beautiful Sagres because of the usual windy conditions are too inhospitable for sun worshipers.
In the square I talk to two German girls while Nick and Mike are off looking for cheap and cheerful accommodation and I am watching their stuff. They return with news of a wonderful bargain, two rooms with two beds each for a total of 2000 escudos. The set of rooms also have a shared kitchen, to make it an even better bargain. The landlords, they assure me, are truly sweet people. We agree to split the fee three ways, and give Nick his own room if we cannot find a fourth person to cut the cost. The kitchen is also shared by a third room, presently rented by a German girl named Silke. Across a shared courtyard, strung with clotheslines, is another set of three
rooms rented by Teresa – a young, hung-over Canadian, Joanna – a dynamic Dane, and Janet – a plain but spunky Kiwi with wild hair. Our building was once the garage and theirs was the main building. In Lisbon, Mike and I mused over how long it would be before we ended up sharing a flat with other notorious travelers – Germans, Kiwis and Canadians – and here we are, less than two weeks later.I cannot imagine a better day. It is warm and sunny with only a slight breeze. Our accommodation is beautiful and cheap, our co-vivants friendly and interesting and the scenery is both peaceful and incredible. As tired as I am from yesterday’s ordeal, I am in heaven. I could easily stay here for a week or more if Mike was willing.
With our belongings stowed away, we head back to the main square to buy lunch. There are no markets open, this being a Sunday, and our ‘breakfast’ has worn off. After we have eaten, we head to the local beach, which is sizable and sheltered from the wind. My face, arms and lower legs below my cycling shorts are tanned from the past week of cycling, at least one side of my arms, the front of my thighs and the backs of my calves, a typical cyclist’s tan.
Late afternoon, I return to our villa to take a nap while Mike goes out to scout out possible restaurants for dinner. I am woken by Nick who has returned with Andrew, a blond Australian lad his age, quiet but nice. Andrew will share his room. I get up and stroll around the main square again, settling at one of the tables to luxuriate over coffee and a pastry. Life does not get better than this.
It is after 8 pm and Mike, Nick, Andrew, Silke and I have been waiting incredibly long to have our orders filled at the restaurant Mike has chosen. Nick is ready to eat the table cloth. I’m not to hungry, having eaten the pastry a couple hours earlier. We are all having loads of fun in spite of the wait. I am clowning and being foolish and everyone seems to be enjoying it. We finally get served, eat and leave to find pastries and coffee in the square. Mike and Andrew are tired and return to the villa, but Nick, Silke and I go to Rosa dos Ventos, a bar across the square for a drink.I strike up a conversation with an American in his 40s from Washington DC who tells me about the theatre scene there. His name is Tom and I suspect he’s gay ,so I casually let him know I am. My guess was right and a few minutes later he invites me back to his place for a drink. He is saying he believes there going to be another revolution in the US in the coming years, because people are not satisfied with their jobs or getting all the luxuries they feel they are entitled too. I want to say that that’s hogwash, that no revolution has ever been built on individual greed over a sense of common good, but I can’t get the words out. I remember thinking that beer was awfully strong. I was feeling queasy and I suddenly have a dizzy spell. I apologize and beg his pardon to leave. It will pass, I tell myself on the way back to my room. I will massage my digestive nerve when I am lying down and all will be fine.
Mike is up battling a host of mosquitoes when I arrive. I am feeling somewhat better as I crawl into bed.
PHOTO 1: the headland of the forteleza
PHOTO 2: canon at the forteleza, view of cliffs
PHOTO 3: 80m cliffs near the fort
PHOTO 4: Silke and Janet
PHOTO 5: fishermen on the cliff edge
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