A Piece of Paradise

It's ten after nine in the evening.  The sun is low on the horizon and my eastern facing patio is cool and shady.  I'm sitting out in one of our beach chairs sipping Rioja and listening to the Forest Gump soundtrack.  Bela is panting at my side; we just got back from a bike ride/walk.  Angelines is having a beer and working on her computer, too.

...My own piece of paradise. :)

And now for a little back-blogging:

The Rotary convention ended on Wednesday the 24 so A and I were on our own for Monday and Tuesday.  We wanted to spend Tuesday night, however, in Lisbon so that we'd be there and ready to head out Wed. afternoon.  After my exams on Saturday, I had dedicated myself to looking for and booking hotels, hostals, houses that allowed dogs.  The first half of our trip was booked, except one day and I figured we could do research on the road for the last few nights.

Bela's ready for the road!

Monday night's reservation was in a casa rural in Monchique, Portugal.  We had arranged to meet with the woman at six in the afternoon.  She sent directions to the house and we eventually found it: down an impossibly steep hillside in the middle of nowhere...  We were a bit early, but it seemed no one was home.  I cautiously went round back of the house to see if the owner was outside.  Behind the house were three soiled twin matresses strew on the ground, clothes and towels lying about, children's toys, shoes and socks.  Needless to say the first impression wasn't a good one.  I made my way through unkept planter boxes to the very back where a sheet of paper was taped to the door of what looked to be another little cottage: Casa Mel was scrawled in children's handwriting complete with smiley face stickers.  ...This was the right place.

Welcome to Portugal.  Algarve is the Southern region.

Angelines had stayed up at the car with the dog.  How was I going to tell her I'd made reservations at a dive in the middle of nowhere!  As I was asking the neighbors if they knew where the owners were, Angelines took a look around back.  Staying in this hole wasn't my idea of a great way to start the vactaion...but where else would we go?  One look at A's face when she came back through the gate, and I knew we had to get out of there fast.  "I'd rather sleep in the car than here!" was all she said.  I agreed and we decided to get out of there before the owner made her appearance.  Thankfully, I hadn't put any money down to make the reservation.

Just as we were pulling out a Jeep came roaring down the one-lane, dirt road and came to an abrupt stop outside the house--the owner.  Neither of us wanted to stay at this point, much less for the agreed on price: 55 euros!  I decided to make up a quick lie that friends had called us from Portimao (the nearest city on the coast) and we were going to meet them last minute.  I apologized for making her come out there for nothing and we drove back up the ridiculously steep road as fast as we could.

A potty break in Caldas de Monchique...where we thought the house was.

Both of us were grateful to have escaped a night at the "Bates Hotel" as my dad would later call it, but the problem remained: where would we stay?  It was nearly seven by the time we'd made our way back down to Portimao.  We set out blindly looking for a place to stay the night.  Thinking the coast would be full of hotels we headed to the beach.  Everything we saw was closed, empty or in terrible condition.  After getting turned around in the city center, where not a single traffic light was functioning, we made our way to a gas station and asked for directions to a campground we'd seen adversised on the way in.  Even the campground was a shot in the dark, however, because "campgrounds" in Europe are more like RV parks and they don't necesarrily allow dogs.

We got our directions (the attendant spoke some English) and headed on our way.  Just as we were leaving town, I saw a sign that read: Pousada da Juventud.  "Turn here!" I shouted; and thankfully, Angelines is a very compliant driver and veered off to the right even as she was asking "WHY!?"  We followed the signs and arrived at a very nice Hostaling International Youth Hostal.  They didn't allow dogs, but a private double room for the night was 30 euros with breakfast included.  

We played ball with Bela until the car was in the shade, then fed her and got her settled in for the night.  I made a tortilla de atún and we had dinner on our own private veranda.  It was a beautiful little place: clean and cheery, a far cry from Casa Mel.  

Hallelujah! 

The next morning when we asked at the front desk when the 8:30 breakfast would be served--it was 8:35--we realized that Portuguese time is an hour behind Spain's!  That explained (somewhat) the disheveled house we'd found the day before; but still we were thankful not to have stayed there.  We decided not to wait an hour for breakfast, hit the road early and eat sandwiches in the car.

 

...Thus began our Portuguese adventure.