Things start off pretty much as usual for us. There are no upgrades for the trip over to Lisbon. Someday I’ll understand why airlines hand out a kazillion frequent flyer miles, but then make it next to impossible to use them. I guess I do understand --- they make a lot more money by not giving out cheap or free seats. As we board the plane and settle in for our hop to Atlanta, the captain announces that a light bulb has exploded in the back of the plane, and that we’ll have to wait until it’s cleaned up before we can take off. Apparently there is only one vacuum cleaner at the Orlando airport – or they couldn’t find a long enough extension cord. Anyway, after nearly half an hour, the vacuum cleaner and clean up crew come on board. Once they clean everything, we manage to depart only about an hour late. This gives us 15 minutes to make the connection in Atlanta. Luckily, we’re only a few gates away.
Grumbling as we pass through the luxurious "Business Elite" section, we make our way back to the coach seats. We have a bulkhead row, which gives room to stick our feet out, but the lavatories for the entire coach section are right in front of that bulkhead, so we have lots of people hanging around our seats for a good portion of the flight, especially when one of the two lavs on the other aisle breaks.
Flight crews wake us for ‘breakfast’ at about 11:00 pm, only about 4 hours after dinner. Dan manages to sleep through it all. No biggie – something akin to an egg McMuffin. We land at 06:30 local time; 12:30 am according to my watch. Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris is compliant with the universal law that says all airports must be under construction. Follow the maze to passport control, request a stamp for my passport which is given with much reluctance, and get on a bus for the ride to Hall F. It’s cold and dark in Paris at 06:30. We watch the airport come to life as we wait for our 8:00 am flight. For some reason, they’ve moved us to business class for the flight to Lisbon. This time breakfast is quite good. Time for a very short nap, and we land in Lisbon at 9:45 am, having lost an hour to the time zone gods.
We look for Élio, our host and director of Zoomarine, who has told us he’d pick us up. After about 10 minutes, he appears with Maria, a colleague from the ICN, a Portuguese government environmental agency. She looks amazingly like Patty Duke. It seems that Elió didn’t read the email Dan sent telling him what flight we were on, and they assumed we were coming via Madrid. They’d been meeting all the planes since 07:00. We turn down their offer of breakfast, having just eaten, but feel obligated to go to a special café to enjoy some special Portuguese cream tarts, Pastéis de Belém. This is just the first of countless Portuguese delicacies we will be offered. We each have one and decline seconds. I suspect that food is going to be even more important than marine mammals when Élio buys a 6 pack of tarts ‘to go.’
Maria picked up her car, and we set off to the Algarve, about 250 km, or 3 hours, from Lisbon. Maria and Élio kept in contact via their cell phones, and had several boisterous conversations regarding the route, and where to stop for lunch. Élio points out landmarks and gives us a very interesting history lesson as we drove. We stop in a small village for lunch. Seafood is the specialty in the Algarve, so we begin to enjoy the local cuisine. I have grilled salmon. Dan tries some pork, but I think that is his last non-seafood meal. Élio has some sort of stew, which he shares. We also discover that various bread and appetizers are set on the table when you go to a restaurant, but unlike the US, these are not complementary. You eat, you pay. But, our hosts encourage us to try everything, so we never give it a second thought. We are also plied with Portuguese wine. Since Élio and Maria are driving, they each have a token glass. We manage to finish the bottle, but then Élio orders another one. That one we bring back with us to the hotel, along with the 6 pack of cream tarts – so we shouldn’t get hungry later. It’s now about 3:30 in the afternoon.
We arrive at the Cerros Alagoa hotel, and Élio spends some time in animated conversation with the desk clerk. Something about single vs. double room. Not understanding Portuguese can make things easier sometimes. We go to our room, which appears to have a king sized bed in it. There’s a wonderful view of the Mediterranean, and things seem just fine. We’ve declined Élio’s offer of dinner, having just eaten more than we needed 2 hours ago. Besides, we’ve now been travelling for the better part of 2 days, and a shower and bed are much more enticing.
The bed is really two twins pushed together, but we don’t care. At 10:00 there’s a knock on the door. It takes a while to realize that it’s our door, and it’s not until we hear a key being turned in the lock that it registers that someone wants to come in. The chain is on. I ask who’s there, and am told that it’s room service, but he thought the room was empty and he says good night. I’m too tired to try to make sense of this. However, now we’re awake, and we realize that our room is above the "Dog and Duck Pub" and it’s Karaoke night. We call the desk and are informed that it will get quiet after midnight. So, we read until midnight, avoiding the call to sing along to "Country Roads" or "Let’s Twist Again" and then go back to sleep.
Next morning, we enjoy the European hotel breakfast. Tourism is big in the Algarve, and there are foods representative of the tastes of the British, Dutch, and Germans who make up most of the clientele. Eggs, sausage, bacon, baked beans (don’t know which culture likes those for breakfast), cold cuts, cheese, fruit, excellent rolls, big vats of jellies and honey …. only thing missing is fresh orange juice, which is surprising, since the Algarve is covered with orange trees laden with fruit. Instead, the machine dispenses some orange colored ‘drink’. Lots of herbal teas, but if you want decaf coffee, it’s instant.
We meet Maria and Élio in the lobby at 10:00 for our tour of the Algarve. First, however, we ask if Elió can get our room changed to one on the other side of the hotel. I’ll forego the ocean view in exchange for sleep, thank you. He asks us about the room, and if there was a bowl of fruit in it when we checked in. We told him it was a double room, no fruit. He said it was supposed to be a suite. Back to the desk, more Portuguese chatter. Élio says we get a suite. The hotel says only Zoomarine can authorize that. Elió explains that he is the director of Zoomarine. The hotel asks him to fax the request. He calls Zoomarine and tells his secretary to send the hotel a fax. We’re told we’ll have a different room when we return from our sightseeing. The knock on the door was the fruit, which, for some reason, they can’t deliver until the restaurant quiets down. No big deal – we’ll be gone all day, so don’t need the fruit yet.
We allow Élio to pick the route (which is pretty much planned around places to eat) and head off despite the rainy weather. We go to Silves and check out the castle, trying hard to avoid being blown off the ramparts. We are learning of some of the differences in phonics between Portuguese and English. The Portuguese hide invisible "h’s" next to most of their "s’s". Thus, Silves sounds more like "Silvsh". Also – the "e’s" on the end of words are frequently silent, unlike Spanish, but they don’t make the preceding vowels long the way they do in English. Bottom line is that if you’re looking at the written word and listening to someone speak, you’re hard pressed to see that they’re actually saying what you’re reading. However, learning ‘foreign’ languages is mandatory in Portuguese schools, and almost everyone can understand and speak some English. The few words of Portuguese I managed to learn were, of course, the ones that everybody can understand in English --- please, thank you, very good, yes, no… but it seems more polite at least to make the effort.
After the castle, we drive to Lagos (Lagosh) for lunch at Dom Henrique. I have monkfish stew. Dan has a fish called cherne, whose English translation was nothing anyone has heard of. Maria and Élio can’t recall the scientific name for the fish; all they know is that it is a big fish. That became the project -- discovering the true nature of Dan’s lunch. Lagos is a quaint town, but being Sunday, most shops were closed. Also, it’s still raining, so we don’t do much walking or looking around, other than getting to and from the car.
We continue our drive to Cabo S. Vicente – the westernmost point in Europe, not counting the islands. It is always terribly windy there, but today the rain seems to have cut down on the wind. There is a lighthouse there, and people fishing from halfway down the cliffs. I can’t imagine how they managed to climb down, much less keep their positions while they fish. Élio said that there are several deaths there each year. I can understand why. We also drive by the southernmost point, Sagres, where there was a school for mariners. The Portuguese were big into exploring; it makes sense that someone decided they ought to learn what they were doing first.
The countryside is agricultural – lots of sheep, goats, pigs, cows and horses. The dirt is red. Vegetation looks quite familiar – orange trees, palm trees, eucalyptus, and lots of oak trees with the bark removed to make corks. At about 6:00, we stop for tea at a ‘special’ café near Albufeira, Quanta dos Avos . Élio orders 4 different specialties of the house, along with a pot of their special herbal tea blend, and we shared and sampled everything. There was carob, which is big in the Algarve, and fig, another major player, plus orange and I can’t remember the fourth flavor. Probably something with almond, which is prominent as well.
We arrive back at the hotel and encounter Joe and Sheila. Joe is the other invited speaker; he had rented a car and spent some extra time in Lisbon before coming to the Algarve. Luckily for us, they are hungry and looking for a place to eat. We gladly hand them off to Élio and Maria (who didn’t really seem to want to go out to eat again) and we move down the hall. The new room is at the very end, and has nothing above it. This is nice, since the floors are all tile; no carpet. Although this room is a suite, with a living room, the bed is now a double instead of the two twins. We’ll have to adjust to being cozy. The view is of the McDonald’s across the street instead of the ocean, but we’re not in the room that much. Still no fruit. We told them at the desk that if they couldn’t get it to the room before 10 pm, to wait until the next day. We certainly aren’t hungry. Other than the sound of rain on the roof, it’s a quiet night.
On Monday, we go to Zoomarine to check out the facility so that everything will be ready for the symposium the next day. Élio shows us around the park, Dan sets up his slides, and a group takes us across the road for a special Portuguese dish, chicken piri piri. Very good. We are given a tour of the aquarium building after lunch, and then it’s back to the hotel. I enjoy a hot soak in the tub before dinner. Oscar and Arlindo, two Zoomarine administrators join the hospitality cadre. Tonight it is their favorite Chinese restaurant, called EurAsia. They eat there often, and the owner simply asks everyone if there are any dishes or ingredients that we don’t like, and then proceeds to select the menu for us. She is from Macao, so there is a different twist on the food, which, as usual, was excellent. She also brought out a bottle of rose schnapps at the end of the meal. We arrive back at the hotel late enough to find the fruit has been delivered. This is a basket containing a kiwi, an orange, an apple, a pear and some grapes. Why it took 3 days to deliver is beyond me.
Tuesday morning, Dan is off to begin his ‘job’ at the workshop. I find that there is a gypsy market on the first and third Tuesday of each month, so I decide to go up the hill and check it out. It’s not too hard to find, as there is a steady stream of people winding up the road. What I discover is a huge flea market, with the gypsies shouting "Good Prices," "Come and Look," "1000 Escudos". There is everything from yards of fabric to underwear to batteries. My favorite stalls are the ones selling food – produce, huge jars of olive oil, fish, sausages, and lots of pastries being fried. There is no way I am hungry, but it is fascinating to look at. This is also a very warm morning. Between the hike up the hill, my backpack, and the sun, I am plenty warm. After I make the circuit, I walk back down to the hotel, planning to discard the umbrella and jacket from my pack. However, looking out the window, the clouds are coming back, and the sky is darkening, so I keep them with me as I walk in the other direction down to the beach and the old section of Albufeira. The way down is pretty steep, but I end up at Fisherman’s Beach, and take some pictures of the small fishing boats on the sand. I then start meandering through the crooked streets and in and out of the shops. I run into Sheila, and we continue browsing together and finally work our way back up the hill and along the main road to the hotel. Not as interesting as the way down, but she seems pretty sure that we are headed in the right direction, so I agree to follow her lead. Normally, I find that unless I retrace my steps exactly, I can’t be sure of where I’ll end up. But, that route would have been quite a bit farther.
Back at the hotel, I explore the services on the lower levels. There is a spa, an indoor pool, and if I want to, I probably can arrange a massage for 6000 Escudos – about $28. Since I’ve been wearing my sneakers a lot more than I had thought I would – wasn’t prepared for the steep hills and mosaic sidewalks and cobbled streets – I go to the large market and look for some more socks. There was no way mine would dry if I wash them in the hotel sink. But, no athletic socks in women’s sizes. Saw a self serve laundry across the street, however, so Plan B arises. Find time to wash what we’ve already worn.
I rest, read, and wait for the electrician to fix the light fixture in the bedroom, not to mention the switches hanging by wires out of the walls. He had fixed the light the day before, but not very effectively, as it is once again hanging from the ceiling. This is a challenge for him, and takes 3 trips back and forth for the right tools, but he manages to connect everything so that lights go on and off when switches are pressed. The hotel is doing its winter refurbishing in preparation for the upcoming summer tourist season. I wonder if they’ll fix things so that the thermostats and air conditioners become more than fans. Right now, all they can do is move air very slowly. Hotel tv is either Eurosport or Sky News. Sky News is running the same 3 stories every half hour – the budget, hoof and mouth, and the high school shooting in San Diego. Portugal news of a bridge collapse is on all the ‘local’ stations, but they’re in Portuguese. Plenty of German dubbed shows as well, especially cartoons.
Élio’s secretary calls and tells us the workshop is running late, and that we should plan to arrive between 7 and 7:30. Sheila and I decide we’ll share a cab. First, a nice bath. We get to Zoomarine just as the session is over, and get put into cars, presumably to go to dinner, which is scheduled for 8:30. Arlindo drives Dan and me back to the hotel and says someone will pick us up at 8:15. Since it’s 7:50 already, I ask why we don’t just go to the restaurant a bit early, perhaps have a drink. Arlindo’s English isn’t that great, but he understands and tries to take us to a favorite bar. However, it’s not open yet – I think it’s too early in the season. So, we go to the restaurant, and he orders some shrimp and some interesting mollusks which one eats by poking a probe into the shell, impaling and twisting out the meat. They give you a little white tile to pound the shell on to help get the meat out. They were quite good. Then, everyone else shows up, and agrees that it was stupid to go back to the hotel and sit around just waiting for 8:30. We are treated to ‘ seafood cataplana,’ a local stew cooked in a copper pot called a cataplan that acts like a pressure cooker. Sort of like bouillabaisse, more or less. Rice on the side. Lots of wine again. All the restaurants in the Algarve seem to have a standard dessert menu based on a commercial ice cream company’s offerings, with some space on the side where they write in their house specialties. Egg custard is very popular, in many variations. Another late night of eating.
While at Zoomarine the previous day, I had come across Marcos, a student who had worked for me at the conference in Monaco, and he was delighted to offer to show me around the next morning, as the scheduled necropsies (kind of like an autopsy, but on an animal) were limited in attendance, and he was unable to participate. So, he meets me in the lobby on Wednesday morning, and we drive to Faro, about 45 minutes away by the main road. On the way, I see several mule-powered wagons of gypsy families. Marcos shows me the old town, and gives me another history lesson. He’s also good about knowing what prices are good, and where the best buys are. I decide that last night’s dinner was enough incentive to buy a cataplan, although I’m not sure I’ll ever be brave enough to try to use it. It’s a beautiful copper vessel, with latches that hold the lid down. It’ll look fine on the wall, too. Then we drive to Porsche, which is the ‘best’ place for pottery, one of the trademarks of Portugal. We look in a couple of stores, and I buy some hand painted tiles which I’ll have framed, a platter, and a small tile and cork trivet (cork being another major product of the region). We go back to Zoomarine in time for lunch, and then Marcos has to dash back to the University for his girlfriends dissertation defense.
After the afternoon session is finished, we go back to the hotel for the dinner routine. The Mexican restaurant was closed for the winter, so we went to another of Arlindo’s favorites – 3 Palmieras, or 3 Palm Trees. I’m not sure if the Mexican place is really closed, or if Arlindo just doesn’t care for Mexican food. Since he’s paying, I’m not one to argue. Once again, we have enough appetizers so that dinner is too much – I have curried shrimp this time. Then, some almond liqueur for the ladies and some special Algarve schnapps for the men. The liqueur is better, unless you like raw alcohol.
Since there is another necropsy on Thursday, Marcos will pick me up to show me some other parts of the Algarve. This time, we go to a mountain village called Montchique. It‘s a cold day, and going to the higher altitudes doesn’t make it any warmer. Montchique has a spa resort nearby, where the waters are famous. We drive up to the highest point in the Algarve, Fóia, a bit over 900 meters. On the way, we stop at some lookouts, and Marcos picks a bunch of heather, which is growing wild all over the place up there. At the top, we have some hot chocolate, as we are literally in the clouds, and it is cold and windy. There is a convent near Montchique, but it is closed to the public, and it’s also raining pretty hard now, so we return to the hotel. Marcos heads back to the workshop for the afternoon, and I gather the dirty clothes and walk across the street to try to do some washing during a lull in the rain.
The laundromat is full, mostly with Canadian tourists. There are 4 small washing machines, and 2 large dryers. The system seems to be that once someone learns how everything works, you help the next person. All the machines are controlled at one panel full of buttons, but once you catch on to the system, it’s not bad at all. If you’ve ever seen pictures of Portugal, you’ve probably noticed that all the houses and apartments have clotheslines full of laundry hanging out the windows. Well, it’s been raining in the Algarve for weeks now, so this system hasn’t been too effective. Thus, competition for the 2 dryers is pretty stiff. People would bring in their clean but wet clothes and wait for a dryer to open up. The machines run in 20 minute increments, but 20 minutes won’t come close to drying a load of clothes. Thirty would probably be OK, but that isn’t an option, unless you take your clothes out early. But, most people seem to put in their money and then go away until just before the dryer stops. All told, I spend a bit over 2 hours getting my laundry done. Luckily, it isn’t raining hardly at all when I finish, so I get the clothes back to the hotel nicely dried.
Everyone is delighted with the way the workshop turned out. There is a press conference at Zoomarine, although I don’t know what they’ll do with Dan and Joe’s statements, which are in English, not Portuguese. Gift bottles of port are given to the speakers. Dinner is at another of Arlindo’s favorite local restaurants, Laranjal, where he orders for everyone, as usual. Three different kinds of fish, cooked whole. Joe likes the heads. Plus bread, salad, vegetables, clams and shrimp. By now, I’ve learned to eat barely half of what’s on my plate. Slow learner. In addition to the cataplan, platter and tiles, I’m also bringing a few extra pounds of me on the next phase of the trip – Genoa, or Genova, as it’s called in Italy.