People-watching in Armação de Pêra

People absolutely fascinate me! They’re a never-ending source of entertainment and provide an excellent supply of characters for my novels.

On a grand scale, 180,000 motorcyclists just converged on the Our Lady of Fátima shrine inland from Nazare. They came for the annual helmet blessing. A couple of days before the big event we heard so many motorcycles going by we actually leaned over our balcony to see the main road going through Armação de Pêra. It was a constant flow of motorcycles for about ten minutes.

The other day we were having lunch and we struck up a conversation with a nice couple next to us. They were from Germany. I mentioned that I could remember my mother singing German lullabies to me (though she didn’t speak German—she must’ve heard them when she was young). Mom could even sing Silent Night in German. The lady began to softly sing a lullaby to me. I was so charmed. Then we started talking about the Prussian part of my family (the Schussmans) which always leads nowhere. I think they may have been mercenaries, especially considering the name means “sharp-shooter.” Oddly enough this brought over an Irishman who’s a Prussia history buff. He’d escaped from his tour group and settled down at our table to talk world history and politics in a barely understandable Irish brogue.

At Sardinha’s, we made friends with our waiter, Kareem. He’s a gregarious guy from Bangladesh, who speaks several languages poorly. It was comical when he taught us the wrong way to ask for another beer. He was pretty excited to tell us about his wife and two teens coming to live in Portugal in February. He fell out of favor with me when he was asking Joe about his workout routine and then turned to me and said, “You don’t work out, do you?” I didn’t know what to say… “I work out every day, you just can’t tell by looking at me.” ???

There’s a cool American diner near us called Fabio’s. It’s very popular. We were there on a slow night and Spencer, our waiter, hung out with us and told us about his obsession with The Blues. His dream is to go to America and tour areas famous for their Blues musicians. He’s been waiting for us to come back when he’s not busy so he can play some music for us.

We go to Saboya’s the most. It’s near our place and the food is delicious. The chef comes out periodically to ask if you liked the food. She’s adorable. Our waiter on the other hand has a very good poker-face. It takes time to get on his good side, but we knew we’d succeeded when Joe told him he wanted a scoop of ice cream… with only one spoon! Joe pointed to me and shook his finger, no. The waiter brought a scoop with the smallest spoon I’ve ever seen. Joe picked it up in wonderment. After he got the reaction he wanted, he pulled out a large spoon from behind his back. The other day a lady was holding her cigarette off to one side and he snuck up behind he and snatched it away and then strutted around pretending to smoke it. Then later, same lady, he snuck up behind her again—this time with a pair of scissors. Her friends ratted him out before he could snip off the tip.

Joe’s barber isn’t exactly interesting, but the barbershop is. There’s a pool table, dart-board, and a chess board out front to while away the time while waiting. Joe tried to teach me how to play chess while we waited, but was frustrated with my moves. Apparently, I made some good moves, but he couldn’t figure out what to do because they were so uncommon and didn’t follow traditional chess strategy! I still have no idea what I was doing, but it was fun.

We needed to load our cell phones with money, so I googled Vodophone stores near us. The next day we hustled over to the shop and were told that Google had lied to us… no Vodophone services whatsoever. The nice man explained that Armação de Pêra isn’t a big enough town for Vodophone or MEO or any other phone service. We’d have to go over to Albufiera—a 24 Euro roundtrip Uber ride! First of all, it’s hard to believe that this city with its 100+ condo complexes is considered small, but it actually only has a resident census of 3,000 people. It swells to 85,000 during high season. Sooo, we walked out disappointed. Joe suggested we try the little barbershop/cell phone shop around the corner. They promptly pulled a Vodophone sim card off the rack and changed out our cards for us… 9 Euros each for a month. By the way, they still have operable phone booths here—I know because I picked up the receiver and got a dial-tone!

There’s a boardwalk that goes all the way over to Salgados Golf Course. It’s a very pretty 45 minute walk and a beach restaurant waits at the other end. It was okay. Nice service, but too pricey for our taste. What was remarkable was when I went to the bathroom. When I went in, I noted a large purse sitting on the sink and someone in one of the stalls. Seriously! I can’t even fathom doing this in California. I won’t even hang my purse on the hook on the stall door for fear someone will reach over and snatch it. I’ve even seen this phenomenon in Lisbon, which I don’t recommend—there are tourists there… some are from California!

We were at the grocery store the other day, and I wanted some salmon. So, I went up to the meat counter and saw that a woman was already waiting. I pulled the next ticket from the little machine. Then a Portuguese man walked up and picked up a discarded ticket near the machine. I thought this would probably be interesting. I was right. The butcher called out the next number and the guy looked at his ticket, saw it was correct, and went to the counter. Big mistake. The Portuguese lady ahead of me immediately confronted the poor guy. She pointed to herself and to me. The butchers watched the drama unfold with curious faces. He made it clear that he’d made a mistake, but the lady wasn’t buying it… she seemed certain he’d tried to trick us all. Anyway, he backed up to take his place behind me and war was averted.

At the register, I noticed a posterboard with two plastic boxes attached to it just beyond the check-out. I snuck over and took a quick photo. By the way, you don’t dilly-dally at the register in Portugal. The clerk must’ve noticed my interest and gave me 3 plastic chips. I made the connection that the boxes held the chips and I was supposed to vote on something. I broke out my phone again (after paying for my groceries) and opened my translator app, which translates whatever you take a picture of. I learned that one box was for a youth rope system for exercising, and the other was for cleaning out the garbage from the swamp. I voted for both; one for the swamp and two for the ropes. I felt very neighborly after that!

Today we woke up to blustery cold weather. It’s been raining for days, but it was warm. Today was cold and it was our day to swim laps in the ice-pool. I almost died of hypothermia. Later we wandered along the beachfront until we were thirsty. We decided to head into the town and found a British pub with a rock’n’roll band. They were actually quite good. We sat down near two giant dogs and received a warm welcome. The cool thing was when the lead singer cruised the crowd with his tip jar, he explained that all tips went to a charity for abandoned cats and dogs. So sweet.

There’s an old guy who has a condo facing the pool. Every morning he rolls his wheelchair out onto his balcony and watches the antics of the condo complex. Every other day we are his source of entertainment as I put on my big fins, my scuba goggles, and my snorkel. I step into the icebath and he stares, fascinated. We started waving hello to him about 4 weeks ago. After a week, he started waving back. Last week we introduced, “Bom dia.” He stared. But after several attempts to draw him out, he responds now. This morning was my breakthrough. He laughed at me when I stood shivering in the shallow end watching Joe swim laps. Victory!

Armação de Pêra: Courage, Mastery, Faith...

Armação de Pêra is a tourist town, of course, but its heart is fishing. I found this tribute to some of their more famous fisherman. It was covered with photos of these hard-working guys with words describing them. I translated them for you:

“Strength, soul, demand, obstinacy, courage, mastery, perseverance, faith, dedication, bravery, wild, tradition, complicity, dexterity, resilience, hardness.”  I can’t help but think of those descriptions as I look at these pics!

There’s no marina here, yet the beach is lined with boats that’ve been dragged up onto the sand by the big tractor. Some boats are for tours. Those are fun to watch coming in… reminds me of Mexico. The boat full of life-vested people cling to their seats as the captain hits the sand at full speed. They scramble out as the tractor hooks up the boat and drags it further up the shore.

The interesting part is how everyone on the beach stays out of the way—usually. Every once and awhile someone lost in their own little world keeps walking across the incoming boat’s path. The pilot skids to a stop (in the water) and heads back out for another try.

But fishing is really what it’s all about. Every restaurant proudly displays whatever was caught that day. Chalkboards have smudged out menu items that’ve been gobbled up by the masses. Big steaming pots are set in the middle of the table. The lid is lifted off and everyone leans forward to sniff the air appreciatively. They use big ladles to spoon out clams, mussels, chunks of fish, lobster, shrimp, and octopus.

Lots of menus brag about having cuttlefish with black ink. Why in the world would anyone want black ink in their food?

Down by the fisherman’s shacks are piles of netting. Little wood stools are occupied by silent men working on the nets or whatever else needs repairing.

Throughout the city are various grocery stores with excellent fish counters—twice as big as the meat counter. The most intense is the open market. Everyone is shouldering their way around each other to get a better look at that fresh octopus or golden bream. It absolutely stinks to high heaven, but no one seems to mind.

Joe got shamed into ordering sardines at a restaurant the other day. He’s glad he tried them, but they were too much work getting around the bones. I’ve had fresh cod several times (not a local fish anymore here in Portugal) and it’s much, much better than the bacalhau (the national obsession), which is dried cod that’s been rehydrated. Unfortunately, every time I’ve tried it, it has been stringy and chewy—not my favorite.

So, I hope you enjoyed the photos as much as I did. :)

Crazy Cyclists and the Seven Hanging Valleys

We’ve settled into the pattern of going to our favorite restaurants over and over again. One we really like is a little Italian place called Restaurant Smiley Food. Isn’t that the weirdest name for an Italian place? We didn’t stop there for weeks because of the name, but one time an Englishman was coming out while we inspected the menu… “Best food in town!” he claimed. We’ve been several times now for two reasons; one the wine is excellent, two the pizza is great and cheap—7 bucks for a loaded combo.

Last week we were eating our pizzas (I had the salmon and capers) when we struck up a conversation with what seemed like a nice, normal couple from Canada. They recommended the Seven Hanging Valleys Walk. That should’ve been my first warning that they were not normal, but we googled it and decided to give it a try.

Then the conversation shifted to what they were doing while in Portugal. They started in Porto and cycled their way to Lisbon… rode bicycles! That’s between 200 and 310 miles (330-500 km) depending on the route you take. They stayed overnight in different towns and sometimes stayed more than one night. When we met them they’d started their second stage of their cycling trip from Sagres to Vila Real de Santo Antonio (west to east across the bottom of Portugal), which will probably take about a week (120 mi /193km).

We decided to go on the Hanging Valley hike from Pria do Marinho to Pria de Vale Centeanes. It’s a one-way 3.5 to 4 mile hike/walk (depending on how lost you get) along the cliffs and down to the seven beaches. We’ve walked along the cliffs like that before, so we felt confident we could handle the terrain. 3 ½ hours was more of a challenge. I mapped it out on my app (incorrectly) and we called an Uber to take us to the starting point.

Sooo, if you decide to do this beautiful walk, go early not at 1:00 pm! It was blazing hot out in the open. Be sure to wear good shoes. Put sunscreen on your nose—at least. Bring water, seriously. We were rationing. There are cafes along the way (we stopped at one) to get a bottle water (or maybe a cold beer).

The trail is marked by posts, but that sounds easier than it is. Often the trail was over a large flat area or along multiple small trails… those signs weren’t always visible. When that happened everyone would randomly disperse like ants over a disturbed trail. 

Some parts of the trail are climbing rocks with fairly good footholds. If you can’t hoist yourself up occasionally by grabbing a tree branch, or a friend’s hand, then this is probably not the walk for you.

They have a pretty little picnic area in the forest to stop and nibble on your beef jerky and peanuts. At one point there’s a bench touted as being the best bench in the Algarve. It’s not. Not by a long shot. It’s just a bench along the trail that looks straight out over the ocean. With all those gorgeous cliff formations to admire, why would they think this was the best?

In my personal opinion, you shouldn’t climb over the fences that surround giant holes in the ground. It made me cringe when I’d see some dare-devil trying to get that perfect photo into the gaping cavern. I must say it was pretty cool to walk past the Benagil Caves after having been on the boat tour last spring. Not as cool as going into the cave, but still pretty neat.

By the way, I recommend researching your Benagil tour-boat first. There’re several types. We chose the one that sat low in the water with seats up front (rigid inflatable boat). This meant we could get into lower hanging caverns and all the way into the Benagil Cave. The bigger, taller boats had to stop outside the entrance.

I digress… we started to feel discouraged after three hours of walking and seeing that we weren’t even close to the finish. I thought we were walking at a decent clip! At three and half hours, with hurting feet and legs, and overheated, we called for an Uber to rescue us. When we got home, we went straight into our cold pool and stood there drinking wine and beer. Thank goodness for that pool.

I was so disappointed that we didn’t make it. We thought we were made of tougher stuff. The next day I was looking at my map app and realized I’d mapped it wrong. We did finish the entire walk! It didn’t change anything except how I felt about it.

So, we made it and our legs felt it the next day. There was no way I was going for my speed walk. This impressed me even more with the people who do the Camino de Santiago. That can take three months not three hours!

Metal Sculptures and Food.

I don’t know the reason for this, but sculptures have been erected all along the promenade. They are really interesting and thought-provoking. I will post them all in this blog. I’m officially feeling better and Joe now has my cold :/ Like I said, it’s not a bad one.

We’ve been moving at a much slower pace than usual, which is fine because we have a gorgeous terrace to hang out on. This is our first time to stay at a place with a large gas barbecue. It’s been great to grill up chicken and ribs every other night. Tonight I bought filet mignon for dinner. I got thick cut slices and it was 15 euros… not bad. I always bring spices from home (shout out to The Spice Tin in Murphey’s, California). I sprinkled blackened seasoning on the steaks, and then I made a mixture of olive oil and piri-piri sauce (super hot-spicey). I’m looking forward to tasting it. (P.S. it was delish)

It was cold today, so we stopped at an English pub and I had a big bowl of chili and fries. The most unusual thing we’ve had on this trip was “Piggely-Belly” at a really high-end restaurant. It was tasty, but I think they over did it with the crunchiness of the outer layer. Pork cheek is popular here and is extremely rich and decadent tasting. The other night I ordered it while watching a Fado show (somewhere between opera and blues). I love Fado. Joe accepts it as part of being married to me.

We have one beach café we like a lot, well, two cafes. One has a great, simple chicken wrap we can share with really crunchy fries. The other has a burger plate… two hamburger patties, lettuce/tomato/onion, and fries. You know I loved that one.

One of the first things I purchased here was a bag of small golden potatoes. You wouldn’t believe how smooth and buttery they are—perfect for every meal. I also bought cream cheese, because they don’t have sour-cream here. That’s something I can’t comprehend. The cheese sorta makes up for the lack of sour-cream.

I’ve gotten in the ocean and bobbed around for about twenty-thirty minutes. It was on hot days. That would not have happened today. We’ve gotten in our pool almost every day to swim laps or just do a little water-exercise. As you know, I’m a speed-walker (trust me, my speed is slower than yours, but for these short legs I try) and I love walking the cliff trails. This morning I took a different route. I went on the boardwalk that goes way out over the wet-lands. It’s a beautiful walk. Ninety-percent of the people are serious about walking or cycling, but you always have those who are taking a leisurely stroll… right down the middle of the path… blocking everyone. There’re all kinds of etiquette in the world, so I can’t expect them to know to stay to one side.

I forgot to tell you that we went on a wine tour at a local vineyard and winery called Cabrita Wines. The Algarve used to be a major wine producer for Portuguese families. Very simple and light red wines. Now they have added white and rose wines. It was a nice little tour. We got taken out to the vineyard and Duarte pointed out that the grapes had all been harvested. In fact they had just finished the day before. Then we sat down to a long table of charcuterie boards. It was nice. We bought three bottles of wine for nine euros each.

We also went to Albufeira last week. That town is not what I expected. It was packed with tourists and all the shops to go with that kind of crowd. The town square was a vibrant city center full of giant shade trees and a band from Ecuador. They even had drug dealers in case you want to break the law… they disappeared when the police strolled by. What we didn’t see was Portuguese people or children kicking around a soccer ball. For us, it was a disappointment.

Another disappointment for me is a shoulder injury as a result of that fall I took in Lisbon. It doesn’t hurt all the time, but I can’t swim freestyle or breast-stroke. I’m sooo bummed. Of course I make up for it with other odd looking things that don’t hurt, and I get a very good leg workout by using my fins. The irony is that this is finally a good pool and I still can’t get my laps in! Usually the pool is either tiny, closed, or has construction debris floating in it.

Because Uber is so cheap here, we are planning to visit someplace at least once a week. So far we went wine tasting and to Albufeira. Next we plan to go over to Portimão and possibly spend the night. On our way back we’ll go to Dos Santos Brewery and Winery. Another plan is to go on the 7 hanging valleys hike. It goes along the coast and is about 3.5 miles one way. It goes through two places we really like; Benagil Caves and Carvoeiro. I’ll let you know how this plan goes.

Our Home in Armação de Pêra and What Do Portuguese Look Like?

This Airbnb is really luxurious. Not in a super expensive way, but the thought put into details. For example; when I’m someplace for a long time I want to clean up… like sweep or vacuum. Pascal, the owner, has a soft good quality broom and there’s even a little battery-powered vacuum like a Dyson. It’s so easy to just whip around and clean up the debris blown in (because we always leave our doors open and Portugal has yet to embrace the concept of window screens). All of the pots and pans are excellent. They have a Nespresso machine—my favorite. And they even provided me with a box of Nespresso brand coffee pods! They also had a bottle of white wine. All of the black-out blinds are electronic. Just push a button and walk away. It’s really nice.

I sit here on my giant patio with a view of the pool and all the various things people do on vacation. A lady and her husband come everyday with a little tiny puppy in a carrier. They just left to be replaced with five teenage boys. Oddly enough one brought a guitar. They stood around for awhile making half-hearted attempts to sing along with him, but they got bored and now they’re trying to work up the courage to get in the cold water. Portuguese men have this really interesting thing they do… they clap their hands when they’re passionate about something. You’ll see that when they’re arguing, or in this case they all clapped their hands to get themselves worked up to jump in. It worked. They are all in now.

We’re in the upper end of town away from the tourism. In the morning it almost feels like a campground with the various waking up noises. One dog begins to howl the second his master leaves for work. It sounds like something between a human in mortal agony and a basset hound. The sound of babies is everywhere because babies are everywhere. There’s one little baby girl who always says, “Ola,” to me and waves her little hand.

I’ve had a lot of people ask me what Portuguese people look like. For some reason this question always throws me for a loop. What do they look like… besides Portuguese? I guess I’d say a mix between Spanish and Italian, maybe. Olive-complexions, straight noses, dark thick hair, dark eyes, tall around 5’11”, short around 5’. Mostly slim, though the elderly ladies can fill in like little barrels. For the women, no need for make-up, therefore they wear very little.

In Portugal, especially southern Portugal, the dress is very casual. Up north lots of men wear suits to work, but otherwise it’s jeans and shorts. Women dress in slacks or dresses for work, shorts and skirts for casual. I have never seen a Portuguese person of any age wearing pajamas or house slippers in public… maybe shorts and no shirt, or a bikini top, but not pajamas.

Those who wear sweats in public wear the nice ones. For many, many years, I’ve had people tell me, “If you want to stand out as an American, wear white tennis shoes!” This is definitely not true. The vast majority of people in Europe, and especially Portugal, wear white tennies. Other colors are worn, but usually not the heavy dark walking shoes we wear. White is in.

The other night an elderly couple was dining with a younger couple. Grandma, around eighty, was dressed in a black fitted dress. She had lots of make-up on, and her hair was pulled up into a French twist. When it came time for the photos, she yanked down the front of her dress to show some cleavage. Some things never change.

The normal swimwear is shorts for a man (though some men wear a speedo-type trunk) and thong bikinis for the gals. It doesn’t matter what the girl’s butt looks like, if she’s under fifty years-old she’ll be wearing a thong. I stand out as an American because mine covers my bum. As for hair, women wear it long and unstyled. Either in a ponytail or not. Men have the classic short hair on the sides and slightly longer on top. There’s a barbershop on every corner.

The language sound is somewhere between Spanish and Russian. Hard to describe, but it has a harsh sound to it combined with the shhh sound which softens it. But, like Italians, they talk with their hands with lots and lots of emotion.

Attitude? Hmmm… that’s a tougher one. They come off as being content, comfortable in their own skin, proud of their heritage—but respectful of other’s. It seems as though some of the older crowd is a little sick of tourists. There is sort-of an invisible wall between us, which usually crumbles once we start talking to them but not always. All-in-all, I’d say they’re unpretentious.