Travel Journal, Part 4

December 27, Saturday. The morning was cloudy, but not cold. We drove to the Igreja do Sao Lourenco (Church of St. Lawrence), just a little east of Almancil. Augie and Gia were married in this church, and they recommended it as a must-see. The church was smaller than we had expected, but the interior was absolutely stunning. You'll have to take my word for it because we were not allowed to take pictures inside. The entire interior of the church was covered with blue and white tiles with exquisitely detailed pictures of scenes from the life of St. Lawrence. Here's a tile picture from the outside of the church. The grill you see in the background depicts the fact that St. Lawrence was tied to a grill and (shudder) slowly roasted alive for failing to recant his beliefs.

A gold-covered altar piece at the front of the church reached toward the high domed ceiling. Statues occupied several tiers, with St. Michael standing at the top. Very celestial-looking. Outside the church, Carole and I had a nice conversation with a visiting Scotsman named Lawrence and his wife.

We drove north to Loule, then walked through a narrow litte market street just south of the Sao Sebastiao Municipal Court (if my Portugese translation is correct). After wandering around Loule for a bit, we headed further north into the hills, toward a little town called Querenca.

The villages tucked away in the trees along the way were lovely. We made another Portugese discovery that might be worth emulating in the States: the smaller towns have traffic lights that only turn red if you are speeding. Portugal has a reputation for fast drivers, and they are using every innovation they can think of to slow people down. In any case, it was a very scenic and leisurely drive through the hillside towns. We drove as far as we dared, not really knowing where we were or how much farther up in the hills the road went. As it turned out, we could have reached a major highway had we gone a little farther, but the clouds were getting rather dark and not all of the streets were paved. We found ourselves on a very narrow street in Querenca, and we managed to follow it around and through a church driveway until we got back onto the main road in the direction of Loule.

We got back to Almancil about 2:30 PM and explored a bit more of the neighborhood before it started to sprinkle. That night, we went back to the Rumours Sports Bar for a drink before dinner, then to O Sagrado de Aoho restaurant for a cod dinner. By the time we finished dinner, the rain was coming down steadily, and we had left our rain gear at the condo. By the time we got back, we were pretty well soaked. Luckily, it still wasn't too cold.

December 28. We woke up early, intending to drive across the border to Spain that day, but it was misty outside and not a particularly good day for sightseeing. As the morning went on, the mist became a steady rain. We went a block down the street to the Western Union office and caught up on our e-mail.

Later that morning, we saw canopy tents in the vacant lot on the other side of the park. People were coming from that direction, carrying shopping bags. We grabbed our rain gear and wandered over. The Sunday farmer's market was in full swing by the time we got there, mud and all. You could get just about anything, from fresh produce and artisanal cheeses to sox and undies or kitchen utensils. We bought oranges, figs, cashews, radishes, bread, and cheese -- then went home and feasted. The oranges, which still had leaves attached, were some of the best I have ever had.

The sun came out in the afternoon, so we took the car south toward Quarteira. We wandered around lost in Vale dos Lobos, which is a haven for multimillionaires. You could practically smell the money. After we finally found the way out (presumably, all the chauffeurs already know their way around and have no need of street signs), we went back to Faro. We decided to explore the Old Town -- very old town. As in 8th century BC Phoenician old town. The walls surrounding the town were ancient-looking, and the limestone mosaic streets inside the walls were narrow and winding. Storks had built nests on the rooftops. Storks are very large birds -- it's easy to imagine them carrying babies in bundles. We don't have them in the States, so this was like seeing a fairy tale come to life.

On our way out, we saw a sign for a catamaran tour of the Ria Formosa. This was an opportunity that was too good to pass up. We paid our 20 euros each and took our seats along with the English, Belgian, and Portugese tourists. The tour guide repeated all of his explanations in Portugese, French, and English so we would all know what was going on. We left port at high tide, and you could see just the tops of the islands. Gray herons, sandwich terns, oyster catchers, white egrets, and cormorants covered the islands, waiting for the tide to go out so they could fish the shallows. The catamaran only had a half-meter draft, and the pilot knew the complicated path between the submerged islands.

We went ashore at a barrier island that had been evacuated (by humans) and set aside as a wildlife sanctuary in 1987. People were not allowed to live or camp there, but there was a visitor's center and a few shacks where fishermen could store their gear. Across a narrow inlet was another barrier island that had a small village. We spent half an hour wandering the beach on the Mediterranean side. The waves were quite high -- these barrier islands saved the city of Faro from the tsunami that followed the 1755 earthquake, and you could clearly see how much calmer the sea was on the other side of the island.

The sun was going down as we headed back toward Faro. The pilot let a 9-year-old girl, the daughter of Portugese expats on a visit from their home in Switzerland, drive the boat until we got well into the area with the sand bars, then he took over again. By the time we got off the boat, the Christmas lights were on in all the streets -- bells, stars, ribbons. A display in a tent showed a miniature version of Bethlehem, with the manger scene and villagers going about their business. A creche scene in the nearby park had life-sized statues.

Back in Almancil, the only place open on a Sunday night was a British fish and chips place. They didn't usually open on Sunday nights, but they were expecting a large football crowd that never materialized. Carole and I just about doubled their business for the evening. We went across the street to the sports pub, had our beers, and chatted with the owner while we watched more darts tournaments on the telly.

Farmer's market, Phoenician castles, Moorish ruins, bird watching, and darts on the telly. Not bad for one day.