March 2019 I was on the Algarve. My big smile shows how happy I was.
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Actually, I can’t remember if I was smiling, but certainly was delighted with the setting. My oldest friend - we’d met when both 14 - and I rented in the less frequented western Algarve. He has since passed, but I hope would be pleased to know I returned in February and March to a region where we so enjoyed ourselves.
If interested, here’s a link to that particular holiday (but do come back!):
https://trainsandboatsandplanesandtheoddbus.blogspot.com/2019/03/portugal-2019-part-one.html
This time I stayed in the central Algarve. Albufeira has, put kindly, a mixed reputation and I was initially hesitant. It’s been described as a Portuguese Blackpool - the gaudy working class resort (‘champagne on draught’) in northwest England - or, more brutally, ‘as common as muck’. But I enjoy resorts, even tacky ones, in quiet times when fewer are in the way and there’s still interest and photography to be found.
And who can say bad things about a town with a Swatch roundabout?
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There's ample winter evidence of Albufeira’s high season ‘popular’ appeal ... just waiting for a town crammed once again with people out for a good time propelled by cheap booze. The area hosts stag, hen and golf parties arriving on bargain-basement flights from other parts of Europe.
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Sadly this in-need-of-spell-check ’Sizzeling Steak’ neon sign on Albufeira’s infamous ‘strip’ was not lit up. But I suspect many of its onetime patrons had been.
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Still, Albufeira also has worthwhile history and architecture …
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… including this quirky house …
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… reminding me of an even more extreme (and worth a closer look), Portuguese-Canadian’s van and home in Toronto. It’s on Clinton Street if you’re in the neighbourhood.
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Off season Albufeira’s clientele, not unexpectedly, seems largely older …
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… but I was surprised by the number of Canadians. As travel to the States drops and with Cuba no longer available, perhaps I shouldn’t have been. There are frequent direct Canadian flights to Lisbon and, at times, Faro, a half hour or so east of Albufeira on the Algarve …
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… and my compatriots enjoy kitschy souvenirs as much as anyone. Still, I’ve never seen so many Canadian flags on older people. This, as during Vietnam, may well be to clearly differentiate ourselves from those with whom we (politely attempt to) share much of North America.
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I started this post with a sort of selfie and will end with a another. I loath selfies as much as I loath emojis, perhaps even more. However, friends say I should include at least one as proof I was actually where I claimed to be. So here I am (after hundreds of non-selfie blog posts) later in the trip just west of Lisbon. See? I know you didn’t believe me, but this is incontrovertible evidence I was actually in Portugal.
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Oh! And there’s more coming up on Albufeira.
