Southern Portugal’s Spectacular Colourful Coast

Southern Portugal gave me exactly what I was looking for: a few days of warm sun, beautiful sea views and a magnificent colourful coastline.

I can not ever get enough of the sea.  The feelings evoked are indescribable in words that touch a primordial part of my psyche and soul.

The sea draws me like an irresistible magnet, as it is generally the first setting I think of for beauty and comfort.

The fact that it was in Portugal certainly adds another dimension for historical purposes, some in a positive way and some negative.

The southern tip of Portugal is called the Algarve and lies about 200 kilometers from Lisbon.

The countryside is dotted throughout with orange and lemon trees, where the Portuguese export a lot of their citrus to other EU countries.  Massive amounts of almond and fig trees cover the rounded hilltops.

There are vineyards too, though much of Portugal’s wine production is north of the area.

The flight is a little over 2 hours from Paris to Faro’s airport at the most southern point of Portugal.

We stayed in an old fishing village called Albufeira that in July and August swells to enormous amounts of tourists, something I wanted to avoid.

The majority of them are Brits, but that area is also popular with French, German and other Europeans.

I heard a fair amount of Americans walking around too and it wasn’t full season yet.

I chose the airbnb apartment mostly for the spectacular view, seen in the first photo. It was with full sea view of both the open sea and the beach of Albufeira, located on a rocky cliff on the edge of the old town.

I loved spending time on the balcony just staring at the chameleon-like colours of the sea and listening to the surf, as if in a meditation.

Sheer light sea green areas turned to more azure blues and turquoise that lead out to a deep navy blue depending on the light.

The balcony provided for a perfect spot to view aerial sea sports of kite gliding and brightly coloured jetboats zigzagging around giving riders wave splashed thrills of being abruptly being tossed around in the surf.

I spent lazy mornings eating breakfasts in the sun, keeping watch on the circling seagulls who sometimes swooped down and stole a biscuit.

Seagulls were everywhere, doing their aerial ballets with much ease and grace. Some were nesting in the rocks in front of me, often shrieking and crying and being very territorial with each other.

Occasional climbers could be seen and some boys braved the cold water to dive in the crystalline sea.

At high noon the surface looked liked dazzling diamonds each with blinding white reflections tossing around the pale green and turquoise waters.

Even a few young lovers coveted the gauged out rocky spaces hidden to others but seemingly unbothered by the balconies above them.

At night, the moonlight danced on the incoming waves. I often spotted the white lights of several small fishing boats gently rocking in the water while patiently fishing the deep waters.

When the tide came in, some of the rocks were submerged under the crystal clear waters and as the ride was going out the intensity of the crashing waves increased.

The sounds of the surf were most appreciated a night and like a comfort blanket always gently lulled me back to sleep.

I often think that the surf reminds us of the whooshing sounds surging through our umbilical cords as we floated in our mother’s womb.

During the days the sun felt much more hot on my skin than it does in Paris, offsetting the air temps that happened to be cooler than they were in Paris that week, a real fluke that generally is not the case.

The May nights almost felt chilly, especially with the cold Atlantic ocean winds blowing in.  There was hardly anybody swimming off the beaches yet, as the ocean was around 17C, not yet sufficiently warmed up enough unless you are a snowbird.

I got in a lot of cardio walking up some of the very steep hills near the apartment, a challenge I enjoyed actually.

Though the kitchen was roomy and very nice, the lack of any decent knives proved to be a challenge in preparing the two meals that I cooked.

I was very surprised that there was absolutely nothing edible in the cupboards awaiting us.

I all the previous airbnb places that I have rented, there has always been at least salt, pepper, herbs, sugar, olive oil, along with coffee and tea.

In France, Greece, Italy, and Hungary there was always a bottle of local wines to greet us.

Grecian hospitality is with a doubt the most generous with even homemade bread and desserts given with freshly picked fruits graciously offered: another great reason to love Greece!

The best part of southern Portugal for me is the natural beauty of the coast, filled with striking beautiful rocky cliff formations, hidden coves, and beaches.

The people are very friendly, polite and open to conversation as many speak English as well as some French.

The architecture was very influenced by the Moors who came after the Romans and stayed till 1200’s.

Whitewashed houses and churches topped with trims and twirls highlighted in pretty pastel colors.

Beautiful Portuguese tiles in scrolls of bright blues, yellow and orange abundantly decorate many interiors of churches and residences.

The small coastal town of Lagos was hilly with black and white cobblestones streets some decorated with images of sea creatures.

Lagos is infamously known as the port that received and auctioned African slaves tragically destined to journey to the Americas from the slave auction house seen below.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In walking around the steep pathways the air felt heavy and oppressive and for that reason, I did not feel comfortable there.

While walking I spied a furry little bird, that initially looked like a small chick, even trying to enter open doorways.

Looking up and seeing a  seagull with other chicks on top of a tall wall it became obvious that this was a fledging seagull.

I was tempted to rescue but left reluctantly hoping that mama seagull would pluck him back into the nest.

Driving back to Albufeira, I caught sight of a horse and cart full of impoverished Roms traveling the roads like they have always done.  I felt sorry for the horse as well as these maligned people in the hot sun.

The colour of the sand on the beaches varied quite a bit depending on the rocks and corals.

Albufeira had rusty reddish sand whereas further east the sands were almost as sun bleached white as the sands of the Florida  Gulf shore.

The outer most estuary island facing the cold Atlantic called Barrill beach was pretty with white sands dotted with rows of rusted crusty old anchors, giving it an eerie feeling.

It was in the past a small tuna fishing village that was isolated from the mainland by inlets bays connected only with a narrow railway to haul in the tuna catch.

Each little hut served as housing for the fishermen and wives enslaved in poverty and dangerous perils of fishing the turbulent waters of the Atlantic.

Each anchor was said to represent a fishing boat lost at sea.   Once again there was a painful reminder of a fishermen’s life that  left a residual sadness in the air despite the natural beauty of the estuaries and beach.

Tavera was the prettiest of the coastal towns, heavily influenced by Moorish designs.

A boat ride along the coast provided absolutely spectacular views fo the magnificent cliff formations full of sky reaching orangey arches, many caves hidden coves, and beaches that were all breathtaking.

Here are some photos of the most beautiful cliff formations, caves and coves. Yours truly was one caught by the boat’s professional photographer prior to leaving the marina.

Along the way, we were especially thrilled to see wild bottlenose dauphins frolicking around the boat.  There was an adolescent looking one amongst the pod of about 12.

They impressed me as being very aware of the humans oohing and awing over them each time they so gracefully jumped up for air as if they were enjoying all of the attention.

They loved swimming alongside and in front of the boat, making me think they were looking for some fish handouts.

I gave up trying to catch them mid air, preferring to just enjoy the moments spent seeing them in the wild, but did catch a fin or two before they dove back into the deep blue ocean.

The guide said they like to summer off southern Portugal as the area is full of fish to eat.  Each adult requires up to 22 to 24 kilos( of fish a day!

He also said that the area serves as their mating grounds for future generations to come.

Riding along the striking multicoloured cliffs each with visual layers of rocks formed during the Miocene area felt a little unreal to me, knowing a bit about the ancient geological history.

I had similar feeling atop the towering cliffs in Brittany as well.  The whole French coastline down to Galacia in Spain then Portugal once was inland in the continent of Pangea.

Over millions of years ago, the Atlantic rift erupted separating the continent into Europe and North and South America, thereby creating the vast Atlantic ocean in between.

Hefty history of the birthing of our present day continents that are still slowly moving apart.

To my eyes, those craggy pocked cliffs certainly did look like they had literally been broken off in a cataclysmic eruption, with eons of erosion from the constant waves.

All of this left me in a meditative trance-like awe of suspended time travel. I felt like a  humbled and miniscule witness to the vastness of planet Earth, chosen mysteriously to be a land haven for humans and animals we know today.

On the subject of food, I had mixed feelings about the some of the Algarve specialties.

First of all, I was not there long enough to obtain a complete picture, nor did seek out stared chefs restaurants, as the cuisine of the Algarve is rustique and I was looking for authenticity, rather than gastronomic.

Southern Portugal has the bounty of the sea in their front yard, yet I was shocked and dismayed that the locals as seen in two huge supermarkets rely on frozen fish, a lot imported as well!

For example in Quartiera where I had gone in hopes of seeing the famous seafood market, which was closed, I visited a huge supermarket chain, just to see local foods.

I was literally flabbergasted to see deep vats of frozen fish three times as long as the fresh display, along with those large those large prawns all frozen imported from Argentina not only there but in Albufeira too!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cataplana, their famous fish soup was delicious.  With a less concentrated fish stock than a bouillabaisse, or soup aux poissons, it was flavourful, but I afraid it included those frozen prawns.

Another reason that it is special is due to the adorable Cataplana pot.  This is a clam-shaped metal pan with a hinge to enclose the stew in the oven.

I certainly was tempted to buy one, but miraculously tore myself away, thinking I could always order one online.

We ate Cataplana the first night, outside despite the rather chilly night air and the last night too at Rossio, nearby our place, with a superb friendly server seen above.

 

The most local and delicious treat was the simple grilled or roasted octopus, eaten in Santa Luzia, know to be the primary octopus fishing town of Portugal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The best pastries to be had are the Pasteles de Nata, which I did really enjoy! They are great if not too sugared, are freshly baked, have more egg yolks than thickener, are not overcooked and filled in an all butter crisp pastry shell.

Next would be the carob cake with a top layer of figs, very sweet but representative of the area, where carob trees and figs predominate.

I was already aware that Portuguese pastries are very sugar laden, but several cakes, bought at an acclaimed bakery, though pretty, lacked defining flavours other than sugar and egg with fillings overly made with cornstarch.

Of course, I have to take into account that I am very spoiled by the exquisite pastries I find In Paris, as well as the abundance of superb seafood, meats, and vegetables.

I did enjoy the Portuguese wines and looked for wines made with grape varieties only grown there.   I, unfortunately, did not try any from the Algarve.

I missed trying the rabbit stew, but there is always the next time!  Next time will be Lisbon and the Northern coast, more green, rugged and wild.

Each region of Portugal has its own flavour and charm and is a jewel of a country to visit for many various reasons.

For surfers, it is Nazaire where the largest waves in the world crash north of Lisbon.

I definitely look forward to historical hilly Lisbon and the Fado scene, where I suspect I will find more culinary treasures and gastronomic depth.

Southern Portugal was exactly what I was looking for, and I am glad that I went off season to avoid the frenzied crowds like you would do in Southern France.

I enjoy slow traveling to savour each region, just as I do when enjoying my meal with candlelight and wine.

Another blessing that I am grateful for living in Paris, the crossroads of Europe, is the ease of being in another culture and language just hours or less away.

P.S Running really late to get this post published. Sorry for any gross typos or missing words that my tired eyes missed.