PORTUGAL – Where the men are strong, the vowels make no sense, and the weathered women beg for money.

We went to Portugal in April for a vacation.  This blog post is the first of three covering our holiday in The Algarve.

Day 1 – Saturday 23 April 2011 – Recipes for Risotto and Rashes

We arrived in Lisbon, a wet and rainy Lisbon, and proceeded to the Avis counter.  We had to wait a while for a clerk because there were those in front of us with major problems and unseemly attitudes.  When it was our turn, we told the clerk that we would be easy and turned on the charm.  It worked!  We got a free upgrade to a BMW convertible, brand new, with only 11 Kilometers on it. 

It was a manual transmission. Ok, no problem.  We left the airport and luckily found the A2 towards the Algarve region of Portugal.  We stopped at a rest area for sandwiches and soda (one of those sandwiches was a prime suspect in the soon to happen poisoning incident, more on that later)...

Back in the car, ready to head out again, we found that we couldn’t get the car in reverse.  Memories of France flooded over us.  With help form a store clerk, a mechanic, and a German tourist, we were back in business and in reverse.  We got back on to the A2 headed to the Algarve.  It was a pretty drive on the tollway, even though there were parts with torrential downpours of rain; at last we were in The Algarve.

We arrived at the Villa in the village of Quelfes, and met our host, Martin.  The Villa was spectactular - we took about 30 photos of it, but here are a few selections:

Martin offered to have us follow him on back street shortcuts to the grocery store.  The name of the store was Pingo Doce (but will forever be Pingo Dingo to us).

We bought 6 bottles of wine for approximately $10.  Not bad and the wine was tasty.  After unpacking food and luggage, we took a look around the Villa.  It was beautiful and impressive on every level.  Infinity pool, balconies out of every room, views of the ocean, amazing.

We drank wine, made mushroom risotto, danced in the kitchen to the music of Owl City, and had a very nice first night

...Then it happened!

All of a sudden, Debbie noticed that her hands were swollen and red and that she itched all over.  Some allergic reaction to something (suspect 1 – sandwich from the Rest stop; suspect 2 – Guava nectar, suspect 3 – weird Portugese milk, suspect 4 – evil Algarvian insect).  Scratch marks and blotches all over her body.  We don’t know what it was, but we were tired and after a lot of first night partying, it was time to put Day 1 to bed.

Day 2 – 24 April 2011 – Easter with The Weathered Beggar in the most Catholic Country in the world

We went into Olhão (pronounced “Ol-yowng” [sort of]) to explore our host city.  We walked along the promenade by the water and through the streets (the very quiet streets since it was Easter).

 

We ended our morning tour at a local café called Cantaloupe Café.  We order 4 café con lait between us – total €5 (about $7).  We walked along more cobblestone lanes and bought a magnet.  After much perusing for a lunch spot, we picked Casa Das Tostas (pronounced “Casa Das Tostas”).  Debbie had squid with garlic and Jon had steak with mushroom and cream sauce.

The squid was good but Jon’s dish was amazing.  Debbie always wants what Jon orders.

At the café (and again at Casa Das Tostas), this very old Portugese woman was “begging” for money – actually she was selling little tissue packets for one Euro.  She forced the tissues on us and we put them back in her basket.  She took them out again and put them on our table.  We put them back again.  She was very stubborn and even fought back with the store owners.  We showed her though, Debbie snapped a picture of her when she wasn’t looking.

We went back to the Villa and laid by the pool.  The weather was not cooperating and Debbie started feeling worse.  She was running a fever and her hands and feet were extremely swollen and itchy.  She ended up wrapped up in a blanket for the rest of the day and night.  We were leaning towards suspect #4, the evil Algarvian insect which we decided was a Portugese spider of some sort.

Day 3 – 25 April 2011 – Tavira, Troubadors, and the Hospital

After a good night’s sleep, Debbie’s swelling and rash had diminished a bit, so we were ready for our next adventure.  We decided to head to Tavira, the city with the most churches per capita in the world.  Tavira is a small town (probably 1,000 people or so) and it has 37 churches (almost all of them Catholic and named after a Saint – we hoped to find Igrejo Santo Infectica, the church of the patron saint of insect bites and infections, but alas there is no such Saint or church).  With beautiful weather and relative health, we decided to make the journey with the top down on the convertible.  This was not meant to be – if only we had a store clerk, a mechanic, and a German tourist to help us out…so, we pressed on with the top up.

Tavira is East of Olhão, just before Spain.  It is a very pretty town with a river cutting through it.  There are four main bridges that cross the river, but only one is original, the Ponte Romano. It was the only bridge to remain standing after the major earthquake of 1755.  It was originally built by the Romans (hence its name). 

We stopped for 2 coffees near the water’s edge for a break.  The people at the table next to us were Brits, and a little (ok, a lot) pretentious.  The woman was putting down South Londoners, not realizing of course that the two Americans sitting there were actually South Londoners right now.  Not wanting to overhear anymore, we said “toodles” and left.

Driven by a resurgence of itchiness, we found one open Farmacia and bought some cortizone cream for Debbie.  It was a bank holiday in Portugal, Revolution Day, so Debbie had to make do with the cream from Senor Farmacia, who agreed in broken English that it was most likely an insect bite.

On our way back to the car, walking across Ponte Romano, we encountered a local trio of troubadors – one guitarist/singer, one saxophonist, and a “virtuoso” tambourine player.

The link below will take you to their version of Oh Bla Di, Oh Bla Da by the Beatles (you may notice a slight lack of lyrics). 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaiW0xc3Hsw

Continuing to the car, we realized Debbie had overdone it for the day.  Feeling feverish and shaky, it was time to return to the Villa.  Debbie laid down for a rest and Jon drank Portugese wine and cooked a great meal of meatballs (albondigas) and spaghetti, loaded with garlic.  After dinner, Debbie’s condition worsened…severely.

We asked our host, Martin, to lead us to the hospital in Faro (the nearest big city).  Because Debbie’s condition was an obvious allergic reaction, she was seen almost immediately.  She got an injection and 3 medications to ease the swelling and itching.  The Portugese hospital folks were very good and very efficient.  Including a stop at the 24-hour Farmacia in Faro, we were back at the Villa less than two hours after we left. 

Loaded with three medicines labelled completely in Portugese, with dosing and usage instructions we mostly understood, we gave Debbie her first of four full-body skin treatments

Not exactly a day at the spa, but it seemed to help; then the anti-itchy pill and a medicated cream.  Debbie slept really well that night and claims to have had the best personal male nurse in Olhão (even if he was full of Portugese Wine).

He’s Got the Whole World In His Hand…or at least a Pineapple

As a follow-up story to our recent blog about the crazies on the 176, we wanted to make sure that the crazies on the tube rceived their fair share of press as well.  Not to be outdone by the bus travellers, our friends on the London Underground continue to do their best to amuse.  They also make the common person question his/her own grasp on reality.

Upon boarding the Northern Line tube one early evening, a group of six 20-something men jumped on just before the doors closed.  They were singing the familiar tune “He’s Got the Whole World In His Hands”, but with crazy written all over it.  What they were actually singing was “He’s Got a Pineapple On His Head.”  Hearing this lilt, I was compelled to look up and see who these songbirds were.  It appears this was the tail end of a Stag Party and the groom-to-be was assigned the job of babysitting a pineapple for the whole evening.

As is true with most Stag Parties, the 6 men were “pissed” (British for “plowed”, “drunk”, “wasted”, etc.).  The groom-to-be was dancing up and down the Tube carriage with the Pineapple literally on his head.  Every time it fell off his head, they all stopped singing.  Every time he picked it up and placed it back atop his head, the chorus was repeated.  This went on for several stops and finally it was time for me to alight.  Grateful that the song would no longer be in my ears, I headed to the escalator to leave the station.  And guess who showed up just behind me on the escalator?  Yes, it was the Pineapple Tabernacle Choir.  They finally went the other direction at the top of the escalator, but I found myself humming that refrain for the next several hours.  Thank you so much, crazy people.

The Best Cheeseburger in England – Only Six Miles on Foot

On the heels of a great walk in Westerham the weekend before, we decided last weekend to venture a bit farther.  We opted for a walking tour of Sevenoaks, a beautiful hilly area about 14 miles outside of London.  Led by our tour guide Debbie (with the full tour instructions again downloaded from the internet), we headed off to London Bridge to catch the Southeastern train to Sevenoaks.  Working under the false assumption that our Oyster Cards (the card you use everywhere in London for Public Transport fees) would do the trick, we boldly hopped on the train.

Once on the train, we quickly realized that we were “doing it wrong.”  London is separated into 6 travel zones and the Oyster Card works in any of those six zones.  The area of Sevenoaks, much like the number in its name, is in the area that would be Zone 7, if such a zone existed.  We figured this out when the train conductor started down the aisle asking to see everyone’s tickets.  Having none, we had to hold our hats in our hands and play the “tourist card.”  The Conductor, Didier, from France, was quite helpful except that his debit card machine demagnetized our debit card (that’s another story altogether).  Fortunately, Didier was happy to take cash.  Whew, we were not going to end up at Scotland Yard.

At this point, you may be asking yourself “What does any of this have to do with Cheeseburgers?”  We will get to that in due time.  Arriving at Sevenoaks Train Station, we headed out for what would become a walk full of beautiful English countryside, livestock, amazing Dutch beer, flowers, a lesson in speaking English, and yes, the Best Cheeseburger in England.

This first part of the walk took us through the residential area of Sevenoaks, down a walled street

and to a small wooden gate that looked like a gate through which one should not pass.  But, it was on the map and our tour guide made the executive decision that we should go through the gate.  Here’s the gate with a “trespasser” peering out:

What we saw on the other side of the gate can only be explained as breath-taking.  The gate opened to Knole Park, where many of the locals go for walks.  It was huge, full of Fallow Deer that roamed wild, and led to Knole Estate, where a bunch of royals lived at one point and which was and is used for many films that are set in castles.

The first view of Knole Park that we saw after walking through the gate:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9xbTNl001Dg

The deer and a close up on one (we were only about 8 feet away from him!):

Walking further through the park, and up some hilly terrain, we came across more deer that looked like they needed a cheering section.  They were trying to cross the road/path.  Our tour guide cheered them on (and videotaped the crossing, as well as some itching and scratching):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jOOVcKbnJp0

After a royal pee break at the castle (Knole Estate),

we headed onward toward Godden Green.  It was another mile or so before we got out of Knole Park (it is quite large); the park is connected to a golf course and we were able to grab a shot of wild deer and golfers sharing the same hillside (you may have to zoom on this photo to see them all – four golfers and a gaggle of deer):

Some more shots of the landscape (wow, this was a beautiful place):

In Godden Green, we stopped at Buck’s Head

a recommended pub/food stop, according to our tour guide. Heads up! The Cheeseburger is almost here!  Buck’s Head is a great restaurant and pub situated kind of in the middle of nowhere – it stands alone like a beacon in the countryside, welcoming local visitors and touring walkers whose feet need a rest:

The three best things about Buck’s Head: (1) Toby, the cutest puppy in Kent:

(2) A new and very delicious beer, Oranjeboom (pronounced o-ron-ja-boom), from our tour guide’s motherland, The Netherlands, and (3) wait for it…The Best Cheeseburger in England!!!!!  We apologize that there is no picture of the cheeseburgers – we were too busy enjoying them to snap a photo.  Technically, we only had to walk 3 miles to get the cheeseburgers, but our entire journey was 6 miles long.  We would gladly walk those same three miles again for that burger – wow, really amazing.

Tummies full and opting to swap tour guides to Jon, we started out for what was listed as the second leg of the walk (it was a nine mile walk on the map) – it turned out to be our last leg on the walk. More on that later.  Leaving Godden Green, we made our way through several bridleways and walked through farms, apple orchards, and open fields.  The sheep farm was set on a rolling hillside and it looked like we were only a few weeks past birthing season (any fans of Gypsy can now start singing Little Lamb):

Side note – as we were traversing several bridleways, we pondered “What’s a bridleway?”  We knew the answer right away: “It depends on how heavy her dress is.” <we can hear you groaning> Here is an actual Bridleway:

Side note 2 – we also stopped in to visit Barrack and Michelle:

We ended up at Ightham Mote – an amazing looking house that is surrounded by a moat (but they spell it “mote”), and has a massive garden that looks like the perfect spot for a wedding (assuming the bridle doesn’t way too much).

At this point, our original tour guide, who we will now call Blistery McGee, and our new tour guide, who we will call Mr. Achy Foot, needed a rest.  We were 6 miles into our nine mile walk.  Stopping for a quick refreshment, we made the official decision that this walk was over.  We could go no further.  Only God and the British know what there is to see on those last three miles. 

This presented us with our final problem of the day – how the hell do we get back to Sevenoaks Train Station to get home?  We had no car, there are no trains or buses in the middle of the English Countryside, and (as they like to say in England) “we had lost the will to live.”  Thinking smartly, we decided to go to the gift shop at Ightham Mote and inquire about our dilemma.  We had seen on a map that there was a bus once an hour at Ightham Common, but we knew not where the Common was.

Big as life, Jon asks “Where is Ightham Common” (pronounced Ig-thumb-common).  Stifling a scoff, the clerk said that Ightham (pronounced “item”) Common was about 1.2 miles away and reachable only on foot.  No! Not on foot! We only had bloody stumps left below the ankles…Taxi Please!