Two hostels, a one-hour time difference, three cities, a little red car, five good friends and the beautiful region of southern Portugal called Algarve. We had a blast.
Like most of the trips that turn out so well, this one involved little planning and a ton of faith. We'd talked early in the week about a possible trip to Portugal (it always sounds so good and rather simple, you know?), but nothing ever became of the random suggestions. When the weekend edged closer, we decided to further investigate these plans. An overnight bus trip? An early train from Sevilla? Who could go? And where in Portugal would we go? Soon Thursday became Friday (the day we'd have liked to leave) and I began to give up hope.
Then everything worked out.
Cheri, Tessa, Brooklynne, Stephanie and I rented a car early Saturday morning (we named it "chispa", meaning "spark" in Spanish), got a map of Spain and Portugal, and headed off on the four-hour drive to a random city of our choice: LAGOS!
In Lagos, we wandered through the precious little neighborhoods, admiring the beautiful architecture and the amazing mosaics that gave the white walls a hint of color and life. The streets were narrow and made of cobblestone, each leading to another similar street and then eventually to the royal blue ocean, a perfect match to the clear sky.
We stopped occasionally for photo shoots, and then ended up at an adorable cafe, where I ordered cafe com gelato (and got the most beautifully presented and delicious drink I've ever had). One of my favorite moments of the day was when we noticed an elderly Portugese woman standing at her window, observing the people wandering through the streets. We stopped to talk to her (in broken versions of English, Spanish and Portugese); she told us that she'd been living in Lagos for nearly her entire life. I then took her picture. I love it.
That evening, we went to dinner at a cheap little restaurant run by a group of Australians (there were actually quite a few Australians in Lagos) and then used our "monkey bucks" (fake money from the hostel we stayed at) to get cocktails. We crashed pretty early to prepare for a good start to our Sunday.
As it ended up, we crashed even earlier than we had thought. It took the five of us approximately 24 hours before we realized that there's a one-hour time difference between Lagos and Cadiz. There had been sooo many hints and we laughed at our stupidity for quite awhile.
Then off to Portimao! I love getting lost...and I don't even mean this sarcastically. I honestly think it's fun and, even though I've realized that the method of "if I just keep driving in circles I'm bound to come across it" definitely doesn't work, I still think you can get to know a city really well by getting lost.
We drove up to the hostel in Portimao, in the "industrial" neighborhood, and my friends commented that the place looked like the perfect setting for a horror film. To me, the hostel seemed a bit more like an insane asylum. Whatever the case, it was a good, clean place to spend the night and we got free breakfast in the morning before heading to Faro.
We finally returned back to Cadiz, safe and sound, on Monday evening. Portual was totally worth the weekend trip; I'd go back in a heartbeat.
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