Mon 2 Nov - Gramacho R&R Day 4
Today I was taken to the European peninsula's most westerly point. The cape is called Cabo de São Vincente, Cape St Vincent, and is some 75km west of Ulf and Åsa's home, close to the town of Sagres, Algarve, Portugal.
Farol in Portuguese means lighthouse and that was our first stop for the day. Ulf was driving and Åsa and I came along for the ride.
The lighthouse and the area immediately around it was closed to the public but Cabo de São Vincente was still a very interesting and barren place.
Practice your Portuguese here.
The land on both sides around the lighthouse descended steeply into the water...
A familiar word and figure appeared on a sign at Cabo de São Vincente.
No, this is not part of Camino de Santiago de Compostela. GR11 instead is one of the European long distance walks, 840km long from here to Bay of Biscay.
As the sign notes, you can walk parts of it. I'm sure that it would be pretty spectacular walking up the coast.
The road leading into Cabo de São Vincente. There were quite a few tourists there and trailers were you could buy food and drinks but who can blame them. It was seriously rugged there.
Cabo de São Vincente we moved onto Fortaleza de Sagres, at the next eastern point, Cape Sagres. Here we are looking back at Cabo de São Vincente.
Only this chapel, although likely built later, and a large circle on the ground survive from Henry's days. A massive earthquake in 1755 destroyed it all as well as devestated Lisbon.
Cabo de São Vincente was the end of the old world and Sagres was the beginning of a new one.
Today, you can pay a 3€ fee to get inside the compound and stroll around its edges, trying not to be blown away by the strong winds at this very exposed place.
A close up of the sign makes it even more intriguing.
I half expected a blowhole effect, of water coming up through the grid like a geyser right of a sudden. Of course that didn't happen but it was a strange experience.
Today was another school day and the lecture would commence in less than 3 hours. Nothing like leaving things to the very end. Åsa, of course, had done her homework long ago.
After dinner, we drove to Portimão for Ulf and Åsa's Portuguese language class across this basketball court and behind the plane in the light yellow building.
My impression of Portimão was poor, probably at least partly because of the weather, but I found the town quite unattractive. Rio Arade was brown.
Of course, I scooped out whatever was left when both Ulf and Åsa were full. The feed was far too delicious to let go.
And as we got home, Ulf insisted that I tried another local delicacy. This spirit called Macieira.
Another gourmet eating day in Portugal. Tomorrow I will be on my own again and the food standard is bound to drop.