Lagos, Portugal

Today started off with waking up very early to catch a bus to Portugal for the four-day weekend (Fridays I never have class; Monday is Día de Andalucía, so again I have no class). Annie and I set off for Lagos for a day before we move north to Lisbon for the remainder of our mini-vacation. When I wasn’t dozing off during the bus ride, I stared out into the countryside of Portugal. The hills are dotted with little white towns and orange groves. It is so gorgeous here. I can feel myself starting to fall in love with yet another region here—will it ever end?

Right before the bus crossed the border into Portugal, we were halted by the Guardia Civil, Spain’s law enforcement agency charged with police duties among civilian populations on a national level. Several members armed with assault rifles were stopping every vehicle intending to cross the Portuguese-Spanish border. One officer came onto the bus, walked through twice, and then let us pass. A woman sitting near me on the bus told others that this was not at all normal procedure, that they were mostly searching for someone. I tried to find news on the internet about it but was unsuccessful.

Map zoomed in on area including Sevilla, Lagos, and Lisbon.  
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Actually passing through Portugal’s border control was much easier. While boarding the bus this morning, everyone was told that they must put all bags except small purses in the luggage area under the bus so as not to cause a hold-up at the border. This was pretty much unnecessary because, after the bus driver waited about three seconds for Portuguese officials to check out the bus, we were waved on and sped off down the highway once again. I have to say that the EU definitely works in my favor for travel to multiple countries. It is so simple to not have to deal with money exchange and strict customs. The only downside is that I am missing out on some pretty cool stamps in my passport. Shucks.

Once we were in Lagos, we took an inexpensive taxi ride to our hostel, Dina’s Guesthouse. Dina (I’m just assuming she named the place for herself, but maybe not) speaks very little English but provides a cozy, clean place complete with computer, kitchen, and really fast WIFI. The guesthouse is only a couple of rooms, and the door downstairs is unmanned by any staff.

Before setting out for lunch and the beach today, I thought it would be a good idea for Annie to test out opening the door with the key while I stayed inside just in case we did something wrong and could not get in later. Annie was struggling with it, so we traded places. As I attempted to lock and then unlock the door, I somehow ended up locking Annie inside of the hostel. For some reason she couldn’t even open the door from the inside because the handle was stuck, while at the same time I could neither turn the key left nor right no matter how hard I tried. Annie was stuck inside for about five minutes as I continued to fumble with the key. Finally, I figured out that I had to pull the door really hard toward myself while simultaneously fitting the key not quite completely into the lock, then turning it and pushing the door open. It's quite the apparatus. 

With Annie free and the key/lock situation figured out, we set off for some lunch. While dining we met a friendly old British couple that took a picture of the two of us on Annie’s camera. Lagos is heavily geared toward British tourists who flood the place during the holiday season (British vacation time during warm weather, that is), so there are quite a few Brits around. The plus side to this is that English is widely spoken, so we haven’t stumble too much through communication. The English couple chatted with us for a while about our travels here and their travels in the States. The husband mentioned that he had visited an old friend in Massachusetts some years back who had been a GI in the war. That was about as far as our conversation went, though, before the couple moved on with the rest of their day. Now, I’m thinking that “The War” means WWII, and I can feel your disappointment in me already, Dad. Yes, I am absolutely kicking myself that I did not inquire into this further. The man is probably full of some amazing stories, and to be frank, not many from his generation are left to tell their histories. Next time I promise not to be so daft.

After lunch Annie and I hit up a supermarket for yet another poor-students’ breakfast. What I discovered is that supermarkets in Portugal have WAY better selection, especially pertaining to cereal, than those in Spain. I am not sure if this disparity is a localized Lagos thing heavily influenced by the tourism, or if Honey Nut Cheerios really can be found in all parts of the country. Either way I’m super jealous. Corn Flakes are so not cutting it in Sevilla. Then, we laid out on the beach listening to the Atlantic waves and soaking up some sun. It was barely warm enough to do so, but that didn’t stop me from being a beach bum in February. 

When the breeze really picked up, we decided to trek along the cliffs above the beaches in Lagos. When we'd had our fill of sand and stone, we headed back to the guesthouse before grabbing dinner at a local family restaurant named Os Lambertos. We split a tray of garlic-baked shrimp and a dish of Portuguese steak, both of which were insanely delicious. Topped off with some vinho verde, characteristic Portuguese white wine, it was the perfect meal to end our day.

Tomorrow we set off for Lisbon, but probably not before some café and pastry. I’ve been running during the week, and I walk everywhere, but the weekends are sort of anything-goes as far as trying local cuisine is concerned. You’ll be able to view my new reality TV show on TLC, The 900-Pound Study Abroad Student, early this June.