It’s almost twenty-seven years since we paid our one and only previous visit to the Algarve. Laura wasn’t quite three. Gulp! We wonder if it’s as we remember.
This part Naturist site near Salema is perfectly positioned. With today’s temperature not destined to pass the twenty mark we tog up and take Scoot out for a breath of fresh air. And mighty fresh it is. Four layers on and just about comfortable. The clearing skies not telling the whole story. Wind chill factor at over 30mph takes the edge off the beautiful scenery we scoot through.
Each little coastal town with it’s own sheltered cove, stunning cliffs and golden sands magnetically attracts the tourists – mostly Brits. A few kilometres out from Salema we stop to check Maps. A couple of walking couples are in search of the nearest supermarket. They approach expecting us to be local. “Excuse us. Can yee tell us weor the nearest supermarket is?” [why would they think a local Portuguese would understand] – the response “why aye man!” came as somewhat of a shock. But as it happened “Ah divvent knaa” left them still searching.
Salema, Burgau and Luz our first three bunny hops. The latter, no more than a conglomeration of cove facing eateries and apartments. Brimming with UK rellies. All doomed to spend the day draining their pockets. Not one on the beach. We don’t stay long enough to add to their number. Doesn’t feel like we’re ‘abroad’.
Next port of call is Lagos. This is better. This is what we remember.
Lagos town has more of an authentic vibe. We like it. Mary-Ann is wearing her hat ‘out’ for the first time. Adds to the authentic ambiance. We enter the main square. A surprising surprise awaits. Can you guess? . . . ?
A very short potter (about) in Portimao ends our coastal day out.