A Postcard From Portugal

Not much of a sunset but you get the idea

How can it have taken me until 2015 to visit to mainland Portugal? And how can it have taken me 3 months to review the photos I took while there? Well I have now and here are some impressions from the Algarve…

Despite this being my first visit I experience a sense of loss – things have clearly changed under the onslaught of tourism and often for the worse. As is so often the case the indigenous attractions that first drew in the tourists have eventually been eroded or eradicated by that same rise in popularity.

Simple does it
Simple does it

The parade of fisherman’s restaurants that I’m told used to line the beach front at Albufeira have gone, replaced by hotel development. That fresh regional cooking for which the region is famed has lost ground to full English breakfasts, chips, nasty pasta or “tourist friendly” versions of specialities. You can still get your hands on an authentic Cataplana – it’s just harder.

In need of some love
In need of some love

Yet there remain some echoes of a less exploited time. Ornate period buildings with their balconies, terracotta roofs and gothic ironwork crumble and rust but may yet be rescued. Old people who have lived through it all walk from the market miles along upgraded roads lugging their shopping through the heat of the sun.

Traffic delay due to sheep
Traffic delay due to sheep

A farmer herds his sheep past our holiday apartment each morning into an arid field now surrounded by holiday rentals. I’m doing that thing again – mourning the loss of something I never knew.

Half of Cliff’s Mistletoe & Wine empire
Half of Cliff’s Mistletoe & Wine empire

There’s an undeniable British stamp upon these lands. First we came for your weather then we came for your golf. Now, the ultimate insult, we have left Cliff Richard in your custodianship. His face appears everywhere due to his association with wine. You can even book to go on a coach trip to see Cliff’s vineyard although the chances are that he’s in Barbados for tax purposes. What must people think…


Contrary to expectations it’s the journey inland that captures my imagination. A road trip takes me through villages and a landscape that time has been kinder to. The small town of Loules has a lot going for it. Pretty streets lined with cafes and shops with not a chain or national brand in sight. The covered market provides a great place to people-watch.

The latest gossip
The latest gossip

How long has the man been repairing shoes and umbrellas? From his corner pitch he sees all and probability knows all. These are valuable people in any community.

Mr Fixit
Mr Fixit

Stall holders are predominantly staffed by tactile mum-types who want to have a chat and possibly sell something if they get around to it. We buy some unripe Olives for preserving and the sweet elderly stall holders are alarmed in case we intended to eat them now. So follows a 5 minute exchange of advice culminating in the sharing of a family recipe.

Chat first, business later
Chat first, business later

Time has a different meaning here. Every turn represents a chance to bump into a neighbour and talk at length about something. If that conversation happens to be outside then there’s every chance smoking will be involved. Everybody seems to smoke. They must teach it in schools.

A little piece of heaven
A little piece of heaven

Onto the attractive town of Silves, bordered by a river and dominated by its castle. This would make a great place in which to stay longer and explore. Cobbled streets wind their way to the summit, the cool shade sporadically broken where the sun finds a way to dazzle off the whitewashed walls. A blackbird sings sweetly from a postage stamp rooftop terrace garden somewhere above me. I don’t want to burst this bubble.

Sancho 1st: Thou shalt not pass! Unless thou payest 7.50e for a ticket
Sancho 1st: Thou shalt not pass! Unless thou payest 7.50e for a ticket

The towering figure of Sancho 1st is itself dwarfed by the imposing bulk of Moorish fortifications at the summit of the citadel. Given more time I would like to explore further and delve the complicated history of the castle and its surrounds.

Cork tree post-harvest
Cork tree post-harvest

The N266 road north from Silves winds and ascends through dense forest dotted with the occasional settlement. This is cork country and partially denuded trunks by the side of the road are a symptom of a carefully managed industry that represents half of the worlds annual production. I learn that cork can only be harvested from a tree after 25 years and then at 10 year intervals if the tree is to continue to thrive, so sensitive custodianship is intrinsic to the survival of this industry.

Enough cork to bottle a vineyard
Enough cork to bottle a vineyard

After a brief visit to the altitudinous Monchique (900m above sea level) my route heads west through a more arable landscape. I see people working patches of land I am curious to know what they are growing in this climate. Whatever it is must be for personal consumption as there are no large agricultural plots within sight.

Ancient graffiti
Ancient graffiti

Next stop Aljezur – another castle topped settlement, smaller than Silves but similarly occupied by Romans, Moors, Berbers and more. Today’s occupiers are likely to be upmarket holiday makers visiting nearby beaches, riding horses, walking or attending the cookery school.
(thinks: hmmm, this area would be good for walking…)

View from the castle
View from the castle

Views from the castle are tremendous and the strategic military significance of this site is obvious. Once again on my travels I’m left with the bittersweet impression that historical treasures are being somewhat under-sold. The downside is the lack of information to inform and inspire the visitor, while the upside tends to be quieter and less disturbed remains.

It feels like the end of the world
It feels like the end of the world

And so to the End Of The World. In former times Cape St Vincent was considered such as the engorged sun set into a sea beyond which there was no more land. People still visit for the spectacular sunsets, including me. As with any show there are the hotdog stalls and tacky souvenir outlets…

One last flower, rocks, a lighthouse, sea - then what?
One last flower, rocks, a lighthouse, sea – then what?

…but that shouldn’t take away from the raw beauty of this place. A moonscape of jagged rock ends abruptly with 70m cliffs, before … nothing.

…or is there more?
…or is there more?

Sorry, that was perhaps needlessly dramatic. There is the vastness of an ocean that still today leaves me wondering if there is anything beyond.

Not much of a sunset but you get the idea
Not much of a sunset but you get the idea

I watch waves batter the cliffs as the sun recedes. Seagulls somehow casually ride the fierce gusts of wind that catch me off guard. The savage beauty of this barren outpost has been well worth the visit despite a cloud obscured sunset.


In the spirit of the most memorable travels it is the unexpected that has been most rewarding. I wouldn’t return for the beaches or go-to resorts but I have seen enough of the hinterland to wonder what else might be discovered…

World Cup – Tuesday 29th June

Misery has a name – Alan Green

We are down to the final eight now. The match schedule is thinning out and any respite is drowned out by the sound of punditry. At least we might have time to cheer ourselves up between Alan Green commentaries…

Results – Tuesday 29th June

  Second
Round
(pens) Paraguay 0 – 0 Japan
    Spain 1 – 0 Portugal



Duncan’s Dive Watch – Spain vs Portugal

 Who hasn’t been looking forward to this competition between fierce Iberian neighbours Portugal and Spain! It promised to be a feast of falling but did it live up to it’s billing? Here are the highlights…

16 minutes: After a slow start we have our first dive – and who else could it be but Ronaldo? He raids down the right, cuts in between two players and it’s a classic legs together full length dive. No marks awarded by the referee who waves play on. I think that lacked a little commitment.

 34 minutes: Ronaldo again. Left flank run across the halfway line. He over-runs the ball and a defender gets there first. Ronaldo launches into the defender and executes a passable mid-air half twist culminating in a traditional arse landing, garnished with quizzical hands in the air. Still no marks from the referee, which seems a little harsh.

49 minutes: Man muppet Carlos Puyol – the sort of character parents tell their kids lives under a bridge – gets tickled from behind and slumps to the ground wearing the expression of a slain samurai. It’s disappointing fare with no technical merit and a lack of expressive arm movement so once again no points.

 57 minutes: David Villa plays a one two with Iniesta on the edge of the Portugal box. He’s not going to make the return ball and pulls off the imaginary trip with some aplomb. The ref waves away his appeals but I’m giving him 3 out of 10 for fake boyish innocence. “What me – diving?!”

74 minutes: Controversy! Substitute Pedro Mendes thinks he has pulled off a majestic fouled-from-behind back flip with an exquisite double leg slide. It’s a high scoring move, but what’s this? The referee actually awards it as a genuine foul! What a shame, that would have been a lovely dive.

 84 minutes: It’s Ronaldo again – you can’t keep a good man up. This time it’s an innocuous mid-air collision with Capdevila which Ronaldo free-styles into an awkward landing. It’s desperate stuff now with just 5 minutes left and once again there’s nothing given

88 minutes: The stroke of genius we have been waiting for Capdevila brilliantly pulls off a text book ghost slap in the box. He rolls around holding his head and Costa is shown a red card! Video replays confirm there was no contact – it’s a brilliant deception and that’s a full 10 to the Spaniard!

The whistle blows and it’s a Spanish victory despite Ronaldo’s bravest efforts. The king of collapso has his head in his hands and knows he will have to work hard on the training pitch to work on those polished cons he is famous for.

View from the sofa
You may think from my (seemingly) endless reportage of the World Cup that I catch all the games live on TV. Alas, my up-tight employers weren’t amused when I asked if I could spend a month at home on full pay watching every match live. I thought I was being reasonable as I had intended to go to South Africa and pass on my costs as expenses, but it seems you can’t get away with anything nowadays.

Anyway, the upshot of my workplace incarceration is that I have followed a fair few matches on Radio 5 (you see the BBC let their employees go to the world cup on full pay and expenses) while commuting. One of their principal commentators is Alan Green and if you have heard him you will probably know what I am about to say.

There can never have been such a negative, permanently dissatisfied football commentator in broadcasting history. He can suck the joy out of any occassion. The man must be a rain god because I can only imagine he walks under a continuous heavy black cloud of negative energy.

To repeat myself let’s just remember – he is paid to go to sunny South Africa and attend the worlds biggest sporting event. All he has to do is talk for a couple of hours, and yet even this can’t bring any light into Mr Green’s dark and burdensome life. He watches every game with disdain picking fault with everything he beholds. The games are all unremittingly dreadful and the players on show were born under a bad sign because they can do no right. The officials are always a disgrace and woe betide anything distracting him off the pitch because whatever it is will be a sham.

I can imagine his response to accusations of misery. “I’m not here to dress things up, I tell it like it is“. Let me put if to you Mr Green, there have been a few tense matches with little beauty on show but I have been listening to your commentaries for years and they are ALL THE BLOODY SAME. Driving home today you described Paraguay vs Japan as if it were some personal slight upon your unworldy standards. Well I got home and caught the end of the game and what I saw was an admittedly stuttering affair with plenty of honesty, grit and no shortage of half chances. It had an enjoyable tension that real football fans would recognise. When the stakes are high that’s what you get – if it makes you so unhappy pack in your job.

And on the offchance that you have children I would like to offer them my support and say that they must cast off the burdens of your impossible expectations and realise that nothing they could ever do would be good enough to warrant fatherly praise. It’s just your way.