The house we’re staying in has a few issues. Okay, it’s situated in a lovely spot with great views and, generally, it’s quiet, but there are regular reminders of what’s not so good. Here’s a sunset photo taken from the porch, to sugar the pill, as it were.
Yesterday I mentioned the dogs. They bark almost constantly. I really don’t think they sleep. It’s okay with all the doors and windows shut but, the moment you step outside, the noise of a thousand hounds hits you. Which is why Mirinda christened the place the Valley of the Hounds. I think Sherlock Holmes would be interested.
Then there’s the shower. It’s beyond not very good. I have reported on showers from all over the world, but this is easily one of the worst. It’s so bad that poor wobbly Gaz has been reduced to sitting in the small bath with a hand held shower head.
The electricity is weird. Sporadically, it dips off then comes back on. It’s not that noticeable during the day but at night, with lights and heater on, it’s quite alarming. Mirinda wanted to know where the candles were on the first night. Just in case. I searched but found none.
And then there’s the sketchy Internet connection. My phone usually has no Internet while my laptop does. Sometimes. Though it does tend to drop out suddenly with no Internet but a wifi connection. It’s quite frustrating. On the first night, I couldn’t actually connect to my blog, which was weird. At least that works now, though I do keep playing catch up when the connection drops out. It’s frustrating.
But, enough moaning about the house, today we went to the beach!
Baleal Beach, to be exact. It’s renowned as the surf capital of this part of Portugal and, if today was anything to go by, it certainly is. As well as numerous surf shops selling boards, wax and other surfing paraphernalia, there were a lot of people out on boards.
Apparently, people have been surfing here since 1965, and it has become the Surfer’s Paradise of Portugal. I found it was not as bogan as the Queensland version, though there were lots of cars to spoil the overall ambience.
There’s a sort of island just across from the car park for the surf beach. It is joined to the mainland by a very narrow road and footpath as it crosses the sand. I would have thought this would have been the perfect opportunity to make the place car free but, no, there are more cars than humans. I even spotted a woman taking photos of the views from inside her car rather than get out and walk around.
Still, it was very pleasant walking around even with the almost constant car dodging.
Mind you, I’m not sure it was as pleasant as my lunch. Ever since arriving in Portugal, I have been searching for grilled sardines. I love grilled sardines. Then, today, at the amazing Prainha Restaurant and Wine Bar, I struck gold.
Bloody delicious. Even the boiled potatoes were lush.
But, back on the little island, we wandered up to the small chapel. It is dedicated to Santo Estêvão but was shut. Utterly. A shame because the inside walls are covered in tiles and, the photo on the information board outside, showed that it looks pretty amazing.
Santo Estêvão translates to Saint Stephen and he was the first Christian Martyr. He was stoned for blasphemy by the Jewish authorities. Apparently, Saul (who became Paul) was in the audience. Steve is very popular in Portugal. I don’t know about Saul/Paul. (Did he change his name because he didn’t want people to think he liked watching a good stoning? If so, he could have done better than just changing the first letter!)
Anyway, the chapel looked lovely from the outside as well so I took a photo of that.
It was probably built in the 16th century and also celebrates Nossa Senhora das Merces. That’s good old Mary, the virgin, Our Lady of Mercies. It seems that she appeared in a dream to someone who said he had to remove all Moors from Portugal because she said so. I guess he succeeded. I always say, there’s nothing like a good old fairytale.
A shame I didn’t get to see the tiles, though.
Just across the inlet from the chapel there’s a rather tricky path that leads to the remains of a French fort, built in 1808 when there was a garrison there. General Thomieres was the man in charge during the Napoleonic Wars that saw Portugal come under French rule for a bit.
Everything I know about the Napoleonic Wars I know from reading Bernard Cornwell’s Sharpe novels, but I don’t remember anything about Thomieres, Baleal or surfing. Which is a shame because Thomieres saw a lot of action during his time under Napoleon. His short but exciting life would make an exciting Netflix series, I reckon.
The remaining fort wall was quite a distance from where I waited for Mirinda, but I tried to take a photo anyway. It also features her leaving the fort while a man in sandals and socks (for the love of the gods, WHY?) is entering it.
A bit further around, there were information boards pointing out the various geological happenings over time, starting 260 million years ago when there was a sea where the sea is now. The salt from the old sea, pushed up the limestone rocks, forming faults along the coast which the current sea now crashes into.
All in all, we thoroughly enjoyed our day at the beach and will surely return to the Portuguese west coast. Mirinda would prefer there to be no sardines or a geology lesson.
