Crystal clear waters, the finest of sand, giant sedimentary rock formations, blue skies, warm sunny days and chilly, windy nights.
Southern Portugal or Coastal Victoria? YOU DECIDE.
We pulled into Albufeira, in the Algarve region of Portugal, shortly after New Years. The grand Christmas/New Years trip was winding down to its last leg, and we were treading that fine line beween exhaustion and exhilaration.
I typically don’t take “beach holidays” when I travel overseas because - well, coming from Australia - if I have to fly anywhere between 10 to 24 hours to reach a beach, it better be a pretty fucking good beach.
But 5 months away from home had me missing the sound of waves crashing against the shore. And luckily, in Albufeira, our apartment was situated right on a quiet stretch of the beach, which we had mostly to ourselves. For a week, we read novels, soaked in the sun, ate Portuguese tarts by the dozen, and took day trips in the surrounding areas.
It occurred to me that I was ever so far from home, and yet everything there, the sights, the sounds and the smell of the ocean reminded me of home, of having been here too many times before.
Welcome intruder on “our” beach.
Unwelcome intruder on our beach!
Portugal is like the hilliest country ever. Every town and city we visited involved a lot of climbing and descending.
I WISH MY LEGS WERE THIS LONG (and don’t look like sponge fingers).
Sunsetting over Albufeira.
The kitty/mini tiger I made friends with walking back to the apartment one evening.
Albufeira at sunset.
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