faro

why faro? 'cos it was the cheapest flight in the general direction of spain, i.e. south. in spanish, faro means lighthouse. i had always thought it was the same in portuguese seeing as how these two languages are similar, never ever being troubled by the fact that there is no lighthouse here. tiago put me right... "it means the sense of smell", he said. "ah yes", i replied, thoroughly unenlightened.

the bus pulled up outside the bus terminal in faro, and i went inside. i had to text my host when i got here but of course the battery in the mobile had died (cos of all those pics done at stonehenge and after). i asked the woman at the ticket office and without hestitation, she took it and plugged it into a socket. i waited about 5 minutes and then retrieved the phone, sent the message and waited. and waited. and waited some more. maybe my english sim wasn't up to sending texts in portugal cos it hadn't sent a 'delivered' text. i asked the woman again and then the security guy if i could use their phone but no luck. there was an african guy buying a ticket and after he was done, i approached him. "hablas ingles?" "no". ok, i´ll try in my rusty spanish. i conveyed that my phone was not working and i had to contact a friend to let them know i had arrived and can i please use his phone. "si, claro", he said. he phoned the number i gave but  nothing but an automated response. he tried again but the same. maybe the number is wrong. number is good, he said, but maybe the phone at the other end is switched off. hmm. would marta leave her phone switched off knowing that i was going to send a message that evening? i thanked him and sat and waited, there was nothing else to do.

i was just about to leave to find somewhere to crash for the night when a blond haired girl comes up to me. "are you drumroots", she asked. "marta...?" "no, i'm gerda, marta asked me to look for you. it seems she gave you the wrong number by e-mail". i was relieved not to be roughing it that night and gerda escorted me to marta's place, where we met her as she was on her way out for some beers. marta was all apologetic but i said that these things happen. there was a little party happening and i got introduced to everyone, including fi , the only portuguese, one of marta's flatmates. neil was scottish evs volunteer in porto, down in faro on holiday. and bernardo, italian, was befriended by fi that day and dragged back. and one other hc guest, karin from germany. and what with marta and gerda being lithuanian, it was a very international affair.

hc? hospitality club. travelling has changed a lot with the introduction of internet and mobile phones. first time i was in faro, i had crashed near the tracks overlooking the rio formosa 'delta'. this time, i had logged onto the hc website a week before and looked up likely hosts in faro and found marta. one e-mail later and she had agreed to host me. almost three years and all the hosts who had hosted me in all those different countries have been really great people. i could write a book on this alone....

fi could play the transverse flute and i had my drum and we both needed to get some money in, so we agreed to become a busking duo. we tried to hitch to tavira but fi got totally annoyed after 30 minutes of failing to get a ride and we took the train. "last time i got a lift in 5 minutes", she said. "yeah this time you were hitching with a dodgy looking al-qaida terrorist!", i joked. we busked for the people dining and drinking at the restaurant terraces, a captive audience. after two 'numbers', i got fi to go round with the hat. she was nervous but i explained that people would be more receptive to a woman than aforementioned dodgy-looking guy. we made about ten euros or so and fi took us straight to another restaurant where we got two plates of fried pork filets with an fried egg on top with french fries and rice. and a beer for her. for a special price of all the busking money we had just made.

a couple more terraces after a short siesta on the bridge, enough for the train home and some. i would have busked some more but even from this first experience, i got the feeling that fi was not that motivated with working too hard and would moan a lot. i remembered what marta had told me about her impressions of the portuguese and it seemed that fi was doing her best to fit that stereotype.

that night, karin gave a tango workshop at the 'youth centre'. 5 guys and 5 girls going through the basics of tango. after a lot of partner swapping, i finally teamed up with marta and we had a good laugh whilst trying not to step on her toes too much. and then the session in the 'football club san joaoese' to catch the champions league game. and a good laugh after watching candid camera clips. wow, just really evil practical jokes to pull on unsuspecting people! just my cup of tea!

fi and i also did a busking stint in montegardo near the spanish border. we found neil that morning wanting to go to the beach in faro and got him to come with us to montegardo. just as well cos he paid for the train tickets there. again fi was not very motivated and again we didn't make much, enough to pay neil back and to catch the train to casels, where we had been inivited to attend the opening of a bar by the coast at fabrica. rita's dad from holland was our host. rita drove us to tavira and then onto faro, where via a couple of bars, fi got drunk and in a strop. i decided to go back to the flat where fortunately tiago, the other flatmate, was still up to let me in. i told him and margherita, the mother of his son, what had happened. they invited me to go with them the next day to faro for a day out at the home of their friend bruno. 

faro island is not really an island but a sand-spit on the outer edge of the delta. it turned out that bruno's home was on the beach itself, the last line of dwellings before the sea, not 50 metres away. the swell was up and the surfers took advantage. margherita and i ("the boys don't like this stuff") had a traditional algarve lunch of cockles with fried garlic and onions and coriander, and polenta. and later in the evening, a barbecue dinner when bruno's mum and dad and his brother and family turned up. midi from france came and played his guitar and with tiago on his drum too, we did an impromtu jam. when we got back, the others were watching a film about che.

next day and time to leave, the whole day busking to get the fare for seville. i said i would hitch but the memories of the last time i had hitched this route made me decide that another 2 days melting in the baking hot sun waiting hours and hours for a lift was not worth the pain. i returned to the flat for the night, the guys were just tucking into the snails they had picked that day and invited me to try some. which i did. was ok, just needed more garlic and butter! i was up early to catch the bus to seville, waking marta to give her a big hug goodbye.

the bus stopped at the border for the portuguese border police to check passports. i had thought that this was no longer necessary (and for the people driving through in cars it wasn't needed) given that both spain and portugal were eu members. arriving at the bus station, i gave clara a text to say i had arrived and she texted me back to say that she would come in 20 minutes. welcome back to spain and seville.