Where's Bertie? He's at a commercial Aire in Albufeira. It costs €9 per day to stay here, including the usual services plus (unusable) wifi, electric and showers. Exact location: 37.09881, -8.24279.
Weather: Wall-to-wall sunshine and warm.
To our surprise, last night wasn't overly disturbed by planes or trains. Early buses were more of an issue, together with the group of chaps who had a good long chat before they slammed all of the doors of their cars at least three times over, at 2.30am. Even so, we woke refreshed, ready for a day which was to include an activity that may be considered a little out of character.
Our run, to start the day, was completely in character. The rough cobbles were a little unpleasant and my loop around some city streets at rush hour was a mistake, but otherwise it was a nice route, mainly along the waterside and in perfect weather for it. When I say 'perfect weather', there wasn't a cloud in the sky and we were both aglow in short sleeved t-shirts. The locals we saw out running at the same time were all wearing at least jumpers and in a couple of cases padded insulated jackets.
Over breakfast I researched laundries and found there was one a 5-minute walk away. Our laundry mountain is getting out of hand, so I really should have gone and made use of it ... but once again, I deferred the task for another day. Instead, we headed off across town for a spot of retail therapy.
Now, this is not generally like us. With limited exceptions, neither of us considers shopping to be a leisure activity. One of the exceptions to this rule is that we do have a bit of a weakness for a Decathlon store. Alas, the Faro branch didn't have any chairs, which was the main thing we were after, but we did leave with a few purchases, including a set of cheap walking poles to do service as dog-fending-off devices (we do, of course, already own walking poles*. They're sitting at home right next to the outside chairs and table, which were also missed when packing for this trip).
Next to Decathlon was a retail area, where we probably could have spent another while, but the day was marching on, so we made do with a quick trip to the massive hypermarket to pick up a couple of items that we couldn't find in smaller supermarkets.
Back in Bertie decision time had been reached: where to go next. The conclusion: Albufeira. I knew this place was one of the main resorts along the Algarve coast, but somehow I didn't picture it to be this big, or this 'resorty'.
I didn't want to write the place off just on first impressions as we drove in, so to the commercial Aire we came, where we were lucky(?!) enough to get a slot.
The view through Bertie's windscreen. Out of shot, the van on our right is less than 2 metres away and on our left less than 3. They're not the most generously sized spaces we've ever come across.
I suppose in the context of somewhere safe, secure and legal to spend the night, it's tolerable, and it's no worse than car parks we've slept in elsewhere. In the context of somewhere to spend weeks or months, I personally cannot understand the appeal (in the manner of 'stuff of nightmares'). But, it's often said that the world would be a dull place if we were all the same, and that's how the Brit parked immediately in front of Bertie was in reception paying for another month, whilst Mick was there paying for our two nights.
The town beach
A bit of sculpture, down by the beach
After a very late lunch, enough light and warmth remained in the day for us to walk the 1.5km down to the beach and around that area of the town. It was an outing that cemented the feeling that this town is not the sort of place we're looking for on our travels. However, we're paid up for two nights, so this is where we will stay.
(*I can understand how the chairs and table were forgotten, as they're not on our packing checklist. However, the walking poles are. The possibilities for their omission are: 1) they are in fact in Bertie's garage and we've just not looked hard enough; 2) we were so sure that we'd packed them that we erroneously ticked them off; or 3) we made a positive decision not to bring them - this is possible, but if true, neither of us has any recollection.)
Weather: Wall-to-wall sunshine and warm.
To our surprise, last night wasn't overly disturbed by planes or trains. Early buses were more of an issue, together with the group of chaps who had a good long chat before they slammed all of the doors of their cars at least three times over, at 2.30am. Even so, we woke refreshed, ready for a day which was to include an activity that may be considered a little out of character.
Our run, to start the day, was completely in character. The rough cobbles were a little unpleasant and my loop around some city streets at rush hour was a mistake, but otherwise it was a nice route, mainly along the waterside and in perfect weather for it. When I say 'perfect weather', there wasn't a cloud in the sky and we were both aglow in short sleeved t-shirts. The locals we saw out running at the same time were all wearing at least jumpers and in a couple of cases padded insulated jackets.
Over breakfast I researched laundries and found there was one a 5-minute walk away. Our laundry mountain is getting out of hand, so I really should have gone and made use of it ... but once again, I deferred the task for another day. Instead, we headed off across town for a spot of retail therapy.
Now, this is not generally like us. With limited exceptions, neither of us considers shopping to be a leisure activity. One of the exceptions to this rule is that we do have a bit of a weakness for a Decathlon store. Alas, the Faro branch didn't have any chairs, which was the main thing we were after, but we did leave with a few purchases, including a set of cheap walking poles to do service as dog-fending-off devices (we do, of course, already own walking poles*. They're sitting at home right next to the outside chairs and table, which were also missed when packing for this trip).
Next to Decathlon was a retail area, where we probably could have spent another while, but the day was marching on, so we made do with a quick trip to the massive hypermarket to pick up a couple of items that we couldn't find in smaller supermarkets.
Back in Bertie decision time had been reached: where to go next. The conclusion: Albufeira. I knew this place was one of the main resorts along the Algarve coast, but somehow I didn't picture it to be this big, or this 'resorty'.
I didn't want to write the place off just on first impressions as we drove in, so to the commercial Aire we came, where we were lucky(?!) enough to get a slot.
I suppose in the context of somewhere safe, secure and legal to spend the night, it's tolerable, and it's no worse than car parks we've slept in elsewhere. In the context of somewhere to spend weeks or months, I personally cannot understand the appeal (in the manner of 'stuff of nightmares'). But, it's often said that the world would be a dull place if we were all the same, and that's how the Brit parked immediately in front of Bertie was in reception paying for another month, whilst Mick was there paying for our two nights.
After a very late lunch, enough light and warmth remained in the day for us to walk the 1.5km down to the beach and around that area of the town. It was an outing that cemented the feeling that this town is not the sort of place we're looking for on our travels. However, we're paid up for two nights, so this is where we will stay.
(*I can understand how the chairs and table were forgotten, as they're not on our packing checklist. However, the walking poles are. The possibilities for their omission are: 1) they are in fact in Bertie's garage and we've just not looked hard enough; 2) we were so sure that we'd packed them that we erroneously ticked them off; or 3) we made a positive decision not to bring them - this is possible, but if true, neither of us has any recollection.)
Like our UK lorry parks. All squashed in to maximum capacity.
ReplyDeleteI parked in a town car park a few years ago which turned into an informal lorry park as the afternoon drew into evening. As it filled up, I shuffled over a little to let one final lorry squeeze in next to me. Never have I felt so reassured, in such a town location, that I was perfectly safe and wasn't going to suffer boy racers or loud yoofs. Of course, the downside was that I knew I would be woken early, but I was on a summer hill-bagging trip, so I could live with an early start.
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