A Quick Trip to London

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When I first came to Europe three years ago, London was never high on my list and it wasn’t even on it for some time. However with the impending realization that I’ll be leaving Europe at the end of this school year, I began to think that I needed to go, to experience it and to see it. Maybe it goes back to my colonial routes of rejecting the crown, or maybe because I was annoyed that in the English world of Spain everything is British, from the accent and grammar they speak, to the flags and decorations they have around the classroom, or perhaps I was drawn more to different cities like Prague, Budapest and Vienna. Whatever the case was, I have friends in London and I wanted to go while they were still there. A week and a half ago we had a puente/long weekend because of the Féria, so I left for London on Thursday and came back to Jerez on Sunday.

I was really impressed by London, but even more so by the people.  Every interaction I had, whether it was asking for help in the underground, or asking for directions above ground, talking to people on the train, to the staff in a restaurant/bar or to the workers on the ferry, was positive.  It’s left me wondering if everybody in London is that nice or maybe I caught the right people in the right moment of their day.

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It is the people that make up a city, but without buildings and spaces their would be no city, and the buildings and spaces of London really impressed me. It’s a beautiful city that feels as if it’s five cities in one, different buildings juxtapose each other one after the other. Walking along the bank of the Thames you can find the Neo-gothical Big Ben, across the modern London Eye, further along there are various bridges all ranging in different styles from the modern millennium bridge to the iconic gothic revival Tower Bridge; across from the tower bridge on one side of the Thames is the castle of London flanked by skyscrapers; the shard, the walkie-talkie and the gherkin. Each is a unique, individual building that represent the every changing architectural landscape of London.

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I enjoy traveling alone, but having the opportunity to visit friends is also something I enjoy. I stayed with my friend Aoife, who is the best friend of my friend Niamh, who was one of my roommates in Costa Rica and who I spent Christmas with in Ireland three years ago. My other friend is Mike, a friend from Delaware who I did habitat for humanity with spring break sophomore year. He’s living in London and when he took a trip to Andalusia last year he stopped by Jerez and we had lunch together. Aoife was a great host and luckily I was able to combine those two worlds. Friday night Aoife, a friend of hers and me had plans to eat at a steak restaurant, called Flat Iron; 10£ for an amzing steak. It’s the only dish on their menu. It’s located  in the Williamsburg of London, coincidentally right around the block from where Mike lives, so we put our names down and then met with him at his place for about an hour and a half. Once your number is called you have 15 minutes to get there or they give your seat up. It was amazing, one of the best meals in recent memory and it was affordable, cheap for a city like London (but still a lot more than what I’d pay in Jerez). After dinner we met up with Mike and his friends and we went to a divey, but awesome Jazz bar. Hearing something other than live Flamenco Music was nice for a change.

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Saturday we went to Greenwich.  I realized while walking around the Royal Navy College that I had learned about it in one of my architecture classes. While traveling I often stumble upon something that I’ve learned about, not knowing it is where I am and every time a wave of excitement passes over me.  Also in Greenwich is the famous Cutty Sark ship, which up until that point I knew only as a cheap whisky in Spain. I had no idea it was an actual ship.  We also stopped by a cute little craft market with food trucks. For lunch I ate Ethiopian food for the first time. We also went to the oldest pub in Greenwich and one of the oldest in London, the Plume of Feathers. It was established in 1691 and is just outside the touristy part of the city, it’s cozy and friendly, the perfect place to hang out in winter. It was also the first time I saw a pump tap, I don’t know if that’s the proper term, but it was like a lever that the bartender had to pull toward her a few times to fill up the pint. Later that day, Mike and his girlfriend and a friend of Aoife came over to her place and Aoife as the gracious host made a delicious dinner. We hung out and played a board game, ending my time in London.

One thing I was extremely disappointed about was the Natural History Museum. People kept telling me how great it is, how you need to go and even one of the Night at the Museums was filmed there. I expected a lot and it didn’t live up to it. The building is beautiful and when you go inside there’s a glowing orb that you take an escalator through, but that’s where the excitement ends. The rooms were cramped and to me seemed poorly designed, the exhibitions were outdated and have probably been there since the museum opened, all the interactive displays seemed as if they were going to fall apart in need of a new coat of paint, and the displays were dirty and dusty. I remember looking at one of the worlds largest cut diamonds and being amazed at the large smudge over it. The dinosaur skeletons were awesome, but the room they were in didn’t allow you to appreciate them. Maybe I’m just not used to history museums.

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I was however impressed by the Victoria and Albert which is right across from the Natural History museum and the Saatchi Gallery, which, with the exhibitions they had, might be one of the best galleries I’ve ever visited. One of the rooms, about the size of a 5 lane gym swimming pool had projections on each of its walls of  thousands of  YouTube videos of people explaining something simultaneously playing. From afar the wall looked like a bunch of little boxes of color, but as you got closer you can see the people’s faces and when you’re right in front of it you can focus on one individual box or person. At the same time the sound of all those videos together was constantly playing in the background creating a very unique feeling as if you’re in a crowd. In the gallery my favorite pieces were created by Daniel Rozin. He had two interactive works that moved according to your position in front of it. They were really fun and I spent 20 or 30 minutes interacting with them.  If you go, make sure to not confuse the Saatchi & Saatchi with the Saatchi Gallery, they’re two distinct places.

There’s Blue and Green to be found in Morocco

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A visit to Morocco isn’t complete without visiting the blue city of Chefchauoen.  Chauoen as the locals call it is located in the north of Morocco and it is situated in the Riff Mountains.  Legend has it that it used to be white, but during the summer months nobody could see because of the glare, so they painted it blue and every year since then the women of the city maintain its apperance.  Visiting Chauoen was like going on vacation, nobody in the streets bothered you, nobody hassled you and you were free to take pictures of whatever you want. As touristy as it is, it’s an anomaly, the black sheep of Morocco where the shop keepers have somehow made a pact to not bother tourists.  The few to break this promise are the drug dealers scattered throughout the city, hiding in dark alleyways.  It’s as if their perceived notion of where a drug dealer should be found and how they’re suppose to act comes from those they’ve seen in films.  I wouldn’t be surprised if they use them as their training manual.

Aside from the occasional drug dealer asking you if you want something, Chauoen is a beautifully relaxing city.  It is also where I had my first hammam experience.  A hammam is like a Turkish bath where Moroccans ritually go to cleanse themselves about once a week.  There are the touristy hammams and the traditional ones.  With Kevin and Ryan (I mentioned they were with my until the end) we went traditional.  Before you go, you need to make sure you bring the essential items which include a swimsuit or an extra pair of underwear, a hammam glove (used to scrap away the dead skin), and soap, once you have all those you are ready to go.  The one we went to consisted of three different steam rooms of varying temperatures.  The first step is to make your way to the hottest, sit or lay on the floor while you poor hot water over your body. Once you have sufficiently opened your pores, you use your hammam glove to scrape off the dead skin, you need to ask your friends or if your alone, an old Moroccan guy to help you get your back.  After you have successfully removed the dead skin (it should feel like you’re missing your epidermis), you make your way to a cooler room where you apply soap and let it sit for a few minutes.  Once a few minutes pass you dump buckets of water on yourself to wash it off.  After that you’re pretty much finished, you can lounge around and relax for however long you can stand the heat, or for a couple extra euros you can have a “massage” by the attendant (these are known to be vigorously rough) or you can leave.  By the end you’ll feel like a newborn baby and if there wasn’t a breeze before you went in there will be one after.  Aside from purging the dead skin from your body it’s a great way to relax and to disconnect.

Not far from Chauoen is the town of Akchour where you can do a two hour hike through a beautiful green landscape you wouldn’t know existed in Morocco to a 100m waterfall.

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When In….Morocco?

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Do as the Romans do?

Rome’s empire seems to have had no limit, no matter where you go in Europe you can be assured that there are probably Roman ruins nearby, but I never thought I’d find them in Africa.  So when I heard of the Roman city Volubilis not far from Fes, I had to go.  Getting there was interesting and consisted of a taxi to the train station, a taxi to another taxi station, a taxi to the city near Volubilis called Moulay Idriss and then about a 5 km walk to the Roman city.

First, here is a little bit of information on the Morocco taxi system.  As far as I experienced there are four different types of taxis, a petit taxi that will only take you somewhere if they are heading in that direction and will pick up others along the way (this is what I took to the train station and from the train station to the other taxi station), a normal taxi which are expensive (I didn’t take one of these), a grand taxi (which is what I took from the desert to Fes) and a bus taxi, in which individual people pay to go to the same destination.  There is always a sense of accomplishment in figuring out how to get somewhere in a foreign country and getting to Volubilis is up there on my list of things I am proud of.  Getting to the train station and getting on the train was easy enough. The train was suppose to leave at 10:49 and didn’t leave until 11:10, meanwhile people arrived sauntering toward the train like they were on time.  After arriving to Meknis (the first stop) I then thought I had to find a taxi to Moulay Idriss (the city near Volubilis), however the taxi drivers only wanted to take me to Volubilis for an absurd amount of money.  Finally after asking the 5th or 6th driver he kindly told me that I needed to take a taxi to the bus taxi station within Meknis. From there I could take a bus taxi to Moulay Idriss. I did just that and once in Moulay Idriss  I walked the 45 minutes to Volubilis.

The city of Volubilis was more extensive than I imagined and better preserved than I thought. It was like being back in Italy. At the time it was the most remote city in the Roman empire and at its peak is believed to have been home to more than 20,000 residents.  With their wealth generated from olive production Volubilis was home to many grand residences with stunning mosaics that are extremely well preserved,  they alone are worth visiting the city for.

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Going back I tried to hitchhike my way  to the town but nobody wanted to pick me up. However, when I got closer one of the bus taxi drivers stopped and asked me where I was going, I told him Meknis and he said I could go with him, instead of ripping me off he charged me the normal price and nobody was in it. He was without a doubt the nicest taxi driver I met in Morocco and maybe the nicest person from Morocco I met. He dropped me off at the train station for an extra euro and right as I was buying the train ticket a train to Fes arrived so I hopped on it.  It’s as if the stars aligned just to allow me to get back to Fes hassle free.

 

Fascinating Fes

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Like the rivalry between Barcelona and Madrid, I imagine Fes and Marrakech have something along the same lines.  Depending on who you ask it’s one or the other and while I usually try to stay away from comparing cities I have to say that I liked Fes a lot more than Marrakech.  With the one day I spent in Marrakech being sufficient, the three nights on the other hand in Fes didn’t feel like enough.  Maybe my time in Marrakech was like when you first step into an ice cold shower, shocking at first, but slowly you get use to it, so by the time I got to Fes my mind and body were already accustomed to Morroco.  Or maybe, it’s because Fes is just slightly less chaotic and a little more beautiful than Marrakech.  In Fes you could actually walk through the souk without constantly being bombarded and yelled at by the vendors and every time you stopped to take a picture there wasn’t someone coming up to you saying “give me money if you want to take a picture in front of my shop”.  Fes also has two hills on either side of the old town which provide for a nice panorama of the city and the surrounding landscape.  To me, Fes has more to offer.

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After our 9 hour taxi ride we arrived to Fes around 5:30pm.  I didn’t have a hostel because I arrived a day earlier than I thought and the hostel I had booked was full, so I went to the one Kevin and Ryan were staying at.  The hostel called Riad Vinus was the most beautiful hostel I’ve ever stayed in.  It is a converted Moorish townhouse with an almost museum-like interior, intricate wooden sculptures and typical ornate wall carvings decorated the main courtyard.  Unfortunately it lacked bathrooms. Later that night we met up with the two Germans and we all had our first camel burger.

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The next day, I spent the early morning wandering the souk.  Hardly any of the shops were open and I found a tranquility I didn’t think was possible.  Kids were going to school and people were making their way to work.  It was nice to see this aspect of everyday life within the city, to experience the realness and flow of the early morning.  Nobody looked at me like a tourist, nobody tried to take advantage of me, the hustle and bustle that can be found later in the day had not yet started.  Around 9:30am I made my way back to the hostel to have breakfast and to meet Kevin and Ryan.  Ryan had also explored the souk that morning, but had less luck getting back and ended up having to pay a “guide”.  We then made our way to the other hostel I was staying at and after many reroutes and detours we finally found it.  The souks are like a labyrinth and if it were not for Kevin having google maps I don’t think we would have ever found it.  Once I was settled we spent the day exploring Fes, we hiked up to the southern gate, one of the viewpoints of the city, made our way to the tanneries where we experienced one of the most nauseating smells, took a reprieve in the stunning Al Attarine Madrasa, met the Germans and hiked to the northern gate to watch the sunset and then had dinner at a beautiful and delicious restaurant called the Ruined Garden. I’ll have one more day in Fes,  but I’ll spend it taking a day trip to the Roman city of Volubilis.

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Busing Through the Desert

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When traveling the people you meet form a part of the trip as much as the trip itself, for the desert excursion tour nothing could have been more true. 

Day one of the desert tour consisted of 12 hours of traveling, we left Marrakech at 8 in the morning and didn’t arrive to the hotel where we spent the first night until 8pm. The morning started at 6:15 with everyone in the dorm waking, getting ready to head off to their desert excursion meeting points that they had already booked. As I ate breakfast in the lobby I talked with others who had just gotten back from an excursion and more who were leaving for one. Another girl from the US had also booked the tour through the hostel so when it became time to get dropped off at the pick up location we waited while the others got into different vans. Eventually, the hostel guy who didn’t speak English pointed us to a van and with blind faith that they knew what they were doing and somehow kept track of things we put our bags in, joined those who were already in, and waited for the rest.  The group, the people I would spend the next 48 continuous hours with consisted of a girl from the US, Siena, who I sat next to; 2 Canadians from French Quebec who throughout the trip seemed to always find a way to delay us; 4 Germans (2 couples); three Moroccan friends who live in Canada: one with a three and a half year old and one who was a savor (Ahmed) and ended up being a facilitator, translator and co-guide; one South Korean (Candy), who I ended up seeing last week because she was traveling around Andalucía; two Argentinian siblings and two friends from California, Ryan and Kevin who joined us after lunch on the first day and who I’d coincidently be with until the end of my trip.

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Last but not least in any way, the bus driver, who unbeknownst to him brought the rest of us together and made it a very interesting trip. It started when he stopped to get gas and after asking if he could open the door so we could use the bathroom. When we came back Ahmed had a confused look on his face saying I don’t know what is wrong with him. He was talking about the bus driver and apparently he didn’t want anyone leaving, we were only allowed out if he opened the door to allow us out. Ahmed also asked if he could at least know when we were stopping so he could tell the rest of us and the driver said no, when we stop we stop and the door will open.

The second incident happened after the second stop, all of a sudden he pulled over on to the side of the road, one of the Moroccan ladies was yelling, he was yelling and the door was open. With the rest of us having no idea what was happening Ahmed explained to us that she had asked him to put the AC on and he said no. Prior to booking the trip they specifically asked if there was AC and they were told yes of course it was necessary. So for 20 minutes we were stopped on the side of the road, neither of them speaking, their pride causing the rest of us to suffer. All I could think was that this was going to be a loooooong journey, we had only just begun and we were all in it together. Eventually the door closed, we started moving and the AC was put on.  Apparently the driver couldn’t put the AC on because the incline of the road was too great, the engine had to work to hard and if the AC was on it could have blew, however he didn’t explain this when she asked,  he just only said no.

The third incident, happened after our stop at Ait Ben Haddou. Ait Ben Haddou is a 700 year old Berber settlement located on the edge of the High Atlas Mountains that has been made famous by films such as Gladiator, The Mummy, Lawrence of Arabia, Kingdom of Heaven and (not a film) Game of Thrones.  The French Quebecs decided they didn’t want to climb through the city so they took an alternative route. When it was time to leave they were no where to be found, we spent about 45 minutes waiting on the bus until they were finally found them. When they arrived the bus driver (who also spoke French) started yelling at them, they started yelling back and then he stopped the car saying they could leave if they wanted. They opened the door getting ready to get out, I’m not sure what they planned on doing because we were 6.5 hours from Marrakech, but fortunately Ahmed stepped in and diffused the situation. Unfortunately for the French Quebecs they were seated next to the driver and had to spend the rest of the trip in close proximity.

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After incident three we made our way to Ouarzazate, nicknamed the door to the desert for lunch. After lunch we were supposed to tour the cinema museum and one of Moroccos most famous “castles” the Taourirt Kasbah, but due to the various delays along the journey we didn’t have time if we were to make it to our hotel in the Dades Valley to catch the sunset.  We did however gain Kevin and Ryan and strangely enough the driver started being friendly, smiling and initiating conversations with me in Spanish as well as letting Ahmed know what the plan was.  I think while we were eating he was doing drugs in the bathroom. Two and a half hour later he got us to our hotel just before sunset. That night we ate dinner together and then enjoyed traditional Berber music performed by the hostel staff. When I say we, I mean the rest of the people because I went to bed after dinner, I was exhausted and had a room all to myself!

One full day of a bunch of strangers traveling together in a bus through the desert was down, one more full day to go. We woke, had breakfast and left the hotel around 8:30 and stopped two hours later where we received a tour of Tenghir, a city on the way to the dunes. We learned about the region, how agriculture works in the area and the traditional roles of the Berber men and women. We also got a tour of a Berber families house that made the traditional rugs. He said many times we didn’t have to buy anything and that people came never expecting to buy something, but was visible upset at the end. He had brought out rugs to show us so we could “see” different designs, but after 5 awkward minutes of silence I was starting to think that our only way out was if somebody bought a rug. On another note, the tour took twice as long because the only two people who didn’t speak English were the….. French Quebecs, so everything was said twice. We joked that we were going to miss the sunset in the dunes because of it.

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After four more hours in the bus we finally arrived to Merzouga (the town next to the dunes) at 6:30pm. We stopped at some place where we were all prepared to get out, however the driver said something, pointed to two of the Germans (Lukas and Elisa) and told them they had to get out. Not understanding why and on the verge of tears from the thought of being separated from us they didn’t move, they didn’t know why. Ahmed stepped in as translator and apparently they booked a private tour. Begrudgingly they exited the van and went to get their bags, with a last ditch attempt to ask the two French Quebecs if they wanted to switch (nobody wanted them anyway) failed, they were literally left in the dust while the rest of us traveled to our pre-dune destination. The eight of us who were ready, which unfortunately included the two French Quebecs, were transported to our camels. The other seven we didn’t see until we arrived to the encampment later that night. We arrived to the camels!!!! And the dunes!!!!!! The camel ride was a disappointment. It wasn’t much of a ride and was more of a novelty. I also had to share one, but the dunes were worth it. Almost as far as the eye could see (depending on which direction you were looking because they span an area of about 186 sq miles), they rose like great orange waves out of the ocean. Walking among them was like waking on a different world.

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Later that night we crammed into the main tent of the encampment for dinner along with other tour groups. We may as well have been in separate rooms because nobody spoke to others outside their group, nobody even tried, you forged a connection over the last two days with the people in yours.  After dinner we explored the dunes at night and then went to bed in our “room” that consisted of 6 mattresses on the floor. The following morning we woke at 4:30am to ride camels in darkness so that we could watch the sunrise and then went back to the pre-dune place to have breakfast. After breakfast it was time for Kevin, Ryan and I to say goodbye to the others because they were going back to Marrakech (a 10.5 hour drive) and we were going to pick up Lukas and Elisa to make our way to Fes. A 9 hour journey back through the desert and out of it, with a taxi that didn’t have AC and a driver that spoke no English.

The journey continued

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Souk it Up

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I’ve never been to a Muslim country let alone talked to a Muslim person in my life. Stepping off the airport bus into the square Fna, one of the largest and most antique in the Arab world, is like stepping into the ocean during a storm surge, waves crashing disorienting you, a sensory explosion of sounds and smells, overwhelming and intimidating at first, it’s like stepping back through time; snake charmers, men playing with scorpions, children with chained monkeys and sellers with traditional leather items and brass cups litter the open square. As the day progresses and turns to night the atmosphere changes, it becomes more crowded, the snake charmers and monkeys depart giving way to story tellers and magicians. Dozens of food stalls fill up the sqaure selling every piece of meat imaginable. My stomach was still adjusting from lunch so I wasn’t quite daring enough to try brain, maybe next time

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Bordering the square is the Marrakech souk, a traditional African market where everything under the sun could be found, it is also the largest in Morocco.  The Marrakech souk is a confusing labyrinth that seems almost impossible to navigate, you have to let go of your fears of getting lost and accept the fact that you WILL get lost. Through various twists and turns you lose track of where you entered, vendors shout at you, the smell of recently tanned leather goods and pile of spices assault your nose and people speed impossibly fast past you on mopeds through ridiculously small packed alleyways. A unique world in which after only a day I was exhausted of being a part of.

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The Algarve Region of Portugal

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Two weekends ago we had a three day weekend so I was finally able to go to a place I’ve wanted to go for a while, the Algarve region of Portugal. The algarve region is the southernmost region in Portugal and is known for its beautiful beaches, cliff formations and whitewashed towns. I’ve had friends who’ve visited the area and I’ve come across some amazing photos of it on Pinterest, so I knew I needed to go; all I needed was a three day weekend, warm weather and a friend, luckily I had all three.

img_0111Our first stop was Faro, the capital of the algarve region. It is a small bayside town only about a two hour bus ride from Seville.  We didn’t really do too much in Faro, as there wasn’t really much to do; we walked around the old city for a bit, went food shopping and cooked a stir-fry dinner, drank and went out. Coincidentally the girl sitting next to Jamie on the bus worked at the hostel we were staying at, she was coming back from a weekend in Seville, so when we arrived she showed us the way to the hostel. Unfortunately she was working until 12 so she wouldn’t  meet us out until later. From what the staff told us the hostel was the most empty that night than it had been for the previous weeks, it wasn’t a problem for Jamie and I; we had a 8 person dorm for the two of us. Also after getting to know the others and the staff it didn’t matter how many there were, it was a good group. Surprisingly Faro had a good night life. Our night started out early because the staff wanted to go to a “sunset party” at this place around 8; the sun had already set and for us folk living in Spain it seemed way too early. We didn’t actually end up getting there until maybe around 9:30, which gave Jamie and I enough time to drink two bottles of wine. The bar itself was very cool, upon entering you walked through an art gallery that belongs in Exit Through the Gift Shop, the bar  itself would have fit nicely as a ruin pub in Budapest, a strange eclectic mix of furniture, decoration and colors seemingly placed with no rhyme or reason, while collectively creating its own unique style. After the ruin bar we bounced around the bars in the center until we eventually ended back at the hostel.

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The following day, we boarded a two hour train to Lagos. The minute we stepped off the train, the saltwater air assaulted our nostrils and the ocean breeze gently slapped our cheeks, I knew I was going to like Lagos a lot more. Like Faro, Lagos is on the water, but instead of it being a bay it’s the ocean! beautiful Caribbean-like beaches with crystal clear water, incredible rock formations and cliffs all a short walk from the old town. After arriving to the hostel we set off towards Praia de Porto de Mós, the furthest walkable beach; an easy 25 minutes on the road. Once there we hiked to the top of the cliff, which provided stunning views of the surrounding beach and area, then we hung out on the beach for a couple of hours and made our way back to the hostel.

img_2868On the way back we took a different route, a small path that wound its way along the cliff and shore, a path we had trouble finding at first and one which we were told was closed because it was too dangerous; two people had died by falling into the water. It wasn’t too difficult, but if you weren’t careful you could have definitely fallen off or at least gotten injured. At one part we thought the trail had ended because there were a few stairs going down, but we weren’t able to see beyond them and the cliff-part we could see looked as if it had been washed away; we decided to go for it, follow the stairs and…. there were more! That path still continued. We kept following and made it to the lighthouse for the sunset, we found a spot and basked in the last rays of warmth from the sun. When we got back to town we had dinner at this small extremely adorably run Portguese restaurant. For 6€ you got a big bowl of soup, a freshly baked stuffed bread of your choice, a drink (wine of course), rice pudding and a coffee. We would go there the following night for dinner too. Once back at the hostel we met some of the other people who were staying there, drank and went out. Lagos was built for tourism, so there are a lot of places to go out all within the same block of each other, we visited all of them.

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He wouldn’t let us through

The next day after having probably the strangest combination of breakfast I had ever eaten (offered by the hostel), rice pudding and hard boiled eggs Jamie and I went to go check out another beach, Praia de Pinhão. Pinhão is one of the closer beaches to the city, yet one of the least crowded. I think its because you can only get there by walking while others you can drive to. It was nestled between the cliffs and filled with beautiful women. We could have stayed there all day, but eventually we had to leave to eat lunch. We stopped by a non-touristy Portuguese place outside the old town. I had delicious fish Portuguese style while Jamie had meat Portuguese style, which we washed down with a liter of red wine.

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Since we already started drinking we decided to continue, after lunch we bought some more wine and made our way to a new beach, Praia de Camilo. Further outside of the city, but connected to the road and with a parking lot, the beach was packed. It was high tide and the shadows were getting increasingly larger as the sun made its way across the sky, like a door being shut the light turned into a sliver and eventually disappeared. We were the last people on the beach, except a couple that came down to take wedding photos. At around 6ish we left and headed back to a spot where we wanted to watch the sunset. After eating we joined another hostel, the Rising Cock (a party hostel if you couldn’t tell) to drink and go out.  It was a great night, I ended up on the beach watching the sunrise. Jamie and I had a bus to catch at 2 that day, so I slept only a couple of hours if even that and were on our way around 1.  An awesome long weekend full of sightseeing two beautiful cities, wine and fun.