Portugal Day 3: Cape Sagres and Salema

We drove 90 minutes to the Earth's end to visit Prince Henry the Navigator's School on Cape Sagres.  The twin cape, Cape St. Vincent is actually Europe's most southwestern tip and even the prehistoric people considered it "the end of the world,"  but it closed for restoration.  Prince Henry, the middle child of King John of Portugal and Queen Philippa of England founded the school in 1420.

We hiked around the cliff throwing rocks over the edge.

We walked through the 18th century fortress gate built on the school's original battlements.

The wind-compass, a 100 feet across, remains a mystery.

 We watched a fisherman cast over the wall.

 Emily said some prayers.

And a quick emotion change...

Rick Steves claimed Salema, a simple fishing village, held the magic of the Algarve.   (He also promised endless sun.)  We arrive in time for lunch at the Atlantico, a restaurant overlooking the water,.  Dave tried the town's main catch, octopus.

We spent the late afternoon enjoying soft sand, quiet waves, and 100 foot cliffs.

Portugal Day 2: Should We Leave?

"No paper in the toilet bowl."  I assumed the other five languages on the sign in our bathroom stated the same though the German seemed to read, "Toilet paper in the waste basket only" - a slight but critical difference.  I really need to study my German more I thought out loud to Dave.  Or maybe not.  45 minutes and a lot of cleaning later, we found a waste basket for the bathroom.  We then relaxed on the stained white couch attempting to both watch our DVRd Survivor episode and ignore the army of red ants who wanted to watch with us.  The Internet went out so we went to bed.  Around four am, I looked up expecting to see Owen.  No.  A very unwelcome black stray cat had crawled into bed with me.

I awoke a few hours later a little on the cranky end.  When a strong wind pushed in our front door and torrential rains poured onto the floor, we began looking at flights home. (Though the rain did not phase the kids.)

 

The over priced tickets convinced us to stay, and what do you know, the sun managed to warm the beach.  We watched rough waves pound the sand as the kids played on the surf's edge - a very safe edge.  Several Portuguese women disagreed and stopped us, concerned the waves would take our children.  A small group stood back pointing at us.  One woman called me over and explained that they recently lost a kid.  Great.  Becoming self conscious, we hoovered over Emily and Owen the rest of the afternoon.

We ended the day with nuggets from a familiar place and one more trip to the grocery store.  I made a chorizo sauce and tried not to let any of the cockroaches crawl into the pot.

Portugal Day 1: Rain

Despite a restless night, we all woke excited to explore the beach.  The kids and Dave quickly consumed a bowl of Frosted Flakes, two of the three grocery items he grabbed at ten the night before.  I of course, turned my nose at sugary breakfast cereal - how unhealthy.  Instead, I found myself sitting in front of a pastel de nata (custard filled pastry tarte and traditional Portuguese breakfast) and cappuccino 45 minutes later.  The caffeine helped in our next endeavor - finding butter, crackers, and other basics in a Costco size grocery store with no English labels.

I love grocery stores.  Why can't a US chain sell the cuts of meat, quality of spices, and interesting ingredients I find in Europe?

We spent the afternoon freezing our ... I mean having fun on the beach.

"I feel grimy and cold," Emily said with chattering teeth.  After showers, we ventured 45 minutes north to Tavira to eat at Casa Simao.  We found parking, sat in the car through a down pour, then ran into the restaurant.  "Sorry, we closed at 3:00 and reopen at 7:00."  We drove to the next town and found a seafood place right on the water.  Fried squid, fresh tuna, and a bottle of red wine plus a trip to the playground.  Everyone left happy.

Leaving for Portugal

Craving a beach vacation, we considered coastal airports to which Ryan Air flies and narrowed to Faro, Portugal.  Colleagues raved about the inexpensive delicious Portuguese food and the internet showed beaches surrounded by 100 foot cliffs.  This country, not on my places-I-need-to-see list, offered sun without glitzy tourist attractions.  We found a two bedroom apartment overlooking a river and across the street from the beach through homeaway.com.   The place lacked reviews, but photographs of the living spaces and e-mail conversations with the owner convinced us to book.

Our flight departed at 5:30 pm so I initially planned to work half day.  I changed my mind in the morning.  Starting the vacation relaxed appealed more then finishing a paper at work.  With Emily home on her 10-day fall recess, (yes, four weeks into the school year and already a break) 2:00 pm arrived quickly.  We drove the hour to Ryan Air's Hahn airport, picked up chicken nuggets, and waited in line to drop our checked bags - paid for in advance.  Ryan Air strictly enforces weight limitations.  We paid 20 euro to check a 15 kg (roughly 35 lb) bag and 50 euro for Dave's 20 kg golf bag - each way.  We snuck running shoes, flats, and books into his golf bag.  I packed most of our clothes, bathing suits, and socks into stuff sacks my friend Tim  recommended.  At check in, our bag weighed 20 kg, "100 euro.  Would you like to move stuff around?"  Ah, yes.  One plane ticket cost 70 euro - total for BOTH ways.   We dragged our suitcase, golf bag and four bag packs to the door.  I stuffed stuff sacks into the kid's tiny LL bean back packs.  Thank you Tim.  The sacks prevented loose underwear from flying between bags.  Back in line.  17 kg - 40 euro.  Back to the door - do we really need the bug spray, why did I pack night cream.  Back in line.  16 kg - 20 euro.  Back to the door - our 5 kg suitcase is definitely a problem.  Back in line.  Next time, we need a duffel bag.

We arrived on time. "90% of all Ryan Air flights are on time beating all other European carriers." (Yes, because they add an extra 45 min buffer to all flight times.  See later post on our flight home.)  We quickly collected our bags and headed to the rental cars.  We booked our rental car with the only company offering automatic.  Unlike other places with a rental car section, in Faro, attendings hold name cards at the airport to find their customers, provide the paper work, and bring the car.  Very smooth.  Unless your attending expects you an hour later than your flight arrival time and you have two irritable, hungry people in your group.

We forgave our car guy when he called Dave 20 minutes after we left the airport to ensure we found our apartment which was located 5 minutes away.  Still driving around and cursing our GPS,  Dave replied, "We are a little turned around."  He told us to come back to the gas station at the airport and he would take us.  We followed the signs to Alerporto before realizing Alerporto was not Aeroporto.  An "L" made a big difference.  Eventually, we found the gas station and the attending took us straight to the apartment.  (And not to a random dark parking lot to rob us.)

Ahh.  Let the vacation begin.

Cookies, Cookies, Cookies

Jennifer raves about Smittenkitchen.com, a cooking blog run by Deb a New Yorker who loves to make "stepped-up" comfort foods.  I checked the site and cannot stop reading. (Warning: Do not google smitten KITTEN - at least while kids are present).   After a morning of birthday party madness (which I escaped by meeting my friends Bev and Tim at a coffee shop for photography talk), the kids wanted to make cookies.  Cooking with both kids descends quickly into  "it's MY turn to pour"  "I want the wooden spoon"  "Emily touched my head" "Owen called me a name."  Lesson learned.  The only solution: make two different types of cookies.

Emily and I started with a cookies called in which world peace eludes me, a French sable.  We used the fluer de sol and the chocolate I purchased in France the week before.

Emily poured the sugar and monitored the mixer.

These cookies required three hours in the fridge.

Next Owen and I tried  crispy chewy chocolate chip cookies.  I tend towards the toll house recipe, which I make in minutes with my eyes closed.   My family LOVES chocolate chip cookies.  Why not try a new method.

Owen helped with the melted butter and the tablespoon of vanilla (yes, a whole tablespoon).

He mixed the chips by hand.

We decided to only bake the chocolate chip cookies for now and save the other for a different night.

 Delicious!

Mog comes to Visit

Emily's first grade class adopted a furry cat named Mog.  The original Mog, a forgetful cat who constantly gets in trouble, lived in the UK and her loving owner writes books about her adventures.  Emily's teacher owns all the books, but since they must stay in the classroom, Emily checked several out from the library. (Aunt Jenny would be proud.)  Each night, one student brings Mog home.  Our night finally came last Thursday.

Emily wrote about how Mog rode with her to the Fieldhouse in Mog's Journal.

At the end of the night she explained how Enno gets to take Mog on Friday.  He must play and sleep with Mog all weekend. Enno's twin brother Finn, also in Emily's class,  gets Mog on Monday night.  They are SO lucky.  They get to look at Mog for THREE nights.

Most books Emily brings home from school are written by British authors.  I love the slightly different spellings and expressions - "Mum" and "Oh bother"  In some cases,  I must look up words.  Anyone know what a "spanner" is?