Far from the Madding Crowd

travel stories  by Laura Onea

The Philippines

One of the few moments when I succeed in being fully aware of the surroundings and the emotions that come along is when I take my first steps off the airport into a completely unknown territory. And no matter what I experience, good or bad, I am as excited, as curious and as present as a child. All my senses start working at their full capacity. With 18 hours of almost no sleep, jet-lagged and panicking about how I will be feeling the 30+ humid degrees (25 degrees more than in London), I couldn’t but rejoice at the first sight of this new world and culture I was about to explore. I remember the first surprise factor of our trip was, to the point of making us feel slightly uncomfortable, the way the hotel’s personnel (and most people working in the tourism business) were treating us, as if we were their queen and king. Everything one could imagine was in one way or another facilitated. And oh my gosh, I have never seen such a redundancy of employees! One driving us, two opening the car’s doors, one on the stairs welcoming us with a big smile, another one two stairs up welcoming us again, one opening the hotel’s door, minimum 3 carrying the luggage, and the list can obviously go on forever. Everything is taken care of. Oh, and everybody is smiling and greeting you. I do believe it’s a genuine, inherent smile in most cases, but can become overwhelming even for the most smiley Europeans.

The second surprise, which came quite as a shock actually, struck us when we got in contact with the huge, really upsetting at first, discrepancy between the way locals lived in the city (Cebu city), the extreme poverty, the pile of garbage, on one hand, and what they offer to their tourists, on the other. Maybe it was the unbearable heat as well, or the fact that I was very tired, but the whole urban scenery revealing itself before our eyes was very hard to take in. It was not only the ongoing noise, traffic and horns, but everything looked like a ruin and felt like a reservoir of infections. Stray dogs all over, looking bone-skinny and very ill. Canals covered in trash (I have never seen so much trash in one place). And the smell was intolerable, a mixture of dead bodies, poo and other similar olfactive treasures. I couldn’t convince myself to walk through the city for more than 30min, too much to handle at once. Dystopian reality is an understatement. As much as I hate going to the mall, and as much as I love spending as much time outdoors as possible, we spent our 2 days in Cebu (the first 2 days of our trip) going back and forth between the hotel and the mall, using the local “Uber”. I have never appreciated the air conditioning so much and I have definitely never spent so much time in a hotel. A hotel which seemed like a total luxury, with its cleanliness, spa facilities and decent food, as compared to what we have experienced in the real world, outside its walls. It’s not as if I hadn’t been aware of the level of poverty in some Asian countries, the Philippines included, and I always do a lot of research, going way beyond Pinterest or Lonely Planet, but what I have seen there was below expectations, to say the least. It’s funny, right, how we always get stuck with a particular image that we construct in our head based on others’ opinions or on a couple of catchy pictures we see on the internet. And when it comes to experiencing it with ourselves, we are often taken by surprise. We do the same with people, by labelling or idealising. Wouldn’t it be a complete relief to just let go of all these expectations, good or bad, and just experience things as they are in that particular moment?

Bear with me (and the text) for a bit though, as the tone will soon change once we start adapting and turn the volume down to this initial impact. 🙂 Just as it’s usually the case in life itself, a bad one (or what we label as “bad”) triggers or is followed by a good one: our next 3 days in the Philippines make for one of the most beautiful and revealing moments I have ever experienced. As we knew it will take time to make peace with the jolly jet-lag and to adapt to the country’s particularities, since we only had 2 weeks to explore it—including travel—we had decided to take it slowly and to only explore the Palawan province, with several stops in El Nido and Coron. The quickest way to travel inside the Philippines is by taking a local flight. It’s not very expensive and I really enjoyed every flight of this kind. The planes are quite tiny but the whole trip is cosy and relaxed. Moreover, El Nido has the quirkiest airport I have seen so far. It doesn’t actually look like an airport, so this is probably the first thought that comes to one’s mind: “Where am I?”. A small room where you get your luggage back—in an unusual way, of course, don’t expect anything to be or happen in a “normal” way there! You exit this room into a long, half outside corridor, while your senses are exalted by the lush greenery that stretches along this passage.

We always like to find the homiest and quirkiest accommodations, with good value for money, no matter how much research we have to put into it, so we chose the spots where to spend time on the islands based on those. We started with Plumeria Eco-Resort, a place that, once we got there, we wished we had never had to leave from. Unfortunately, they only had 2 nights available at the time we booked. But, for now, let me tell you a bit about the little adventure we had to go through in order to arrive there. We had arranged beforehand, with help from the owner of Plumeria, to take a private car (which is one of their recommended transportation means, the other being a jeepney, a tricycle or a private van) from El Nido airport to the Teneguiban village. From there we were supposed to get a boat to a remote beach. Our plane was delayed by a couple of good hours (we had been notified of this some weeks in advance, though), so by the time we got to the village it was already dark. Which meant, yay!, sailing through the darkness. We had been previously told by the owner of Plumeria resort that we are to pay a fixed price for the car and boat, but when we asked the drivers how much it was, they asked for a higher price—which we agreed upon as it was our first experience of the kind and it was getting quite late, so the only thing we wanted was to get there as soon as possible. However, in these situations, do stick to the original price if you can and don’t let them convince you to pay more, which some will try to do. It’s not as if it costs a fortune, since everything is cheap there anyway, but in my opinion this whole negotiation game shouldn’t be encouraged as it is in no one’s real advantage on the long term. These being said and done, our young sailors, two local children with the most indigenous features pointed us to our boat. And in that moment my jaws dropped—not only it was a tiny wooden boat, but it was “parked” quite far away from the shore. In parenthesis, for those of you who still don’t know this about me, not only that I don’t swim at all, but I also panic a lot when it comes to deep water, waves and so on. Oh, yes, and it was dark, have I mentioned this before? 😄 Plus the big luggages we had with us (including a so not useful trolley bag!), which made the situation look even more hilarious, if not completely absurd.

Me to Ștefan: Are you kidding me? This is not happening, I’m not doing this!

Me to the indigenous girl: Is it deep?

Meanwhile, they took most of our luggages and started carrying them on their back (!) through the water. The indigenous girl, with an almost unintelligible English and a certain look on her face that, to me, said something like “What’s with this strange people?”: No ma’am, it’s no deep.

And of course I was wearing jeans, as I was coming from London (5 degrees Celsius!), so obviously I got wet. But that was the least of my worries, anyway. The water was indeed pretty shallow and warm, which melted my anxiety for a bit. Our luggages barely fitted in the boat, but at that time I was happy to have the trolley bag as I used its handle as a second thing to hold on to. And there we were, on this miniature boat in the middle of the ocean, with no life jackets, shaken and splashed by the waves. The journey lasted about 30-40 minutes but I felt it like half a day. The land kept on seeming sooo far away. I was so tense and panicked and all the related, and I was holding to the boat so tightly that my hand went numb at some point. I was seriously questioning whether we were going to make it alive. And then I saw the girl standing on her feet and crossing the boat from front to back and vice-versa, walking so naturally on those wooden beams, like a true gymnast. I thought of her lightness of being and of my heavy chaotic breathing—”Laura, stop being such a drama queen! What’s the worse case scenario? If you do fall from the boat, these two Mowglis will have no issue whatsoever in getting you out of the water—piece of cake”. A bit of breathing in and breathing out, trying to practice some awareness and to direct my thoughts into a sort of floating, and I managed to calm myself for a while. I know it’s different for different people, but what (almost) always seems to work for me during these intense anxiety moments is to make fun of my own thoughts. But then it started to get even windier, hence wavier, so by the time we arrived I was completely exhausted.

The moment I set foot on land, everything started to fall into place and feel so natural, as did our whole stay there. Still a bit shaken by the short but intense boat trip, I was expecting the people who greeted us to ask how it was, if we were okay etc. (DRA-MA QUEEN!), but nothing of this sort happened. And it was then when self mockery knocked at my door again: “Chill, Laura! Of course they won’t ask you that, it’s nothing out of the ordinary for them to sail in the middle of the night in the middle of the ocean without a life jacket, dooh!” That thought, together with the feeling of lukewarm sand under my bare feet brought me back to a softer and calmer reality, though it was dark and I was a bit uncomfortable with stepping on something weird. (Where did that fear come from, by the way, as I remember walking barefoot a lot—and enjoying it—as a child? When did I become so precious?). After being shown our “room” and the eco toilets and showers, we were brought to the so called bar and dinning “area” where we were greeted with a warm big smile aaand (surprise!) a refreshing coconut. Yum! We couldn’t see much of the place, in its entirety at least, as they didn’t have electricity (except for the bar area, where they were also serving food), but there was something so intrinsically peaceful in the air that could tame even the noisiest mind. The homemade food was absolutely delicious, healthy and very tasty. And to my utter delight and excitement, they had no less than 5 dogs and 7 one month old puppies. What more could I have wished for? Oh, yes, and the friendliest and zen-like cat I have ever met, who was more like a dog than a cat, if not more like a human. She was with us everywhere: on the bed, when we went to the toilet, when we showered and when we were exploring the beach. She was like a fluffy warm glue and we fell in love with her.

We went to bed very early, as you couldn’t do much there without electricity, but I was far from falling asleep. I actually don’t think I have slept more than 1-2h in total that night, as I was so overwhelmed by that place, in a good way though. We had but two wooden walls, so we were basically sleeping half outside. We were so immersed in nature and so close to the ocean that we could hear an orchestra of sounds. There was a tight competition between the waves breaking into the shore and the playful crickets. The noise kept me awake, indeed, but I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else in the world. There was something so magical about that place that at times I had to pinch myself—I couldn’t believe I was actually there. I was half awake, half transported to one of those fantasy books that you don’t want to end reading because you know, somehow, reality will follow. I usually make a very big deal when I have insomnias, hence I cannot sleep, I twist and turn, I make it worse than it is. But not then. I was feeling very light, very emotional, grateful, and so at peace with myself and the surroundings. Lots of thoughts were floating in my head, but they were not the usual worrying or messy thoughts, but the kinder and softer ones. I don’t really use the word “epiphany” very often as I find it a bit pretentious, or maybe because I cannot (yet) 100% identify with it, but judging by its definition, maybe this is what happened to me that night. I am generally a control freak, a person with lots of fears, finding it quite hard to let go, but over that night, while being lost in thoughts and daydreaming, my whole body was inundated with warmth, having this consistent thought—which prevailed throughout our whole trip in Asia—that I should trust everything will be okay, that I should trust myself more.

From time to time I was petting the cat, who was taking turns by changing her sleeping place from my side of the bed to Ștefan’s . And she was sleeping so peacefully—nothing seemed to disturb her. At one point I got bored with laying in bed, so I woke Ștefan up (oups!) and we went closer to the water and sat on the sand, getting our feet wet in the ocean from time to time. Never have I seen such a starlit sky. The cat came along, of course, and sat beside me, quiet and peaceful. We went back to bed after a while, but I was very excited for the sunrise and for seeing the whole place in daylight as well. And when the sun rose I couldn’t stop exclaiming. The magical feeling continued while the sweet rays of sun were warming up everything in their way, allowing us to explore every little corner of that remote beach, inhabited by ourselves, only a couple of locals and their animals. It was even more beautiful than I had imagined it will be. We were exactly in the same place like the night before, but it looked so different in daylight. It started to look more and more like Robinson Crusoe’s island. The moment I thought of that, four cheeky goats showed up out of nowhere, having their breakfast and climbing trees as if it was their home (which it was).

The most difficult part on this beach was not surrendering to the lack of phone signal or internet for 3 days, but adapting to the slow pace of the Filipino life and to literally doing nothing at all. Time expands in this little corner of paradise. You wake up at 5am or 6am, not because you have to, but because this is the most beautiful moment of the day, when everything seems even more surreal. You check the time at some point later in the day expecting to be lunch time or even afternoon, only to notice, with big stupor, that it’s only 9 o’clock. We are so busy being busy in our daily lives that an image of this kind of living has been almost erased from our memory. It’s getting more and more blurry, to the point that what we have now and how we rush things has become normality. Some don’t even know it exists. I urge you to force yourself into doing something similar. It doesn’t have to be big, it doesn’t have to be very adventurous. And it will probably be tough at first, for some, but I promise you it’s so much more rewarding.

When I was not eating, sleeping, laying in a hammock or a swing, petting the animals, or exploring the beach, I loved watching the local children play. I was fascinated by them. Not only they are really beautiful and have unique features, but there is such a freedom and sparkle in their eyes and laughs that I have rarely seen in any other child. What made me quite sad, though, was the fact that they frequently asked for money whenever they encountered a foreigner… Please stop perpetuating this, stop giving them money or sweets as you are not doing anyone any favour, not to them, not to yourselves. They are doing just fine, and if you really want to be generous and help them in some way, just get in contact with the local authorities. Call me naive or idealistic, but I think that encouraging them to ask for money just spoils the magic of the place.

Plumeria Eco Resort was possibly the most beautiful place we have ever experienced in our travels, but with no doubt the most meaningful and idyllic. I felt like stranded on an island, but with no intention to change that.

Our second accommodation in El Nido was closer to El Nido town and definitely less isolated, in a quirky small resort called Lio Beach. A really lovely place with many restaurant options—our favourite was the vegan one with the best matcha pancakes ever (I’ll let the pics speak for themselves)—as well as independent clothing and souvenir boutiques.

To our extreme satisfaction, there weren’t many tourists around. The Philippines, in general, are not (yet, at least) a very crowded travel destination, as opposed to similar countries like Thailand or Indonesia. Don’t miss the Kalye Artisano shop in the area, a treasure box of handmade objects to fill your suitcase with. By the way, we had never returned home with so many beautiful and authentic souvenirs, with a very good value for money, too. I couldn’t stop myself from buying. We stayed 4 nights in the area and our main activity was renting boats for tours of the beaches and lagoons of El Nido. And there I was again, making waves with my dear old friend, Water. We’ve been on the boat for so long that by the end of our trip I was starting to feel better on the sea than on the land where, if I closed my eyes, I was seeing waves and I was feeling dizzy. My fear of water was slowly starting to subside to the point that I had also convinced myself to get into a kayak on a biiiiig lagoon, which I wouldn’t have done before. It might be a small thing to you (yes, you who swims like a fish!), but for someone like me who doesn’t swim at all and who, on top of that, has a deeply rooted fear of water, that was quite a win. With so many adventures involving water (including a real life threatening one in Norway) I can hear a voice inside mocking me: “I think it’s time for you Laura to learn to swim, don’t you?”

We booked the tours very last minute (the day before) and we managed to find something, but don’t be like us if you plan to go there in full season (we were there at the end of November – beginning of December, which is the beginning of the season). You are more likely to find a private tour if you won’t book in advance, which is obviously more expensive (double the price), but definitely worth it. Most of the tours start in El Nido town, where you are again hit by the tumultuous life, the noise, the dust, the garbage, the poverty and the chaos. Somehow, however, halfway through our holiday, we were starting to get used to it and to realise that we attributed it higher proportions than we should have had. It’s not as if the reality was another one, but when I was noticing the locals during their daily lives, they seemed quite at peace with what they had. Realities become more of a burden (I am excluding here the atrocities some people are exposed to, like wars, illnesses or natural disasters), I think, when we start to compare.

Needless to say that all the islands, beaches and lagoons we set foot on during our island hopping tours were pure paradise, but my favourites were, by far, Small Lagoon, Cadlao Island and Secret Lagoon Beach.

Of course I missed part of the fun because I couldn’t swim nor snorkel, hence no glimpse (with my own eyes, at least) of living corals or Nemo fish, so when the boat wasn’t anchoring near the land I had to stay on it. The icing on the cake of these tours was the food, which was also probably the best food I ate in the Philippines. It generally consisted of grilled chicken and fish, steamed vegetables and rice, and the exquisitely delicious mango, pineapple and bananas. It wasn’t necessarily the taste itself, nor was it very sophisticated, but it had an emotional quality attached to it, as they were preparing it on the boat and we ate it as a picnic lunch on one of the beaches.

Coron was our next destination and we spent 3 nights there. By then we were already not only adapted but deeply immersed in the whole rhythm of the country. To the point that I was starting to think — I couldn’t help it — that going back to reality to London will be quite difficult to cope with. And I was right.
I utterly dislike the bustle, chaos and crowds, especially in the European cities, but the very same things had a different vibe in the Philippines. It’s full of noisy and dusty tricycles (which look more like converted motorcycles) playing the role of taxis, and there is not much staying in lane on the road, plus the continuous honking. But everyone was okay with it — no one was swearing or showing egos. It was one of the most fun things we did actually.

It was in Coron where we decided to go for a private boat tour for a change and it was so worth it, as it allowed us to customise the places we wanted to see and linger more on the ones we loved most. Not to mention that we avoided the crowds. Such a warm feeling waking up very early in the morning for this. We started the journey with a visit to the local market to buy the foods we were to cook for the lunch on the beach. Which gave us the opportunity to mingle with the local colours and feel like one. Our local guide Log, a scrawny boy with broken teeth and a squeaky voice, but with the most sincere smile and light heart, had connections at the market, so of course we got the freshest foods.

Another moment of revelation for me was triggered by one of the dialogues with Log:

Me: “Oh God, oh God… oh God!” (when I had to jump from one wobbly boat to the other to get to ours, which was at the end of the row). And of course the water was very deep.

Log, with a cheeky contagious laugh: “Ha ha ha, no ma’am, it’s ‘Thank God!’ not ‘Oh God!’.”

This put me in a contemplative state again, similar to the one I experienced at the Plumeria Resort. By the end of the day I was starting to say more “Thank God!” than “Oh God!”, in an exchange of giddish laughs with Log . It’s not that I am a religious person, not at all actually, but this served rather like a reminder to be thankful and to appreciate what I have, what I am experiencing. As well as learning to trust more, to trust myself more first of all. Without further ado, the places I loved most during our private tour were, by far, the Twin Lagoon and Banul Beach.

The next day we went for a group tour again (a group of 8 including us, which was not bad at all). Though it was a bit more rushed than the private one, and less personal, we set foot on Coco Beach, which was most probably my favourite beach out of all I came across in our boat tours. I don’t know if it was because we were the only one there (yes, just us, our private beach for a couple of hours!), or the freshly baked rice cakes we got from a local lady, or the many swings and hammocks hanging between giant coconut trees, or all of them together and some more, but it put me in such a relaxed and joyful state that I rarely experience otherwise.

I loved both Coron and El Nido, but I found El Nido better when it comes to variety—a variety of places to eat, independent boutiques with locally handmade items and, last but not least, a variety of beaches, islands and lagoons one can explore. However, the beaches in Coron felt more special and intimate due to, in part, the fact that there were fewer tourists, even none at all on some of them, and also to their unique and remote beauty. I have not included Plumeria in this comparison between the two, as it was a completely different experience, one that has surpasses them all.

Our mind and heart grew lighter following this trip and almost everything was above expectations. It was, at least for me, more than anything else, a spiritual journey where I have learned more about trust and how liberating it can be to let go. I know this is an ongoing and difficult process for someone who has been in an unhealthy relationship with being in control for such a long time, but I am very grateful for this experience that has opened my heart a bit more.


Thank God for this! 🙂

Vientos y otros cuentos Patagonicos

I remember that my mother used the expression ‘To Patagonia!’ quite often when, as a child, I was kind of bothering her with repetitive and silly questions: ‘But wheeere are we going?’ or ‘Wheeere are you going?!’. Later in life (actually not that long ago), I found out that Patagonia is not at all something fictitious, but an extraordinary beautiful and isolated (that’s where the expression comes from) place on Earth. As Bruce Chatwin famously wrote, Patagonia is “the farthest place to which man walked from his place of origin”, and to this day many adventure seekers and landscape photographers are lured by its remoteness and uniqueness. Seekers of remote experiences ourselves, we decided to see it with our own eyes and hearts.

Our initial plans to explore it during autumn were delayed, hence we bought the plane tickets for the end of spring. We did our best to plan most of the details ahead, knowing that it’s going to be a challenging trip, especially when it came to logistics. It may be that the national parks have become quite touristy in the past years, but in between, there lies a giant Nothing where you will barely find human presence. Don’t expect any gas stations, restaurants or supermarkets (what’s that?). Even after putting a lot of thought into the trip, not everything went according to plans. I guess this is what makes it an adventure, right?

If you are on a lower budget (as low as one can be in such an expensive place…) and if you also fancy a longer layover, in order to catch a glimpse of something different from Patagonia itself, a good idea is to check all the combinations of plane tickets. We managed to get 6 flights for approximately 700 GBP / person, which is quite a reasonable price. It will take some time to do a bit of research and match prices, but it is definitely worth it.

Taking off from London, with a short layover in São Paulo, we stopped in Santiago de Chile with the intention to spend two days exploring the artsy Valparaíso. First thing to notice, in an array of similitudes to my native country, Romania, was the aggressiveness of the taxi drivers, strategically placed inside the ‘Arrival’ area. Just say ‘No, gracias’ and look for a sign that says ‘Official TAXI’, where you will be paying a fair price. After the slalom between the mad drivers, we rented a car and off we went, 1.5h to destination. We had an Airbnb accommodation in Viña del Mar, a coastal resort city. We noticed an interesting and poignant contrast between cosmeticised boulevards along the beach with altitude competing palm trees and modern buildings, back quiet neighbourhoods with elegant houses and blooming trees, and a noisy and less aesthetic city centre. If you are a vegetarian, but not only, don’t miss out the delicious food at Le Bistrot Merci. And I would definitely recommend a sleepover in Nina’s ecological house, with top view over the city. Though less popular than Valparaíso (which is, in our opinion, almost always a better option) this city deserves your attention. In opposition, Valparaíso is a burst of authenticity through its cliff top houses, vibrant colours, street art and poetry. I loved it so much, I couldn’t get enough of it; there are drawings everywhere you look. I bet the Chilean artists can’t really make a living out of their work, however, I could grasp the passion blending in with the graffitis on the almost living walls. You can easily get the feeling of wandering through a large and vivid open-air museum. Its poetic decadence, the mixture of poverty with touristy treats, large amount of stray dogs (a second similarity with the streets in Romania), smart and aesthetic use of colours, make the city a charming mess.

After two days spent in these neighbouring cities, we headed to the airport to return the car and catch the plane to Punta Arenas, where we were to meet our friends and trip companions, Victor and Sînziana. Remembering the episode from the car return, it is worth mentioning that speaking a bit of Spanish (even the basic vocabulary, you don’t need much) in both Chile and Argentina, will prove extremely useful in specific situation, like this one. A vast majority of the locals won’t speak English at all. When we got to the place, there was absolutely no one there from the car rental company to pick up the car, though we agreed with them beforehand that we would be bringing it back at a certain time. The only person we could find was a gatekeeper who was as surprised as we were by the fact that we needed to return the car. He just gave us a chaotic explanation for why the right people were not there. We agreed, in Spanish, that we can leave the car there and that he would take care of it, though I am not sure he had more information than we had. However, the fact that I could communicate with him in the local language saved us from missing our flight. And this was not an isolated case during our trip… One of those very few moments when I find a meaning and use of my degree in foreign languages. :))

Punta Arenas, one of the largest cities in Patagonia, located on the legendary Strait of Magellan, is, like many other places here, a mixture of wild landscape, shabby neighbourhoods and recent prosperity brought along by tourism. The city is a convenient base for travellers heading to Tierra del Fuego, Torres del Paine, or Argentina. In another train of thoughts, there seems to be a strong connection between people living in a 3rd world country, where opportunities are a rare privilege, and their over the top good mood and sense of community. Which reminds me of a book I am currently reading and which I strongly recommend called ’Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind’, that, among others, brings solid arguments sustaining this theory.

We’ve had one of the most delightful conversations with a taxi driver, a local guy, on our way to the accommodation. I felt my Spanish was improving while chatting with him on a wide range of subjects. I was so proud of myself that I even understood the local anecdotes :)) ; such a storyteller he was, cheerful, and kind, and present, like many other people we met along the way. A car ride that made us feel more like home in this country. Punta Arenas was the place where we rented our campervans, which in the end proved less useful, thus less cost effective than we had initially thought. First of all, we couldn’t make them a sleeping option due to lack of space (it proved way too tiring to optimise the space for both luggage and bed each evening, after a long day of either hiking or driving) and due to the thick sticky Patagonian dust. There was no air conditioning in the campervans, which wouldn’t necessarily be a big thing if it weren’t that warm, whereas the dust insisted on getting (literally) everywhere as we had to keep our car windows open. If not a B&B, refuge, or hotel, we definitely preferred the tent to the campervan, where we could smell and feel fresh air and nature. Well, except during one night when the wind was that strong that it got into our tent as well. Secondly, we could feel every bump in the road, and there are not few crazily long off-roads in Patagonia. Other than that, life inside the campervans, Batman and Candy, as their stage name indicates, for roughly 2 weeks, was quite fun and added to the adventure.

250 km northwest from Punta Arenas via Ruta 9 or Ruta del Fin del Mundo (not very far from the actual truth) there is Puerto Natales. It is the capital of the province Última Esperanza, name given by the first European to discover the area where the city is located, Juan Ladrillero, a Spanish explorer, who was looking for the Strait of Magellan during his voyage in 1557. Although the city has flourished in the past years, mostly through reaping the benefits of serving as a gateway to Torres del Paine National Park, I found Puerto Natales way more charming, cosier and more hospitable than Punta Arenas. Going forward, as strange as it may seem, the restaurant where we ate the best was a vegetarian one, ‘El Living‘. We left with the misconception, or better said, with the resignation, that food in Patagonia will be a big minus during our trip (disclaimer: not only that 3 of us are vegetarian, but we are also healthy eaters, which makes us quite picky when it comes to food), and ended up being pretty impressed by their menu. Beside the fact that meat is not necessarily their most popular dish, you have quite a wide variety of tasty and healthy dishes to choose from. And by the way, guanaco is not their traditional cooked meat, as I had thought, but lamb. Puerto Natales is also a port city, with lovely views over the mountains, so do take a stroll along its shore; it’s a delight.

The best accommodation we stayed in that was not a camping site was ‘Viento Patagonico‘ in Puerto Natales. Although it has the status of a hotel, we didn’t feel like being in one at all (we are not very big fans of hotels, they are way too impersonal, especially if linked to trips like this one). Clean, comfortable, spacious, very good buffet breakfast, friendly hosts, and one of the loveliest attics I have ever been in, overlooking the mountains. Very good value for the price.

As we slept in a different place every single night, we headed to Torres del Paine the following day, with the intention to start the ‘W’ circuit. The 4-5 days hike is the most sought after in the park, and can be done in either direction, from west to east or vice versa. Our not so usual plan was to dedicate 4 days to the trek, do the whole east side of the ‘W’ on the first day, come back to the base and sleep at Hotel Las Torres, then leave one of the cars there and drive the other to the west base near Hotel Grey, in order to continue the hike from the Refugio Grey and finish it back to Hotel Las Torres. I know, complicated, and not everything went according to plan. Not because of how we structured the hike, but mainly because of the fact that we didn’t allow more days for it. Which was also the main reason, I think, for not being able to enjoy the landscape, photographically speaking, to the fullest. We got it a bit wrong from the start, as we scheduled driving (from Puerto Natales to the park) and hiking in the same day. The actual drive from one place to the other is not that long, approximately 1.5 – 2 hours, but we didn’t take into account that the road would be less dull than what we encountered that far. Thus, the fact that we were constantly stopping to take a breath of the surrounding landscape, photograph guanacos and flamingos, added at least one hour to it.

Oh, yes, and on top of that, we underestimated the time it would take us hiking from Hotel las Torres to Mirador las Torres and back, which is roughly 8 hours! We managed to do less than half of it, reaching only the first point of this side of the ‘W’, which is Refugio El Chileno. They say that the Patagonian realm got very touristy in the past couple of years, which may be the case, in some respect, but don’t imagine that you will get to see an image similar to that of the popular ski resorts in Europe, Yellowstone or the Great Wall of China. There are a couple of camping sites, refuges, or even luxury hotels, but the parks are not suffocated by their presence. The demand is still way higher than the offer. Most probably, the locals try as much as possible to preserve its wilderness, which is in the end Patagonia’s loudest treasure. One downside of this is that there isn’t much information you can find, anywhere, on its routes, roads, gas stations, or anything else that you might be needing at some point. Another downside, which is more disturbing than the first one, is the expensiveness of the place, especially of the ‘W’ circuit. There are a few refuges and cabins along the hikes (which you will find available only if you book well in advance), but they are horribly expensive. I won’t even mention hotels, or the price for one night in that luxury. We slept in the tent for 3 nights, alternating with one night in a refuge with beds for 8 people, and we paid 90USD for one night per person. And this was one of the cheapest in the area!

Our first close encounter with the Patagonian nature, along the hike from Hotel las Torres to Refugio El Chileno, was not as rich as we expected. The light is quite harsh at this time of the year, while the vegetation seemed too lifeless, where there was one. This fact, was, however, compensated by the abundant wildlife we had the chance to see along the road to Torres del Paine. Never have I had the privilege to experience so many random encounters with such a wide variety of birds and animals.

One of the highlights of the trip, as well as one of those little moments of pleasures, was putting the tent in the camping sites (it’s illegal to camp outside these areas, anywhere in Patagonia), followed by an in-house exquisite dinner and/or breakfast cooked on the camper van’s stove. And the most sought-after item of any meal was the perfectly ripped avocados! If the local fruits in both Chile and Argentina profoundly disappointed us, at least we had plenty of avocado, the best I have eaten so far!

The second day, we left one of the cars, Batman to be more precise, in a parking space near Hotel las Torres and the 4 of us squeezed in Candy until Hotel Grey, in order to return from the hike following a different path. Despite the annoying off-road, we found the view on this side of the mountain much more refreshing and spectacular than the one we experienced the day before. Keep in mind that once you park the car there, you need to be sparing another 45 min for buying the tickets and for walking for about 20 min ‘till you reach the boat. It was on this shore surrounded by magnificent glaciers, that I felt the Patagonian wind in one of its most intense moods. Once you get to Refugio Grey by boat, you can either continue the trek up to see the glacier up-closely, or, as we did, continue the hike to Camping Paine Grande or Camping Italiano, depending on how much you want to walk.

It takes some time to get used to the landscape, as the heat and the scarce vegetation can get quite overwhelming, but little by little we started to adapt to its specificities. One of the most peculiar and fascinating elements to observe is how nature, the wind in particular, shapes the landscape. Most of the trees are left leaning almost to the ground, as in a solitary bow. They are a poignant reflection of how powerful and domineering the wind here can be. Another particularity of the landscape are the marks left by the regular fires, with the wind being again the main character. In December 2011 Torres del Paine National Park was ravaged by a fire that destroyed 17 thousand hectares of forest. As strange as it may seem, and as devastating as it is for the landscape, the mixture of fallen and rotten trees inflicts a fascinating amount of drama and dynamism altogether. The now lifeless and solitary trees create an image of outstanding beauty, which, paradoxically, communicates life rather than death.

As we went along, the heat started to remind me of the amount of warm clothes we carried with us, as unprepared as we were for that type of weather. The lack of vegetation and the heavy backpacks made us get even angrier at the burning sun. By the time we arrived at Paine Grande, we were already dead tired and decided to camp there, instead of walking another 2.5 hours until Camping Italiano, as we had initially agreed upon. No luck, however, the lady at the reception made it clear, with barely raising her eyes from whatever she was doing at that moment, that ‘we don’t have any availability’. My trick with doing the puppy eyes and putting on a warm smile on my face, didn’t work this time. Which left us with no other option than to continue our journey until Camping Italiano. Don’t make any hopes to eat there either without a reservation or preordering the meal, as it seems their portions are numbered and probably served only to people overnighting there. We ate a bit from our own backpacks to regain some energy and off we went, hoping to arrive at the destination before dark. The view from Paine Grande is, in my opinion, one of the best of the ‘W’ circuit. Here, the majestic silhouettes of Los Cuernos, or ‘The Milk Chocolates’, as Victor branded them, start to stand sharp against the sky, while the vivid red of the Chilean Firebush stands in an almost surreal contrast to the rest of the lifeless vegetation.

The last 1.5h were pretty exhausting, but we were once again brought to life by one of the most mesmerising natural elements I witnessed in Patagonia, namely a small silver forest, as I used to call it, with its array of noisy white trees, a species related to the birch trees. After a whole day of walking in the sun, it felt like entering (at least visually) the realm of Narnia. As the sun menaced to go down fast, we rushed to the camping site, and promised to get back and photograph the place in more detail.

And we kept our promise. The initial plan was to do the middle side of the ‘W’ the following day, going up the French Valley. But the tiredness and the heat convinced us to have some rest that day, wake up later and head to our next destination, which was Domo Frances (only 1h distance from Camping Italiano), skipping that side of the ‘W’. Instead, after leaving our stuff inside the dome, we excitedly went back to the winter forest. And we didn’t regret it, as we had more time to linger on it and quietly observe its details. Though uniquely beautiful, the scenery was, just like most of the Patagonian landscape, extremely complicated, which makes it hard to visually detangle it. At the same time, this is exactly what stretches the mind and widens the heart of someone who likes to photograph details and small worlds.

We had a good night’s rest at Domo Frances and in the morning we began our way to Batman, along another of the most beautiful landscape in Torres del Paine. Until you reach Refugio Los Cuernos, which is almost middle point to Hotel Las Torres, it’s the deserted beaches overlooking the mountains that will steal your heart. The serenity and infiniteness defining this place will seduce you to lie on the shore, under the shadow of one tree, and observe its beauty in awe.

As compared to the calmness and freshness of the first part of the hike, the second one was extremely hard to tolerate, as we walked in full sun again, along a desert that felt interminable, with not one tree or bush where to rest for a while. My back never hurt that bad.

After we had some good food at Hotel las Torres and got back the second car, we decided to go to Camping Pehoe and spend the night there. This was, in my opinion, the camping site with the most stunning view in the park. Actually, it’s worth mentioning that we were overall very impressed by the quality, location and cleanliness of the camping sites.

While the boys were busy repairing the flat tyre (Batman modo chill got in trouble), me and Sînziana spent the time admiring the peaks in sunset light and trying to take a photo of the local caracara (an eagle looking like a chicken) and of the funny but elusive armadillo.

The next day we said ‘goodbye’ to Torres del Paine and ‘see you soon!’ to Chile. Before crossing the border to Argentina we made a detour to Puerto Natales, as we were sure to find a gas station there and a vulcanizing shop for limping Batman. With both cars healthy and fuelled, we headed straight to the border, through Cerro Dorotea. Our next aim was to reach El Calafate in order to explore Perito Moreno, the majestic glacier. One of our biggest mistakes during the whole journey in Patagonia, was to take an off-road from Tapi Aike, thinking that we would take a shorter way to El Calafate. If I remember correctly we made 65 km in approximately 2 hours on a terrain that fried each and every neuron. We called it ‘the death road’, as we were inspired by the terrifying ‘scarecrow’ waiting for us with a big grim at the end of the road. Needless to say I recommend, with my whole being, taking the ‘long’ road through Esperanza! Tired as hell, we slept like babies in a lovely accommodation in El Calafate, ‘Kau Yatun’, with the best buffet breakfast.

Perito Moreno, located in the Los Glaciares National Park, is within easy reach from El Calafate, however, keep in mind that the last entrance in the park is at 6pm (during summer days). Once there, it’s hard not to be impressed by this gigantic block of ice. Measuring 30km long, 5km wide and 60m high, Perito Moreno is constantly moving. It inches forward up to 2m per day and is one of the world’s few glaciers that is still growing. Hearing and observing how pieces of ice start cracking and falling in the water like an earthquake of ice is frightening and breathtaking at the same time. Do have some patience to sit in one place and let yourself be captivated by its majesty, so that you will be able to catch one of these moments from head to tail.

Our last stop in Patagonia before going back to Santiago de Chile was Monte Fitz Roy, also located in the Los Glaciares National Park. If driving through Chile was made tolerable by some vegetation now and then, a rock or two on either side of the road, funny encounters with rabbits or guanacos, driving through Argentina was as boring and dusty as hell! Whereas the wind can blow with more than 100 km/h. There were times when I couldn’t have gotten out of the car and walk around without a bit of help from Ștefan. The only elements that woke us up from our reverie and brought some curiosity into our eyes were the uncanny roadside shrines surrounded by overwhelming empty bottles. Most of these shrines are built in memory of Difunta Correa, a woman who, as popular legends say, headed to the desert together with her baby in search of her husband, who was forced to join the military forces in 1940. Due to lack of water she died of thirst, but managed to save her baby by setting him to her breast. Now, Argentinians build these shrines and leave these bottles of water for the woman, in order to ‘calm her eternal thirst’.

The village of El Chalten is a gateway to trails surrounding the peaks of Cerro Torre and Monte Fitz Roy to the northwest. Near Fitz Roy, a path leads to the Laguna de los Tres viewpoint, which the one we decided to take. It was love at first sight with this colourful village. It takes merely 15 min to walk from one end to the other, but it’s enough to be enchanted by its picturesque vibe. The village is full of hikers going up and down the mountain, which will stir up your energy to follow their path. If you are going to overnight here, Spa y Cabaña Yaten is the best indulgence you can treat yourself with. They have a very cosy apartment for 4 people, plus one spa treatment, which is included in the price – a much needed whim after a couple of days of hiking.

We planned to reach Laguna de los Tres before sunrise, so in order to be closer to this point we hiked first until Campamento Poincenot. I enjoyed this park more than the one in Torres del Paine, not necessarily because the hike was way easier and shorter, but because we hiked mostly through a forest that I absolutely loved. The whole landscape finally started to look more like spring, as compared to the one Torres del Paine where almost everything reminded me of the desert. The trees shaped the same intricate nature story, but their thickness kept us from feeling that warm. It was a delight to walk through this kingdom of lively nature that offered windows to glaciers, waterfalls or mountain peaks from time to time. The camping site gave as good as it got, with its tall and strong trees serving as valuable shields against the fiery wind during the night.

We woke up at 4am and went on climbing to Laguna de los Tres, hoping we could see the mighty Fitz Roy sunbathing in the morning sun. Cerro Fitz Roy means ‘peak of fire’ or ‘smoking mountain’ – an appropriate description of the cloud-enshrouded summit. Explorers Perito Moreno and Carlos Moyano later named it after the Beagle’s Captain FitzRoy, who navigated Darwin’s expedition up the Río Santa Cruz in 1834, coming within 50km of the cordillera. Hard-to-get Fitz Roy didn’t honour us with its presence, but a spectacular sunrise over the valley and the lake, together with the subtle rainbow, made the steep climb to the top, while we were not yet fully awake, 150% worthwhile.

With this we ended our adventure throughout this far far away wilderness, called Patagonia, and went back to Santiago de Chile, passing again through Puerto Natales and Punta Arenas. With the desire to explore the city a bit, we spent one night in Santiago. With a growing economy, yet still imprinted in many ways with marks of a 3rd world country, the city is an amalgam of nuances and tones. Cosmopolitan, shabby, colourful, energetic, poor, sophisticated – it’s hard to describe it in one single word. While we weren’t at all impressed by its popular city centre, our senses were exalted by the walk along the artsy and vibrant Bellavista neighbourhood, with its sideways cafes and painted walls. Also, in Santiago we ate the most flavoured local fruits in the country. Mercado Central is the best place to find such fruits. We couldn’t have ended our journey in a more flavoured way than with a full glass of fresh cherimoya.

The Patagonian realm can be quite hard to digest for people like us who are not particularly friends with the desert, hence with everything that comes along with it: heat, thick dust that gets everywhere, harsh light, less or lack of vegetation. In between the national parks, there lies an overwhelming Nothing. However, if you can get past this, you will discover a unique type of landscape and a very rich and diverse wildlife. In Patagonia, nature grows barren and beautiful, while the solitude can make you feel both mesmerised and disoriented. On a micro level, Patagonia offers a wealth of experiences and sceneries.

Photographic equipment used: Nikon D7000 and NIKKOR AF-S 18-200mm f/3.5-5.6G ED VR II and Nikon D800 with lenses NIKKOR AF-S 50mm F/1.4G and NIKKOR AF-S 70-200mm f/4G ED VR

The less seen face of Portugal

Talking to several friends who had previously visited the country, I had already drawn an image in my head on what the general vibe in Portugal is. I somehow felt that I would perfectly fit in there, given my personality. Warm and cheerful people, good food (mostly fish), sunny but not that hot, diversity in landscape, the ocean, colourful houses, picturesque villages. So you can all imagine the enthusiasm and impatience to meet this hospitable and playful country in person. The only drawback was that I knew mountains were not its strength, but I guess it’s quite hard to have them all. Plus, the Alps are always an excellent and easy to reach option when it comes to mountain routes and breathtaking views. Spain, too, if one doesn’t mind a more arid landscape.

To our exploring hearts’ joy, the image corresponded to reality, with little exceptions that were nevertheless compensated by other positive details.

We knew that people usually prefer to go to Lisbon and the south-west coast, so we decided to break the rule somehow and go for the less seen face of Portugal, the north, adding an off-peak timing, that is beginning of May. I highly recommend this time of the year for visiting the country for those who, like us, don’t get along too well with crowds and too many tourists, or with high temperatures.

I know I’ve said the mountain area is not exactly Portugal’s strength, but we decided to give it a go and began our journey with the exploration of the only national park in the country. Peneda Gerês National Park is home to a wide range of flora and fauna, including the grey wolf that was hunted almost to extinction some time ago due to its threat to livestock, but protected by law since the end of the 20th century. One of the top 3 experiences we had in the park, and probably the most authentic, was to sleep in the yurts at Nomad Planet. As you get close to the place, you will notice a wooden sign where it’s written ‘Nomad Planet. Stress free zone’. And throughout your stay, you will find the statement to be very accurate. Lovely views over Peneda Gerês, so peaceful and quiet that you can hear your thoughts, nature as far as the eye can see, aaand (I know this will cause a certain amount of distress in some people, but you’ll get used to it and it will be fine 😃) no WiFi! The eco-friendly yurts are adorable with their colourful and quaint decor, very clean, and they also have some heating. It’s basically a tent with more comfort, a good starting point for those who haven’t yet experienced sleeping in a tent but would like to feel the place in a more local way. The breakfast is served in a tipi and is delicious, while the host is very helpful, knowledgeable and friendly. We will be back when they have finished the tree house as well. 😀

At the host’s suggestion, we decided to go on a hike to the 7 Lagoas do Gerês (the 7 lagoons), but since most of the trails in Portugal’s wilderness are not specifically marked, we missed the spot. The mountains in Portugal have a desert like, rocky aspect. You can find a bushy carpet of multicoloured flowers at the mountain base (the flower season begins somewhere in May, depending on the weather conditions), but there is less to no vegetation at all as you reach the upper part. On our way to the lagoons we found one interesting rock construction, which Portuguese call ‘wolf traps’ or ‘fojos’. As the name suggests, they are old wolf traps used when this species, today protected, was persecuted because of its attacks on livestock. These traps, existing only in the north of the Iberian Peninsula, are conserved today as valuable items of the local cultural heritage.

Our unsuccessful search for the 7 lagoons was more than compensated by the encounter with Antonio in the village of Xertelo, our hike’s starting point. Antonio is a talkative, rubicund and light hearted local in his 70s who lives with his wife in this tiny village that hosts no more than 10 houses. It was enough to say ‘Hello’ (‘Ola’ in this case) and he hadn’t stopped talking until we put an end to it, leaving him with the promise that when we’ll return from the hike we’ll pass by his house to buy some homemade aguardiente and honey (which we did). None of us four speaks Portuguese; me and the other girl in our group understand basic Portuguese vocabulary and speak Spanish moderately, while Antonio tried to speak an almost unintelligible Portuguese-Spanish. Despite this barrier, we were all delighted by this genuine experience (even the boys, who didn’t understand a word from the conversation :)) ). The funny thing is that Antonio didn’t even seem to care too much that we could grasp at most 60% of his stories. What he really needed was someone in front of him to listen and ask a question from time to time. His stories were only interrupted once in a while by his wife, who, with a slight ‘master of the house’ attitude, asked him to slow down or lower his voice. And the two make the most flavoured honey I have tasted so far.

If you stay at Nomad Planet, you might want to pass through the villages of Paradela and Pitões das Junias. Paradela is a parish of the municipality of Montalegre where you will find joy in jumping from boulder to boulder and watch the village from the top. Pitões das Junias, on the other hand, will strike you with its decadent solitude, narrow streets and houses which made friends with nature; that deserted they seem. The only signs of civilisation that we came across were an old man sitting almost still on a bench, as if waiting for something that would never come, and the smell of fried food.

On our last day in the national park, on our way to Obidos, we decided to stop at Cascata Do Arado, a beautiful waterfall. I really loved the high altitude road with views over the Cávado River Valley and the charming and narrow road portion right before reaching the waterfall. You can actually cross the border to Spain from there, in less than 20 km. At the destination we found a little spot away from the heat and the people sunbathing on the main shore. Getting our feet into the water with emerald and golden hues was pure delight.

Another interesting phenomenon that we experienced while driving through the park was a self ignited fire burning most of the vegetation on its way, until the firefighters managed to extinguish it. I was watching helplessly how the trees and the grass slowly surrendered to it, and even felt some kind of remorse while trying to capture the moment with my camera and having my artistic side ignited by this spectacle. The guilt diminished once I found out that, in many cases, these fires are a natural part of the normal climate and of the biosphere. This has been called a ‘necessary symbiosis’, in which fire and life have benefited from each other’s effects.

The encounter with Obidos was love at first site and definitely made it to top three Portuguese places or moments. The legend says that the place was first noticed for its beauty by the 13th century Queen Isabel de Aragon who received it as a gift from her husband, who thus set a trend, or more of a tradition, where princes offered the town to their brides as a symbol of their love. Obidos is a picturesque medieval town perched on a hill, a labyrinth of cobblestone streets, whitewashed terracota-roofed houses embraced by multicoloured flowers during the warm season and livened up with dashes of vivid yellow and blue paint. The town is surrounded by a crenellated wall on which you can climb and walk along, observing the whole show from above and drooling after the local orange and lemon trees. It’s a small one, but abundant in precious details of all sorts. The main street is lined with quirky shops hosting local crafts, delicacies and liquors, including Ginjinha, a sweet brandy liquor made from local cherries. Cars are rarely to be seen on the narrow streets and if you go off-season, crowds won’t interfere with your revery either.

I have an almost innate love for mountains and forests, yet, sometimes I crave for that feeling of calmness, romance and infiniteness that the sea at dawn gives me. Lagoa de Obidos is a large beach 15 km away from the town, a really special place where the lagoon meets the ocean, separated only by a thin strip of land. Even more beautiful and soothing, as it was almost deserted when we got there due to the off-peak timing. And to the boys’ excitement, the winds were perfect for running the kite. So up with it dancing in the air!

Our following destination was Monsanto, but we couldn’t help making a little diversion in order to see Museu das Aldeias. The private museum and the exterior garden, which looks more like a fairytale land, are an old farm bought by one family in the 1960s and converted into a wide collection of objects related to life in the field, as a means of educating people into understating ancestral practices and Portuguese countryside. You will be amazed by so many details and you will get a lot of insights into the craft work. The atmosphere is so real and authentic that you will feel like travelling in time. Right next to the museum there is one restaurant, O Electrico, whose exterior and colourful details are like a continuation of the museum itself. We didn’t quite like the food as it was too heavy and mainly meat based, the sort of food you usually get in a canteen. Anyway, even if it’s only to see the exterior, don’t miss it!

Another gem of that particular day was the last part of road on the way to Monsanto. I remember it had been raining all day long, but once we got to that part with vast fields of yellow, purple and pink flowers in between small, but coquettish villages, the rain suddenly became our ally as it made everything appear brighter and more vivid. It stirred that childhood appetite in me to roll over the grass.

I had seen a lot of pictures of Monsanto on the internet, which made me intensely dream about getting there, but when I finally got there I realised that it exceeded expectations and that it has much more to offer than that one popular spot you will see in most photos. Which, by the way, we didn’t even bump into and we noticed this only when we left the village. :)) Monsanto sits on the edge of a mountain and overlooks the valley below, offering wonderful views over the region from various points. No wonder they call it ‘the most picturesque Portuguese village’. It is full of character and has a very distinctive aspect with its hilly narrow streets, houses scattered among giant boulders and semicircular roofs. The ancient people of Monsanto did not hack through the rocks to build their homes — the granite houses were built to accommodate the natural shape of the boulders, which is a reflection of their respect for the rawness of the environment — and adapted to it rather than forcing nature to adapt to people.

Another spot not to be missed while in Monsanto area is Penha Garcia, another typical village which spreads over the mountain slope, affording beautiful views. It is worth your while hiking to the top of the village and enjoying the landscape surrounding it. Then descend to see the interesting fossil rocks that people call painted snakes marks.

It is worth your while hiking to the top of the village and enjoying the landscape surrounding it. Then descend to see the interesting fossil rocks that people call painted snakes marks. In the same place, I highly recommend staying at Casa do Seral. It was the best accommodation we booked throughout our journey. Well, except the yurts, but that’s another story. 😃 You will feel welcome from the minute you step into the garden and meet Pascoal, the host, and his dog Paco. The house is unique in architecture, very cosy, made of 90% ecological materials. But what makes this location even more special are the hosts. Pascoal speaks multiple languages, he is a carpenter (he built most of the furniture in the house) but also a musician and he will love telling you about his band or show you some of the peculiar instruments they’re playing in a concert. They’re not famous, they play locally, but getting to know these people and being curious about their local behaviour and hobbies is what makes a vacation more authentic. His wife is a cosmetician and masseuse, so you can also indulge in a special treatment of the kind.

The only place in Portugal that really disappointed us, after seeing so many idyllic photos which pushed our enthusiasm to the highest level, was the fishing village of Costa Nova do Prado. I can’t even call it a village, it looked more like a deserted shabby resort, with little or none of the intimacy and charm of the place we saw in the photos. The architecture of the smaller stripe painted houses is quite peculiar and its location, on the shore of the ocean, makes it a special place in itself, but what I think ruins its aspect, are the newer bigger buildings that mimic (or at least they try to) the atmosphere of the older part of the village.

Our last destination was the romantic yet full of character Oporto, the city that smiles, an UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1996. Just like Obidos, Oporto is a treasure chest for those who love the photography of details. Storytelling labyrinthic streets leading to nowhere that cross their paths, flamboyant baroque churches with superb and complicated interiors, buildings piled up on top of one another creating patterns that stir your imagination, lively graffiti walls, and the beautiful glazed architectural building façades. If you want to get lost on the narrow hilly lanes start at the popular and touristic Praça da Ribeira and trick the crowds by going up the narrow streets where the air becomes more local: snaps of laundries drying up in river winds and sunset light, secretive backdoors, the smell of home cooked food, people looking out their window, the jingle of wine glasses and cutlery. But what really made our day (evening, to be more precise) and also made it to the top 3 places we experienced in Portugal, was listening to live Fado in a cosy restaurant with good food and people with sangre caliente. Casa Da Mariquinhas is the most traditional and the oldest house of Fado in Oporto. It is a small restaurant, so do book in advance. The city is also a mecca for the wine aficionados, with Douro Valley the perfect place to taste it. We didn’t have time for it, but I’ve heard nice things about it.

I was very happy to meet and feel the Portugal of my dreams. Warm, cosy and picturesque. Its charm has triggered an even stronger desire to come back and explore more of it.