Ever since I left Portugal a few weeks ago, all I've wanted to do is go back. I get off the bus and wander into the southern town of Faro. I'm sitting at an internet cafe trying to scrounge up phone numbers of possible couchsurfing hosts, send out a few text messages, and moments later Joao breezes into the internet cafe and gives me a ride to his apartment.
His two cats greet me warmly, one is named Sagres which is the name of a town and also a Portuguese beer. I take a moment to organize myself. Joao has to go back to work so he drops me off at the beach on the way. Before I get out of the car he apologizes for his poor English (which isn't poor at all) and also for the poor weather (which again, isn't poor at all.) He'll be done with work around 3p and he'll come back to pick me up then.
After my debacle in Seville, I've only got one day in Faro and I'm perfectly content to spend it on the beach.
If you hate having sandy beach feet in your house, then this is your worst nightmare. The streets and the sidewalks here are made of sand. I'm not even sure these houses don't have sand instead of regular floors on the inside. And really, when you've got sand up to your doorstep, why bother
Last chance to be a tourist for a little while so I whipped out my old friend the camera, set up the timer, and help my own little personal photo shoot. I wanted to remember what my face looks like when it's not destroyed by stress and what a smile looks like when the happiness behind it is real.
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