Portugal - the most "pleasant" place
One week of European sun, sand, sea, seafood, sunrises and sunsets.
I don’t know why the word “pleasant” weirds me out, but it does. It makes me think of someone trying to be polite about something they didn’t enjoy.
“It was…pleasant.”
So, when Mum kept saying, “This is so pleasant”, whilst meandering around Faro in Portugal, I thought, mmmm, that’s an interesting word choice for a city and experience I can see she’s loving. I’d have used gorgeous, beautiful or stunning. And as much as I have a habit of sharing my unsolicited opinions, particularly around mum as I revert to a child at times, I held back and listened to her “pleasant” about the place.
Being a word nerd, I looked it up. Saying Portugal is pleasant, and I quote Google, is saying it’s giving a sense of happy satisfaction or enjoyment.
Okay. That reframe shuts me up. She was talking about how it made her feel and how it affected her senses rather than the visual aesthetics. I concur; Portugal was pleasant. (Now I sound like I’ve walked off The Bridgerton set). 😆
Trains, food, and family
![Eating lunch on a train, family at afternoon tea, breakfast at the airport](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_720,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F1e13bf5a-e1ae-48fd-9c72-25f8745d1ce1_4032x3024.heic)
![Eating lunch on a train, family at afternoon tea, breakfast at the airport](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_720,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F06663455-ac82-4559-a961-05b5a5215cf4_4032x3024.heic)
I love train travel. I once caught a train all the way from Vladivostok in Russia to Scunthorpe! [9 trains, 2 planes, and 1 boat]. Never have I eaten a packed lunch of sandwiches wrapped in takeaway tubs on a train, but there’s a first for everything. And the #pensionerlife has its benefits. Turns out the train was so crowded they couldn’t get the food cart on, so I’d have been ravenous had I relied on that. Thanks, Mum.
Every time we go to Manchester airport, we see our family, as Mum has Manc roots. I barely speak to Auntie Gillian and Uncle Keith between visits (I’m bad at messaging), but the love is there as if our afternoon teas are weekly.
Sleepy city of Faro
![Photographs of the historic centre of Faro, Portugal.](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F3b763053-2063-491e-9f71-0af5f8fca9f3_4032x3024.heic)
![Photographs of the historic centre of Faro, Portugal.](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6291b735-2135-45fb-894c-a44458a65f76_3024x4032.heic)
![Photographs of the historic centre of Faro, Portugal.](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8a34252c-5809-41b7-a3df-e079f03ed518_3024x4032.heic)
![Photographs of the historic centre of Faro, Portugal.](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa1779614-4995-4c80-9ac3-3d66b33512a8_3024x4032.heic)
![Photographs of the historic centre of Faro, Portugal.](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F7abcb012-d003-44fc-be20-dbd90c85cc1f_4032x3024.heic)
![Photographs of the historic centre of Faro, Portugal.](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F10522414-a890-4fa3-aa65-aba6e19851a4_3024x4032.heic)
We landed in Faro late morning. Most people head straight to spots on The Algarve, but we’d decided to spend 28 hours exploring the city's historical centre. It’s sleepy, shabby chic, traditionally Portuguese and untouched by tourism. The old castle encasing shops and homes reminded me of Chester and Caernarfon. The walls are crumbling, with graffiti tags between pristine whitewashed and tiled walls. The pavements are either mosaic masterpieces or cracked with crevices.
Tiles and churches and bones
![Tiles from Faro Portugal and The Capela dos Ossos (The Bone Chapel).](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F5913308c-386e-44cf-836b-b2d3297c8694_3024x4032.heic)
![Tiles from Faro Portugal and The Capela dos Ossos (The Bone Chapel).](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6c084241-3233-4580-9e26-7f78c79ba786_3024x4032.heic)
![Tiles from Faro Portugal and The Capela dos Ossos (The Bone Chapel).](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F16b7e8d7-d284-4e47-b988-ffcc0bb8d239_3024x4032.heic)
![Tiles from Faro Portugal and The Capela dos Ossos (The Bone Chapel).](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fc56d36bc-6b91-4702-99cf-31745f1f44e2_3024x4032.heic)
![Tiles from Faro Portugal and The Capela dos Ossos (The Bone Chapel).](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fc4589301-95d6-4ff5-8344-094954da3de9_3024x4032.heic)
![Tiles from Faro Portugal and The Capela dos Ossos (The Bone Chapel).](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F7f3f1d61-d694-48ed-aaaf-59e2020f8d47_3024x4032.heic)
I was obsessed with tile patterns. Ooing and aahing at every turn. The churches are awe-inspiring, and The Bone Chapel is a macabre highlight.
Beach bumming in Carvoeiro
Then, it was off to the beach. A week at the top of Carvoeiro’s hill, 15 minutes from Centeanes beach. We were so happy to find the alternative beach as Carvoeiro’s main one is beautiful but packed. I’m not used to being in holiday hotspots, and it’s not Mum’s style either. We’d saunter downtown at night for food, but the rest of the time, we stuck to Centeanes and day-tripping.
![Photographs of Carvoeiro, Portugal](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fd59b4e8a-1870-41e9-a479-d85749fb3a87_2316x3088.heic)
![Photographs of Carvoeiro, Portugal](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff4aa1596-0bdd-4581-8905-5c7dce0e06d5_3024x4032.heic)
![Photographs of Carvoeiro, Portugal](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2814dffd-fa23-48fa-937a-d06792cccb39_3024x4032.heic)
![Photographs of Carvoeiro, Portugal](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fdf1b4c82-32a0-42c2-90de-cd6173b81f32_3024x4032.heic)
![Photographs of Carvoeiro, Portugal](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6bcf78d1-62aa-4083-b2f5-b73968ea3ee8_3024x4032.heic)
![Photographs of Carvoeiro, Portugal](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F497891f0-0723-42c1-8d2a-820bf0357d03_3024x4032.heic)
![Photographs of Carvoeiro, Portugal](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F045a3e4f-6c29-4ad4-aeb2-2f5ebc824b0a_3024x4032.heic)
![Photographs of Carvoeiro, Portugal](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb29097de-be62-4e4e-ac5a-7935eadf4b02_3024x4032.heic)
![Photographs of Carvoeiro, Portugal](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fdd6dc167-5016-4135-a71f-e914698c796f_2316x3088.heic)
I loved the lazy days that started with watching the sunrise from our rooftop (I wake early but still count it as a lazy start when it’s spent with a mug of lemon water wrapped in a blankie watching the sky). Then, down to the beach to set up ‘camp’ for a few hours. A yellow umbrella. A shady cave. Slip, slap, slop sun lotion. And the freezing Atlantic ocean that blasted refreshment through my bones. We had “elevensies” of coffee and ate Portuguese tarts at O-Stop, the cliffside restaurant that’s been there since 1960. I read multiple novels. Afternoons looked like a slow shuffle home, cups of tea (I’m officially middle-aged), and a siesta or a spa treatment. Days ended choosing seafood (for me - Cataplana - the dish pic was the fave) and vegetarian dishes (for mum) before heading back for the panoramic sunset on the roof.
That’s it. That was our week.
It was definitely “pleasant” I get that now.
And in the quiet space, I could feel a swelling of emotion in my chest—feelings to be examined. They have a habit of waiting for the pause and stillness to announce their presence. What did I use to do with them? Drink. Afternoon beer, a couple of glasses of wine. Nothing excessive on the Mum holidays. But enough to silence and cover them with chatter or relax and, essentially, numb out.
Having done that for the best part of my life (until almost 7 years ago when I chose sobriety), there’s a lot I haven’t dealt with. Today, it surprises me that certain thoughts and emotions haven’t come up before. How can I have been home so often, yet X, Y, or Z is only coming up now?
I believe it’s because I’m now ready to handle them. It can only happen in God’s time. The universe’s time. Whatever you wanna call it. Not my time. So, I lean in and ask what I need next. Time alone to contemplate, a therapy session, a friend’s ear? Whatever it takes, I’ll do it, as that’s what it takes to heal.
Thank you for being with me.
Mwah. 💋