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Festive Funchal fun – day 5

The sun shone

We woke today to blue skies, but our few days on the island has taught us that the weather can be fickle, and the weather “now” can be different from the weather an hour later. But today the sun stayed out all day and we enjoyed a warm day, stripping to T-shirts when sat in the sun.

After a leisurely start, and more of “God’s bread” for breakfast, we caught the bus up to the Botanical gardens (different from Monte Palace we visited on Tuesday) – 10 minutes and 1.95 euros each on a yellow bus (numbers 29, 30, 31 & 31A all take you there) and then enjoyed a pleasant couple of hours enjoying the grounds, the view, and a drink in the sunshine in the cafe.

We headed back down the hill (again by bus, after yesterday’s hike, we were in no rush for any more downhill walks), had lunch and headed to the waterfront. The temperature was probably in the low twenties, the sun strong and warm and seeing one or two others in the sea, I knew I had to take a dip too. The water was not too cold – I’d say it was warmer than the med off Nerja in October? – and it was a definite delight to take a dip in December. The beach was nothing special – big grey/black pebbles and rocks that were a little difficult to walk on – but it shelved swiftly and one was soon in deepish water.

After warming on the rocks for a while after my dip, we headed further up the beach to “yellow building” that we had seen in many pictures of Funchal. It was an early fort built to defend the port and it made an interesting diversion for twenty minutes to explore it.

Then home for a quick recharge, before back out after dark to eat and a last look at the Christamas lights and market. The Christmas market – busy all week – was heaving, it being Friday night the locals were out in force and we found ourselves watching a local band playing songs – most of which we didn’t know – and having a wonderful, festive fun time in Funchal.

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Festive Funchal fun – day 4

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned …

Today we headed into the hills mountains, booking a trip to Pico de Aieiro and beyond. The day had dawned with blue skies over Funchal and we were confident of a good day’s hiking as our transport collected us shortly befor 9am to take us to Pico de Aieiro , 1,800m above sea -level (that’s 300m higher than Ben Nevis) but as the mini-bus climbed ever higher, the cloud began to envelope us, and a light rain began to fall. As we de-bussed and donned our snoods, gloves and rain jackets (at 5 degress, it was cold as well as damp) Becky was not a happy Hector, wondering why we were choosing to walk in the rain.

The original plan was to hike along PR1 from Pico de Aieiro to Pico Ruivo but due to forest fires earlier in the year, much of that route is closed. However, you could do the first 1.2km as an “out and back” route, taking in the iconic “Stairway to heaven” – photos of which are awash online, of towering peaks knifing through the cloud base and reaching into an azure blue sky, or shots of green clad cliff-sides plunging deep into the valley below. But I must have lived the life of a sinner. As I climbed the stairway to heaven, no brilliant light and awe-inspiring majestic views for me, only swirling grey clouds obscuring all that lay in front, above, below or behind, heaven was not welcoming me today! We turned round, and headed back from whence we came, and as we did so the clouds began to part, the sun began to shine in all its splendour; those that had taken the path later than me must have led more righteous lives as heaven revealed itself to them.

With most of PR1 closed, our guide has arranged for us to follow PR3 down from the hill, a 7km hike across varied terrain and views. The weather continued to change throughout the day, at times we needed to strip off our layers and walk bathed in sunshine, at other times the puffa jackets were worn.

From this point, most of the hike was downhill, but that doesn’t mean it was easy – both underfoot and on the knees. For the final two or three kms, the trail tracked alongside a river canyon, the sound of rushing water providing a dramatic soundtrack to our descent and the pools, swirls and waterfalls added (even more) visual interest. At then end of the trail, five hours after he had dropped us off, our guide picked us up in the minibus for the thirty minute transit back to Funchal. It was a fun, but tough, day, a proper hike that demanded more than typical tourist attire or fitness, and it felt an accomplishment to have achieved what we did.

Back in town, we went straight to a local cafe to order some coffee and cakes. Portuguese/Madieran pastries are as good as any I have had elsewhere. The only decisions we had to make was what cakes to choose, and whether to eat inside or outside. On both counts we made the right decision.

Shortly after tucking in to these tasty treats, the heavens opened. A good job we had chosen to eat indoors. We ordered another coffee and watched the world outside try and shelter the best they could from a sudden sub-tropical downpour. A dramatic end to a dramatic day!

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Festive Funchal fun – day 3

Taking it easy

Today we enjoyed a “chilled” day out at the seaside. We took the bus to the nearby fishing village of Camara de Lobos, a few miles west of Funchal. We took the Number 1 yellow bus from Funchal, riding it for about 20 minutes, ’till the end of its journey, hopped off and then walked ten minutes along the coast road in to the town. Madeira/Funchal is served well by public transport, but it can be a little confusing and not helped by not having a bus station, just lots and lots of bus stops. The yellow busses are the urban busses that serve Funchal and its suburbs, then there are white busses that go further afield. One of the difficulties I have found is determining which of the many bus stops any particular bus goes from.

Anyway, we arrived at our destination by bus and foot and enjoyed a pleasant few hours ambling its streets, staring out to sea, taking in some street art, and enjoying a pleasant harbour-side lunch.

The boats were colouful and pretty, the sea almost inviting. I hadn’t taken my trunks, but gazing down into the deep clear grey blue water I could hear it calling me. Other than a few canoeists splashing in the shallows at the end of their trip, no one was swimming – although the sun did shine for some of today and the air temperature was pleasant, it probably isn’t swimming season, so I don’t think I missed out.

The town is name, Lobos, is Portuguese for wolves as when it was first spotted from the sea, its founder thought he could see wolves. He was mistaken, they were sea-lions not wolves and sadly, today the only sea lion you will see is this magnificent mural made from junk.

And it wasn’t the only street art we saw. In keeping with Funchal many doors and and walls are decorated with art like the one above, or the bird below, one of three made up from a collage of bits of drink can.

But, I think, my favourite was a series of three doors filled in with old plastic containers – with extra holes for eyes – that looked like faces. To me, they resembled friendly cybermen.

And even the simple walls, with a plant placed in front, added to the ambience of this pretty little town. It was a day to do little, but take in the sights, the sound of the sea, and the warmth of the winter sun on skin.

Before we headed out for day, we found another delicacy, enjoying “God’s bread” for breakfast – it was like a giant coconut macaroon. Delicious!

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Festive Funchal fun – day 2

Sleighs, cable cars and flamingos (plus a mugging in broad daylight)

This morning we took the cable car from the sea front to up the hill (mountain) that is the backdrop to Funchal to Monte. The ride was calm and scenic, taking about ten minutes to ascend the 550 metres to the top (cost: 12.50 euros each, one way, or 18 euros each for a return. We bought one way tickets – for why, read on …)

Arriving at the top, we had a coffee in the sun overlooking Funchal and the sea beneath us, before heading into Monte Palace and its gardens (15 euros each) We were originally going to take another cable car (9 euro each return) and then go into the Botanical gardens (10 euros each) but changed our minds, and I’m glad we did. The 70,000 square metre tropical gardens were lush and well looked after, featuring ferns, azaleas, orchids, banana trees (with bananas dangling from the branches – I eat a banana everyday, but have never seen them growing before), with glimpses of Funchal town below through the foliage.

But there was more to it than trees and plants. Pink flamingos mesmerised me as they stood on one leg, occasionally stretching the other behind them as if in some avian yoga class.

Sculptures and artwork were dotted throughout, and there was a more formal contemporary art exhibition housed in a building. My favourite piece was a 4 metre tall piece of art made from red plastic cutlery. But there were plenty of other pieces to inspire thought and comment.

We lost ourselves – metaphorically, not literally – in the Monte Palace gardens and it brought to mind one of my favourite poems:

A poor life this if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare

Leisure – by William Henry Davies

and I did let time and space wash over me as I stood (and sometimes sat) and stared.

And, as the saying famously says, what goes up, must come down and we too, had to descend back into town. We could have taken the cable car back down the hill but this being Christmas (v tenuous link!) and this being Madeira we took a sleigh ride back down. I believe in “the olden days” these sleighs were used to transport goods and produce down into the port, nowadays they take tourists for a whizz down the slope. It was fun, the ride was about 10 minutes and although Becky thought at one point we’d end up in the gutter, and we did pass perilously close to some parked cars, it never felt unsafe.

At the end of the ride, we still had a way to go to get back into town – persistent taxi drivers badgered you to take a cab for 20 euros, but we elected to walk (it was all downhill) in the increasingly warm sunshine.

So what about the mugging? This morning, on our way to the cable car station, we stumbled across an indoor market, Mercardo dos Lavradores

Inside the fruit and veg was colourfully displayed, tempting for the tourist and local alike. Becky made the fatal mistake of engaging in conversation with a vendor of dried fruit. Resisting their offer of a sample of dried mango, she weakened when offered a macadamia nut to try. Less the two minutes later, we were buying two bags of nuts for the princely sum of 31 euros! I couldn’t help but feel we had been robbed, and in broad daylight, too. (And to add insult to injury – the nuts are so expensive, I’m not allowed to eat them! (I’ve been told I can have two a day when we get home!))

But its been such an enjoyable day, even nut-gate can be forgiven, and remembered as an amusing anecdote.

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Festive Funchal Fun – day 1

It was up early for us today to catch a 7am flight from Bristol to Madeira, for six nights in its capital – Funchal. We took off in the dark, but soon witnessed the sunrise over the cloud base, a colourful start to a colourful week. Before we travelled, everyone commented on how “sporty” it was flying into Madeira airport, and before we took off our captain warned that it was a bit breezy on the Atlantic outcrop, but just within limits for landing so the engines roared into life and we climbed high into the night sky. It was cloudy as we approached our destination, but we broke through the bottom of the cloud to see a lush, green, verdant island, the captain executed a few deft turns and soon greased the runway with a smooth landing – no dramas and our latest adventure could begin.

The weather was warm, but breezy – a pleasant change from cold, grey England but not the azure blue skies we’d hoped for, and definitely a day for the fleece and not shorts. We set off to explore and after a short walk along the sea front we found ourselves at the base of the cable car, and the start of the old town, which we ambled through enjoying the eclectic mix of painted doors.

I was already beginning to fall in love with Madeira – a very different feel from its Mediterranean cousins. Lush and green, with a mountains rising steeply from the fringes of its capital, Funchal, with houses spilling down the hillside to the sea. And then I discovered Pasteis de Nata – a custard tart, but only better – caramelised on the top and sprinkled with cinnamon, all in a crispy, flaky pastry, delicious.

Once darkness fell, we found somewhere to eat – and being Portugal and not Spain, finding somewhere to eat at 7pm was not a problem – and the marvelled in the Christmas lights that festooned every street, tree and building. Photos do not do them justice, they were brilliant and bright, and everywhere.

And on a jetty was a tunnel of white lights, with fluffy clouds and stars dangling from the ceiling, blowing in the wind. The tunnel was like a storm, with the rising sun at the end – a storm will always pass. It was like being in a cartoon, it was fantastic. We’ve only been here half a day so far, but already Funchal, and Madeira, make the grade – what a great place to spend a few December days.

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An Andalusian Adventure – addendum

Valencia Floods

As we took off from Malaga airport and looked down at the coastline, it was clear to see how the floods had turned the sea brown with mud an debris washed of the land. And it was also becoming clear how devastating the flooding had been in the Valencia region on the East coast of Spain. As I write (Thursday evening – two days on) the death toll is 158, and may still go up. This picture, sourced from Instagram, conveys the power and devastation of the torrents of water that flowed through Spain on Tuesday:

and there are countless images and videos like that. As I said in my earlier post, we never felt unsafe, but we were just lucky and in a region that, whilst badly affected, was nowhere near as badly hit as the Valencia region. Having seen the water racing through gullys, across fields, alongside (and, sometimes, across) roads, we witnessed the untamable power of these flash floods. My heart and thoughts are with the people of Spain at this time. For once, I am grateful to be back in England, but I look forward to one day returning to Spain, we still have so much to see and do there.

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An Andalusian Adventure – day 7

The rain in Spain …

… falls mainly on the Hap-pea travellers.

It began last night, when we were in bed in Ronda, and then thunder started to rumble. The thunder claps were immense, loud and long, and after the roar you could hear the heavy rain falling outside. We had a bus to catch at 10 am, to take us to Malaga, and we arrived at the bus station cold, wet and bedraggled. But the bus was warm and on time,and we set off in pouring rain, happy to be leaving Ronda, although we both had loved the city.

The rain continued to pour, and we saw gullys flowing with muddy water alongside the road. We were in the middle of a major weather system.

The further we went, the bigger those streams became, until they were torrents of muddy water, sweeping through the fields, and occasionally spilling onto the road.

And then we came to a halt, at the back of a long line of traffic. We weren’t moving forward, nothing was coming the other way. It all seemed a bit ominous. And the rain continued to fall. A police car passed us, travelling on the (empty) wrong side of the road, and 5 minutes later, a stream of vehicles passed us travelling in the other direction. Then we edged forward, and stopped. Then started, and stopped. Eventually we reached the front of the queue and the reason for our delay became apparent …

An hour later than expected, we rolled into Malaga bus station, relieved to be at our destination. At no time did we feel in danger, and it was a bit of an adventure, but it was an “edge of your seat” journey, rather than the planned relaxing passage through the mountainous countryside, marvelling at the scenery.

And still it rained – no longer heavy rain, but rain non-the-less, as we made our way to the train station, and then onto Benalmadena.

We dropped our bags in our hotel for the night and, as the rain had finally stopped – or so we thought – we headed out to have a quick look round in case the rain returned, as forecast.

We’d not gone one hundred metres when the rain drops began to fall. With umbrellas up, we pressed on but if truth be told, a little dis-spirited, we’d have both happily headed back to the UK at this point.

We reached the sea front and sky began to brighten

And before long we were sat having a coffee in the sunshine, and shedding the multitude of layers we’d been wearing since arriving in chilly Ronda two days ago.

We wandered up the sea front – it was clear Benalmadena had also taken a hammering in the recent rains – enjoying the change in temperature, light and sense of well-being. Reaching the habour, we turned and re-traced our steps, all the time growing in appreciation of this seaside town, glad we hadn’t already gone home, and glad that our final memories of our Andalusian adventure would be made warmed by the sun and against the background of blue sky.

We sat outside for our last supper, as day became night, becoming bewitched by beautiful Benalmadena.

Adios , Andalusia. Gracias, y hasta luego.

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An Andalusian Adventure – day 6

It wasn’t meant to be like this

Sitting down to write my blog each evening is a good thing: it provides a record for me to read and re-live our adventures when we’re back at home, it might provide you, dear reader, an insight into- and possibly some inspiration? – to our travels, and it forces me to gather my thoughts, and reflect back on what we have done. A today, that is, perhaps, particularly important.

Its been cold, unseasonably cold, and this evening it has rained, and it would be easy for this – like the leaden grey colds in the sky – overshadow the day. But despite it being only 9 degrees when we left the apartment at 9 am, and edged its way up to a “high” of 12 degrees by 2 pm, we’ve seen and done a lot.

It began (after breakfast of tostada con tomate, of course!) we headed up to see a bit of street art we had spotted yesterday from our bus as we drove into the city:

And then, across the wall, was a collection painted on a wall alongside a busy road:

A selection of them individually:

After the modern, it was back to the old. We went to the Casa del Ray Moro (House of the Moorish King) (10 euros each) in the main so we could see the “water mine” and descend to a platform on the river. We descended 169 feet, on stone stairs in an old tower/shaft

and emerged onto a small platform on the river. It was picturesque and I would have said peaceful but we were visiting at the same time as a French couple (no problem) and three Americans. Problem. They did not stop talking, and they have no volume control. I couldn’t help but hear, in detail, about one of their’s difficulties in getting a visa. Self-awareness? Nada.

We ascended all 200 ish stairs back to the top, and then continued our ambles, taking in the ambience of this beautiful city. After lunch, the cold was beginning to seep into our bones, and curtailed our rambles. Back at the apartment, I snuck in a siesta, before we headed out back into the gathering gloom, and cold. We found somewhere to eat – inside! – and whilst we ate, rain began to fall. We lingered a little longer, ordering coffee, and timed our exit well – the rain had stopped, so we headed to see the bridge lit up, and grab a couple of photos.

We didn’t loiter, as more rain was forecast, and it duly arrived when we were a few minutes from home. Even the Ale Hop cow needed an umbrella!

A damp, cold end to the day, but looking back, we’ve done a lot. Good job I’ve blogged about it to jog my memory.

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An Andalusian Adventure – day 5

All change!

Today we moved from Nerja to Ronda – two bus journeys: Nerja to Malaga, then Malaga to Ronda, and a huge change in scenery and temperature. We woke to blue skies in Nerja and, although a little chilly as we headed out of our apartment at 9 am, it was warm in the sunshine, and by the time we arrived in Malaga and had a coffee between busses, we were once again basking in the sunshine. We then headed about 100 km north-east to Ronda, enjoying the scenery of the mountains on our two hour bus journey, and we’ve enjoyed everything about the town, except for the temperature – es un poco frio (a bit cold!) The long trousers have been on, along with fleeces, gillets and snoods! It was about 12 degrees when we arrived mid afternoon, and had fallen to about 9 degrees once the sun had set and we sat outside to dine! (It must be said, however, the food was fantastic – the best of the trip – and we were sat by an outdoor heater)

But it has been worth the low temperatures – Ronda is fantastic. You come for the bridge – the iconic new bridge , completed in 1793 – but for me it has been the breathtaking scenery of the Sierra de las Nieves national park that can be seen from this cliff top town that has been the highlight.

We crossed the new bridge, and then walked the path down from the town so you could look back up at the bridge, and then climbed our way back up the path – quite the ascent, we were shedding layers and reached the top in just our T-shirts! – before crossing back into the town via the old bridge and meandering our way along the most picturesque paths over looking the river gorge below.

We found a public park with a walk way that skirted the edge of the enormous rock formation on which Ronda sits and had our breath taken by the views across the plain to the distant mountains.

But that’s not all the city has to offer. It is the “birthplace” of modern bullfighting (to be fair, not something I’d personally be proud of) with a bullring we may explore tomorrow

and some street art we spotted as we drove in on the bus. We went back to find two of the pieces (at the bus station, where we got off the bus) and there are a few more we may seek out tomorrow.

Given that we’ve spent about 3 and a half hours on busses, we seem to have had a busy day, walked far and seen a lot. Ronda has impressed on many levels.

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An Andalusian Adventure – day 4

A walk on the wild side

Today was our last day in Nerja, and we woke to blue skies, but a stiff (strong?) wind. We decided to explore, on foot, the coast to the west of the town, and headed off along a long beach, walking into the wind, and passing a significant number of people walking in the other direction. The sea was choppy, with waves breaking on the shore line – the weather definitely felt different from the previous few days.

However, with the blue sky above our heads, and the sun bathing us in a brilliant light, it was a pleasant, if blustery 1.5km walk along the sea front. When out of the wind, the sunshine was warm, but, on arriving at a collection of hotels and apartments at the end of the beach, it did very much have an end of season feel to the place.

A few hardy souls were braving the beach, but the space and emptiness was notable, if peaceful and relaxing. The few restaurants that we encountered had closed for the season, and it became apparent that the reason we passed so many people heading in the other direction was because they were heading towards Nerja, with its bustle and business, and cafes, restaurants and shops still open. Travelling in late October, most Med resorts will be shutting down, with all the tourists having gone home for another year, but Nerja is big enough to still be going strong on the 26th October.

We did come off the beach to explore a watch tower over looking the sea – an interesting ten minute diversion, but you couldn’t get into, or up the tower.

“The Old Tower of Macaca”

We then headed back to Nerja along the same beachfront we had walked earlier, this time, with the wind at our backs, our fleeces came off and it was warm in enough to walk in just a T-shirt. Back in “town” we had some lunch in a sea front cafe, and the coffee in a cafe in the square – this was out of the wind, and in the sun, and I took the opportunity to practise my Spanish on the waiter and by reading the paper.

I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to have a last swim, so we headed to the same beach we had visited yesterday: being a little further along the coast in the other (easterly ) direction, and being a small cove behind rocks, it was more sheltered and warm, but the sea was still rough and wavy. But it was great fun swimming out and then being swept in by the breakers and for twenty minutes I (and another couple of middle aged men) was seven years old again, enjoying the power of the sea.

In the evening we went out to eat – it was still light as we sat down, but chose a table near a wall and under a portico to afford some shelter from the wind which was still strong and cold. It was dark by the time we had finished and paid the bill, and decided on an amble to the Balcon de Eroupa to take in the vista one last time, but as we stepped out we felt a few drops – it had begun to rain. Change of plan, and a purposeful walk home, the rain was not heavy – yet – but soon after we got back it was pouring.