The Ship’s Log covers journeys undertaken by sail or canal boat, and includes general posts not covered by the Travel category.
My train journey to Beja took me through the Alentejo region, which had recently been subject to fierce fires that swept across the entire region. The Algarve and the Alentejo regions are miles upon miles of desolate, arid, dry mud fields, broken up by cork oaks and olive groves.
Beja – An Oasis In Desolate Surroundings Read Post »
Upon my return the bearded man-woman had taken it upon herself to keep my towel warm by spreading her fat self across my sun-lounge. When I indicated that she was in my space she grunted but didn’t move. OK, so she could keep the sun-lounge but I wanted my towel back.
Bearded Ladies & Screaming Brats Read Post »
My, my, how circumstances change. All of a sudden I find myself without purpose and a lot of time on my hands doing nothing but sunbathing. No bad thing, I hear you say, but this hadn’t been the plan.
Chilling On Praia De Rocha Beach Read Post »
Over the next couple of days Mario would try to teach me Portuguese. Every time I repeated a word he would tell me I’d said it wrong. He’d repeat it again, this time sounding completely different. Every time he taught me a new word I never learned it as he corrected me over and over again, repeating the word with different emphasis each time.
Escape From The Toothless Hag Read Post »
A brief walk round Albufeira justified my rather snobbish attitude towards the holiday makers here. They had all congregated in the town square to watch the street performers, and which street performer had attracted the biggest audience? The band of South American pan-pipe players! Wrong continent, you sad bunch of losers.
It’s Like Liverpool, But In The Sun Read Post »
Instead I had to consider the possibility of staying in Albufeira. Ever heard of it? I had, and it conjured up images of Club 18-30 slags and warm lager.
Albufeira. Club 18-30 Here We Come! Read Post »
And then we entered the Algarve. If ever a country demonstrated a distinction between the north and the south then Portugal must surely be the most extreme. The north, mountainous, green and lush is dominated by tradition and culture. It’s very poor.
The Cultural Divide Of Portugal Read Post »
Lisbon is as cosmopolitan as Porto is traditional. This is apparent as soon as you hit the streets, which are bustling with travellers, hippies, performers, artists, musicians, Bohemians, and gays. Yes, it seems Lisbon is home to the hom. A wrong look in the direction of one of the many pretty boys here and you could find yourself in a tight spot. Literally.
Being John Malkovich In Lisbon Read Post »
Shock! Horror! Following Lorraine’s confirmation that she is jumping ship I have decided to follow suit. Prompted by an incident yesterday I have decided to do myself a favour and take a break, heading inland towards the capital, Lisbon.
If Lorraine does jump ship where will this leave me on the boat? I’m growing increasingly concerned that I am becoming the ship’s gimp. Despite undertaking a number of chores on the boat without being asked, from being the first person (only person) to clean the heads, or scrub down the shelves, it seems I can never do enough.
Does The Gimp Jump Ship? Read Post »
More rubbish weather so today I just wandered up to the sea break and tried to take some photos of the rather large waves crashing over the harbour wall. I got soaked and got no decent pictures.
Porto blew me away. It is one of the most beautiful cities I have ever visited, from it’s opulent architecture to the river side promenades. The city of 263,000 people is stacked up either side of the Rio Douro, with the huge Ponte de Dom Louis 1 joining the main city centre with the port distillery lodges on the south side. This is echoed by another five huge bridges that continue to straddle the river in land.
Muchos Port In Porto Read Post »
I can’t remember the last time I had a decent night’s sleep. It doesn’t help that I have the smallest bunk on the boat either! I could be philosophical about it but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna continue to live like this for the next few months. Am I showing the first signs of cracking? After only four weeks? Surely not…….
Snoring In Póvoa de Varzim Read Post »
After my watch and a snooze I’m woken to the sight of our first Portuguese destination, Viana do Castelo, which looks dreary and drab. How wrong I was! This town was just completing the four day fiesta Romaria de Nossa Senhora d’Agonia, or Our Lady of Sorrows. If you didn’t know the festival was called this you could have guessed by the local folk music that was playing from every bandstand and stage. Whilst the instrumental music is great it’s unfortunately accompanied by banshee wailing. This is normal, so I’m told, but it sounds rubbish.
Crossing The Border To Portugal Read Post »
Heh heh. All this talk of Spanish women but I don’t think I’m in with much of a chance. We have now been at sea for 4 weeks and I’m still on my first bar of soap. This is good since I have two spare, meaning I can continue my rigorous weekly shower routine for the foreseeable future, after which I’ll have to wash myself in coconut oil and banana juice.
Those Spanish Senoritas Again! Read Post »
