Ola' from Portugal

With Fil's work looming on the horizon, we knew it was time to travel further afield while we had the opportunity. The votes were for somewhere hot (I was predictably outvoted ) and European. Of course you can purchase everything on the internet these days, but with only days to organise it, we took our appeal to a travel agent .
Two days later we stepped off a plane in the sunny south of Portugal, known as Algarve. I had never heard of the region but every UK person has and they've been holidaying here for years.
We opted for no car. With all the stresses of late, we didn't want to add 'driving on the wrong side of the road'. I spent the plane trip trying to memorise a few Portugese phases. The boys couldn't care less- probably confident the grown ups will make asses of themselves on their behalves. Obrigado boys.
Like so many of our adventures, this one also begins withheart-stopping transport. Our transfer man was an excellent driver. I knew this because he could read brochures, text and talk on the phone whilst driving.
 Fil got the front seat and I can see his hand twitching toward the steering wheel. Driving on the other side of the road is unsettling at first too. At the hotel we tip the driver in a universal celebration of still being alive. He seemed pleased too.
The hotel is a collection of rooms and villas whose address is Praia da Luz (Luz beach) but in fact isn't at this location at all. We are closer to Burgau, described on a t-shirt Fil buys as 'a drinking village with a fishing problem.' Hmmm.
If you have to be a little isolated it nice to do it from a traditional style villa complete with curvey walls and nooks and bang-yourself-unconscious low ceilings. And three pools. And a little bar to drink the popular 'green' wine, comparable I think to 'early harvest' as we call it in Australia.
The region, at this time of year at any rate is bone dry and smells sweetly of oleander. The grass is crunchy underfoot . It's hot but it's breezy, and so bearable. No flies.
We do the walk in Luz along the clifftop, me freaking out if the kids get too close to the edge (10 metres away). The sandstone is a pale gold turning the sea a lovely turquoise. The trip is at least a few kilometres of low scrub and rock and inexplicably, wild grapes.
It is beautiful in a wild way and reminds me of a sort of mediteranean cousin of South Australia. It's not part of the mediterranean, and the best way to tell is to dive into the ocean, which Fil did, and come up spluttering to restart your heart. The Atlantic here is about 14 degrees. It just doesn't look it, which is why so many people just go in up to their knees and play some sort of ball sport. Or pick amongst the rocks with a net. Or get a wetsuit.
Luz itself is like an overgrown village with its original core of whitewashed buildings and bouganvillia and a lovely curved beach full of people. Spiralling out from that are hundreds of new villas, probably all owned by tourists, and some very grand indeed, but all with the 'half pipe' terracotta roofs and chess piece style chimneys .
 A glimpse of green lawn catches our attention at a place called The Fort (because it was once?) with wonderful views and lovely gardens. We book a table for the Sunday afternoon Jazz Lunch.

It is fortunate that the hotel owners are nice enough to have upgraded us to our villa as we are able to cook our own food sometimes. Breakfast is at the hotel breakfast area with a wonderful assortment of English and continental food with fresh-from- the oven portugese tarts and champagne on weekends.

We walk to Burgau which has a lovely beach too and is much quieter. Unfortunately you have to walk along a road to get there which I found a bit scary, though not as scary as the coast way back which Fil insisted we do after dinner one night. I had consumed lets say, several wines, it was growing dark, and there we are, sprinting in the end, along pathways in the dark while I am repeating to myself hazily- "I will laugh about this tomorrow, but right now I am NOT having fun." Lets say that Fil was not commended on his choice of return route.

One hot day Fil took the boys to an amazing waterslide park which also included a birdshow they were impressed with. There were a few zoos around but we imagined in the heat the animals would be hiding, so instead we booked to go see the 'grottos'- caves and arches etched into the sandstone coast. This trip left from Lagos a little way to the east and for which we took a taxi, which I must say are very reasonably priced.
You can see the grottos via all sorts of boats but we chose a small sailing boat which takes just a few dozen people. It was  beautiful day with the sea glassy and the sky clear. When we got to a certain spot, the boat anchored and everyone was divided into three groups to be taken out in the dinghy. We were group three so we had a cold drink and Fil and Alex took up the invite to dive overboard. I thought they were very brave knowing full well how cold it would be.

Finally our time arrived for the tour and our tour guide took us around all the 'rooms' named by fisherman that the grottos have; basically the rooms of a house- including the loo. The water below was so clear and beautiful you just wanted to jump overboard and snorkel. Sadly its so populated by tours, its just not possible.I guess the octopus are happy at least about the lack of underwater intrusion.
 Our Jazz lunch the next day was wonderful with an amazing smorgasboard of fish and meat and beautiful views past the geraniums of the coast. All to the happy soundtrack of live Jazz.

Like many holidays, we'd just got into the swing of things when it was time to go home. The wind dropping, the heat cranking and mosquitos arriving softened the blow, and I must say, when I did back to England, my eyes sucked in all that green with a very 'happy to be home' sigh. Its nice to have the best of both worlds.