Finding the Familiar

There’s a really cool bookshop here in Larnaca. It is filled from floor to ceiling with all kinds of genres, even in English. There’s so much in there I couldn’t stay long the first time I visited because my brain was overloading. I promised to return. 

When I did, I took a more leisurely look around. I was stunned to find this just lying out.

 I read this book back in the 80’s as a teenager and have never forgotten it. It is, to date, the most messed up book I have ever read in my life. To sum up, it’s about a couple of circus performers who decide to create their own freak show. The woman takes a bunch of psychedelics and gives birth to conjoined twins, a little person, an aquatic bird boy, and a kid with telekinesis. 

Then it gets weird. 

Almost as weird as finding this book, in English, while in Cyprus. When I saw it, I just pointed at it and said “YOU!” like the book personally owed me money. It’s only lived rent-free in my head for 40 years – no amount of money is getting it out of there at this point. I just marveled at the fact that something someone wrote decades ago may have never been a bestseller (to my knowledge) yet it is still in print after all this time and available to traumatize new people on the other side of the planet. 

Personal writing goals (not the traumatizing part). 

Anywho, my week in frozen central was up and, since the place was booked, it was time to move on. No host to take me to the next joint (I was starting to get spoiled) so that left me to lug all my crap to the nearest bus station … 

And then go looking for a cab because the bus was taking too long. I wasn’t thrilled at the thought of hiring one, but I was hungry and getting impatient. As with every encounter I’ve had with a Cypriot cabbie, we spent several minutes just trying to figure out where the new place was. Seriously, dude, all I have is the address. You should know this area better than I do. 

By syncing up our GPSs, we finally got to the new place. I already liked the location a lot more compared to the last place as it was closer to the beach and the supermarkets. It took me a while, though, to figure out how to enter the building. The host’s directions had me going through the carwash alley of the local bike rental place, getting wet while approaching the back of the building. Luckily for me the rest of the directions were easy to follow and I had no problem getting to the apartment despite being a bit early for check-in. 

It’s a decent place. A corner shower, huge bedroom, and an oven. I’m not a fan of the road noise at night as the bedroom faces a busy street. Then there are the pigeons. Those flying rats are everywhere; they perch in every crevice of the building as evidenced by the piles of crap all around it. They make me nervous every time I approach the building in case they want to let the crap fly.  They forced me to dry my laundry indoors and not on the shared balcony because they would startle me every time I went out there.  Their loud cooing has woken me up on more than one morning along with the noise of the buses racing by. 

Despite the issues, it’s cozy enough. I booked it for the remainder of my stay in Cyprus. I’m very grateful not to have to find another place in a week. Since my first three weeks in Demetris’ place, I’ve had week-long stays in 4 different places and I am wiped out. 

I’ll end this entry with another book I found in the store by one of the best-selling authors in the world. I know this because I’ve seen her books in every country I’ve visited. I’ll let you figure out which one it is.

New Digs in Larnaca

 

I was not upset about leaving that place.

View of the ocean aside, there was no way I was extending my stay with that tiny bathroom.  I didn’t bother to tell the host this when he found out I was staying on the island.  He contacted me before my last day to ask if he could arrange transport to the airport.  When I told him that I was going to another apartment, that’s when he asked about extending.  Dude, if you don’t know why, there’s nothing I can tell you.

He was gracious enough to offer to take me to my next place (gotta love Cypriot hosts!). After figuring out that the directions his wife had given him would have taken us to the other side of the city from the directions I had, we managed to get to the new place with no trouble.

Then the real fun started.  It took me a minute to find the new place based on the directions.  I’d been dropped off just a few feet away, but there were enough buildings there to completely confuse me.  Finally got to the place and followed the host’s instructions to get the key out of the unlocked mailbox.  Except there was no key, only a lockbox of which I didn’t have the combination.  I contacted the host by WhatsApp as she requested.

And waited.  And waited.  And waited.

After walking around aimlessly when I got tired of standing with my stuff, I contacted the host again through Airbnb.  Finally, I got a response (why did you give me the other number if you weren’t going to respond?).  The host was already inside, so she came out and helped me upstairs.

The place is decent.  A real kitchen as opposed to a shelf in the living room (with a gaping hole where the oven should have been), A nice bedroom, a view of the salt lake, and the real reason I booked the place – an actual bathroom!  With a tub and everything!  I was so thrilled, I did a little dance.  So much room!

It was a comfortable stay except for a few issues.  The apartment is in one of those buildings that just retains the cold.  There were two heating units in the apartment (unlike the last place) but it just didn’t matter in the living room.  Even with the thing on a pretty warm setting, the place was always freezing.  When I wasn’t typing, I had to keep my gloves on along with both hoodies.  It was nuts.

There used to be a view of the ocean out of that kitchen window but now there's only a view of construction.  The new building meant constant noise and the workers gathered around the front of the building.  The host told me that they're building thousands of new units all over the city.  I can believe that based on what I've seen.  I still find it a bit odd though since the city is also covered with abandoned buildings and empty store fronts.  Why not just raze those buildings or at least try to renovate them? 

There was one other issue with the building's location.  While yes, the proximity to the salt lake made for a pretty from the living room, the apartment was way too far from the grocery store.  I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but there are only three major grocery stores in the city.  Lidl is the furthest from Finikoudes Beach, so I don’t hit that one too often.  The one I usually visit is called Metro, a good-sized store with a great selection.  The third store is the closest to the beach, but not my favorite as it is way too cramped and hard to maneuver.

The rest of the city is just a series of convenience stores with limited options.  Getting to Metro from this apartment took 45 minutes of walking through windy unfamiliar streets.  The first time I ventured out there was on a Thursday.  Which just happened to be Jan 1, 2026 and – you guessed it – the store was closed.  Sigh.

I wasn’t even thinking about the holiday.  Hell, most of the time I forget what day it is.  Almost three years of travel and having no set schedule will do that to a person. 

I was able to get a few items from the one convenience store that was open.  I have a favorite one near Finikoudes that I’ve frequented enough that the ladies behind the counter have started to recognize me.  One of them is even named Daphne.  Fancy that.

I also met Thanos on a later trip out for breakfast.  That was unexpected.  When I saw the waiter’s nametag, I had to ask him about it.  He told me that he had the name before Marvel came out, that it common in Cyprus.  I did not know that and was baffled at the thought of someone looking at their newborn son and naming him after the personification of death.  Turns out though that the name also means immortality.  So ... there’s that. 

Yes, I am the goober who will always take pictures of rainbows.  And a double rainbow?  Fuggitaboutit!

Year End in Cyprus

 

I was neutral about leaving the last apartment.  Other than being a bit noisy and having no hot water in the kitchen, it was a decent place.  So decent that I couldn’t extend my stay even if I wanted to because it was booked.

The new place was a bit of a walk so I figured I’d find a cab at some point. Fortunately, the host, Chris, said he would pick me up.  Seriously?  Cool.

I got out front right as he was pulling up.  I knew from the brief call we'd had the night before that he had a strange accent that I couldn’t place.  It wasn’t Greek, British or German but had elements of all of those.  As we were navigating through the numerous streets that were closed due to construction, I asked him where he was from.  He said he was Cypriot but that he’d hung around a lot of South Africans.  Oh.  That explains it. 

I was doubly glad that he picked me up when we reached the new place.  It was way too far to walk to even get to Finikoudes with all my junk.  While he was busy explaining everything about the apartment, I didn’t get any photos of the place.  I was a little too busy missing the last place.

The flooring was a bit worn and I didn’t like it.  The washing machine in the bathroom was not connected to anything.  By that I mean that I had to plug the machine in (remembering to turn on the power to that plug) while putting the outtake hose in the toilet.

Are you kidding me?  I'm really not used to my apartments being this DIY.

The host also stressed turning off the power to an outlet that wasn’t being used.  He then went on this whole diatribe of how expensive the electricity was on the island and he would have to charge me separately if I used over a certain amount.

I’ve encountered this a few times and it always strikes me as stingy.  Babe, you could always just pad the price a little if you’re so concerned about your guests making use of the amenities in your apartment.

I started unpacking my food as he continued to talk.  He would send me a list of restaurants, he pointed out where to throw out the trash, he reminded me of the backroads route to get to Finikoudes, and again he talked about the electricity.  I got it, dude, could you just leave?  He was very nice, don’t get me wrong.  It was just a bit much.

It was only after he left that I realized that I couldn’t connect to the Wi-Fi.  I already knew that my eSim was not working for some reason, but I fully expected to be able to get the login from the label on the Wi-Fi box.  Nope.  It was the rare box that didn’t have it on there.  Great.

I ended up (and I know this sounds stupid) walking back to Demetris’ place to hook up to his Wi-Fi. I do love it that my computer and phone automatically reconnect to a system I’ve used before even if I’ve been away from the place for months.  Very handy.   I took a screenshot of the info Chris sent me and headed back to the apartment.

I eventually got a physical sim, but it too decided not to work.  Sigh.  I spent more money to get a new eSim installed and could finally get my phone connected again.

That was the most drama I had in that place.  I washed my clothes a couple of times, after hooking everything up, and had no problems despite the hassle.  Still made me miss Demetris’ place though.

I did get a job during that week.  It’s a part-time proofreading gig that doesn’t pay much but I will be glad to have some money coming in. 

After a week, it was time to move again, as this place was also booked up.  Seriously, what’s up with that?  I don’t recall this place being so busy last summer when I first visited.  Why are so many people visiting the island during the off season?

I ran into the host as I was taking out the trash as he arrived to collect the key.  When I brought my stuff downstairs and went to give him the key, he asked where I was headed next.  I told him that my new apartment was about a 40-minute walk away.  I again planned to catch a taxi after a 15-minute walk to Finikoudes Beach so I could ride from there.  He waved me off and told me he’d take me.

Dude.  That is above and beyond and something I have NEVER encountered.  A host willing to take me to and from their place?  What?

The apartment may have only been okay, but the host?  Top tier.

While I guided us with my phone, we headed towards Mackenzie Beach and the new place.  Just as we were pulling up, a cleaning lady was coming out.  I thanked Chris again and he handed me over.

Yeah.  Once AGAIN the new place just made me miss the old place.

The flooring is nicer than the last place and I knew that there would be twin beds instead of a single queen.  It’s way too far from the three major grocery stores, but I could deal with that.  The big issue is the bathroom.

The walk-in closet in my former house is bigger than this bathroom.  This place was designed for a Sim!  I am not a Sim.  I am a plus-size woman with long legs who goes to the bathroom.  A lot.  And every time I have to shimmy my way to the toilet, I cuss up a blue streak.

The door barely clears the sink!  How in good conscientious does a builder see this and think “yeah, that’s enough space.  It’s not like people spend much time in this room.”?

Congratulations, random apartment in Cyprus.  You win the award for the WORST BATHROOM I HAVE EVER ENCOUNTERED!  Even the one in Demetris’ place was better and that bathroom was the worst part of that apartment.

To give it some credit, the one benefit the apartment has over any other place I’ve stayed in Cyprus (including Demetris’ place) is this.

Does the view make up for that bathroom?  Hell no.

It doesn’t make up for the tiny stove that I not only have to light, but I have to go onto the balcony to activate the jug of compressed gas before I do. That stove also has numbers instead of degree markings so I had to worry about burning anything I put in it.

It doesn’t make up for the fact that the only heating unit is in the bedroom.  The apartment is one of those places that retains the cold because of course it is (that includes the freezing cold toilet seat).

The view also doesn’t make up for the single bed that is barely comfortable.  I got some sleep but felt far too many springs in the mattress.

It is a decent view, though.  The sun rises in the window in the morning and I can’t stress how much seeing the sun and the water lifts my spirits.

  

Still in Larnaca

 

I really do love Demetris’ place.  It is one of the few apartments on my entire journey that feels like home.

I was lying on the couch one night during my nearly 3-week stay, watching Barbie for the umpteenth time, and I just looked around at the place.  Is it the large, worn rug on the floor?  The lighting?  The comfy gray couch?  The nice bed?  Something about the combination of it all just makes me feel less like a wandering vagrant.  It makes me feel like I belong here.

The circumstances of this stay weren’t exactly ideal.  I’ve mentioned the construction going on just outside of the building.  Not only did it mean that every time I left the apartment became a new challenge, but the noise was near constant from sunup to sundown.  Still didn’t dim the apartment’s shine.

There is a baby in the apartment next to mine who is constantly screaming.  Not crying – screaming.  High pitched and incredibly annoying.  No dim (not exactly adding to the experience, though).

The hot water started acting funky during the last few days in the place.  I had to put off showering and boil water to sanitize the plates after washing.  Still no dim.

The apartment is not the cheapest place in the area – it’s actually one of the more expensive ones.  I haven’t checked, but I think the price went up since my last visit.  Even though it’s the off season, the place still has great ratings on Airbnb.  With good reason as it is a great place.

Just a note:  I had been dealing with inflammation the entire three months I was in Portugal.  It started with the bee sting on my right foot.  Then my left foot started to swell.  Then I was having problems getting my pants on despite not making any major changes to my diet.  I couldn’t figure it out.

After a week back in Cyprus, most of the swelling was gone.  I have no idea if it’s the climate, or the fact that I’m no longer in those uncomfortable chairs in my place in Portimão, or if it was just the natural time for the swelling to go away.  Whatever the cause, I’m just glad that my shoes and pants fit again.

The power of a great apartment?  Who’s to say?

But, in seemingly record time, my departure day arrived again.  I overlapped the stay with the new place by a day to try to get around the construction.  I figured it would be easier to get all my crap around in two trips without having to wait around between the 11 am checkout and the 4 pm check-in for the new place.

Ha!  The construction workers had a better idea.  Just when I had packed, cleaned the place, and was ready to dump my trash, I went downstairs to find that the street had been cordoned off.  The workers had just laid down concrete.  I was going nowhere that day.

Great.  And I’d already eaten most of my food in preparation for the move.  I ended up with a dinner of salmon, pita, and a pack of noodles that was already in the apartment.  Thanks, Demetris.

The next morning had me antsy.  I didn’t have an option this time – I had to leave the place that day as it was booked for the next week.  Though that wouldn’t matter so much.  If I couldn’t get out, the new people couldn’t get in.

Fortunately, the concrete was set by the time I got downstairs.  Unfortunately, it had been raining on and off all morning.  

Oh, yeah.  This will be fun.

While the area directly in front of the building was now nice and smooth, just a few feet away was still covered in dirt, rocks, and construction equipment.  And puddles.  Lots of puddles.

I waited the rain out as long as I could then reluctantly said goodbye to the apartment and got my stuff downstairs.  Past the newly laid concrete, there were metal struts providing a walkway over a puddle and onto the dirt.  As I stood there trying to figure out a way forward, a nearby construction worker saw me struggling with my bags and stepped in to help.  He got me to the road (thanks, dude!) but it was still up to me navigate the puddles and head in the right direction.

And yes, it had started to rain again.

I managed to cross the street, repeatedly whipping my phone out for directions.  I wandered for a good ten minutes and still couldn’t find the place that was only supposed to be 5-minute walk away. Then my Wi-Fi went out.  Then a wheel broke on my small suitcase.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

Wet, tired, and dragging my lame suitcase, I started walking in a random direction and passed by a café.  The woman who worked there set my phone up with the café’s Wi-Fi (thanks, babe!) and I set off again.  Back in the same direction I’d just walked.

This sucks.

As I rested beside a traffic-heavy street, my third angel of the day appeared.  She had noticed me earlier and asked where I was going.  With my phone in hand and speaking Greek to a nearby shop owner, she determined that the bar I was looking for was just across the street.

My host had told me to meet a guy at the Alchemies Café and he would get me to the apartment.  The problems was that this was the second time I was approaching the place from behind where there’s no signage.

I had literally passed right by the place and didn’t even know it.  In the rain.  While tired and wet.  And hungry as I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet.

Sigh.

The angel passed me off to the bartender who got me to the new place located over the restaurant.  But first we had to detour to the 4^th floor.  Apparently, the elevator refuses to go to the third floor, so we had to exit on the 4^th and go downstairs.

Seriously, just kill me.

Finally, I made it to the place.  A spacious apartment with a huge balcony.

A bathroom with a tub and hot water (even if there was no hot water in the bathroom or kitchen sink). And another issue with noise as the restaurant is a rowdy one that is right next to another restaurant and a kid’s play area.

Well.  At least this area is construction free.  And the Alchemies serves a decent burger.

Winter Calls in Cyprus

 

Time’s up. 

Still haven’t figured out my finances and must flee Portugal again.  My bone-deep weariness deepens.

My current malaise only uncreased when I found out that Portugal has changed its immigration policies.  Under the new system, it now takes 10 years instead of 5 to attain residency.  All the people in the current process of citizenship are in limbo with the new system. 

The country was already known for its insanely slow bureaucratic process and now the new system is leaving everyone confused about how to proceed.  A YouTuber I follow (Dave in Portugal) who’s been in the country for 5-7 years said that if he were faced with trying to immigrate now, he’s not sure he would do it.  The new system has made the whole process too difficult.

Great.

The goal of moving to the country just seems to get further and further out of my reach.  With the ever-worsening news coming out of the U.S., I know there’s no way in hell I’d ever want to go back there to live.  I’d rather be nomadic forever (and I really don’t want to do that).

Weird things are also happening in my second choice of country, Türkiye.  It’s bad enough that the lira has devalued a lot in the last year, causing many immigrants to move out, but there was an incident recently that was really alarming.  A German family of tourists, two kids and their parents, all died due to some kind of chemical being sprayed in their hotel. Earlier this year there were also reports of tourists being drugged or dying from food or alcohol in the city.  With everything getting more expensive there, it’s thought that merchants are skimping on ingredients and putting people at risk.

Yikes.  I hate hearing all that about the country.  I can only hope things get better for the Turks. 

As for my number 3 immigration candidate, Cyprus, I decided to spend the winter there.  Just like last winter.  Boy, am I ready to be housed.

But I remain grateful.  I’m not completely broke (yet), I still have the freedom to move about as I chose, and, most importantly, I’m not in the states.  Things are much worse for a lot of folks there and they are always on my mind.

Anyway, enough with the gloom and doom.  I took the usual route of taking an Uber to Faro Airport.  From there it was a quick flight to Lisbon for a 4-hour layover until my next flight. That was the easy part. 

The part that concerned me was the flight from Lisbon on an unfamiliar carrier.  I still vividly remember getting robbed by Ryanair coming into Portugal and didn’t want the same thing to happen with Sky Express.

The guy checking me in asked me to also check the weight of my smaller bag.  He then gently warned me that the clearance was usually 8 kg and my bag was overweight at 14 kg (this was because I was trying to lessen the weight of the big bag which still ended up being heavy).  I started reaching for my purse when he shook his head and said he’d let it pass this time.

What?  You mean I’m not about to be robbed?  Seriously?  I thought for sure I’d end up shelling out another 50 euros just to be able to secure my seat.  I discovered later that the plane was barely half full so it was easier for him to overlook the weight limit.  I also think that it helped that my name is Daphne.

It’s one of the things I do enjoy about traveling to Greece or Cyprus.  If ever I tell anyone my name, they are sure to remember.  Oh.  Tall, black, American woman – that’s Daphne.

Cool.

I didn’t even get pinched by any of the security in Greece or Portugal.  Truly the Travel Gods have smiled on me and I am grateful.

The flight from Lisbon was an overnight to Athens Airport.  A short layover there and I was back in Larnaca.  I managed to book my favorite place on the island (and one of the best of my entire journey) for a little under three weeks.  The place wouldn’t be ready for another day so I booked a night at a nearby hotel.

I took the city bus to Finikoudes Beach (a note again to anyone visiting the island: avoid the cabs.  The bus is cheaper and worth the wait.) then dragged my crap up the familiar road to the apartment …

Only to find that the whole area leading up to the apartment is to’ up from the flo’ up.  And I mean that literally.  The sidewalks and the street are completely gone, replaced with rocky dirt and construction vehicles.

Boy was it fun to transfer from the rough Cyprian sidewalks to no sidewalk at all! I wasn’t even sure I could get into the hotel because the workers were right in front of the door.  I managed to maneuver myself across rickety boards to the entrance only to find the door locked.  Sigh.

I called the number on the door, but found the line was disconnected.  Seriously!?  I wouldn’t have been able to get in if one of the construction workers didn’t come out a few minutes later.  I entered the empty reception area and quickly realized that there was no elevator in the ancient building, just a really long set of stairs.  Some more fun!

After ringing the bell and getting no response after 5 minutes, I went upstairs to find someone.  The lady running the place followed me downstairs and checked me in.  While she was doing that, the Asian cleaning lady came in.  She remarked on the construction and told me that they’d been working on the street for the last 6 months.  It was only now that the tiles were being placed for the new road and it would be another few months before everything was finished.   

The hotel was decent enough with each room named for the 9 muses of Greek mythology.  There was a rooftop bar (closed for the season) and a breakfast area just outside of my room.  I had a good night’s sleep (pretty much a guarantee after the rough night of sleeping on the plane) and woke to a hodgepodge breakfast of sliced meats, olives, toast, crepes, coffee and juice. 

It's unusually warm in Cyprus this year, with the temps hitting the low 80’s F.  I enjoyed the sunshine, ate my olives, and reveled at being back on the Mediterranean. 

Portimão Update

 

One of the many reasons I wanted to move to Europe is the ability to live car-free.  In every city I’ve visited, including those in Jamaica and Costa Rica, I had easy access to everything I would need on a regular basis.  Grocery stores, pharmacies, malls, movie theatres, the beach (as I can no longer live far from water – I’ve been spoiled for inland living), and restaurants are all a short distance away from dwellings.  Sure, there are plenty of cars in all these places (and stupidly loud motorcycles) and one can be rented easily, but they are not necessarily vital for life. 

As much as I appreciate a walkable city, being on foot all the time does have its drawbacks.  Rain and cold are big ones.  I don’t stay anywhere that is too cold (or, heaven forbid, snowy) but the weather does affect how often I get out in it.  I think I’ve made it clear on this blog that I am no fan of the rain.  The rainy seasons in Thailand and Costa Rica left me horribly depressed and struck them both from the future home list. 

Then there are other issues to being on foot.  Portugal, I love you to death, but some of your walkways are health hazards.  I took a header on a walk a few weeks ago here in Portimão and skinned the crap out of my left leg.  I had to spend more than 50 euros on wound care.  And the seepage …

I didn’t take any pictures as it was pretty gross.  My health situation didn’t improve when, out of nowhere, my left foot swelled up.  This happens sometimes because of the meds I’m on so it wasn’t a surprise.  But it was no less annoying since my right foot had STILL not fully recovered from the bee sting.  For a while, neither foot wanted to fit into a shoe and I had to change the bandages on the scrapes twice a day.  Good times.

The leg had mostly healed (feet were still swollen, though) when I finally completed the walk I’d tried to take earlier.  After 2 ½ years of constant use, my phone’s battery is dying out.  I took it to Worten, the big electronics chain in Portugal, to get a new one.  It’s about a mile away from the apartment and felt even longer as I was now paranoid about tripping again.  Fortunately, the walk went without incident and I made it to the store.

They didn’t have a battery in stock, so I ordered one.  It would arrive in 12 days and the install would take about an hour once I returned.  Cool.

Cut to about 8 days later and the battery was in.  I walked to the store, dropped off my phone, and continued my walk to the nearby mall for lunch.  I had a pretty decent burger with a glass of white wine (this is still Portugal after all) then lingered a bit afterwards.  I had no idea how long I was there because, without my phone, I had no way to tell time.  It’s insane how much I’ve come to rely on that device for the time and translations.

Got back to the store and unsuccessfully tried talking to the guy behind the desk as he did not speak English.  With another guy there to translate, he told me that they couldn’t replace the battery as it was too dangerous. 

Huh?  Wouldn’t they know how to do the install if they ordered the battery?  They knew full well the make of the phone when they put the order in. 

Instead of giving me the battery, they refunded my money.  Dude, I don’t want my 50 euros back.  I want to not have to worry about how I’m going to get a new battery.  Before I left, I did ask where it could be done.  Lisbon.  Great.  The city is only 3 hours away by bus.

Feeling dejected, I started the walk home.  To complete my Charlie Brown moment – you guessed it – it started to rain.  While I do always carry my umbrella in my bag, it never can keep me completely dry.  And, of course, I was wearing jeans which are disgusting to wear when wet. 

My one pair of khaki pants developed holes from too much wash and wear.  I trashed them back in Tirana.  My last remaining pair of cargos is also wearing out and I can’t find replacements in Europe in my size.  I have other pants … in storage in Georgia.

I dread returning to the states.  You have no idea.

So, finding a new battery is just one more thing I have to figure out along with the pants.  Add that to the shop that is still not making any money, the dire prospects of finding a job, the fact that my Schengen visa will soon be up and it’ll be time to leave Portugal again and …

Well.  At least I managed to not burst into tears until I got back to the apartment.  I also didn’t trip on the walk back so … that’s something at least.

Living in the In-Between

The in-between time sucks.

It doesn’t matter when it happens.  Whether it’s waiting for transport, for a wound to heal, or ... well, waiting for anything but especially at the airport, that period of doing nothing but hoping for a good and quick outcome is just exhausting.

Case in point:  my bee foot is still swollen, only not so horribly.  It’s been over a month! While it’s no longer painful to walk on and doesn’t swell up immediately upon putting weight on it in the morning, it is still not back to normal size.  Note to self: avoid all bees in the future. 

As this blog can attest, I am still a homeless wanderer.  The business I've started is going nowhere, my book has sold nothing since being published in April, and I have reluctantly begun looking for a job again, though I have little hope at this point of finding one.  As if my own situation hasn’t been weighing on me enough, the state of the world in general has also contributed to the toll on my mental health. It’s a rare day when I’m not on the verge of tears.

But I soldier on.  And, since I sometimes forget to overlap my Airbnb stays, I ended up with a couple of in-between times here in Portimão.  Yes, I remain in the Algarve because … why wouldn’t I?

Nothing lifts my spirits faster than taking a walk in the surf. Feeling the sun on my face when I wake up is truly restorative and serves to prepare me for another day of frustrations. 

Anyway, I had to be out of the last place by 11 and couldn’t be in the new place for a few hours.  So, I hauled all my crap to a nearby bench, reached for my book, and waited.  Thanks again to the wonderful weather of the Algarve for making the wait a pleasant one.

In another bit of good fortune, the next place I’d booked was a short walking distance away.  I swear, all the Airbnbs I chose are in the same ½ mile radius.  That wasn’t planned though I’m certainly not complaining – saves me cab fare.

The new place is located a few feet away from two other buildings I’ve stayed in.  I love all these apartments, though the layout of this one is somewhat odd.

Seriously, who puts the living area in the kitchen right beside the fridge? At least, unlike the last place, this one has a separate bedroom so everything isn't on top of everything else.

Complaints aside, it’s another decent place in Portimão.  This place continues to prove to me that if I can’t find an apartment in Funchal, or if I determine it’s too much of a hassle to move to the island, I would have no problem living here.

I stayed in that place for a little over a week before I managed to book the same apartment I stayed in for two months earlier this year.  Once again, though, I had a lapse of a few hours between being out of the old place and checking into the new one.

This time I waited in the nearby park I’d discovered during my last stay.  Getting there early, I parked myself on a bench and watched as the empty park soon filled with families, skateboarders, and customers of the in-park café.

I do love these places, as I’ve mentioned several times.  It’s great to have a centrally located green space for people to just gather and chill.  No need to go to the beach or the mall or one of the numerous cafes if you don’t want to take that walk.  Just bring the kiddies past the parking lot enjoy the peace. And don’t piss off the birds.

I’ll be in Portimão until the end of my Schengen period, the middle of November.  Then, sigh, it will be time to move on again.

Getting from Porto to Portimão by Train, Plane, Bus, and Car

 

As I indicated by the title of my last post, I decided to get out of Porto after two weeks.  It was chilly and rainy half the time and I just didn’t want to be there anymore. 

Though I do appreciate that even this ancient city offers a chance for the residents to touch grass.  This park area is located atop the Trinidade Metro station.  I love that a space that is usually unused has been turned into a simple way to access a park for anyone who needs it.

A travel day had again arrived.  I knew from the start that it would be bad.  I had no idea …

The first part was relatively easy.  That Metro station pictured above?  It’s literally 5 minutes away from the apartment. It was a quick downhill walk to the station where I boarded a train that took me directly to the airport.  So far so good.

I had arrived quite early for check-in so some waiting was involved.  I was anxious about it only because RyanAir, a new airline for me, required you to check in online for your boarding pass.  When I tried to do this from the apartment, the website wanted even more money from me (more on that later).  I couldn’t confirm my credit card because my phone is on a sim card that can’t receive text messages.  This has been an on-going problem on my travels and a never-ending pain in the butt.

When check-in finally opened, the lady asked to see my phone after I’d told her my issue.   She was able to quickly bring up my boarding pass and could take my payment at the counter.  Now, the website had warned that checking in at the desk within doing it online first would result in a 55 euro fee.  I was prepared to pay it since I was already frustrated and just wanted to get this over with.  Turns out though that since my big bag was 5 kg overweight, I was charged 73 euros for the overage.

That sucked.  But at least I got through check-in without being charged the extra 55 so not as bad as it could be, right?

Nope.

I ended up paying for my luggage not once, not twice, but three times!  First, when I bought the ticket (on Expedia’s website), second at the counter (most airlines allow 22-25 kg while RyanAir only allows 20 kg), and third when my little bag didn’t fit their size requirements.  That bag has NEVER been an issue anywhere else.  But since RyanAir wants all your money, suddenly the bag is too big.

The baggage fees ended up costing more than the ticket! 

Then, after paying that last surprise fee of ANOTHER 75 euros, boarding took forever.  This left me standing around to stew in the rage of being robbed as if I hadn’t waited around enough already.  We had to cross the tarmac to get to the plane and Porto decided to give me a last parting gift. The already foggy day turned into a light drizzle.

Do I need to explain how heated I was?  It’s a one-hour, in-country flight and it caused more stress than an international flight!  And almost cost as much!  What sense does that make?

Needless to say, I will never use that airline again.  The only reason I chose it this time is because the flight would get me to Faro before 5 p.m.  This meant that I could catch a shuttle or a bus as opposed to a cab ride.  My first time to the city, I took a cab not realizing that it would cost 100 euros.  The second time, I got in too late to get anything but a cab.  I knew from bitter, expensive experience that I didn’t want to do that again so I chose the first flight that would save me that cost.

Of course, I just ended up paying anyway thanks to the airline.

Sigh.

But I was grateful to land safely back in the Algarve.  I figure if I’m going to spend an exorbitant amount of money to remain in Portugal, I’d rather do it in Portimão than Porto. 

Still not there yet though.  I wasn’t sure whether to take any of the shuttle services offered at the airport or take the bus.  There are numerous stands and signs for either option, so I wasn’t sure how to proceed.  I eventually found a couple of machines that sell tickets.  I found the bus that would take me to the city and paid by card.

I’d much rather pay 14 euro for a 2-hour ride than 100 euros for a 1-hour direct trip by taxi.  Granted, the bus did require yet another wait.

At least I could feel the sun on my face during the wait.  There’s nothing like the sun in the south of Portugal.

The bus finally arrived and we were off.  It wasn’t the most comfortable trip as the seats were not designed for my long legs, but it went by fast enough.  Then I had to figure out how to get to my new home for the week once I was dumped at the bus station.

As there were no cabs around (strange), Uber became my only option.  The distance from the station to the apartment was a short one but still wasn’t feasible to walk.  It was getting dark, I was tired, didn’t know where I was going and couldn’t fathom dragging all my crap across uneven Portuguese sidewalks.

Turns out I did know the building as it was close to the other apartments I stayed in.  I just didn’t recognize the back streets we took to get there.  That made getting my bearings the next day so much easier.   

I do not like studios.  I don’t like corner showers.  I don’t like the fact that I managed to get into the building and up to the 8^th floor only to realize that I was in the wrong building.  Sigh.  I hauled all my crap back downstairs and around to Building B before finally entering the apartment.

Not my preferences for accommodation, but still clean and decent enough for the week.  And again, I was back in Portimão.  If I can’t get to the outrageously expensive Funchal, this place will more than fit the bill.

The morning after my arrival, I went to the Hollywood themed restaurant on the boardwalk that I’ve frequented before.  The Ukrainian manager (still haven’t caught that guy’s name – I’ll have to fix that) instantly recognized me.  He high-fived me, welcomed me back, and preceded to spoil me during the entire meal. 

I love that!

Moral of the story: Portimão is still awesome and RyanAir can kick rocks.

My Last Week in Porto

 

I was not sad to leave that place in Porto.  I’d gotten used to couch-sleeping despite the couch being too short for my long legs.  The problem arose during the last few nights when – you guessed it – the bugs found me.

The host had shown me the two open skylight windows upstairs and instructed me on how to close them.  That seemed to be a hassle though, so I left them open.  With no screens.

So, yes, the mosquitos got me.  Please note I was still dealing with the bee sting on my leg.  After the first sting on my chest, I knew the area would be swollen and itchy for a while with no major consequences.  But a sting on the ankle turned out to be a different animal.

My foot swelled to ludicrous proportions, was painful to walk on, and was dry and itchy (my winter skin has also arrived).  I’ll spare you the picture of my horribly swollen bee foot.  Just know that it is awful and doesn’t want to go away.  Instead, here’s a puppy!

                                                            Photo by Bill Stephan on Unsplash

I swear, the bees of Albania must be Africanized.  They saw some dark skin and it reminded them of home, so they just had to sting me.

Thanks for that.

                                                                            ******

The day arrived for my departure and there just had to be issues.  The first Uber driver I called reached me on time, spoke only Portuguese as he gestured at my bags, then drove off.  Huh?  Presumably, he didn’t have room in his car for my mammoth suitcase, but since this had never happened to me before, I didn’t know what to do.  I tried to cancel the ride.  Nope.  Tried to call for a new one.  Nope.

So instead, I hauled all my junk to the main road thinking I’d grab a cab.  Then my phone started beeping to alert me that my driver was on the way.  What are you talking about?  He just left me stranded.

Turns out Uber was alerting to a new driver who expected me to be in front of the apartment.  I was already several feet away.  After texting him, he canceled the ride, allowing me to call for him again as I made my way back to the apartment.

Yeesh.

Got to the new place and he dropped me off.  On the wrong side of the street.  More confusion ensued as I had to get across the street to the right building.  Grab the key from the lockbox, up the stairs, into the elevator and to the 5^th floor.

After all that, the new place turned out to be decent enough.  Another too short couch, but at least this time the bed was surprisingly comfortable. 

The place feels like it’s made out of cardboard and is very echo-y because of it.  It took me a while to figure out which cabinets had to be pulled open and which ones were pressure based.  Even when I realized I had to push a door to get it open, it was still difficult to learn where to push it.  It took me forever to get to the washing machine.

I was not happy to see that there was no microwave when I thought I saw one listed in the ad.  Imagine my surprise when I opened the oven and found this.

I have never seen this setup before.  There were no manuals in the house and a bunch of strange symbols on the dials that I just didn’t understand.  While the oven gets warm like it should, the plate rotates like a microwave.  The timers are set to 15 minutes, which got the food cooked faster, but I’m still not a fan. 

Technology marches on, but sometimes it really shouldn’t.