Athens Part 2

On to the next temporary home, the Hotel Victory.  I picked the place because it was cheap and nearby.  I didn’t want to stay in Athens any longer than I had to but there were still things in the area I wanted to see.

Located in another bombed out looking alley fronted by trashcans, the hotel didn’t make the best first impression.  But it looked to be clean and serviceable enough for two nights stay.  That would give me enough time to figure out my next move.

But first, more sightseeing.  The location of the hotel also left me in a good position to get back to the subway station I’d seen the day before.  I found my way there again and figured out the route to the Acropolis.  It was its own station so that helped a lot.  What wasn’t helpful was being crammed in an overcrowded car.  After covid.  Without my mask.   I tried to breathe as little as possible as I was being completely crushed while clutching my purse to my side.

I did find my way to the Acropolis, the center point of the only clean and well-maintained area I’d discovered so far.  Of course, this was the main touristy area.  The long walkway was dotted with cafes, vendors, and, I was soon to find out, scam artists. I’m walking along and this woman appears in front of me offering me a free rose.  I take the rose and suddenly it’s not free and she’s pregnant and could I help her out.  Like an idiot, I reached for my purse to give her a few coins.  That turned into folding money that I exchanged for 3 lousy roses.  Feeling dumb, I kept going to the line for tickets to the Acropolis.

The line took entirely too long.  I was already annoyed and stuck behind two guys discussing the crappy state of the world.  Really not helping my mood. Finally got to the head of the line, handed over 20 euros and got my ticket.  Why the hell did it take so long to get to that point?

I ascended the steep hill to the entry point of the ruins.  There are staff waiting to screen everyone’s bags.  Since I only had a small purse and my water carrier, I tried to slip by.  “No roses,” said the woman.  Seriously?  I just overpaid for these things and for some reason they’re not allowed?  I chucked them aside in annoyance and kept going.

I will say this much; the Acropolis does offer some great views of the city.  Athens doesn’t look nearly as dirty or congested from up high.  Along with the throngs of tourists, there were groups of people being led by a tour guide offering tidbits about the history and renovations. 

After a couple of hours, I was getting hungry so back down the hill I went.  I stumbled upon a sign so unique that I just had to get a picture of it. 

The lady standing in front of the place asked, “Are you Daphne?” “How could you tell?” I don’t think I’m the first Daphne to take a picture of the place.  I had to eat there, of course, and had a lovely meal.  And ouzo. Never had it before and can safely say I’ll never have it again.  If you want the experience, just shoot some Robitussin, same thing.

The area beyond the restaurant was absolutely packed with people, eating at the many cafes, taking pictures, and milling around the shops.  This appeared to be the commercial center of the city with big name stores like H&M and Zara right next to the small souvenir shops and food vendors.  And again, the place was nice and clean.  I know this is mainly for the tourists but why shouldn’t everyone have the chance to live somewhere clean?  As Madeira proved, a clean, pretty environment makes for happier people.  This is not a difficult process to figure out.

The crush of people in this area was getting on my nerves.  One of my goals in Athens was to visit the Hard Rock and get my mandatory souvenir.  I figured it had to be located somewhere nearby, so I used Google Maps to lead me there.  Worked like a charm and with t-shirt in hand, I quickly made my way back to the subway station as it was getting dark.  I was tired and my guard was already up, I didn’t want to risk being out after dark for too long.

Despite my fatigue, I did not get much sleep.  The hotel was incredibly noisy both inside and out.  There were people yelling, cars blaring music as they passed, and, of course, the banging.  My next door neighbors had sex twice – hey, good for them, but I don’t want to hear it.  I’m not having any kind of sex, I don’t need to be reminded that other people are.

I got to sleep briefly before the voices started again, waking me up at 3:45.  I guess it woke my neighbors as well, because – you guessed it.  They had round three of the evening.  Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I had a better night’s sleep in the dump.

Awake in the morning, I heard the sex neighbors check out.  Again, I know this because of the loud turning of the key and moving suitcases around.  Soon after, I heard the maid coming to turn over the room.  Clock says 9:30 a.m.  but with the blackout shade in place, it’s still dark in the room.  I only got minutes of sleep at a time, so I really don’t care that I should be up.  But, since I don’t plan on being here long … I guess I’ll reenter the world.

I headed back on the subway to the area around the Acropolis.  I had a lovely meal of Greek French toast (sounds weird, but was excellent), then wandered around for the rest of the afternoon. There was much I hadn’t seen before, lots of shops and a nice park area not far from the first Olympic stadium.

Again, the crush of tourists was getting to me.  I figured to get something to eat before heading back on the subway.  I chose a spot for dinner and sat down.  I’m looking at the menu when a woman appears offering me a free rose.  And yes, I’m in idiot.  Thinking back to the actual free rose I got at a restaurant in Lisbon, I didn’t think anything of this one.  Until the woman gives me the same lines about her non-existent baby …

I won’t tell you how much I gave her.  It’s too embarrassing. I still can’t believe it happened again.  Having to be on your guard 24/7 is not fun.  It is exhausting.  But not so exhausting that I got any sleep that night.  I spent the whole night contemplating my stupidity while being forced to listen to the honking cars, the loudly arguing Greeks, some idiot on a bullhorn …

I spent three nights in Athens and that was four nights too many.  Screw Athens.

Athens Part 1

 

On my last full day in Madeira, I was walking around contemplating that fact that I was actually sad about leaving for Greece in a couple of days.  That is insane!  I’ve wanted to go to Greece since I was a child.  I only heard about Madeira last year.  My life has gotten weird(er).

But before Greece; a seriously long travel day.  The only flight out of Madeira that could get me to Greece at a decent hour left at 4:15. In the morning.  I messaged my host letting him know this and he told me that he’d have a relative take me for 35 euros.  Better than having to go down that hill with all my stuff and hope for a taxi.  This place just keeps giving.

Arriving at 10 as promised, one relative helped me out of the apartment and handed me over to another relative who pulled the car out of the attached garage.  Is this entire building owned and inhabited by one family? Silent driver sped around Madeira like he’d stolen the car (yet another reason I’m glad I didn’t rent one) and dropped me off for the agreed-on amount.  Then it was time to wait.

It was easier than I thought it would be to stay awake.  I did a lot of pacing until boarding.  Then it was on to Lisbon.  Another hour of waiting and then it was on to Barcelona.  A quick bathroom trip later and we were already lining up at the gate for the flight to Greece.  I was glad the flights were relatively short.  Didn’t allow me much sleep, but I was so uncomfortable with the lack of leg room that I didn’t want to be on any flight any longer than I had to be.

After fumbling around a bit at the airport to figure out the taxi situation, I caught one and we were on our way.  As we left the kind of empty countryside and entered the city, I started to get uneasy.  First impressions of Athens:  it is ugly.

Too many cars, it’s cold, the people look miserable, and the place is covered in cruddy looking brown buildings.

It’s like the entire city is covered in soot.

The driver turned off on yet another narrow, one-way street with cars parked on either side and stopped short.  A guy on a motorcycle had just side-swiped a guy on a scooter.  No one was hurt, but the scooter guy was pissed.  Technically, he was going the wrong way, but the motorcycle had cut around us unexpectedly.  The taxi wasn’t involved so we paused briefly and kept going.  Okay.

The taxi finally pulled up to another cruddy-looking brown building and dropped me off.  The guy there to meet me grabbed a suitcase and we headed up to the fifth floor. The coffin like elevator from my first Funchal place was a palace compared to the elevator for this place and we barely fit in with my bags.   

As for the apartment – it was a dump I didn’t want to take a dump in.  I’ll explain that statement later.

I went through the apartment first, heading straight to the bedroom to deposit the bags.  I caught a glimpse of my view from the balcony and … yeah.

Quite a shock coming from the best place I stayed in while in Portugal to … this.  And sorry, Greece, you are being graded on a curve and so far you’re not doing so well.

The guy showed me around and my opinion of the place plummeted.  This apartment smells.  The kitchen is unusable (no microwave, stove, or stove top – just some weird toaster oven with three burners on top.  The water heater has to be activated by hand at least 20 minutes before use.  And the corker -- you can’t put toilet paper in the toilet because the system is old and can’t process it (?!?).  Instead, the soiled paper should be put in the nearby trashcan.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME!??

I was seriously too stunned to say much of anything.  The guy said to call if I needed anything and left.  I didn’t bother to unpack, instead choosing to leave the apartment as soon as I could to do my usual neighborhood walkabout.  Yeah, my opinion of the city didn’t change.  It is very noisy, crossing the alleys/streets can be dangerous, and again, it’s very ugly. Whereas Portugal had trash and recycling receptacles everywhere, in Greece just throw your trash in one of the many overflowing open dumpsters.  Who cares?

The people were lovely, though.  I went into a beauty supply shop assuming the woman didn’t speak English so I didn’t ask her anything.  When I went to pay for my purchase, she suggested something else in English.  She then excitedly showed me different products, apologizing when she couldn’t translate some of the ingredients any better.  Hey, babe, your broken English is better than my non-existent Greek so don’t apologize for anything.

Like in Portugal, coffee culture is big here.  There were plenty of places to stop for a cup and a pastry.  Also, plenty of grocery stores and shops in walking distance (then why the hell were there so many cars?  The city center really isn’t designed for them.).  I managed to reach the subway station (the one thing touted on the website for the apartment – that should have been a warning right there since there’s nothing else to recommend the place.) before turning back before it got dark.

After grabbing something to eat, I reluctantly headed back to the place.  The growing dark didn’t make it any more appealing.  I sat at the computer to figure out my options.  The note left above the desk listed a wifi name that didn’t exist.  Sigh.  I called AirBNB to complain.  They said that if I left immediately, I would only be charged for one day and not the entire month.  But if I stayed a night (that I was being charged for anyway) they couldn’t refund any of my money.  Is it just me or is that a really messed-up policy? 

I messaged the host about the wifi and managed to get connected.  Started doing some research but the text was all just blurring together.  I was extremely tired at this point  after staying up night and barely getting any sleep on the plane(s).  Travel days are always long and exhausting.  But come on.  This was just one more challenge that I did not need.

I was in no condition to make any good decisions, so I decided to turn in and figure things out in the morning.  I will credit the place for two things.  One, the bed was comfortable enough and the linens were clean.  I had a decent night’s sleep after taking forever to doze off.  And two, the water heater wasn’t as tricky as first advertised.  The guy activated it when I arrived and the next morning there was still hot water coming from the sink.  So.  Yay?

Back to the negatives.  By morning, the bathroom had already started to stink.  I wanted to take a shower but really didn’t want to stay in the apartment any longer than I had to.  I got on the computer again and hastily made arrangements for a nearby hotel and a taxi (all done conveniently on Booking.com).  I packed up, told the host I was out of there, and made to leave.  “Is there anything I can do?” he asked.  I don’t know.  Eat @#% and die, was my thought.  Instead, I told him no and kept it classy.  If he couldn’t see the problems with this place or tried to act like it wasn’t the scam that it was, there was nothing I could say to educate him.

I follow a travel blogger on YouTube who is a digital nomad.  She mentioned that any time she booked an apartment for an entire month in advance that it never worked out.  Being 0 for 2 myself, I’m gonna have to agree with her.  If a place is cheap enough and appeals to me for a month-long rental, I will pass on it in the future.  The place is that cheap for a reason.

I spotted this mannequin in a store window.  Somehow her frozen grimace mirrored that of my inner child who'd always wanted to come to this country.

I want to go back to Portugal.

Funchal Part 2

 After a little over a week, it was time to move onto my next lodging in Funchal.  When I looked on AirBNB for my next place after Ponta do Sol, I couldn’t find a single place with availability for the remainder of my time on the island.  So the website suggested booking two places at once whose dates jibed with mine.  I caught a cab after lunch and we headed from West Funchal to the east.

When we pulled onto the ‘freeway’ I swear I thought I was being kidnapped.  I mean, Funchal is not that big.  I had accidently walked all the way to the docks from my first apartment and my second place (I’d find out later) is in view of those same docks.  It’s not that far by car if you’re on Avenida do Mar.  Then I figured I was just being taken the long way so he could overcharge me.  But when we reached the street, I saw that it was another narrow, one-way jobby that couldn’t be approached any other way.  And, once again, my cab driver wasn’t quite sure where the place was.  The numbering of houses here is too chaotic to follow even for the natives.  That’s a serious problem.

I contacted the host and we managed to find each other after the cabbie dropped me off in front of someone’s house.  He helped me carry my bags down the hill (we were so close) and showed me how to use the two keys to get into the gate, into the building, up the elevator and to the apartment.  Then he showed me around my new home for the week.

This place has automatically reset the bar for rentals on this island. The apartment I just left could fit inside the living/dining room of this place.  And there’s a balcony just off that room with a view of the pool below (to which I have access).  It’s a three-bedroom place, though one of the rooms is closed off (not that I care).  Two bathrooms, a separate laundry room, buttery yellow walls, and the same balcony off the living room can be accessed from the main bedroom.

As for the kitchen … well.  Not only is it bigger than the kitchen I had in my house and has a door (how many kitchens have actual physical doors these days?) the view is … um …

Once I picked my jaw up off the floor, I thanked the host and he left me to continue gawking.  I booked this place and all my accommodations in Portugal on AirBNB.  This trip was my first time using the site and I gotta say, the results have been wildly varied.  I never searched a place based on wow factor or number of bedrooms.  Price, location, and availability are my main criteria.  So to go from my modern little place in Lisbon, to the room in the boonies of the farol, to the homey place in Ponta do Sol, to the 8^th floor studio, to this place (which has to be a million dollar property for the view alone) has been a wild adventure.  And I think this has been one of the cheaper places particularly since I only booked it a couple of weeks ago.  It’s nuts.

I set my computer up in the kitchen because … why wouldn’t I?  It would get a little toasty in the morning with the sun being directly in the window, so I’d move to the dining room.  But only briefly.  The view from the balcony just wasn’t good enough for me anymore.

There are only three drawbacks to the place; with all that space in the kitchen, there’s no oven.  Even the shoebox I just left had an oven, awkwardly placed though it was. Secondly, the upstairs neighbors are noisy.  I think they had a party on Monday night with loud voices, lots of chairs scraping against the hardwood floors, banging and crashing well into the night.  In addition to that, the apartment is located on one of the nastiest hills I have ever encountered in Portugal.  That thing just goes on and on.  And while there are steps located on the side of the hill, they are typical Portuguese steps; made of stone, shallow and uneven, and only get you up the worst part of the hill.  You still have a way to go after that.  The final part at least has a handrail/barrier between you and oncoming traffic.

The weather here has been amazing.  After a month on the island, there were a total of 4 days where the sky was overcast and I felt droplets of rain.  The rest of the time, sunny and gorgeous.  The temp is usually high 60’s, low 70’s every day after being a little cool and windy in the morning then cooling off again in the evening.

I noticed that there are stop lights on the main road of Avenida do Mar.  This road goes past the docks and the main tourist strip for anyone getting off the cruise ships.  They arrive everyday, sometimes with two or three of them docking at one time.

The Mercado dos Lavradores is a huge indoor farmers market that’s just down the street from the apartment.  It is chock full of vendors selling fruits, vegetables, spices, wine, souvenirs, you name it.  It’s three stories of sensory overload as the vendors are trying to offer you samples and you’re bobbing and weaving around other customers and watch that step (what is it with Portugal and all the surprise steps?).  The fishermen, whose boats can be seen from the docks, set up in a separate room.  You can’t get fresher seafood unless you catch it yourself.  It goes straight from the water to the salesroom and you can have the vendors cut it right in front of you.

As great as the market is, I can’t help but think it’s kind of redundant. I’ve already mentioned how fresh the produce is in the grocery stores.  That was the case in Lisbon, but even more so on Madeira as much of the produce is grown right here.  I’ve watched the fisherman in the mornings.  If they’re not fishing for themselves, they’ve got plenty of places to sell their catch.  I would call the market more of a touristy thing since the folks staying in hotels wouldn’t be frequenting the grocers.  Except there are cafes inside that are full of locals as well as shops that sell plants and seeds, so I don’t know.  It’s still a nice place to visit at least once.

After a rocky start, I’ve grown to love the island.  Funchal has everything you could need to live within close proximity, it’s gorgeous and warm, and travel is still possible with the mainland being only 1 ½ hours away.  I didn’t do any of the tourist activities, but there are plenty to partake in like jeep tours around the island, scuba lessons, whale watches and the like to keep you as busy as you want.  Plenty of shops, clinics, grocers – as well as cars, tourists, construction, smokers in public – not a perfect place, as there is no such thing, but still ...  So far, my hunch about the place was correct.  This is definitely the front runner for my new home.  We’ll see how that goes.

Though not a plan, I’m glad I got to experience both sides of Funchal.  Despite my great apartment (which I could never afford in a million years), I think I prefer the west side of the city.  It’s a bit more modern and I could probably afford to rent for a year while I scope out a property.  East Funchal has more of a Lisbon feel with the long rows of houses and the number of abandoned buildings.  Charming, maybe, but a little less to my liking.

Because of all my moving around, Portugal has been far more expensive than I planned.  I’ve also had a few too many nice lunches out including booze and my quest to find the best cappuccino on the island.  My next location is booked for the whole month and, barring any issues with the place, should make it a lot more affordable.

Cultural Notes -- Portugal

Just some random things I've observed living in Portugal for almost a month.

The Portuguese love their wooden floors.  I haven’t seen carpeting in any of my rentals and only rarely have I seen floor rugs.

There are not enough outlets to go around.  In every place I’ve stayed, it’s been a hunt to find a place to plug in the computer.  The apartment in Ponta do Sol had a tap in the kitchen since there was only one plug and yet three appliances on the counter (microwave, coffee maker, and toaster.)  It’s really bad in that, unlike American outlets, when you do find an outlet, you don’t get one on top of the other.  You only get one, so you really have to prioritize.  On a side note, there is WiFi everywhere and the service has been great.  No issues or dropped connections – very convenient for anyone trying to WFH.

The technology on a whole has been a challenge.  Using online manuals has helped, but even then, the design of some of these devices is just confusing.  Particularly the laundry machines.  It’s one thing to have the labels in Portuguese (to be expected) but why are there so many options?  I just want to de-funktify my clothes and not destroy anything.  Why is that so hard?  

Therefore, I was doubly grateful that the machine in Ponta do Sol was nearly identical to the machine I had in Georgia.

I’ve always said that every microwave oven is just different enough to make you pause in figuring them out.  That thought has been proven by just moving around this one small country.  Each first bowl of oatmeal I nuked was purely experimental.  How much time would it need?  Would the cereal bubble over?  Is this bowl microwaveable?  So far so good, though – no explosions or spillovers (thank goodness).

The stovetops have mostly been gas, which is fine.  Most have to be lit by hand, which is fine.  The problem comes with regulating the flame or dealing with a stove with tricky handles that shuts off the flame unexpectedly.  I never could figure out the one convection stovetop I had in Lisbon.  I’d bought some eggs thinking I could scramble them for breakfast.  That idea was a bust and the next renters ended up with some free eggs.

The hosts are not fans of face cloths.  This one kind of bothered me.  I’m trying to wash my face in the morning and there is nothing around.  I don’t want to wet a hand towel to do this, so I eventually bought some microfiber towels for this purpose (always good to travel with those anyway).

Guess what?  Portugal observes daylight savings time.  It never occurred to me to check beforehand.  I just ended up confused when my travel clock no longer aligned with the computer/phone.  Only then did I do a search on DST in Europe.  Because of the different time zones, Portugal springs ahead an hour 2 weeks after the states.  The more you know.

Recycling bins are prominently displayed on the streets, in the mall, all over the place.  Conservation in all resources is encouraged to reduce waste.  If a restaurant offers you a straw, it’s made of paper.  Fast food joints will also not include a plastic lid on the drink.  The cutlery, if not actual metal, is made from wood. 

These &*(&&^( things are a blight on this island.  They are EVERYWHERE.  In Ponta do Pargo, I had to leave one table at a restaurant because the things were swarming around my feet and even climbing on the table.  In Funchal, I’d be slowly taking the stairs (because all Portuguese stairs kind of scare me – many are uneven and made of stone) and then one of these little %$^$$&(s will skitter right in front of me and throw me off.  Fortunately, they don’t seem to make their way into the buildings (being off the ground floor helps).  But, seriously, screw these things.

Octopus is very big there.  It’s featured on salads, as appetizers, it’s even on pizza.  As interesting as they are to look at, the thought of putting one in my face is scary.  That is all.

About the language.  When I decided that I wanted to go expat, I initially wanted to move somewhere English was widely spoken.  Portugal fits that bill, but there’s no way I’m moving to a foreign country and not learning the language.  That might be even harder than I originally thought.  Listening to people’s conversations, sometimes it sounds like Spanish (the two languages have some of the same words and phrases while still being very different) and sometimes, I swear, it sounds like Russian.  I can’t get a bead on the cadence.  Granted, my brain is old and learning languages wasn’t my forte even in my youth.  I took French in high school and Spanish in college, but I’m not fluent in either.  Hopefully, being immersed in the culture long enough, something will finally sink in.

And I do want to be a part of this culture.  These people aren’t angry or rude just for the sake of it.  They live surrounded by beauty and family and friends and don’t even seem bothered by all the tourists.  I had lunch in a café and the manager, Maria, struck up a conversation.  She asked where I was from and she told me about her years as a cruise director.  I told her I was seriously considering moving here after my travels.  Instead of giving me the side eye thinking “yeah, a lot of people say that but never move” or “oh, no, another entitled expat to deal with”,  I got none of that suspicion or distain.  Instead, I got tips.  She told me that it could be rainy in the winters and the hills could be awful to walk (yeah, no kidding).  But, she said if I were retired or working remotely, why wouldn’t I want to live here?  No negativity, no hesitation, just good vibes.  I want to live in a place that encourages that.

Funchal Part 1

 

First impressions of Funchal; there are way too many cars, too many high rises, and so

much

construction.

Bit of a shock coming from Ponta do Sol.  Sure, that town was small and kinda dull, but at least it was gorgeous. Here, it’s basically a mini-Lisbon, but in a bad way that just seems to waste the island’s natural beauty.

My cab driver finally reached the building after having to ask for directions (the second time that’s happened on this island) and I wrestled my bags into the multi-story building.  The host had texted me detailed instructions on getting into the apartment and with good reason.  There was a code to get in the front door which I would only use once and after that I would have a key.  I wouldn’t take the first elevator I saw, instead going up a flight of stairs to a second, coffin-sized elevator that would take me up to the 8^th floor.  Then, I’d have to go down a set of stairs through a dark hallway to find the apartment.  Then I’d have to input a code in the lockbox on the door, get the actual keys out of it, and then, finally, open the door to the place.  I’ve had tax returns that were easier to maneuver.

This place is tiny.  While it does have everything you need, it is still a box of a studio on the eighth floor.  Again, a shock coming from the huge 3 bedroom, 3 bath, 2 balcony goodness I had in Ponta do Sol.  There was no sound of water in this place.  Mostly I just heard the neighbors yelling and banging things.  Not what you want to hear on your first day in a new place.  Still, the view from the balcony wasn't half bad.

Once I dropped my stuff off, I left the building and started walking in no particular direction, hoping I’d be able to find my way back.  I spotted the water and tried to figure out the best way to get there.  There are a lot of hotels situated close to the water, though none of them were truly beach side.  There are no real sand beaches because it’s still very rocky here, but most of the hotels have pool areas that overlook the ocean.  The hotels also border the scenic pathway I stumbled upon which I later found out was called the Jardin Panoramico (the Panoramic Garden). 

The pathway, park, garden, whatever you want to call it is fantastic.  It goes on for about a mile and gives you some nice views of the ocean.  I still can’t get over the abundance of flowers and trees that are everywhere.  The breeze coming off the water, the sun shining down, the multiple benches and cafes sprinkled around so you can just sit and enjoy the day and I take back what I said about the construction ruining the natural beauty.  There’s still too much of it but the city has found a way to make it work.  You can’t even hear the banging of the construction or the noise of cars while on the path, thanks to the stone walls in between.  I walked there every day I stayed in that apartment.

Something I noted about the tourists on the various parts of the island.  In Ponta do Pongo, I mostly heard German accents from a lot of hikers.  In Ponta do Sol it was mostly Italians looking to take pictures.  In Funchal, I’ve seen quite a few older British people ‘just on holiday’, cute elderly couples holding hands as they take in the sights.  I’d find out later that it was mostly the Brits who stayed in Funchal.  They only became an issue when they’d clash with rival footballers while watching a game in one of the pubs.

Since Funchal is the capital and the largest city on the island, it is the tourist hub spot.  Do you need a break from all the walking, maybe a glass of wine or a slice of cake?  Throw a stick.  There are so many snack bars, wine bars, coffee shops, restaurants, and bakeries that you could probably eat at a different restaurant every day for a month and still not hit them all.  Since the weather is so gorgeous, all of these places have outdoor seating areas with prominent menus on display in multiple languages.  But I found that it’s not just the tourists frequenting these places.  Plenty of Portuguese to be heard everywhere.  There’s a bakery near the apartment called Penha D’Aguia that’s been around since 1844 and was always busy no matter when I passed by.  Particularly in the morning, the tables would be full of people having their tiny cup of espresso and a pastry while staring at their phones.

Grocery stores are abundant here.  There are three Pinga Doces in walking distance to the apartment.  This is the big chain of stores equivalent to Publix in Georgia.  Then there are the small Fruta e Legumes (fruits and vegetables) stores sprinkled everywhere.  You are never far away from fresh food.

I also passed by multiple pharmacies, clinics, furniture stores, you name it and it wasn’t difficult to access.  This is a very functional city designed for the residents to get what they need without use of a car.  Yet there are still so many around.  I understand the need for one if you live on one of the higher hills and need to come down to the hotel area for work, but other than that I say walk or take the bus.  Street parking is just as nuts here as it was in Ponta do Sol and while there are some designated parking lots attached to buildings, owning a car just seems to be more of a hassle than anything else.

There is an actual functioning open air mall here called Forum Madeira.  It has H&M and Zara as the only stores I recognize along with a bunch I’ve never heard of including the restaurant pictured below that's in the food court.  It also has a theatre and a Pingo Doce on the lowest level.  I found the mall, by accident but it turned out to be very close to the apartment and a definite selling point.  Later in the week I realized that there is a rooftop garden that’s easily accessible to the residents of the apartments surrounding the mall.  Another nice touch to make Funchal as comfortable and inviting as it is.

Despite (or probably because of) the thriving Forum, I did encounter a few dead husk spaces, what I’ve come to expect regarding malls.  There were at least two hollowed out places that still had a working café or convenience store attached.  It was strange to see such large half-dead malls in the middle of such a small city.  Prime real estate that was going to waste.

Some other things I noticed.  There are no stoplights in the city and I only found one stop sign.  The only traffic calming comes from the curvy roadways and the zebra crossings.  The drivers are just as patient with pedestrians as they have been during the rest of my trip and I have yet to see any issues on the roads.  A few honking horns but that’s it.  No accidents or traffic jams – a serious change compared to anywhere in the Atlanta area.

I had discovered my new favorite wine in a restaurant while in Ponta do Sol.  It’s a brand of vinho verde (green wine) that’s a specialty of Portugal and it is delicious.  I’m not even a wine person or a heavy drinker, but I’m a little addicted to the stuff.  And in Funchal there are multiple places to buy the wine for cheap at around 4 euros.

I continued to explore the local cuisine while in Funchal, trying the Super Bock beer.  Not bad, as far as beer goes.  Very tingly, like a highly carbonated beverage.  Interesting, but not something I’d order again.  I also tried the Bolo Mel Cana, a round chocolate cake with nuts on top that’s sold everywhere.  Kinda fudgy and not bad. 

A last note.  I mentioned having difficulties with my credit card on my very first day here.  Well, those problems persisted.  I ended up having to call the company three times to get it resolved.  We eventually decided to cancel the card and they would send me another one.  I initially balked at this (hello!  I’m in Portugal!) but at least I had my backup card with me.  I figure I’ll return to the states in May and pick up the new card before heading back to Europe for the next leg of my adventures.  Since the problem was with too many charges from Uber, I’ve used taxis during the rest of my trip.  I don’t blame them for the problems but I also don’t want to end up getting any of my other cards flagged while I’m here.  Moral of the story; don’t enter your credit card numbers on your phone while in an airport.  Too many wandering eyes about.

Ponta do Sol

After scouring AirBnB for another apartment on a different part of the island, I managed to find a place in the city of Ponta do Sol.  I wanted to visit this place because it has become a mecca for digital nomads and I wanted to find out why.  Even though I’d already paid for a month’s stay in Ponta do Pongo, I left the farol on Tuesday, March 14, 2023.

A 45 euro taxi ride later and I arrived at the pretty little town of Ponta do Sol.  The property manager, Rita, helped me get my bags up the steep stone steps, up even more stairs, to show me my new home for the week.  Wow.  The apartment is insane! A huge kitchen, three bathrooms, two bedrooms on the first floor and another loft style bedroom upstairs.  It was far more than I needed, yet it was still reasonably priced.  Rita told me that they’d just had a cancellation which is why the place was available on such short notice.  Then she showed me the two (!) balconies – one off the main bedroom and the other off the kitchen.  This is the view from the kitchen window.

That’s a levada, one of the natural waterways that are scattered all over the island.  This city is built around at least three of them.  With a view of the ocean from the living room and the levada out back, the place is surrounded by the sound of water.  I LOVE that!

Although, I soon found out that that’s not the only sound to be heard in the apartment.  The screaming starts at 8 a.m.  What do I mean by that?  Exactly what I wrote.  This town is very tiny.  The elementary school is just up the street from the apartment and I’m going to take a wild guess and say that school starts at 8 am.  And so does the screaming.

Sometime later, there’s also the sound of music.  The library is directly across from the apartment.  The building on the other side of the narrow cobblestone street is some kind of conservatory (I think?).  Piano music comes from the windows, including the Pirates of the Caribbean theme.  Strange, but at least it was well done.

All of this was a surprise that first morning though I quickly got used to it.  I was usually up before 8:00 as the bed was doing a number on my lower back.  Getting up early meant that I could walk up the hill to the grocery store to pick up anything I needed for the day.  I was actually glad to get back into cooking for myself.  Not that my menu was any more varied than the farol’s, but I at least I had more control over it.  Ponta do Sol got me in the habit of eating breakfast and dinner at home and finding lunch somewhere else.

Because of the town’s compact nature, it wasn’t difficult to find anything.  The apartment had a killer location just steps away from several restaurants and a gray stone “beach”.  I use the word lightly because even though there was access to the water, those stones weren’t exactly inviting.  There were smaller stones near the entrance to the beach, but as you got closer to the water, the rocks just got bigger and more unevenly spread.  It made finding footing a tricky business.

The views, though, couldn’t be beat.  Down the street and up a hill, past the striking yellow cliffside restaurant, was a bridge and walkway over the water.  A great place for fisherman and tourists to take photos.  I walked up there almost every morning when it was quiet.  A peaceful place to just sit and be.

As with all of the island, the hills are king.  Everything is on a series of tiers that take some energy to maneuver, starting with just getting out of the apartment.  This is the first hill I have to take, a steep uneven decline leading to the town square.  While I would slowly amble down like a toddler on ice skates, I watched kids run down these bad boys like it was nothing.  That’s okay, kids.  Leave grandma behind because I don’t want to know how long it would take me to get medical care for a broken ankle.  At least the police station is in walking distance.

I got mistaken twice for a native.  The first time was by a couple fresh off the bus and only in town for an hour.  The Bulgarian man and his Italian girlfriend saw me coming out of my apartment and asked me about the sights.  I had them follow me down the hill, across the street, and to the stone beach.  We parted ways and I went to get lunch at a place called Steak and Sun.  An hour later an older gentleman stopped me and asked if I was from here.  The first time I could understand as I was leaving the apartment, but the second time?  Do I look Portuguese to anybody?

Speaking of which, there weren’t many black faces on this part of the island.  I saw more here than I did in Porta do Ponga, but not many.  From what I gather, this place is like the other in that tour groups will come here for a short visit, take their pictures, maybe get some lunch and then leave.  While this town is less remote, you would still need a car to see more sights.  There are hotels here, but again, I see this place as just a short stop on a trip, nothing more.

The taxi driver had warned me on the way over that there wasn’t much to see and he was right.  Again, Ponta do Sol is very pretty, but also a little too small and limited for me.  The digital nomad hub was basically a large communal space to host temporary workers as they stayed for a few days or a month.  I could understand the appeal of the place for a short stay, but since I’m looking for a new home, Ponta do Sol doesn’t work for me.  Nice place to visit, couldn’t live here.