Faro Campsite is closed…
…I just wish I had known that before trudging, backpack and all, through the dark, deserted streets of Ilha de Faro. Oh well—you heard it here first.
So I caught the last (scheduled) bus from the Airport to Praira de Faro and the last one back to town. Now staying in the Pens. Filipe and very nice it is too, but their cheapest room is 30E (haggled down to 25) and at this rate my money will be gone before my flight home leaves.
I have revised my career plans, I don’t wanna be a Lonely Planet writer any more.
Central Faro is a pleasant labyrinth of tiny streets. From the bus, I ogled at tiled houses and others whose walls are crumbling; poverty and wealth exist side-by-side.
This update is just to please my hubby. I have written much more in my notebook, including funny and poignant observations about the changes to Gatwick airport over the decades, but all these will have to wait. I am dead nackered and this keyboard is driving me mad (whenever I arrive in a new country I am grateful that I have never given up my system of typing with one finger, but the different key positions still get to me).
Tomorrow its on to Lagos and possibly Setubal. If camping is out I have to make a decision about going to Morocco before my dosh for the ferry runs out. I rather stay in Portugal but I should have gone for one week. And two weeks is a little short for Morocco. Jeez—I need to relax.
Tags: Portugal, Tag Index
Denni