Laura Suggested I Title This Post "Punks in Portugal"

This is going to be a monster of a post because Semana Santa was a monster of a week, so bear with me as I use stupid phrases like “monster of a”.

 In the interest of saving money and also getting a tan while still doing some really neat stuff, we three musketeers headed off to Portugal for Semana Santa (Spanish for “spring break,” but not literally).

The trip began rather memorably, as we left Mari’s (Mari’s specialty of tinfoil-wrapped sandwiches in tow) with what we thought was plenty of time, only to be sprinting through the train station an hour later, massive duffels bouncing, Laura’s stupid rolly bag making stupid rolly bag noises. Anyway, the point is, we made it onto the night train to Lisbon, which would be more aptly named “hell”. Apparently when you pay only 45 euros to roll across the border for some nine hours, you are not granted the luxury of actually sleeping. If for some reason you think that you, a mere peasant, deserve a little shut-eye, a policeman or border control chump will literally shake you by the shoulders and demand you show him your ticket for the fourth time. Don’t even get me started on the lights-on-at-all-times situation.

Somehow we survived and managed to be in good spirits when we arrived at 8 in the morning, despite our collective sum of negative three hours of sleep (and also unwashed hair, but I’m still a little scarred from that), which was good considering that we weren’t able to check into our hostel until 1 PM. No pasa nada. We threw back some coffee and set off to explore Lisbon for the second time this semester. Two important things to note are that Laura stopped and took a picture of virtually every tile in the city (while announcing that I would thank her for this some day, though I’m still not sure what use I would ever have for three hundred pictures of tiles) and that we managed to find a particular shop we wanted to visit without asking directions AND without getting lost and that alone made up for the hellish night train trip. (I’m just kidding. Nothing would make up for that hellish night train trip.) 

The only reason Mal is smiling because this is one of the first times Laura stopped to take a picture of a tile.

Later in the day, all clean and rested, we had one of our worst lunches this semester and then we had one of our best dinners this semester and we took it all in stride, if I do say so myself. That night, we revisited Lisbon’s lively Bairro Alto (I butcher both the pronunciation and spelling of this name incessantly) and took like, hundreds of pictures in front of the same wall with a bunch of strangers…... probably one of those “you had to be there” moments that ultimately make everyone feel sufficiently awkward after the story is told. But hey, it was funny.

You had to be there?

On Sunday, we once more impressed ourselves with our savvy travel skills (I’m allowed to brag about the few moments that actually work out in our favor) and got on a walking-speed train to the little town of CasCais, once again for the second time. It was a beautiful day and our hearts were set on some free biking. Naturally, there were only two free bikes available, but the woman working the rentals took pity on three clueless American girls and, even though it was against policy, promised to save the two for us until a third came along (which was a relief because when I was younger my sister would always beg me ride to my bike next to her while she ran and I was hoping to avoid such a situation for the rest of my life). Inevitably, three different groups of people also wanted the bikes and were understandably furious that these tourists with their white socks and tennis shoes (okay that was just me) would get preferential treatment but hey, you guys, we WERE there first. So after suffering some verbal abuse of the Portuguese variety, we finally got to ride our neat free bikes on some extremely busy cobblestone sidewalks. As we basically walked our bike behind massive clumps of people, we reminded ourselves to always be careful what you wish for. (En realidad, the views were gorgeous, biking is fun, and we had some good laughs, so all’s well that ends well.) (How many more clichés should I try to throw into that paragraph?)

After our bike ride, we allowed ourselves to get ice cream (though it took a lot of convincing, trust me) from the famous Santini and then sat on the beach and watched a teenage couple engage in some serious PDA while a stray cat watched. (Excuse me for the PG-rated content but the whole situation needs to be addressed.)

The following day, we embarked on our second We Hate Tourism tour (are you sensing a pattern here?), this time with the dreamy Tiago and this time to the coast of Portugal instead of around Lisbon. After a long drive during which Mal napped and I interrogated Tiago about his love life, and a pit stop for coffee (so unlike us, I know), we stopped for lunch with a gorgeous view of Praia de Amoreira (that’s Portuguese for “amazing beach”… haha, no it’s not). Also, there was a dog there and we shamelessly fed him some scraps and Mal and I shamelessly tried to kidnap said dog, so lunch was a nice affair.

Every single time we saw cliffs like this I exclaimed, "Cliffs of Moher!" and every single time nobody laughed.

We then headed to the teeny town of Aljezur where we would be staying for the night. We went to another beach, this time to lay out while we watched some dogs run around and Tiago surf, so overall it was a pretty perfect experience. Afterward, Tiago took us to the grocery store to get ingredients for the meal we were supposed to collectively make for dinner (read: we followed Tiago around the grocery store while he shopped and then we played cards in the lobby while he made us dinner). Dinner was delicious and that’s all I’ll say about it because I think I talk about food a little more often than the average person.

The next day, we were headed out for our final destination of Lagos, but not without a few pitstops on the way. We took in some more beautiful sights of cliffs, beaches, and boys surfing. We also visited the southernmost point of Europe (Sagres… pronunciation guide not available) where we took some extremely lame pictures, as we are wont to do. (Pictured below.)

Alas, we finally reached the beach town of Lagos, Portugal and said an emotional goodbye to Tiago (though whether those were tears of happiness or sadness in his eyes is hard to say). At twelve euro a night, our rented apartment was pretty luxurious (though notably a little muggy, but personally I love it when my towels are consistently damp) and it was nice to be able to showcase our dance skillz to American pop songs without being judged. To celebrate our adult-like vacation, we decided to cook for ourselves that night. Mostly Mal played sous-chef to Laura while I moaned and groaned about forgetting to buy raisins and then threw some fruit and sugar into our boxed wine to cover up the horrendous taste. The rice dish was delicious except that we forgot salt (and raisins!!!!) and also had enough leftovers to feed the entire apartment complex. Being a grown-up is fun!

On Wednesday morning, I went on an innocent run to check out the city center and ended up getting terrifically lost and asking for directions on three separate occasions, only to find out I was a street away from our apartment. Remember when I said I was travel savvy? Me neither. Anyway, the weather was looking a little gloomy, which in turn made us feel a little gloomy, plus we had to somehow navigate our way back to the elusive city center in order to buy our bus tickets back to Lisbon at the end of the trip… blah blah blah, the clouds cleared by lunch time and so did our attitudes. (How about these weather analogies, huh guys?!) We threw on our suits and sprint-walked to the beach where we accidentally discovered the nudie area a few seconds after we had already set up camp. Chalk it up to cultural experience, I guess.

Life is soooooooooo hard sometimes.

For dinner, we returned to the city center to a TripAdvisor-recommended restaurant where we caught the attention (not hard, considering we optimistic Midwesterners were all wearing shorts despite the 50 degree temps) of an older British couple. Although they had initially asked us which states we are respectively from, at one point the older man asked us if we were sisters and then remarked, “Oh, no, you all live in different states! Unless maybe your dad has a really good car!” Needless to say, we asked them to adopt us. (Jokes jokes jokes. Maybe.)

On Thursday we were #blessed with perfect weather so we marched our already sunburnt selves to Praia Dona Ana, AKA Conde Nast’s #1 Most Beautiful Beach in the World. Dude knows what he’s talking about, because it was breathtaking. Plus there were free public restrooms. Also, did you guys know that Laura had never laid out on a real live beach before this vacation? Neither did Mal and me. Anyway, some American (read: loud) boys were playing on some of the massive rocks surrounding the beach, so we followed suit and played on some little pebbles. (Pictured below.)

Risk-takers.

That afternoon, Mal demonstrated her good SLU character and worked on some homework while Laura and I looked for a beach that actually didn’t exist. After dropping my water bottle down a rocky mountain and having Laura belay me down in order to retrieve it, we returned to the first beach and impressed all the other beach-goers with our mad paddle-ball skills. (Whether or not you think I’m being sarcastic is up to you, but keep in mind that underneath all that clumsiness and gracelessness is some serious athleticism.) For dinner, we ate at a groovy little restaurant called The Garden, complete with hammocks and free blankets and one cat. We enjoyed our dinner with a little free entertainment via the VERY rowdy group of Irish men who seemed to multiply as the night went on. Things would have gone a little more smoothly for them if they hadn’t decided to start wrestling on the patio, if one of them hadn’t tried to use the women’s restroom, and if they hadn’t ALL decided to individually apologize to us. Other notable mentions of that night were some broken darts and a broken camera (only one of which was our fault, because who knew Mal’s aim was so bad) (RIP Laura’s camera).

On Friday we gave Laura’s Irish skin a break from the beach and went back to the city center in search of a kayak tour, only to discover that kayak tours are reserved for people who have their lives together and schedule things ahead of time. Instead we took a boat tour of some grottos, which undoubtedly look a lot better from a boat than from a kayak. Plus Mal had the pleasure of sitting next to a German guy who (correctly) thought that she was German and (incorrectly) thought that she spoke fluent German. Fortunately, she’s mastered pretending to know what people are saying. After the trip, we ate some ice cream for only the second time of the trip (a new record for me, surely) and all was right in the world again. Before dinner that night, Laura insisted that we watch the sunset at a famous viewpoint (for reference, you should check out her San Sebastian blog post). Even though it was cloudy and cold and windy, Mal and I didn’t get mad at her because we met some friendly guys including the Portuguese version of Alexander Supertramp and his dog along the road to the viewpoint. The sunset eluded us, but I bet it was beautiful behind all that wind and all those clouds.

(I’m trying to wrap it up guys, I promise.)

Great idea, Laur.

Bright and early on Saturday morning, we wrung out our towels some more and packed up and headed out to take the bus back to Lisbon. As luck would have it, our bus was host to an entire fraternity from an American university that will remain nameless and let me tell you guys, they were COOL. Something we really enjoy doing is being trapped seated near some twenty-year-old guys make derogatory comments about women for four hours so we sure had the time of our lives.

Eventually, we were back home in Lisbon where we were homeless until our next hellish trip on the night train. Although we had to sit with our luggage for a good seven hours, we had no problem entertaining ourselves. The only bummer of that span of time was that, despite our sign, no one would let us watch their dog in exchange for ice cream. It’s alright though, because we got ice cream anyway. Special occasion, ya know?

Would've taken up our offer if he had a dog, I bet.

Ultimately, the night train ride back was not nearly as bad as the way there so I’ll stop railing on night trains now.

Ahhh… the end of this monster of a post. Truly thought it would never come. I hope I didn’t make the trip sound all that negative because it was actually close to perfection (in that non-perfect sort of way). We shared stories, sunshine, sangria, love, laughter, lip balm… I could go on. Also I ate an entire mini jar of peanut butter in three days, but I digress. As I can already see your cringing face, I’ll just say that I couldn’t have asked for two better travel companions. Saudo!