- We discovered that ‘low cost inn Faro’ doesn’t actually provide breakfast as suggested by the copious ‘breakfast’ photos on their webpage. They instead provide you with the business card of a friend who owns a restaurant somewhere in town. We subsequently embarked on a supermarket hunt and settled for a yoghurt that contained traces of cereal. It tasted unpleasantly medicinal and was not worth the Portuguese abuse we endured from the livid check-out girl for not having the right change, or the 2 handfuls of 20 cent pieces that we consequently received.
- discovered that ‘low cost inn faro’ doesn’t possess laundry facilities either, another amenity promoted on their website. Furthermore, it turns out that faro itself doesn’t have a laundrette. Sick of having to flip my underwear inside out, or simply wearing the same pair for 5 days straight in Josh’s case, we ended up constructing a ghetto pseudo-washing machine in a bathroom sink using a sock as the plug. Was a surprisingly efficient system. Despite suffering some minor burns and hardcore finger wrinklage, our hygiene levels have sky-rocketed. We used our cylindrical fan with a belt tied round it (so as it doesn’t sound like an airplane combusting in midair) to blow dry our clothes or else laid them on the spot on the floor where the sun shone through the window (constant surveillance and an advanced rotational timetable was required to ensure optimal drying)
- had an anonymous man open our bedroom door whilst I was splayed half-naked on the bed in the process of getting dressed for dinner. Much discomfort ensued. Still haven’t ascertained whether or not it was the hostel receptionist or what this unidentified deviant wanted.
- Bought a sandstone ring from an African market stall set up in the centre of town. Discovered that sandstones don’t visually or texturally resemble actual sand, although the colour kind of looks like sand that someone with a kidney infection has urinated on. It’s a nice ring.
- Partook in a phenomenal tapas dinner of bruschetta, pumpkin soup, homemade guacamole and olive tapenade with home-made foccacia accompanied by 2 glasses of astringent (but nonetheless appreciated) red wine for 10 euro.
- had a ‘book party’ under a big tree just outside the crumbling ‘old town’ of Faro. Josh read Breakfast of Champions and I read The Dying Animal. Our legs were besieged by a multitude of malicious insects that we eventually conquered with our bug-slaughtering mastery.
- caught a ferry to ‘Ilha Deserta’, the uninhabited southernmost island of Portugal, where we spent the day soaking up sun, swimming
in the idyllic Atlantic ocean and reading our respective books. Unfortunately my pasty flesh of Irish heritage encountered a little too much sun for its liking and is now experiencing some bad karma from the lack of slip, slop, slapping. These last few hours have consisted of me tending to my engorged crimson limbs, trying not to envisage myself as the freshly plucked turkey that I’m increasingly resembling.
- went out for some Mexican chilli beans. The meal concluded with a few complimentary Tequila shots from the waiter who then proceeded to leave the bottle on the table for us to enjoy. No wonder they get such good tips.
- watched 2 sets of live music by the seaside whilst hypothesizing about the lives of fish and neurotisizing about a ‘Jaws’ equivalent launching itself out of the harbor and devouring people whole.