Sailing Istana

We left early, our little train here exactly on time. Skye had been collected the previous day. Being early at Faro airport it was fully staffed, but with hardly any other passengers which made it all a pleasant experience. And plenty of time to go through passport control where the officer was quite interested in us. He asked us when we had entered Portugal. “September 21st” I told him, at Pavoa de Varzim. He kept thinking we had entered via Faro airport, but gradually we were able to explain we had come by private boat all the way from England. 

He looked carefully at our marriage certificate, and receipt from Sopromar boat yard to show where we were. I was ready to explain that we had indeed also been to the ‘prefecturia’ – town hall – to register that we had been here for more than three months, but it didn’t get that far. He was very pleasant and hoped we would come back again soon.

Our visit to the prefecitura had been fun. A character middle aged lady sat at the reception desk. “Boa tarde, falla Ingles?” I asked. (Do you speak English?) “Falla Portuguese?” Came the reply. “No…” I confessed. After a few minutes of pointing toward the boat yard she took my Lativan passport and went off somewhere. When she came back she was shaking her head. But I had seen Portuguese people do this before (like when we got our boat tangled and stranded just yards from the lift out crane) and it doesn’t necessarily mean something bad. “Do you want to live here?” She asked. “No.” “Then stay as long as you like”. Great.

Very pleasant Ryanair flight to Newcastle. We had booked to stay at the Novotel which was next to a Toby Carvery, which lamenting foreign food I was really excited about. But it was bad. I guess for a roast costing £10.40 the ingredients might not be the best but some of the potatoes weren’t even properly cooked. The chef people were a bit miserable, but the front of house Geordie lasses were lovely. We didn’t stay for dessert.

The next day at we walked from the Novotel to the Hospital for Tracy’s medical appointment – about two miles. We were horrified by the rubbish everywhere, In the streets, across peoples gardens. Cutting across the park there wasn’t rubbish, but we were struck by very draconian council notices about dog poo. (Which there wasn’t). I don’t think it’s somewhere we would like to live.

Wherever we travel we are always struck by peoples kindness and decency. If someone from outer space read the Internet, and then came here, they would say ’So where are all the bad people, the corrupt, the dishonest and the murderers?’. 

 Getting quite lost in the underground carpark seemingly below Newcastle Hospital a young man came down the stairs. We asked him the way in. He was lovely, and not only showed us how to get in but said “Follow me” and using his security pass took us through hospital departments to the main reception.

 After the hospital appointment we got the train to Carlisle where we had to find the bus station. We got lost, same thing happened again. I saw a man coming, asked him if how to get to the bus station. He started explaining, then said “Don’t worry, follow me” And he led us to the bus station. 

When we had last been in Carlisle a year earlier in a car we had been trying unsuccessfully to find Sainsbury’s without getting stuck in the one way system. We had pulled over to try and work it out. Saw an Indian gentleman going to his car. Asked him for directions – again the response “I’ll take you there. Follow me”.

Yesterday on the train in Portugal a man hurried onto the train and quickly passed us with an umbrella. The brief conversation was in Portuguese but he had seen a lady leave her umbrella on the platform and hurried onto the train to give it to her. 

We see this all the time, people helping each other.

One very last example; so at Carlisle bus station we thought our bus would leave a 21:40. Time now 21:10. But according to the bus timetable on the wall the last bus left at 20:40.

What to do? We asked a bus driver, and very soon we had three bus drivers looking on the Internet for us. Eventually they decided that our bus was as we thought at 21:40 and that the driver was a young lady called Hanna who was presently on her tea break. And so it was. We sat on the top deck at the front, good fun having also made friends with Hanna.

Most importantly we had a nice several days with Tracy’s Dad who is now quite frail.

To get home we retraced our steps. Bus fare for both us for 1:20hr trip = £6. Train fare also for 1:20hr trip = £5.40 (for both of us!) And on a brand new spotlessly clean train, dead on time and with a cheery ticket man.

Flight back again very good with Ryanair but we were sat near a Geordien hen party. Soon it did sound as if we were indeed surrounded by poultry. But it was fine.

Inbound passport control, this is where we had bought extra documents for. But I barely said ’this is my wife’ before he pushed my passport away, stamped Tracy’s and motioned us to go through.

– Rob