A Year in Monchique 3 – The travel bug – June 2021

I wonder whether you thrive on the excitement of discovering new places, or whether you’re perfectly content with a well-established routine, and the reassuring knowledge of exactly where the kettle is. Also, if you do like to seek out new horizons, where might your next destination be?

It was my mother, Alice, who gave our family the travel bug. Our first family venture abroad was a holiday to Antibes on the French Riviera in 1981. She had spotted an advert in Woman’s Own magazine for a two-week escape. To us, it might as well have been a journey to the Moon.

After a tortuous coach journey, mercifully softened by Barbra Streisand’s ‘Guilty’ album playing in the background, we arrived at ‘Camp du Pylône’, or, as we later rechristened it, ‘Camp du Pile Them On’, thanks to its remarkable ability to fit as many caravans as humanly possible into one space. Still, it gave us our first taste of ‘The Continent’.

Looking back, it was that holiday that set us on the path to numerous trips across Europe and led to my parents’ enduring love of Portugal.

Our next great adventure took us much further afield, to Virginia, USA, to visit our mother’s sister. It was there that we celebrated my 21st birthday in 1989, an evening spent in a Christian hall, playing bingo! We continued on to Washington, D.C. for a weekend of sightseeing. Our first stop was the Washington Monument. As the designated driver of the rental car, I was entrusted with the task of delivering the family as close to the entrance as possible before searching for a parking space.

Having driven away from the monument, I found myself on a busy main carriageway. It was then, with a glance to the right, that I realised that I was passing The White House. In that moment, I lost my concentration and drifted back into the left-hand (UK) side of the road. To make matters worse, I had somehow guided the car into a one-way underpass with traffic heading directly towards me!

What followed was less a driving manoeuvre and more a negotiation with fate. Horns blared, headlights flashed and, for a moment, I suspected this would be my end. It was like a scene from the movie ‘Die Hard’. With a combination of luck and some enthusiastic steering, I managed to extricate the vehicle from the tunnel and to the right side of the road.

After I had safely parked and rejoined the family, my father took one look at me and asked, “Are you alright? You look a bit stressed.” Keen to avoid any further questions, I simply replied, “It must be the Southern heat!”

Many years later, my beloved sister Carole’s birthday was fast approaching, so I asked, “What would you like to do for your fabulous fortieth?” In her typically inimitable style, she replied, “Well, I’ve always wanted to go to the top of the Empire State Building!” So, plans were made, and before long, we found ourselves in New York City, standing at the foot of the Empire State Building, that most iconic of structures. When we reached the top, the city stretched endlessly in every direction.

That evening, we dressed to the ‘nines’ for the 2003 Broadway production of the Tony Award-winning musical ‘Nine’, starring Antonio Banderas. The theatre had that unmistakable pre-curtain energy. I glanced across at Carole, sipping champagne, and then, just beside her, noticed a tall, elegant woman standing alone. There was something strikingly familiar about her.

Leaning in, I said quietly, “Don’t look behind you, but you’ll never believe who’s here.” Naturally, Carole looked immediately! A second glance confirmed that it was Lauren Bacall. Carole turned back with a look of wide-eyed disbelief, caught somewhere between delight and the effort of trying not to stare too obviously. The curtain had yet to rise but already we felt we were in the presence of someone truly exceptional, one of the great figures of Hollywood’s golden age.

As we flew back across the Atlantic, I couldn’t help but reflect on how far we had come, from Liverpool to the French Riviera, from the deep South of the USA to the skyline of New York City.

And, in the end, it all led back to one person: our mother, who had first given us the travel bug.

Back to Portugal, Carole and her partner, Robert, were due to return for a holiday. I sometimes think the two of them have become the Judith Chalmers and Alan Whicker of our times, rarely home long enough to water the plants before setting off again.

On arriving in Portugal, Carole and Robert spent their first night in the charming city of Faro. The following day, after collecting them and beginning the journey back to Monchique, Carole shared details of their stay in Faro. It transpired that the hotel had embraced the fashionable concept of open-plan bedrooms, complete with a bathroom arrangement separated only by clear glass.

Now, Carole and Robert have been together for over 10 years, but there are certain activities that, regardless of the strength or duration of the relationship, one would still prefer to conduct in private!

Having spent a few relaxing days at the farmhouse, the travel bug inevitably struck again, and so we set off on a mini tour of the Alentejo.

Crossing the Serra de Monchique, we headed north through what seemed like an endless ocean of vineyards, before arriving in the historic city of Beja.

We spent the day exploring Beja’s fascinating Roman, Jewish, and Moorish history before ending the afternoon at the medieval Castle of Beja. Robert and I climbed the tower’s 198 steps to the top, where we were rewarded with breathtaking views across the city and the surrounding countryside.

Heading north once again, we drove into the fading evening light towards a small rural village on the outskirts of Évora, where we would spend the night. That evening, we discovered a wonderfully authentic local restaurant where nobody spoke English, a refreshing change from the Algarve!

The following day, we travelled the short distance into the ethereal city of Évora, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and considered the capital of the Alentejo. Our first stop was the Roman Temple of Évora. As the designated driver, I was entrusted with the task of delivering Carole and Robert as close to the landmark as possible before searching for a parking space. (Sound familiar?)

Having explored the Roman Temple, we made our way to the imposing Cathedral, with its Gothic cloisters rising elegantly from the ancient stonework. From there, we descended through the narrow, cobbled streets and winding alleyways towards Giraldo Square, the heart of Évora. We ended the day at the haunting Chapel of Bones, built from the remains of nearly 5,000 people as a poignant reminder of mortality. It’s fair to say the chapel achieves that objective effectively!

Whilst Carole and Robert were enjoying drinks in a café, it was time for me to make the hike back up the steep streets to collect the car from where the day had begun. Having driven away from the Roman Temple, I soon found myself navigating one of the many ancient roadways. It was then, with a casual glance to the left, that I realised I was passing the historic Royal Palace of Évora.

In that moment, I lost concentration and drifted down a narrow medieval pedestrian lane! To make matters worse, I somehow managed to guide my small car onto a stone stairway, complete with bewildered pedestrians all around me, staring on in utter disbelief at what they were witnessing.

It was like a scene from the movie ‘The Italian Job’.

With a combination of fluke and sound car suspension, I managed to extricate the vehicle from the bygone walkways of Évora. After reaching the agreed meeting point, Carole took one look at me and asked, “Are you alright? You look a bit stressed.” Keen to avoid any further questions, I simply replied, “It must be the Alentejo heat!”

That evening, back at the farmhouse, I looked out across the valley stretching ahead, peaceful, timeless, and alive with nature. I found myself thinking about all the places in Portugal that I had yet to visit. Clearly, my travel bug had now evolved into a distinctly Portuguese species.

Though perhaps, on the next Portuguese adventure, it might be wiser to leave the car at home!

This column is dedicated to Alice Patricia Hughes, a wonderful woman, an inspired traveller, and a loving mother.

Also Read Derek Hughes article A Year in Monchique 3 – On the beach – May 2021