Brian is picking me up at 04:00am. We're off to Madeira.
It is 04:00am on Tuesday 18th July 2017 and I have just been woken up for the second time in less than a year by an 'I'm outside' text as opposed to my bloody alarm. I am getting REALLY bad at mornings lately.
The plane departs at 07:20am and we are in our hotel in Madeira (as near as damnit UNDERNEATH the frikkin airport - well done Brian!) by 13:00. Brian was kind enough to take onboard my criticism from the last holiday ("You snore like a dying chainsaw and if you jolt my bed on your naked midnight wanders to the bathroom again I will end you!") and got us separate rooms. Mine is very nice. I have a large bed (made up from 2 single beds), a large shower and a decent-sized terrace with a sea view if you are willing to climb out onto the scaffolding.
We arrange to meet downstairs in 15 minutes to explore the local area. It is a lazy day. We wander listlessly in one direction, then wander listlessly in another, before finding a place on the pebble beach and seeing out the evening beneath the sun. And actually rather mesmerisingly low-flying planes. Dinner at 'Restaurante Professor' consists of land and sea skewers which transpires to be steak and huge prawns on a stick. Normally I am entirely adverse to eating food with a face, but hunger is the best sauce and frankly I could probably eat live puppies right now. It tastes amazing. I feel so very fat and content.
Wednesday 19th July 2017
Today we are booked in with 'Madeira Happy Tours' for a 'East Coast of Madeira' day excursion. The driver - Luis - picks us up at 08:15 sharp. He picks up a further 8 people in Funchal. All English-speaking barring 2 French speakers. Nevertheless, this doesn't stop us beyond initial pleasantries from sitting in abject silence like good little tourists as we await the commencement of the tour. It's dark times when the success of an event depends upon the social skills of the English.
T'ings wot I learnt from today's tour:
- The name "Madiera" means "Timber" on account of the fuck-load of trees the discoverers encountered when they first landed upon the island.
- Madeira is not one but in fact a group of Eight islands.
- Madeira has it's own president, parliament and university, and thus likes to consider itself independent, but is nonetheless still subject to the laws set by Lisbon.
- Madeira is a volcanic island, but the last eruption was 6200 years ago.
- 60% of Madeira's economy is dependant upon tourism. The rest is mostly agriculture. There is around 10% unemployment.
- The last president of Madeira was extremely popular and won every 4 year election. He was responsible for the building of the motorway which took from 1993-2004 to build.
- Madeira is very mountainous terrain. There are a LOT of tunnels through the mountains to enable ease of commute between towns. Every tunnel has a name and measurement signposted to the right of its entrance.
- All the natural beaches on Madeira are stone beaches. there are 2 artificial sandy beaches that import the sand (From Morroca?) at tremendous expense for the purposes of tourism.
Porto Santa has been in existence for 10 million years. Madeira, simply 5 million years. Porto Santa has no drinkable water of its own and has to import from Madeira.
- Levada's are channels built into the mountains in order to channel natural rainfall from one area to another. The are 2 types of Levada 'Main' and 'Secondary'. (To research what each of them do)
The levada's were dug out by slaves in the 16th century.
You can judge how high you are up a mountain by the vegetation around you. There is less water further up the mountain, so only drought resistant plants such as bracket fern and gorse varieties can live up there. Further down are the flowering and fruiting plants. (Include a selection of examples)
Eucalyptus and Arcacia trees were originally imported from Australia as they are both fast growing trees at a time when the Madeiran's desperately required as much timber as they could get. They have since proven themselves to be a bit of a pain in the ass as the need for wood is not as great and these trees sap the water from neighbouring trees, killing off everything else within their vicinity. Despite the Madeiran's affinity for conservation, they are encouraged to destroy these trees when the encounter them these days.
90% of the population of Madeira is Catholic.
There IS a hunting season - commencing in October and lasting 1.5 months - but it is not an activity favoured by many Madeiran's.
There are 2 drinks popularly drunk in Madeira. One is Pocha (Sugar cane, honey, etc...) The other is Cortada. I have tried both and recommend neither.
There are 2 drinks popularly drunk in Madeira. One is Pocha (Sugar cane, honey, etc...) The other is Cortada. I have tried both and recommend neither.
We visited:
CAMACHA? - We spent 25 minutes here. The man who owned the land was Mr Camacho. His wife who inherited the land became known as Camacha (owing to the masculine/feminine tendencies of the Portuguese language) and the town became known as Camacha after her. This is a tiny village consisting ostensibly of a church and a wicker showroom. To the back of the showroom is a woman working wicker to display the process to curious tourists. We can't enter the church. I struggle to fill the remaining 20 minutes.
POISO - (The resting place) So called because it was often a transitory stop for travelling merchants. We stopped here for 15 minutes.
RIBERIO FRIO - (Cold stream)
We stopped here to visit the trout farm. Saw small trout. Saw big trout. There wasn't anything by means of a run-down of the process of trout-farming so I spent the rest of the time taking photos of plants.
Thursday 20th July 2017
Today is the tour of WEST Madeira. The transfer arrives perfectly on time. I don't. Today I discovered that the hotel key card which is supposed to power everything when it is in the key card slot, and turn everything off when it is taken out, does NOT in fact turn off the television when the AC is on irrespective of the displacement of said key card. That's just... Weird! It's the 'light in the fridge' scenario all over again - I open that goddamn hotel room door no less than 4 times to check the electrics are all still inexplicably on before I am able to force myself to leave.
The drivers name is - and forgive me for spelling this phonetically - 'Andro' and he seems angry with the world. He certainly seems angry with all the other cars on the road. Not that he is transmitting his mood to epic levels, but I know the unnervingly insincere humming of someone who is trying not to set fire to someone else when I hear it.
As with yesterday, Brian and I are the first annoyingly off-route passengers to be picked up, before a further 8 passengers from Funchal, then we head up into Cambera (chamber) Which is the biggest fishermans village in Madeira. We stop for a 20 minute photo opportunity. This continues to be the theme of the tour. There's only so much Andro can give us on a tour of villages where nothing ever happens. From there we head up into the mountains. Madeira is very 'up-py'. Particularly when traversing from the coast to the inland.
The well travelled american gay couple and equally well travelled retired English couple pull it off significantly better. I, however, do better than Brian, who lurks around in the background like the wafting smell of that garlic bread I tried to discretely stow my hotel room cupboard 2 days ago.
Back to the hotel for just past 4pm and head rest in our respective rooms until 8pm before heading out for dinner and beer. This separate rooms thing is working wonders for my tolerance of Brian being my only and inescapable companion every day. I might have to remember this approach for if I ever settle with a partner. You can handle each other just fine every day so long as you can retire to your own space every evening..
Friday 21st July 2017
Today I am going horse riding through the Laurel Forest. The stable manager and business co-owner Paulo kindly picks me up from my hotel at 09:20am. When we reach the stables there is already and mother and daughter gearing up for the tour but they head out separately as they have more experience riding. I have put my experience down as ‘practically null’ on account of the fact it has been years since I have ridden a horse and even then I would describe my riding style as ‘bouncy and clingy’. Paulo is taking me out separately. I am paired with a little grey Arabian called Venus. She is a clever little thing – Incredibly response to the subtlest of cues, though perhaps a little heavy on the track-side snacking. Paulo keeps us at a walk. Venus wants to go a little faster and I do too, but since I am unsure of just how fast I can go before falling off and – worse – pulling Venus down with me, I keep to the unchallenging pace and simply enjoy the view. The 2 hour ride takes us through thick laurel forest, and around mountain edges looking over a vast landscape of ancient trees and abundant foliage. There is a lot to enjoy in this place.
I remember horse riding hurting more. Perhaps it is just because we stuck to a walk, but as I slide off Venus’s back at the end of the ride I am relieved to find that none of my muscles have bunched and there is no straining pulling sensation indicative of pain to come. Yay!
I am very fortunate today. Paulo happens to be heading off in the direction of Funchal which I have been meaning to check out. He kindly drops me off. Receive a text from Brian to tell me he has just arrived here also. Convenient. We meet at the cable cars after me heading 15 minutes in the wrong direction and a further 10 minutes back in the right direction – yes, I DID walk straight past him. By the time we meet my non-existent horse-riding pain is a little more ‘exist-y’. I need to pee, I need to eat, I need to drink, and my ass is bruised. Fuck Madeira!
We find an alfresco bar on the pier called the beer house. It serves cheeseburgers and half litre pints. I need both these things in my life. By the time we are done I am less of a bitch to be around but things are closing on up. We head back to our respective hotel rooms for the night.
Saturday 22nd July 2017
Today we are hiking one of the Levada’s – which appears to be one of the ‘done’ things you are visiting Madeira. It is a moderate tour of 8km. I don’t actually know what 8km is but I was very careful to check with Brian to see if he is up to it. He seems confident. I wish I was that confident about ME. The transfer picks us up at our hotel at around 09:30. It already has the 6 other people who will be joining the tour in it. All English speakers and all friendly. As the tour starts – nerdy little teachers pet that I am – I jog up to walk directly beside the tour guide and advise him of my particularly interest in medicinal plants. He advises that he doesn’t know a great deal of botany but he will do what he can. He actually does rather laudably for someone who sold himself so short. He drew our attention to:
-Reddish soil – Volcano dust, very loose and especially good for farming but something of a landslide risk.
-Tree roots – which in Madeira’s often steep geography, often hold the soil and land in place.
-Moss (all moss, or just that certain ‘furry’ variety?) – which is important to the soil in that it absorbs 20% of water from the air and draws it into the soil.
-Hydrangas and Agapanthus – a previous tour guide informed me that these flowers – which grow prolifically along just about all roadsides in Madeira – grow naturally and are unmaintained and uncultivated. This tour guide – Damnit, I never got his name but I shall call him John – calls bullshit on that theory. He advises me that the Hydragandas and Agapanthus are planted alongside the road sides to act as a boundary between the landscape of loose soil and the roads. It is ostensibly to keep the roads clear. Sensible and believable. I like John. I wish I knew Johns name. ‘John’ also points to an area of the forest where there is a long trail of agapanthus leaves without flowers. He informs us that without maintenance these plants will cease to flower, further discrediting the previous tour guides information.
Along the way ‘John’ also points out a variety of plants, including:
-Blueberry
-Juniper
-Lilly of the Valley
-St Johns Staff (orange plant. I have been eyeing this up since I got here)
-Woman’s rings
-Link plant (yellow flower)
-Round Fir
-Hard fir
-Black Parsley of the mountains
-“Epithomium. (White flowers)
-“Merta” (Myrtle tree?) good for tea
-“Vinyardo tree?” – Can make a good oil with the fruit.
-“Invenka”?
-Wax myrtle tree (Myrica faia) – The Madeiran’s town of Faial gets its name from the scientific name for the Wax Myrtle tree on account of its importance historically.
-“Silva Plant?”
-“Furry twig” – Very important to ancient settlers to a new land as the ‘fur’ on it indicated a good level of breathable oxygen.
There are trout in the Levada!! Try as I might, I cannot work out how this is, since John walks us to the very end of the Levada to a truly beautiful little hidden glade where number of waterfalls trickle down from the mountains into a pool which feeds into the Levada at one end. At the other end is the processing section where the water is (presumably) cleaned and allocated to the required areas. There is no connection to the sea or natural rivers to my reckoning. So where do the fish come from?? I ask John. He basically says they just come. From adjoining canals and what-not. I appear to need to research Levada’s further.
Have an easy dinner at the hotels Saturday pool buffet to the accompaniment of very chilled covers of Rolling Stones and Guns n Roses songs before going to bed achy and falling asleep to ET on the SyFy channel.
Sunday 23rd July 2017
Have you ever been woken up by your own cry of pain? Try it sometime. Actually… Don’t. Seriously, why would you inflict unnecessary pain on yourself just because someone told you to. Bloody idiot. But anyway, this morning I feel like I have been beaten up. My ankle has been a bit tender since my tumble out in Romania, I am bruised along the inside of my thighs, calves and other such places I can only decently and appropriately describe via the use of dolls, and my lower back pain has blossomed into something pretty damn magical. And I have to go bloody shopping because last night I found that my charger cable was not working – defuncting both my mobile phone and my iPad, both ofwhich are integral at any given moment, and I never know when that moment is going to be. So, off to Funchal we go via the 5euro (return) bus which blessedly stops just outside our hotel.
At least half the shops are closed when we get there. It appears that, just like home, Sunday is a bit of a unilaterally agreed ‘do nothing’ day. It doesn’t help that my iPhone 4s somewhat pre-dates the invention of fire and what few chargers we do find are all designed to support models that don’t have to be manually wound up first. We pinball off enough shops for me to be becoming a teeny bit stressed and intolerable to be around when we finally find one in an electronics store hidden away at the back of an otherwise closed shopping mall. Relief!! Now able to enjoy the day we proceed to the cable cars up to the Botanical Garden. The combined ticket is 30.50 euros. The dappy bint only gives me the ticket for the cable car, and on the next level up I am forced to lock horns with some condescending little twit who insists on calling me ‘lady’ and telling me that I must have misplaced the ticket half a dozen times, before finally calling downstairs to see if they have one more ticket than they should have, and finding that they do. She provides me with a replacement from the couple of hundred she has ready in her drawer for such occasions (Though I’m SURE they are not a regular thing…!) with a smile that still manages to convey that she thinks I am an idiot. I try to find enough redeeming features about her to smile enough to not be thrown off the cable car. She is wearing a game of thrones sweater. But it is bubblegum pink. I brace myself for a hard landing.
Despite the rave reviews, I find the botanical gardens to be under watered and underwhelming. But (a) I prefer wild flowers and (b) I’m possibly in a bit of a pissy mood. I do get some photos of some of the indigenous varieties, which might help me in my holiday identifications though. The Medicinal herb garden could use a description of the benefits as well as simply the plant name, and again, the varieties they have are not exactly thriving in the heat. But there is a somewhat decent selection of them there.
Pop into the Story Tellers museum at the base of the cable car. It is 5 euros entry each and through the museum just covers a single floor, it is very comprehensive for the price.
We arrive at the bus stop at 16:45 to find the last bus left at 16:30 and the next one is at 18:30. Spend the time writing by the side of the dock and fish-spotting. The time goes quickly.
Monday 24th July 2017
The transfer for the whale watching today is picking us up at 1pm. Barring our obligatory breakfast rendezvous, this gives Brian and I each our own free morning to do as we will. Buggered if I know what that fellers up to. Probably shouldn’t even think on it too much. But me, I’m taking the time to catch up with my writing. In fact I am up to date. I am actually writing this line ON Monday morning. My iPad is atop of the terrace wicker table, which in turn is atop of the the towel table from inside my hotel room which gives it about the perfect height for me to type upon without having to stretch or shrink in any direction. My back is supported by 2 of the pillows usurped from my double bed and I am Facing out to sea, which is becoming an increasing distracting as I run lower on holiday memories to report. I might nap. I’m going to nap.
We next stop at Hbanonov(?) Which means 'angry river' on account of how destructive it can be at full flow. Today it is far from that. It is a trickling stream leading from the mountains to the sea. It is nice as always to look down on the fish shoals (difference between schools and shoals?) and I pick up a book on Flowers of Madeira which should hopefully prove useful in my holiday activities, but aside from that there is little to do here.
A few more stops not greatly requiring blogging time and we stop for lunch as Porto De Moniche(?) where a tour deal buys us each soup, main, dessert, coffee and wine for 13 euros. It forces us to gather around a table and actually talk. I power on through it as though I don't have crippling social anxiety issues and think I pull it off adequetly. The well travelled gay American couple and equally well-travelled retired English couple
The well travelled american gay couple and equally well travelled retired English couple pull it off significantly better. I, however, do better than Brian, who lurks around in the background like the wafting smell of that garlic bread I tried to discretely stow my hotel room cupboard 2 days ago.
Back to the hotel for just past 4pm and head rest in our respective rooms until 8pm before heading out for dinner and beer. This separate rooms thing is working wonders for my tolerance of Brian being my only and inescapable companion every day. I might have to remember this approach for if I ever settle with a partner. You can handle each other just fine every day so long as you can retire to your own space every evening..
Friday 21st July 2017
Today I am going horse riding through the Laurel Forest. The stable manager and business co-owner Paulo kindly picks me up from my hotel at 09:20am. When we reach the stables there is already and mother and daughter gearing up for the tour but they head out separately as they have more experience riding. I have put my experience down as ‘practically null’ on account of the fact it has been years since I have ridden a horse and even then I would describe my riding style as ‘bouncy and clingy’. Paulo is taking me out separately. I am paired with a little grey Arabian called Venus. She is a clever little thing – Incredibly response to the subtlest of cues, though perhaps a little heavy on the track-side snacking. Paulo keeps us at a walk. Venus wants to go a little faster and I do too, but since I am unsure of just how fast I can go before falling off and – worse – pulling Venus down with me, I keep to the unchallenging pace and simply enjoy the view. The 2 hour ride takes us through thick laurel forest, and around mountain edges looking over a vast landscape of ancient trees and abundant foliage. There is a lot to enjoy in this place.
I remember horse riding hurting more. Perhaps it is just because we stuck to a walk, but as I slide off Venus’s back at the end of the ride I am relieved to find that none of my muscles have bunched and there is no straining pulling sensation indicative of pain to come. Yay!
I am very fortunate today. Paulo happens to be heading off in the direction of Funchal which I have been meaning to check out. He kindly drops me off. Receive a text from Brian to tell me he has just arrived here also. Convenient. We meet at the cable cars after me heading 15 minutes in the wrong direction and a further 10 minutes back in the right direction – yes, I DID walk straight past him. By the time we meet my non-existent horse-riding pain is a little more ‘exist-y’. I need to pee, I need to eat, I need to drink, and my ass is bruised. Fuck Madeira!
We find an alfresco bar on the pier called the beer house. It serves cheeseburgers and half litre pints. I need both these things in my life. By the time we are done I am less of a bitch to be around but things are closing on up. We head back to our respective hotel rooms for the night.
Saturday 22nd July 2017
Today we are hiking one of the Levada’s – which appears to be one of the ‘done’ things you are visiting Madeira. It is a moderate tour of 8km. I don’t actually know what 8km is but I was very careful to check with Brian to see if he is up to it. He seems confident. I wish I was that confident about ME. The transfer picks us up at our hotel at around 09:30. It already has the 6 other people who will be joining the tour in it. All English speakers and all friendly. As the tour starts – nerdy little teachers pet that I am – I jog up to walk directly beside the tour guide and advise him of my particularly interest in medicinal plants. He advises that he doesn’t know a great deal of botany but he will do what he can. He actually does rather laudably for someone who sold himself so short. He drew our attention to:
-Reddish soil – Volcano dust, very loose and especially good for farming but something of a landslide risk.
-Tree roots – which in Madeira’s often steep geography, often hold the soil and land in place.
-Moss (all moss, or just that certain ‘furry’ variety?) – which is important to the soil in that it absorbs 20% of water from the air and draws it into the soil.
-Hydrangas and Agapanthus – a previous tour guide informed me that these flowers – which grow prolifically along just about all roadsides in Madeira – grow naturally and are unmaintained and uncultivated. This tour guide – Damnit, I never got his name but I shall call him John – calls bullshit on that theory. He advises me that the Hydragandas and Agapanthus are planted alongside the road sides to act as a boundary between the landscape of loose soil and the roads. It is ostensibly to keep the roads clear. Sensible and believable. I like John. I wish I knew Johns name. ‘John’ also points to an area of the forest where there is a long trail of agapanthus leaves without flowers. He informs us that without maintenance these plants will cease to flower, further discrediting the previous tour guides information.
Along the way ‘John’ also points out a variety of plants, including:
-Blueberry
-Juniper
-Lilly of the Valley
-St Johns Staff (orange plant. I have been eyeing this up since I got here)
-Woman’s rings
-Link plant (yellow flower)
-Round Fir
-Hard fir
-Black Parsley of the mountains
-“Epithomium. (White flowers)
-“Merta” (Myrtle tree?) good for tea
-“Vinyardo tree?” – Can make a good oil with the fruit.
-“Invenka”?
-Wax myrtle tree (Myrica faia) – The Madeiran’s town of Faial gets its name from the scientific name for the Wax Myrtle tree on account of its importance historically.
-“Silva Plant?”
-“Furry twig” – Very important to ancient settlers to a new land as the ‘fur’ on it indicated a good level of breathable oxygen.
There are trout in the Levada!! Try as I might, I cannot work out how this is, since John walks us to the very end of the Levada to a truly beautiful little hidden glade where number of waterfalls trickle down from the mountains into a pool which feeds into the Levada at one end. At the other end is the processing section where the water is (presumably) cleaned and allocated to the required areas. There is no connection to the sea or natural rivers to my reckoning. So where do the fish come from?? I ask John. He basically says they just come. From adjoining canals and what-not. I appear to need to research Levada’s further.
Have an easy dinner at the hotels Saturday pool buffet to the accompaniment of very chilled covers of Rolling Stones and Guns n Roses songs before going to bed achy and falling asleep to ET on the SyFy channel.
Sunday 23rd July 2017
Have you ever been woken up by your own cry of pain? Try it sometime. Actually… Don’t. Seriously, why would you inflict unnecessary pain on yourself just because someone told you to. Bloody idiot. But anyway, this morning I feel like I have been beaten up. My ankle has been a bit tender since my tumble out in Romania, I am bruised along the inside of my thighs, calves and other such places I can only decently and appropriately describe via the use of dolls, and my lower back pain has blossomed into something pretty damn magical. And I have to go bloody shopping because last night I found that my charger cable was not working – defuncting both my mobile phone and my iPad, both ofwhich are integral at any given moment, and I never know when that moment is going to be. So, off to Funchal we go via the 5euro (return) bus which blessedly stops just outside our hotel.
At least half the shops are closed when we get there. It appears that, just like home, Sunday is a bit of a unilaterally agreed ‘do nothing’ day. It doesn’t help that my iPhone 4s somewhat pre-dates the invention of fire and what few chargers we do find are all designed to support models that don’t have to be manually wound up first. We pinball off enough shops for me to be becoming a teeny bit stressed and intolerable to be around when we finally find one in an electronics store hidden away at the back of an otherwise closed shopping mall. Relief!! Now able to enjoy the day we proceed to the cable cars up to the Botanical Garden. The combined ticket is 30.50 euros. The dappy bint only gives me the ticket for the cable car, and on the next level up I am forced to lock horns with some condescending little twit who insists on calling me ‘lady’ and telling me that I must have misplaced the ticket half a dozen times, before finally calling downstairs to see if they have one more ticket than they should have, and finding that they do. She provides me with a replacement from the couple of hundred she has ready in her drawer for such occasions (Though I’m SURE they are not a regular thing…!) with a smile that still manages to convey that she thinks I am an idiot. I try to find enough redeeming features about her to smile enough to not be thrown off the cable car. She is wearing a game of thrones sweater. But it is bubblegum pink. I brace myself for a hard landing.
Despite the rave reviews, I find the botanical gardens to be under watered and underwhelming. But (a) I prefer wild flowers and (b) I’m possibly in a bit of a pissy mood. I do get some photos of some of the indigenous varieties, which might help me in my holiday identifications though. The Medicinal herb garden could use a description of the benefits as well as simply the plant name, and again, the varieties they have are not exactly thriving in the heat. But there is a somewhat decent selection of them there.
Pop into the Story Tellers museum at the base of the cable car. It is 5 euros entry each and through the museum just covers a single floor, it is very comprehensive for the price.
We arrive at the bus stop at 16:45 to find the last bus left at 16:30 and the next one is at 18:30. Spend the time writing by the side of the dock and fish-spotting. The time goes quickly.
Monday 24th July 2017
The transfer for the whale watching today is picking us up at 1pm. Barring our obligatory breakfast rendezvous, this gives Brian and I each our own free morning to do as we will. Buggered if I know what that fellers up to. Probably shouldn’t even think on it too much. But me, I’m taking the time to catch up with my writing. In fact I am up to date. I am actually writing this line ON Monday morning. My iPad is atop of the terrace wicker table, which in turn is atop of the the towel table from inside my hotel room which gives it about the perfect height for me to type upon without having to stretch or shrink in any direction. My back is supported by 2 of the pillows usurped from my double bed and I am Facing out to sea, which is becoming an increasing distracting as I run lower on holiday memories to report. I might nap. I’m going to nap.
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