Dalama Adventures Tale of two corporate types ditching their jobs and traveling the world for 14 months... check out all photos, blogs & interesting tid bits at http://www.dalama.net

The Algarve Coast is known for it's freshly prepared seafood. The fisherman are out in force, in boats and clinging to the cliff sides so high above the sea - I'm not sure how they find a reel with fishing line long enough to reach the water line, let alone how they keep their balance when reeling up their big catch. There's a fresh fish market just behind our guest house, and a mom and pop shop attached that cooks up mean seafood meals. There are a ton of mom and pop shop restaurants all over this town, finding a good meal will be easy. We decide to dine at "Lord Jim's" tonight, for no other reason than the fact that the name sounds cool to us, and we think the grand daddy of the place, always hanging outside the restaurant door, is probably Lord Jim himself, a crusty old weathered fisherman with a little beanie/barrett hat that older Portuguese grandpa types wear. I am keen for some fresh fish, so ordered up the grilled squid, anticipating it to be just as yummy as those freshly prepared for us on the coast of Vietnam. My plate arrives, and there are six, whole, small char-grilled squid resting on the plate. I go to cut one into the thin little rings we're typically used to having served, but I notice something plastic-like, poking out the end of the squid. I pull it out, a long shard of what looks to be plastic, and out pops a purple and black lump of goo, which I'm not used to seeing. Darrin and I look at each other bewildered, thinking the plastic thing must be it's spine, or the ink tube, or perhaps it's intestines. We aren't well studied on the biology of fish, so are a bit perplexed with what we see. Typically the squid we're used to being served comes squeaky clean and white, either whole or in rings. It looks like I've got a bit of work cut up for me. I end up getting some of the goo out, and eating some of the gritty substance with some other pieces. I think perhaps it's a bit of sand from the ocean, as it grits in my teeth. Once I'm turned off from a meal, it's typically the "end" of the meal for me, and unrecoverable. So I turned the rest of it over to Darrin who makes fun of me and I quote him, "What did you expect, quid jump out of the ocean in nice little clean, white 'O' rings, dive through a hot oil deep fryer bath and nicely land on your plate?" We're cracking up laughing, in tears at this point, and I ask the waiter to bring me 'uma mais cerveja' to wash the taste out of my mouth. I have really come to appreciate the guys behind the counter at our favorite seafood shop back home, Seaside Market, for all their efforts to clean and prepare my squid before I purchase and bring it home to cook up.