Lisbon was unplanned. It was meant to be another airport sleepover. But after Budapest’s strip search and near case of hypothermia, I cracked. I treated myself to a bed. Wild, I know. I found the cheapest place online but it meant two buses into the city and that sounded like an Olympic sport. So instead I gambled on a hostel 20 minutes walking distance from the airport for £25. I hoped no one else would book it because anyone with money would splurge on a private room especially near the airport. Result! I had the entire dorm to myself. Spotless place, just freezing. I tried to walk there asap as it was 9pm, but Google Maps kept sending me through the airport’s high security fencing. So I basically circled the building like a confused cock womble until I eventually spotted a guy finishing his shift. I casually and by that I mean slightly creepily stalked him for about 10 minutes until I saw the road I needed. Escape complete. No alarms triggered and no arrests. Next morning I walked back to the airport via a bakery and bought an irresponsible amount of pastel de nata for the flight to Cape Verde. Landed on Sal island and immediately messed up by not registering or paying the island tax 5 days before arrival. Luckily border Police are happy to charge your credit card before stamping your passport. €31, please and thank you. With no bus on the island, I had to haggle with a taxi driver who started at €25. Managed to charm him down to €15, which I consider both a win and a cultural performance. Arrived at my accommodation where the owner, Milu, looked at me and said she knows nothing of my booking. Fabulous. Thank God her manager WhatsApped me instructions on where the room key was hidden. That’s how formal things get here. Dumped my bag and got just a few minutes of stunning sunset before it vanished into darkness. A fitting welcome. My home for the week. Jet lag had me up before dawn, so rather than stare at the ceiling, I headed out to catch the sunrise. Walked to Shell Beach, which does exactly what it says on the tin. The sand is basically huge pink shells, gorgeous to look at, absolute hell to walk on in flip flops. I swapped footwear before my feet turned into sashimi and wandered along the coast. Peaceful, pastel skies, waves rolling in. A pretty perfect start to my first day on Sal island. Carried on walking along the coast and Shell Beach slowly morphed into big black rocks and twisted ankle potential beach. Spotted a natural arch up ahead, so obviously I decided to climb to it, apparently being alone at sunrise gives me the confidence of a mountain goat. Got on top, feeling dramatic and windswept, just in time for a surprise wave. Wet shoes. What I can’t understand is why nobody else is out here except for the odd fishermen. It’s stunning, totally empty, and I’ve got the whole coastline to myself. Just me, the sea, and the occasional reminder from nature not to get cocky. I absolutely love it. After an early wake up and a long coastline scramble, I did the only sensible thing, went back to bed after breakfast. Woke up at 1pm feeling semi human and figured I should probably see town before I accidentally slept through my holiday. Milu said she’d give me a ride in 15 minutes. True to island time, we left 45 minutes later, no apology, just a smile that said what’s the rush? Had a wander, spotted some cool street art, stocked up on actual essentials snacks obviously, checked out the public beach which has beautiful soft sand and absolutely no shells trying to slice my feet. Then I bought doughnuts and chocolate cake from a street vendor and made my way back to the hotel to watch the sunset like the cultured adult I pretend to be. Solid afternoon. Wrapped up the day watching the sunset near what I’ve now christened Muscle Beach. Basically an outdoor gym where men were enthusiastically lifting heavy things while being outperformed in popularity by a pack of friendly dogs. The weights were clanking, the sun was doing its thing, and every dog in Santa Maria apparently decided I was worth saying hello to. Honestly, perfect end to Day 1, orange skies, unsolicited canine affection, and a free front row seat to biceps and barking. Kind of liking the island life. Met my guide José from Obama Tours. Why the name? Apparently because he looks like Barack which is why I booked him. This morning, though, it felt more like Barack had dropped 20lbs and boycotted razors and shoes, and relocated to an Atlantic island to live his best barefoot life. His charm got me immediately. Then he said his family would be joining the tour and, honestly, I was relieved. I hate private tours. So today I toured with Alysia his wife, her sister Idene, her daughter Marie and their cutest grandson, Lowan. First stop was his hometown, Espargos the capital and then on to the famous Miragem, where apparently you can see water in the distance. Spoiler, I saw dust, rocks and a tyre. But with Cape Verdean Obama grinning and explaining it, I’d believed anything. Next stop was Buracona, home of the legendary Blue Eye. A natural wonder of Cape Verde, where, if the sun hits the cave just right, you’re supposed to see what looks like a giant luminous blue eye staring back at you. Well, the sun showed up. The cave showed up. The eye was kind of lazy. It was more vaguely bluish blob than optical marvel, but I nodded enthusiastically. Then we headed to Palmeira, a laid back fishing village. Lovely place, colourful boats, relaxed locals and me, still waiting for the blue eye to appear to justify the extra 3 euros entry fee. Who makes this shit up? Lunch stop was in a town called Pilon named after the pilons used to carry the salt. The pilons are still standing. I ordered the grilled grouper. Turns out I basically ordered a plate of bones held together by the occasional whisper of fish. Every mouthful was an assault course. I should have just gone for the spaghetti. Thankfully things picked up after that and we headed to Salinas, the island’s salt flats. Instant mood lift. Great views from the top. Shark Bay is hands down my favourite place on Sal island. Apparently I’m now the sort of person who casually strolls through the water with sharks. Baby sharks, they said. They’re harmless, they said. Except nobody mentioned that with the tide out you have to wade half a mile to find them, and when you do, the babies are huge. In fact, they're not babies at all. A couple brushed past my leg and I let out a dignified little eek. Flashbacks to the Whitsundays in Oz where I swam among harmless baby sharks, and Palau’s Shark Alley where I snorkelled like someone negotiating a hostage situation. But today I barely flinched except for the slight eek. Might even add experienced shark wader to my CV. Best day ever!
I visited Murdeira Bay today which is a favourite with locals and tourists alike. It has views of Lion Mountain looking all majestic. I had a quick dip, sprawled out in the sun and then wandered off to watch the waves crash dramatically against the rocks. Obviously I inched closer and closer and luckily, no rogue wave tried to take me out. Woo hoo!
I reluctantly went to Milu’s Creole family event at Casa de Cultura. Solo traveller so restaurant situation is not exactly my natural habitat. But it was Milu’s other business and for €12 you get unlimited Creole food and live music, so off I went in the name of moral support for women in business. The food was great. The queue for the buffet wasn't.The band played what I can only describe as the break up playlist of Cape Verde, all very sentimental and not remotely dancy. I ate my two plates, it literally said all you can eat, had a drink, said hello to an extremely frazzled Milu who was manning the grill on her own, suddenly the long queue made sense. Same energy as me in the morning waiting for coffee at the hotel, silently dying inside. Then I did the only respectable thing after eating that much, I wandered aimlessly around Santa Maria until I burned off that last cachupa I had.
Woke up to Sal doing its best impression of summer in Scotland, wet, windy and wildly uncatamaran friendly. As predicted, today’s trip was cancelled. Fingers crossed for tomorrow. On the plus side, it was perfect weather for kite surfers. They were in their element, flying across the waves like crazy, some of them got so high. I watched them for a couple of hours. I was partly impressed, partly wondering if anyone was ever seen again after launching that high. Then hunger hit, so I squelched my way to my favourite bakery. It was very much a Netflix and pastel de nata kind of day
Catamaran day finally! Not exactly turquoise paradise, just grey skies, choppy seas, and Lion Mountain hiding in the mist but better than stormy Monday. Skipper Jean-Christophe, so French and his pals Ravi & Knox ran the show. On board was me and 15 loud tourists from Porto. With nothing else to do while we sailed around Sal for 2 hours, we embraced the logical choice of drinking caipirinhas. Four massive glasses later, my lips were tingling and we all know what that means. I'm getting pished slowly but surely. I was speaking fluent French-Portuguese hybrid and fully part of the Porto gang. Food was just nuts and tiny toasts so that didn't help. Snorkelling wasn't going to happen either as someone would have drowned, probably me. Ended with goodbyes to the cat, the Porto gang and a hotel drop off where I headed straight for bed.
Woke up super early this morning assuming it’d be a lazy recovery day. You know, gentle beach stroll, coffee, maybe a nap to sleep off the rum. So I walked over to Costa de Fragata, my favourite beach, mesmerised by the crashing waves and after walking on the beach, I wandered back for coffee. Milu was in a fabulously good mood, taking photos of me, selfies, the works. Now time for a nap I thought. Betty the manager, walks over and says checkout is at 11. I say, yes I’m leaving tomorrow at 10. She looks puzzled. You mean today, she says. Wait is it Wednesday? She says Yes. I look at my phone, 11:30. My flight to Glasgow is Thursday… but via Lisbon TODAY at 2pm. Cue dramatic sprint to my room and the realisation that I’m about to miss my flight. 30 minutes later I’ve showered, shoved everything into my bag and am sprinting to the bus stop. Who pulls up beeping their car horn as I'm legging it down the street? Milu! She throws open her car door, tells me to get in. Just before the bus stop she flags a van she happens to know because she knows literally everyone on the island, asks the driver to take me straight to the airport. And just like that, I make my flight.
