So Faro Away

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I know... Cheesy title. Anyway, so I left Lisbon and took a train to algarve, the southern coast of Portugal, to the town of faro. The trip from my hotel to the train station was somewhat comical. I hopped on a cab and told the driver I want to goto the oriente train station (garre oriente). He asked another cab driver and verified he knew where this place is, and then we took off! And immediately got stuck in traffic. It was shocking to me because I didn't get the sense that there were alot of cars in Lisbon. Apparently it was shocking to my driver as well, as he proceeded to apologize to me nonstop for the entire 5 minutes we spent stuck in a jam, in portuguese no less! Nevermind that I didn't understand what he was saying at all. "it's ok, I'm from new York, I'm used to traffc.". This triggers another long string of Portuguese syllables with dramatic inflections. Bad idea, I kept quiet the rest of the trip. Then my driver decides to beat the traffic by taking a shortcut in the back alley of the hills of Lisbon, going where no car should have any business going through, and what followed was like a chase scene out of the Bourne movies. This was after I took my vow of silence so I clung on for my life very quietly.
The train ride was 6 hours. I was surprised at first considering that's how long it took me to go from Tokyo to Sapporo on the Shinkansen (much longer distance). But when I saw the train I understood. This was no bullet train. In fact it had an old European charm to it; in otherwords it's slower than a bus and I wouldn't be surprised if it ran on a steam engine.
But the scenery was fantastic, and as the train pulled into Faro the sun was setting on the water. I spent the night wandering around the small town, stumbling into a seafood restaurant and had some amazing oysters ( though I did have alot of trouble with the giant crab, dropping things as the crab legs slipped out of my hands)
Today I wandered through the entire town in about 1 hour, and spent the rest of the day letting the local pace unwind my nerves. An occasional memory of belleve micu slips into my mind (i saw a homeless man cough at the train station and immediately thought to isolate him and rule him out for tuberculosis) but is quickly washed away by the sound of water and smell of salty breeze.
Tomorrow I head out for Seville, Spain.

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