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Published: July 15th 2006
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(august 3rd and 4th 2005)well, the train ride to lagos was amazing. the first half was on a typical european train, nothing exciting. the couple that was sitting next to us seemed more like brother and sister. they argued and looked exactly alike. anyways, we had to make a connection in a very small town. it was a very warm day, but the heat was not bad at all. what bothered us was the fact that this was a precursor of the things to come. since my brother came to portugal for a couple of months, he had the worst travelling lugage one can think of. he had my huge jeep bag, that the only good thing about it is that you can roll it, his patented grey bag that he uses all the time, and his back pack. i had just received a nice travelling bag, just throw it on my back, and a small carrying bag.
the town was nice, very quiet, created a sentiment of wanting to wonder in its very small and deserted streets, that seemed to be part of the hills that the town was in. the town gaave off vibes, at least to me, of
a very heartwarming place. somewhere where one would not be a stranger. though it was extremely quiet, other than the two trains we saw pass by, and the streets were empty, i felt the town was very busy and full of energy.
these being the first dates on our trip, we thought we could manage our money, and seeing that we had plenty for the time being, we walked around with huge luggage, in a heat that tore you up once we started walking with these bags. just walking across the tracks was a hussle, and we would get angrier by the second just carrying them around. so we finally settled down again, after walking around the station, and realized what a bad thing this was going to be--this year a totally different story, and we travelled with no hassles, it was marvelous--. the connecting train finally came, and the two hour ride down to lagos was great. the train was as old school as it can get, it went as slow as a train can, and the country side we saw was beautiful. farming plots right next to the tracks, and nice houses, i just though it was a
Lagos, Portugal
On our first walk of the city. nice ride.
lagos is the definition of a resort town. tiny, very beautiful, and tailored made to tourists, mainly coming from england and australia. we decided to go for the cab, due to the bag situation--we now know better. the taxi driver was extremely nice, and even spoke to us in the little spanish he knew. we went witht the noisy hostel as our travel guide suggested, since it was the most centrally located, and right on a main street of tourists. cheap place, and nice, and lots of things near it--but it doesnt matter because it is a small city, one can walk the whole city--the place is called "pensao caravaela". i liked the city, small, a differnt feel that lisbon. all the streets in center of town are cobble stone, and very few street where cars can drive through. i liked the architecture, but of course, in my opinion, lisbon had much better architecture.
we walked the city, had lunch, piripiri chicken. then we got drunk, extremely drunk. we hit up a nice english bar, that served porto wine, delicious, after that we went to another english bar, where a beautiful english girl got my brother to get
Lagos, Portugal
At the beach the second day. in. me craving for some more of the porto wine went to a local wine shop and got me a nice bottle, and carried it with me around town. then on the north side of town, heading out of town, there was an empty dive bar, run by a german, who spoke perfect english, and served two or three free drinks. after that wow. we walked the city, either of us dont remember much, and then we hit up a restaurant. from this point on my brother doesnt remember anything, and if you care to see some pics of him at this poing go to spaces.msn.com/jez-elsalvaje . he order a pizza, i some pasta. the waiters serve us bread and other meats before the meal, but in portugal they do not come with the service, you have to pay extra on top of that. we were so drunk we didn't care. swallowed everything they served us. finally our meal comes and little boi takes one bite of his pizza, chews once, and before he makes it to the second, he passes out in mid chew, holding him self up with his arm (again a funny picture one has to see).
the waiters get worried, i start cracking up, and i saying felipe, makes it even funnier because the waiters repeat his name in portuguese. after that i say we got to go to bed, my bottle of porto wine is taken by one of the waiters, and don't realise it until the morning.
the next morning we feel like shit, and since we have to leave in three hours for sevilla we head to the beach. beautiful, amazing sand and rock formations that sorround the beach, a postcard picture for sure. the only thing is that the water is freezing, and we cant take a swim. we head for sevilla...
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