Randy

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We've arranged to meet Barbie in Albufeira and then drive to the town of Lagos which is on the coast about fifty kilometres west of here. We arrive at the meeting point a few minutes early. We can't park, so we drive slowly down through the maze of one way lanes in the old part of town, and end up in the main square. An angry man appears in front of us waving his finger, and the message is clear; we can't go any further. We do a U-turn and try to get out of the maze via a different route, until our path's blocked again, this time by a row of steel bollards. Issy gets out and guides me as I attempt another U-turn in the narrow street. We spot a lady standing in amongst some restaurant tables watching our struggle. I'm just about there; Issy just needs to move one of the tables a few millimetres and we'll be away. But no, as soon as she lays a finger on it restaurant lady suddenly starts yelling angrily at her in Portuguese. Issy asks her very politely if she could perhaps yell at her in English instead. She barks that the table isn't allowed to be moved without asking. Huh? She knows we can't turn around with it where it is. I've got a sudden urge to ask her if I could please move all her tables and chairs out into the middle of the street so that I can run them over.

First stop is Ponta da Piedade, which is a series of spectacular steep cliffs, offshore islands and caves, just to the west of Lagos. The cliffs extend like fingers out into the sea. The paths along the tops of the fingers are only a metre or so wide, with sheer drop offs on either side. We agree that if this was in "nanny-state" Australia there'd be a fence stopping us from getting anywhere near the clifftop. I walk out along one of the fingers. What's this - it's a couple sunbathing on the very last slab of rock before the path ends, and the girl's topless. The urge to take a photo's almost irresistible .... but only almost. We struggle down some steep steps to the water's edge which is the departure point for half a navy's worth of small boats carting people around the islands and into caves below the cliffs.

We read that Lagos' history goes back more than two thousand years. It's apparently particularly notable as the frequent home of Prince Henry the Navigator, who's generally regarded as the instigator of the Portuguese Age of Discovery. He explored the coast of West Africa, and oversaw the development of Portuguese exploration and maritime trade more generally. There's a large large statue of him on the waterfront and he's referred to frequently in other places around the town. Europe's first slave market was apparently established here in 1444, and it then became the centre of the European slave trade.

It's a very pretty town, and quite different to Albufeira. The old part's a maze of narrow streets and squares, and it looks like they've tried hard to retain as much as possible of its original character. There's a loud Zumba dance in progress in a square in front of a church on the river front. Whilst this probably isn't part of any of the town's attempts to retain its original character, it's entertaining just the same. We visit the seventeenth century Forte da Ponta da Bandiera overlooking the river mouth as it's about to close up for lunch. I assume it didn't close up for lunch every day when it was a key element of the town's defences.

We leave Lagos and head for Paderne Castle which is about ten kilometres inland from Albufeira. We pass through the small village of Purgatorio, which we understand is Portuguese for "purgatory". It looks like a sleepy village, but we wonder what's really happening behind closed doors; we can't hear any obvious screaming.

The road peters out into a dirt track which we follow up a hill to the castle. The walls look impressive enough from the outside, but we walk right around it and can't find a way in; the only gate's padlocked. We read a sign telling us that it was built in the twelfth century by the Berbers from North Africa, but the same sign doesn't provide a lot of illumination on what we really want to know - why it's closed today. We're not happy; we can't see what we came here to see, and the car's now completely covered in dust.

We drop Barbie back in Albufeira and arrange to meet up later for dinner. We queue up for the hotel's courtesy bus and start chatting to the Canadian couple in front of us. They've only arrived here today, and this is their first time in Portugal. They tell us that we're the first people they've met who don't have English accents. Issy chats to the husband; he's about my age and is sporting a very impressive mullet and handlebar moustache. He looks like a seventies rock star. I overhear him telling Issy that he's randy, and she starts to look a bit concerned. He then clarifies that his name's Randy. Issy's now looking less concerned, but only slightly. He says they intend to go into Albufeira and indulge in some libation. Huh? We've got no idea what that means until Randy clarifies that where they come from a libation is a drink.

We ask Barbie if she's familiar with the term "libation". She tells us that it's a custom in which rum or some other spirit's poured onto the ground as an offering to the gods, and is apparently widely practised in Africa and the Caribbean. Randy doesn't look particularity African, and I'd be very surprised if he had any intention of pouring away any of his drinks. There are hundreds of restaurants in Albufeira, and I'm told that it's my turn to chose one. We settle on an establishment on the clifftop, and as we walk in we spy ... well who else, Randy and his wife Valerie. Hmmm. What are the odds? There are drinks on their table, and not a lot of evidence of any of them having been poured anywhere other than into their mouths. Randy tells Issy that he likes her and that he thinks that she's a "nasty girl". I hope he's not stalking her. I've got no idea how he knew we were coming to this very restaurant, but if he's managed to work that out I'm sure he's not going to have any trouble at all finding out which room we're staying in back at the hotel. I make a mental note to remember to chain lock the door, and maybe prop a few chairs against it as well just to be sure.

We've drunk beer and a very large jug of sangria, and Issy's topped that off with a couple of glasses of Baileys. She says that we should go to a karaoke bar. I'm slightly less enthused. We get a taxi back to the hotel and have a couple of quick limoncellos at the bar. Issy wants to settle in for a session, but I'm keen for us to get back to the room as soon as possible; I can't see Randy, but I'm sure he must be lurking in the shadows somewhere.

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