Leaving for the airport at 3pm, I was the first to begin my travels. My father was handling some business in Tarrytown, or Sleepy Hollow, New York. I fell asleep, awaking upon our arrival in Tarrytown. My father joined us, and we were on our way to _______.
**_______ (pronounced mmm), is where we were headed, via London. We had no idea, because we hadn't decided yet.
**Four criteria were going to help guide our decision in final destination, and as many of these (listed below) as possible were to be satisfied, in order of the priority indicated:
**1) It had to be a place we've never been. Due to the sheer number of EasyJet choices at London's Gatwick airport, this didn't seem like it would be difficult, despite my father and I being fairly well traveled.
**2) We had to go to a country we had never been to. Slightly more difficult, as my father and I have seen over 20 European countries between us. But exploring a new culture is important, and a new country was a must.
**3) This place had to sound interesting. 'Nuff said.
**4) Neither of us could speak the language, if possible, of our final destination.
I awoke as we pulled into JFK airport. We took our bags (we packed carry-ons only) to check-in, where we were informed that 6kg was the limit for carry-on bags. My dad weighed his: 14kg. I weighed mine, 10kg. My dad was forced to check his bag. I, thinking ahead, had brought an empty backpack rolled inside my luggage, and proceeded to take it out and split my luggage in half, so I could still carry on. So we went towards security with what was now 2 carry-ons.
A voice came over the intercom, telling us about last call on a plane to London leaving 2.5 hours before ours. We began to sprint to the gate (perhaps we could be ahead of schedule!), only to realize we had a bag checked for a later flight we'd have to wait for anyway. There went that plan.
Time was killed outside the gate, the sudden onset of English accents everywhere was quite welcome, and at 7:15 we began to board Virgin Atlantic flight 46 with service to London Heathrow, departing at 7:45. Final destination; unknown.
After watching 2012, a bad movie made worse by featuring many a plane crash inflight, I desired something good to watch, so I flipped on Inglourious Basterds. Fantastic choice, but that meant I got no sleep the rest of the flight.
Landed and deplaned, we rushed ahead of everyone else to be as close to the first as possible to passport control, hearing it would be slow due to an apparant strike. Our fears were dashed, however, when we arrived to find about 10 people in front of us.
When it came to be my turn, the officer called me forward. She took my passport and the card I had filled out en route, and asked "How many days are you in the UK for?"
"None, we're just passing through."
"We?"
"My dad and I" I pointed to my dad, standing at the next counter.
"Where are you headed?"
"Not sure yet." silence.
"Well where are you flying?"
"Don't know. We're just going to easyjet and flying someplace new."
Enjoying the similar conversation to my right, my dad's officer and mine exchanged glances. She remarked "Id never be able to do that," turned to me to clarify, "But you are leaving the UK today?"
"Yes" and we were let go.
The information woman at the bus/train station, when we arrived, looked up the next bus to Gatwick airport. It was necessary to leave Heathrow as EasyJet flies the most flights out of Gatwick. Our next bus was at 9, in just a few minutes. The machine for a ticket didn't accept any card, so we went to the ticket desk. "Gatwick north or south?" the ticket lady asked us.
"Which one does EasyJet fly out of?"
"Both."
"We'll shoot for south, I guess." My dad bought a ticket while i ran to the bus to hold it up. We ended up boarding at 8:59. Saved ourselves the 40 min. till the next one.
A little under an hour later, we arrived at Gatwick South Terminal. We walked straight to the EasyJet information counter and inquired of the woman working the desk, Stephanie, where EasyJet was flying that day with open seats. She didn't seem to find that weird; just that morning she'd already sent a couple to Madrid out of the blue.
The moment of truth had arrived: where would we end up for 3 days?
Stephanie began to list possibilities. Budapest, Barcelona, Rome, Inverness. Those were no good, they violated criteria One, our most important; someplace neither of us had ever been.
Porto. "No wait," she said, "Porto just booked up." there went that idea. "Or Cyprus," Stephanie suggested. My dad and I jumped on the idea. But the flight was 4 hours or so and it'd be too much of a hassle.
It came down to 5 choices. Tariffe, Las Palmas (both Spanish isles off the coast of Morocco), Copenhagen, Helsinki, or Faro, on the southern coast of Portugal. Narrowing it down, we decided Helsinki was too cold; and besides, there wasn't a good flight back. Las Palmas and Tarieffe, while great ideas, violated our second and forth criteria; going to a country we've never been (they're both technically Spain) and speaking a language we don't speak.
Down to Copenhagen and Faro, my dad and I went to one of the airport cafes and got something to drink. We discussed pros and cons.
In the end, Faro won out. We found that the flights were cheaper, it fit all four criteria we had set out to satisfy, the return flight was convenient, and the weather was supposed to be good. On the other hand, Copenhagen had a really early flight back our last day, which would effectively make us lose a day there, it is a place I'll definitely end up in again, it was too cold and the tickets cost far more. So we booked our flight to Faro. And let the record show, that even as I write this at 1am before nodding off at the end of our exhausting first day, I still don't know what this place is, exactly.
The next few hours were spent at a restaurant in Gatwick North, which we went to by bus for our flight out. I took a nap on a couch there and enjoyed a delicious pint of Beck's Vier on tap.
We couldn't check in until 2:45 for our 5:15 flight, so we patiently waited. When the time came, we got our tickets and headed towards the gates. We wouldn't know exactly which gate until 4:25... Which eventually passed, and we headed straight to gate 102. Boarded our flight, got good seats, and I slept on and off the whole way down for the 2:20 flight.
Stepping off the plane didn't feel like much. Renting the car didn't feel like much (we decided we may only spend a night in Faro and then drive down the coast and see what we can find), but when we stepped outside to find our little Fiat we had rented, we could smell the sea, feel the ocean, and hear the breeze winding it's way through the palms.
Since the theme of this trip has thus far been "I don't know, let's wing it," we decided not to go back to get the map of the area we forgot to ask for. Instead, we guesstimated our way into Faro, and began winding through side streets looking for a hotel. This was around 9pm.
We drove down winding streets, trying to find the ocean. We found the old walled city, a great fortress that would have been a formidable defensive post in its day. We passed through quaint squares and rambling cobblestone streets. Eventually we stumbled into an area with a great stone obelisk in the middle of the praca (plaza). On the edge of the square was the hotel Faro.
We ended up booking a cheap room for the night, room 314. We have a 180 degree view of the city, the praca, the marina, and the ocean.
Wanting to explore (and eat) my father and I walked through the quiet streets. It was 10pm and many restaurants were serving for another hour. We stopped in at one that still had several tables full, and proceeded to enjoy a wonderful meal of assorted shellfish, duck with orange, and fish. I would have gotten the lobster had it not been 100€ per kg! We did get a dirt cheap bottle of red wine which was delicious, though.
I was exhausted, but at 11:30 my father decided he wanted to check out some bars. I couldn't let him go by himself (the BigBird story is too fresh, where my dad was picked clean in Barcelona of everything that wasn't in his secret belt pouch because he wandered off alone and was convinced a big bird was shitting on him while a guy politely helped him remove his outerwear to clean the garments), so I went with. He wandered into a bizarre situation; there were about 20 kids, average age 15, mostly girls, standing around listening to some guy on a microphone talk about alcohol. A bunch then went up and took one shot before going back to their friends. I was the second oldest in the room, easily, and my dad was about 4 times the average age, so I forced him to leave.
We wandered around for a while more, even checking out a Che Guavera bar, before heading to the room to hit the hay. It's been an exhausting first day, but tomorrow we'll explore Faro, and then most likely we'll head up the coast and see what else Portugal has to offer.
Went to sleep at 1:30am, Thursday morning.
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