“Lying between Alentejo and the Algarve” is a description that turns up a few times. It’s one which doesn’t make any sense, and has probably come about as a result of a translation from the Portuguese. There is nothing between Alentejo and the Algarve – definitely not a no man’s land where there’s a wildly beautiful stretch of Atlantic coastline.

Other descriptions have it as being Portugal’s largest protected natural park, or that it straddles two regions (Alentejo and the Algarve).

So why the differences?

There are three factors which combine to confuse the issue of where the Costa Vicentina is actually situated.

Costa Vicentina

The location of the stretch of Portuguese coastline called the Costa Vicentina is, ultimately, straightforward. It runs from Odeceixe on Portugal’s west coast, to Burgau on the south coast. Both are in the Algarve, meaning the Costa Vicentina is entirely within the Algrave region. But there’s a complication. Costa Vicentina is also part of a natural park called …

Parque Natural do Sudoeste Alentejano e Costa Vicentina

This protected stretch of coastline is over 100km long, stretching from just below Alentejo’s Sines (where we had the best leitão butty we ate in Portugal – from Pingo Doce of all places), to Burgau in the Algarve. This is where much of the confusion comes in. Some people think that because Costa Vicentina makes up part of the natural park’s name, it runs for the length of the park itself. It doesn’t. South west Alentejo and Costa Vicentina are two distinct parts of the park. But there’s another factor which can add to the confusion, and that’s the …

Rota Vicentina

The Rota Vicentina is a long-distance hiking trail consisting of a choice of routes. The main ones are the Historic Way and the popular Fishermen’s Trail. The more rural Historic Way begins at Santiago do Cacém and winds south, partly inland, whereas the Fishermen’s Trail begins at the northern boundary of the Parque Natural do Sudoeste Alentejano e Costa Vicentina and follows the coast all the way to Lagos, therefore taking in both the Parque Natural do Sudoeste Alentejano e Costa Vicentina and Costa Vicentina, plus a little bit more.

But, just in case you thought that more or less cleared it up, until relatively recently the Rota Vicentina ended at Cabo de São Vicente. An extra stretch has been added on.

In the end, these are all labels. What people who visit this part of Portugal are really interested in is being able to walk a stretch of untamed coastline which boasts desert-sized beaches, cliff-top paths, white-washed fishing villages, and storks on stacks, with the exuberant Atlantic as an ever-present companion. And that’s exactly what you get just about anywhere along Portugal’s south west coast, irrespective of what its official name is.

For us, ideal temperatures would probably be around 17/18C, but a couple of degrees cooler is also extremely pleasant for walking, maybe even better.

Does that sound a bit on the cool side? If you think so, there are a couple of things to consider. Those temps might feel on the cool side if you’re lying on a sunbed, but when you’re huffing and puffing your way up a hillside they’ll have the sweat glands pumping. More importantly, and something a lot of folk don’t consider, is that average temperatures are shade temperatures. In full sunshine it’s an awful lot hotter. Yesterday (a November day if you’re reading this in the future and it’s July) we walked in 19C on a cape just south of Lisbon. There was no shade and it was perfect for hiking; tee-shirt weather, but bordering on hot any time we had to ascend slightly.

This is the time of year when there are regular travel articles about warm winter walking. Generally they’ll feature the same handful of locations. Carrying out some research as to what others considered winter walking destinations in Europe, I came across a Telegraph article where three travel writers answered a reader’s question about ideal destinations for some winter warm sunshine on the trail. One advised La Palma, Gran Canaria, and La Gomera. Another suggested Madeira. And the third went for somewhere different in Cyprus and Sicily. Apart from the last two, the others are classic, well known winter walking destinations. Sicily, I’m not so sure about as average temps of around 9/10C between December and February don’t constitute warm winter walking in my book.

What was particularly interesting was how even experienced travel writers are influenced by the travel industry. There can be a big element, just as there is with the fashion world/food etc, of the industry pointing us in the directions they want us to take rather than showing what’s actually available which fits the warm winter walking remit i.e. places in Europe where the temperatures make for pleasant walking during the coolest winter months (Dec to Feb).

In reality there are significantly more options than the ones regularly rolled out.

Warm winter walking in Spain
The Canary Islands are ideal for warm winter walking. All of them, not just the three mentioned previously (I suspect there was a bit of snobbery involved there as walking on Tenerife offers some of the best hiking in the Canaries in our view). We do think the western Canary Islands (Tenerife, La Palma, El Hierro, and La Gomera) and Gran Canaria offer the best walking, but they’re all good. Temperatures don’t vary much between them – averaging around 18 to 20C mark. However, the best walking tends to take place in the hills and mountains and the higher you go the cooler it gets. That doesn’t matter when the sun is shining, but it makes a difference when it isn’t. Although not as dramatic or challenging walking, the eastern islands tend to have the least rainfall, but it’s all relative. These islands have as perfect a climate as you can get.

Then there’s the Balearics. In truth I haven’t walked on them in winter but I have been on a beach holiday to Mallorca in January when I was 18. Young, dumb, and in the sun. Admittedly, being Scottish, my idea of what was warm then is way different than it is now, but it certainly felt like sunbathing weather to us so it would be perfectly good for walking. Average temps show it to be around 14-16C in the Balearics in the winter months.

Not to be discounted is Spain’s southern coastal areas. In Costa Brava temperatures are borderline 13/14C average but rainfall is relatively low, whilst around Costa Blanca it’s a steady 16C, again with low rainfall.

Warm winter walking in Portugal
As mentioned previously, Madeira is another classic warm winter walking destination, and another we haven’t visited. Living in the Canary Islands for over a decade we always opted for other destinations we thought would be more different than the landscapes we were used to. Temperatures are slightly cooler than its neighbouring archipelago, but at around 16C they’re still perfect for warm winter walking.

Although further north, the Algarve shares similar temperatures with Madeira, but has less rainfall. We’ve walked coastal and inland routes in the Algarve in late November and in February. At the coast in November it was still sunbathing weather and could have been too hot if the walking was more challenging than it was. Inland around Monchique in February the weather was perfect for walking.

Where the Algarve does sometimes get recommended as winter walking destination, further north generally doesn’t. And yet in the Setúbal Peninsula just south of Lisbon temperatures are on a par or even slightly higher than those of the Algarve, and rainfall is slightly less. We love walking in Arrábida Natural Park in the winter months as it is far more comfortable walking than in late spring/early autumn.

Warm winter walking in other parts of Europe
As suggested by the Telegraph, Cyprus has average winter temperatures between 14-16C making it perfectly acceptable. Malta and Gozo come in at around 15-16C; also good. Further north and east in the Mediterranean and the temperatures drop; although, on Crete you find virtually the same winter temperatures as Cyprus, on the same latitude.

Looking at average temperatures is a basic litmus test. There are various other factors to take into account before turning up wearing walking shorts and short-sleeved tops at a destination where graphs show warm winter temperatures – e.g. finding out what’s actually open out of main holiday seasons.

The bottom line is there’s a bigger choice of warm winter European walking destinations than is often suggested.

Of all the places we’ve hiked and dined around Europe, it’s the area where I’ve taken the fewest photos of food. I didn’t realise that till I looked for foodie photos after one visit and found they were severely lacking. But we’d visited in November and lots of coastal restaurants were closed. That doesn’t happen in areas where restaurants exist for a local population first and foremost. All of which might sound like a bit of an Algarve hatchet job, so let’s get those negative aspects out of the way and move on to one where the Algarve glows golden in my mind, walking.

There’s a diversity to Portugal’s countryside that surprises us on a regular basis. Where the Algarve’s resort scene doesn’t appeal, the range of walking that exists in the region is a different matter. This ranges from delightful, gentle littoral paths near popular resorts to wild coastal ways. Head inland and it’s a different world, with trails winding through dense forests and across lush valleys brimming with an abundance of fruit and wild flowers.

Coastal walking in the Algarve
One of the most popular coastal walks in the Algarve is the Seven Hanging Valleys trail, and deservedly so. We started from Benagil, crossing a magical, honey-coloured landscape of abstract rock formations; the imaginative creations of the trio of artists known as wind, sea, and rain. The natural eye-candy changes with each indent in the cliffs – huge rock arches in one; deep, dark, intriguing caves in another. Turning up regularly are postcard-perfect golden sand coves – Praia da Marinha is considered one of the 100 most beautiful beaches in the world (so an info board tells us). There’s no denying it’s a looker of a beach. On the clifftop the air is perfumed by gum cistus and the wildlife includes warblers,egrets, and flocks of expat walkers. It can be busy, but it is a peach of a coastal walk.

Further along the coast offers similar ingredients but fewer people. A route heading west from Luz (not a place which charmed us – too many bars with Brit names and blackboard menus featuring dishes for folk who like to steer clear of unfamiliar ‘foreign’ food – is transitional, a bridge between the world of resorts and a more traditional Portugal. Burgau typifies a gradual change of personality that affects towns and villages rather than the landscape. Our route in passes a whitewashed cottage whose wall has a street sign with ‘Borough of Islington’ on it. Leaving the village, we see a bus shelter painted with an amusing scene of rural Portuguese life.

Beyond Burgau there’s as much chance of encountering sheep and goats roaming freely as there is of meeting other walkers. A circuit from Figuera, a small town with a likeable, sleepy but not staid personality, takes in gorgeous gold sand beaches. They’re empty even though the temperature is mid 20s.

Best of all is the Costa Vicentina, where the Algarve meets Alentejo. This is a resort-free wild west where sandy paths which suck the energy from legs link sprawling beach after sprawling beach. It’s empty in November save for a few surfers and a handful of neo-hippy travellers. Praia da Bordeira and Amoreira are like mini Saharas on which I wouldn’t be surprised to discover the bleached bones of a sun-seeking tourist who had expired en route to the sea. Most people park and walk to the beach, missing out on routes which wind through kermes oaks and sculpted stone pines, or between thickets of cistus, juniper, crowberry and, a favourite of ours when paired with fish, samphire. In these untamed lands are otters, kingfishers, and tortoises. Not that we actually spot any, but I’m willing to trust the info boards which tell me they exist.

Walking in the wetlands
My favourite Algarve walk is short and takes place as dusk is rapidly becoming nightfall. There is a dream-state quality of light at the Alvor wetlands. The mirror-calm waters glisten with a metallic, silky quality whilst the sky could have been painted by Monet. We walk briskly through a descending curtain of darkness atop grassy dykes. On one side, ghostly flamingos goose-step in slow motion. On the other, a couple of shellfish fishermen wade through mud banks with the same slow and considered movements; different species, similar intent. It is spiritual, nature’s benzodiazepine.

Sitio das Fontes is thirty kilometres from Albufeira, but might as well be a thousand and thirty. Although we saw more species of birds beside the river at nearby Silves than we do at Sitio das Fontes, whose lagoons, creeks and waterways are a haven for birds (at the right time of the year), it’s another watery world with a serenity-inducing influence. Designated paths take in an old tidal mill, springs, picnic areas, wooden bridges, and an amphitheatre. It’s an area for locals to enjoy and accordingly gets busy at weekends and in summer months. On a weekday in winter it remains virtually empty of people.

Walking in the Algarve hills
It’s the same anywhere known for sun and sand tourism, most visitors don’t stray far from hotel pools and beaches at the coast. Which means, head any distance inland and you find a completely different world. Barão São João is just 15 minutes from the sea and was clearly once a traditional inland town. Now it feels more like an artists’ commune where strolling the streets is akin to being in an open air art gallery. It’s also the gateway for walking in the Mata Nacional (national forest), a woodland consisting of eucalyptus, cork oaks, and stone pines where a poets’ trail embodies the character of the nearby town. We spend ages trying to find the legendary Pedra do Galho Menhir (cock rock – I can’t help but think of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert when I see its name) where, when you stroke it, it’s said you’ll hear a cockerel crow. We finally find the rock and are so taken aback by its diminutive ordinariness we forget to stroke it. No cock on a rock here.

And then there’s Monchique, the Algarve that’s nothing at all like the Algarve many might visualise. Monchique is a pretty-ish little hill town surrounded by a dense, green carpet of pines, cork oaks, chestnut trees and Portugal’s scourge, eucalyptus. It was the first place in Portugal we spotted medronhos, strawberry trees with vibrant red fruits which have equally vibrant orange flesh (firewater made from them can bought in the town). Paths cross fertile valleys full of citrus trees, beehives, and wild shrubs – campanula, rhododendrons, and euphorbias – before we wind through the forest on a more demanding trail in order to share the 360 degree viewpoint at the summit of Serra de Picota with Bonelli’s eagles. Since the forest fire which devastated the area in 2018, the views are even more open than our previous visit. Thankfully most of the rest of the area around Monchique looks much as it did pre-forest fires.

This time we get our teeth into Lisbon, Tagus Valley and The Algarve

Lisbon and Tagus Valley

Starters
Azeitão cheese: I’ve been impressed by the cheeses found throughout Portugal. Azeitão cheese, however, is a creamy aristocrat of cheeses. A hard rind keeps the pungent, runny cheese inside in its place until you’re ready to crack it open and dip your bread. It often arrives on the table as a couvert so you don’t even have to seek it out.

Canned fish: We had no idea canned fish in Portugal was of a far higher quality than canned fish in many other countries. Similarly, the flavoursome mackerel and sardine pates which often arrive as a couvert is unlike the comfortably bland fish pates I grew up with from British supermarkets.

Mains
Choco Frito: We’ve become addicted to choco frito – battered, fried cuttlefish. I’ve eaten my fair share of cuttlefish in Spain, but none were like the choco frito served in fish restaurants in Setúbal. Tasty and tender when cooked properly, I now prefer it to calimari.

Colonial influences: Being great explorers, the Portuguese have influenced gastronomy in other countries across the world – Angola, Mozambique, Brazil, India, China, Japan. In return, those countries have also influenced Portuguese gastronomy. The Mouraria district in Lisbon is an ideal place to eat your way around world cuisines with a strong link to Portugal.

Desserts
Pastéis de Belém: Everyone knows these Portuguese custard tarts created by a baker from the nearby Mosteiro dos Jerónimos in 1837. Similar looking and tasting pastel de nata can be found all over Portugal, but the ones from Belém, made to a secret recipe, are the originals. You often get cheap deals in cafes for a coffee with a mini pastel de nata.

Tortas de Azeitão: Another eggy offering, this time from the other side of the Tagus. These are soft, tube-shaped tarts with a lemony, sugary sweet filling. Like the pasteis above they taste best when a sprinkling of cinnamon is involved.

Snacks
Bifanas: On the face of it bifanas are just warm pork fillets in a roll; an attractive sounding snack in itself as far as I’m concerned. But two factors elevate bifanas to another level. The pork is seasoned so it should be on the spicy side, and the soft Portuguese rolls are a perfect match. They remind me of the ‘proper’ baker’s rolls from the Scottish island I grew up on.

Drinks
Ginjinha: Popping into a ginginha bar for a shot of sticky, sour cherry liqueur is a Lisbon must. Even better is buying a glass from one of the women who sell it outside their houses in the narrow alleys of Alfama. It’s especially good when served in a chocolate glass… but that’s the posh way.

Moscatel: “If it’s not from Setúbal, it’s not proper Moscatel,” so an animated waiter in a fish restaurant informed us. All I know is it’s a citrusy, fruity, sweet drink that’s easy to drink and goes nicely with a sobremesa (dessert).

Algarve

Mains
Cataplana: Unsurprisingly, seafood is popular in the Algarve. A rather snazzy way of serving a mix of marine goodies is cataplana (the name of the attractive copper pan the dish is served in). The design, thought to be originally Moorish, means the seafood stew inside is cooked evenly, keeping all the essential aromas trapped inside in the process. The shape is also handy for tying to your donkey’s saddlebag when its time to move on.

Frango no churrasco à portuguesa: Better known to many as chicken piri piri, barbecued chicken seasoned by spicy piri piri sauce. I’ve included it in the Algarve section as that’s the only area of Portugal where I’ve tried it so far.

Drinks
Medronho: Or aguardente de medronho to give it its full name. This is firewater made using the fruit from strawberry trees. The stuff we’ve tried has been quite smooth, especially when compared with the likes of grappa or raki, but it’s all relative. We have an unopened bottle of medronho, bought not for the drink but because we liked the design.

In our final look at Portuguese cuisine we’ll be covering pies, chamuças, vinho verde, silky smooth red wines, presunto, and other dishes we’ve enjoyed all across Portugal… not to mention snacks like home made chips and mutant toasties.

With November came a drop in temperatures, thankfully for a couple of reasons. The parched earth desperately needed a break, plus we were due to head south to the Algarve for a week’s walking. When I say the temperatures dropped, it’s relative. Instead of 30C they fell to just below the mid 20s. Still good for sunbathing, and ideal for warm winter walking.

We’d stayed in the Algarve once previously, for my sisters’ birthday in July. Whilst it had been a fun time and I didn’t dislike it, Albufeira wasn’t the sort of place we’d normally choose to stay – more resort catering for a mass market than traditional town. As a result, I can’t say the Algarve trip was one I eagerly anticipated. But as our friends and colleagues at Inntravel have a couple of Slow Travel holidays in the region, we knew the Algarve they were sending us to was not going to be one of karaoke bars and British brekkies. In that respect I was intrigued.

Sure enough, long before our week was up my preconceptions about the Algarve had undergone a complete reboot.

Although our remit included visiting towns and checking a handful of inland walking routes, I’m focussing on the coastal areas we explored for one specific reason – Portugal’s south and south west had us as wide-eyed as characters in a Japanese anime movie.

First contact – Figueira

Our first route was only partly coastal. We connected country paths from the traditional village of Figueira to reach the near deserted and quite expansive sands of Praia das Furnas. Despite temperatures which would have northern Europeans stripping everything off, there were only a handful of sunseekers on the beach – a few neo-hippies (a ubiquitous ingredient on any Algarve beach with a car park nearby) and a couple of northern Europeans who’d… well… stripped everything off. Although it was an impressive opener it was a mere taster for what was to follow. Our route took us across red soil paths to stand on cliffs looking down on an even more beautiful bay, lapped by the sort of deliciously turquoise water which fools you into thinking its touch will be warming. We were roused from our entrancement by an English couple who joined us on the clifftop, sharing a bag load of useful tips compiled over 30 years of walking visits to the Algarve. They immediately identified a plant with glistening, sticky looking leaves which gave off a wonderfully perfumed and distinct scent – cistus.

Not quite Seven Hanging Valleys route

If one route showcases just how incredibly delectable the Algarve coastline can be, it’s the Seven Hanging Valleys. We joined it at Benagil, heading east along the cliffs. Benagil was once a small fishing community where octopus was the main catch. It’s still a small community but now it exists more as a tourist beauty spot where people catch boats to get a better view of the area’s sea caves. The coastal route is a popular one, deservedly so as it winds along the cliffs through wild thyme, rosemary and fennel skirting cove after cove, some accessible only from the sea. Sheer cliffs and soft sands compete for the title of ‘most golden wonder’ whilst the sea with its soft azul shades provides an inviting contrast. It’s unlikely anyone would grow bored of encountering one idyllic cove after another but just in case they did, both sea and wind have combined to sculpt arches, caves and abstract formations so that no two Midas-touched scenes are the same.

Sunset scene

A complete contrast was a low-level short but quick-paced stroll around wetlands beside the Alvor Estuary, racing against a sun which had slipped into third gear in its bid to reach the horizon. Twilight’s soft light created another golden world, this one more of the stuff of warm and fuzzy dreams. The magical surroundings put the brakes on our pace, so what if darkness fell and were were miles from our car? A gentle light falling on mirror surfaces broken only by the deliberately slow gait of long-legged curlews, stilts and exotic flamingos created a natural canvas that demanded to be digested oh so slowly. It might have been one of the shortest walks we enjoyed during the year, but it was one of the most memorable.

A transitional journey

As a starting point for a walk Luz didn’t charm me. It felt more like the Algarve of my preconceptions; bars with English pub names and menus and the sort of cookie cutter villas that people on A Place in the Sun opt for after dismissing the wonderfully individualistic and charming traditional places they’re shown. But as we travelled west we quickly left Luz behind, replacing it with a rugged landscape of spiny cactus and agave spikes before arriving at the more traditional and picturesque Burgau and then a lone and stylish restaurant on a beach, Cabana, where we paused for lunch. Admittedly it was fish and chips (in a vodka batter), and it was delicious. We could easily have frittered away the afternoon there. However, our route continued, the landscape softened by the green of spurges, junipers and pines before we descended to a peaceful flat valley, split by an estuary, where sheep and goats tugged at long grasses.

The wild west

Where our south coast routes were characterised by the postcard fodder of scenic coves and pretty beaches, the one west coast route we walked revealed sandy scenes which were more epic, some of Lawrence of Arabia proportions. Amoreira, our starting point, was a huge beach and a surfers’ haven. We climbed away from the beach to cross a sandy plateau of low shrubs, lone farmhouses and stone pines whose umbrella-shaped canopy has to be about the greenest of any tree I’ve seen. Our route ended at a steep staircase made from recycled plastic which took us to the wild curves of Carriagem, a beach with a mix of white sand and hard volcanic rocks. As an add-on we stopped for a short explore of Praia de Bordeira, more small desert than beach; the sort of place where you might need directions to find your way to the sea. A finger of an estuary splits one side of the beach, creating an inland lagoon which adds to the exquisite beauty of the place.

It’s this Algarve that attracts a more Bohemian type of traveller, as well as those who enjoy feeling the warm kiss of a friendly sun on their face during winter, but in a variety of settings which reflect the real nature of this part of Portugal.

Jack is co-editor, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to online travel sites and travel magazines. Follow Jack on Google+

The Algarve has never been a place to stir the wanderlust in me. I associated it with golf, Clive Dunn, nice beaches and not a lot else. However, my sister chose Albufeira to celebrate her birthday and we were already in Portugal, albeit 400 miles away beyond the back of beyond.

The long unwinding road
The drive south was long and hot, another day when the temperature gauge melted around the mid 30s mark. Many roads in Portugal are straight, empty affairs. It makes for simple but not particularly interesting driving, especially a drive south through uninspiring countryside where there was a lack of anything… including restaurants. Lunch finally took place at 3pm in Ourique, a town famous for an epic battle between Portuguese and Moors in the twelfth century, because it was the first place there was somewhere to eat. Ourique must also be known for pigs as there were a few sculptures of porkers dotted around. Appropriately, lunch consisted of a brace of bifanas (savoury pork butties) in a bar populated by grizzled men occupying a table each.

Albufeira arrival and instant culture shock
Fifty minutes after devouring the bifanas we arrived in typical resort land; the valley of cork trees and a couple of small farms we’d been gazing at for two months swapped for billboards advertising holiday activities, characterless apartment blocks and shirtless holidaymakers. These types of resorts have the same interchangeable ingredients irrespective of whatever country they’re in. A vague uneasiness that settles on my shoulder in manufactured environments was softened by the fact that our drive was over and a cold beer beckoned.

The digs
Whilst my family were staying in a villa we’d booked into the Hotel do Cerro; a smallish and quite stylish hotel not far from the old town. The staff at the hotel were so friendly and welcoming I found myself thawing toward Albufeira. The other guests were decent; a multi-cultural mix of varying ages with no obvious oiks. We were, apparently, on the right side of the town. A couple of kilometres across the bay was the Strip, a holiday hell (depending on personal preferences) of tacky bars frequented by sloshed Brits – so my nephew who’d holidayed there told me. The area around the Hotel do Cerro seemed okay, having residential as well as tourist accommodation.

Albufeira old town
Our first venture into the old town and ‘seemed okay’ was promoted to ‘actually quite pleasant’. Our meandering route took us above Praia do Peneco, a stunner of a golden beach with elevator access and a stand out lone rock, before gently descending on narrow lanes from clifftop to sea level. The old town wasn’t what I’d expected. I’ve seen the ‘former sleepy fishing village’ tag attached to resorts which were anything but; however, the cobbled streets, azulejos, little churches, traditional restaurants, and neat houses with tiled facades combined to give Albufeira a picturesque personality. It still exuded a real town vibe.

But Albufeira wasn’t as charming as it could have been. The further east we strolled, the more its Portuguese personality was replaced by a homogeneous Brit resort one. What should have been a pretty square, Largo Eng Duarte Pacheco, was lined with bars and clubs with names designed to pull in Brit holidaymakers seeking familiarity rather than differences. It represented a border patrolled by guards in Premier League footie shirts that we had no inclination to pass.

Food and drink
There were eleven of us, not an easy number to fit in a restaurant. On our first night we were split into two groups in Rossio, a traditional restaurant on the clifftop between the main beach and the marina. The staff were above and beyond accommodating and the food was good enough to satisfy the tastes of three different generations, aided by generous flamboyant cocktails. Incidentally, they do very good choco frito (fried cuttlefish), tasty enough to impress folk who might normally shudder at the idea of putting a cephalopod in their mouth. As we were in Albufeira for a birthday party weekend most eating and drinking was done around the cool pool in the rather snazzy villa my sister had rented; an excellent Intermarche supermarket on nearby Sir Cliff Richard Avenue providing the catering. Sir Cliff Richard Avenue… classy.

One evening, Andy and I excused ourselves from the non-stop buffet BBQ at the villa in order to satisfy a yen that had developed over two months in the Alentejo hinterland – pizza. We went AWOL to Saffron, an Indian restaurant on Rua Samora Barros. Yes, it also struck us as being bizarre to order pizza in a tandoori restaurant, but a nephew highly recommended them. The pizzas were fine but, unsurprisingly, not quite your normal Italian pizza; there might have been frying involved. Below the Tandoori was a decent live music bar, Arte. On one ‘need to cool down with a cerveja’ visit it was full of British Hell’s Angels whose main topic of conversation was the use of herbs and spices in cookery. Never judge a leather-clad book by its cover.

Bachelor Boy
Albufeira’s adopted singing son smiled benignly from many shop windows, usually jauntily holding a bag of his Vida Nova wines. He has a Quinta (estate) and vineyard nearby.. Ducking into a cafe on Sir Cliff Richard Avenue to escape the heat, we sipped coffee and ate pasteis de nata in what would have been a funky coffee house, save for lots of Sir Cliffs smiling down at us from album covers on the wall. I actually like the odd connection, taking a selfie with arms wrapped around a cut out of Sir Cliff adds an amusing quirk.

The verdict
Albufeira wasn’t the bland, soulless holiday resort I’d feared. It has lost a chunk of its personality to mass tourism, but there’s enough character left in the western half of town to make it a pleasant enough destination to spend some time in… plus its beaches are undeniably spectacular.

Jack is co-editor, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to online travel sites and travel magazines. Follow Jack on Google+

Car Hire
When we landed at the airport in, we hadn’t booked car hire in Faro yet. But it was simple enough to arrange it. The car hire companies are just outside the airport building and they are very competitive. Great range of vehicles available and good prices, although it would have been cheaper to arrange it beforehand. There is a good car hire website online, and you can see the details here if you want to know the rate  and available car models.

Driving
The roads were quite manageable and well-signposted with clear and visible signing. We found Faro is not too bad in the rush hour. Driving in Albufeira caused us a few hair-raising moments. I felt like James Bond navigating through the challenging narrow streets. There were also lots of stray dogs roaming around so do be careful.

Street parking
Street parking was a bit tricky in parts. Be careful not to park in a spot which has not been designated as a parking area, or authorities may impound your car. Another thing to remember is you must not park cars facing against the flow of the traffic.

Toll roads
The A22/IP1, the main coast motorway which runs from Spain through Faro to Lagos, has recently been turned into a toll road and has caused a great deal of confusion, as there is no warning as to where it actually becomes a toll road and many visitors are unaware of this. Charges are about 1 euro a time and the toll has to be paid within 48 hours or you will incur fines. The best thing to do is to make sure that your hire car has a device installed which adds the cost of using those tolls on your final bill. This will simplify things and it will be one less thing to worry about when you go on day trips.

Don’t forget to say ‘obrigado’, which mean ‘thanks’ when you return your vehicle to the car hire, or ‘obrigada’ if it is a female car hire employee.

Images provided by J-Cornelius (top) and Glen Bowman (above)