You Never Know

I couldn’t recall why we’d chosen to visit Faro. Neither could Pa. We knew nothing of it, except that it’s about as far south as you can go before reaching the Mediterranean and then Morocco.

But the ticket was cheap and the bus from Faro to Seville inexpensive as well. And besides, we would never know what’s there without going.

We found out soon enough, judging by the station,

that it’s a simpler place than Lisbon.

After a couple of false starts, it was a short walk to the Casa Algarbe where Patricia greeted us, a pleasant young woman who took great patience with out limited Portuguese.

We settled in, took a short nap, then headed out.

This is an old city, for sure. Colonized by the Phoenicians in the fourth century BC, the Romans took over 600 years later, giving way to the Byzantines, followed by the Visigoths. The Moors arrived in the eighth century, ruling for nearly 500 years. A lot happened after that but, somewhere along the line, the invaders and colonists lost interest and Faro declined. Now it’s a pleasant seaside town where the locals cater to snowbirds and life is slow.

The Casa Algarbe is on a narrow street

that opens onto a broader one,

which eventually intersects with the harbor.

Moving along, we came upon the sea at low tide,

and lingered.

With sunset approaching, we took a right and followed the tracks,

hoping to reenter beyond the commercial district.

And so we did, setting foot on a narrow street

which led to another.

after which a charming plaza magically emerged.

And beyond, side street

after side street

led to a much larger plaza.

Had we not found it, we would not have not known that D. Afonso III was a benevolent ruler a thousand years ago.

That more recently, the artist Isolino Vaz created works to expose the harshness of an unfair society.

Or that, between the two, Columbus passed by Faro on March 14, 1493, after leaving Lisbon the day before.

Continuing on was an old bell tower,

and on its far side, an orange tree

where we sat, the lyrics of an old Moody Blues song rising to the surface.

After he had journeyed,

and his feet were sore,

and he was tired,

he came upon an orange grove

and he rested.

And he lay in the cool,

and while he rested,

he took to himself an orange

and tasted it,

and it was good . . .