It was another beautiful day here - I'm starting to think every day must be beautiful here. It does tend to get misty and rainy up in the mountains but otherwise, it's pretty stellar weather every day here - about 20-23 degrees, cooler in the evenings, and not at all humid, at least not according to my hair most days.
As beautiful as it is, in retrospect, Madeira was a bad choice for someone who doesn't like heights. That someone is me, and by 'doesn't like', I mean I would rather shove bamboo shoots under my nails than have to look down at teeny tiny people and their little toy cars from hundreds of feet or metres or whatever it is.
And so it was that I decided it would be a good idea to take a ride up the teleferico, aka the gondola, which takes you over the city for a distance of 3000 metres, and up to the neighbourhood of Monte, where you get a second gondola to another clifftop to the Botanical Gardens. That's right, a second gondola.
I don't know what I thought, but once again I wasn't prepared for the lurching sensation I feel in these circumstances. I also don't know why Heights has to be such an asshole.
Me (spotting Heights in the line, standing directly behind me): Oh hey, Heights, I'm just going to take this gondola ride. Should be all good. Maybe you can catch the next one? Or go wash your hair or go spelunking or something?
Heights: No. I go with you.
Me: Really I'm fine. Totally good.
Heights (barging into our cable car): Move your purse. I sit on your lap.
Me: Oh. Do you have to? I'd be more comfor...
Heights: Now we swing gondola. Wheeee.
Me: OK everybody just sit down.
Everyone: We are sitting down.
Me: Just SIT STILL EVERYONE. DON'T MOVE.
Everyone:
Heights: Maye throw your phone out the window?
Me: Arghh how did you know I was thinking...
Heights: Now gondola will bounce and shake. Windows might break.
Me: EVERYONE DON'T LEAN AGAINST THE WINDOWS.
Everyone (sitting still and enjoying the scenery): We're not.
Me (to my 6'3" 26yr old son): SIT DOWN AND DON'T GO NEAR THAT OPEN WINDOW.
Jacob: Mum, it's 4inches high and only opens 3 inches.
Me: JUST SIT DOWN.
Heights: Careful of bottom falling out of gondola and all falling to death.
Me: What? That's a thing? OK EVERYBODY HOLD ON. HOW MUCH LONGER? LOOK WE'RE THERE OK GET OUT AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE. OH MY GOD SOLID GROUND THANK GOD. (Falls to ground).
Heights: See you on next Gondola.
The bit at the beginning was relatively tame; farther up the mountain the valleys got deeper, like a lot deeper.
At the top is a very nice cafe named Land, which I appreciated, serving an excellent lunch. I recommend it if you're in the area.
The next cablecar was even more outrageous than the first but I stuck it out and we made it to the Botanical Gardens where I'm sorry to say, I suffered the first of the day's disappointments. If I were to start an 'Awful Europe' blog, I might put these gardens near the beginning.
I'm just assuming here that we arrived during the intermission of a production of Hamlet Paints the Amphitheatre Floor. We didn't stay for Act 2.
After just making it back on the last cable car to the other side, I suffered the second disappointment of the day. I had been really looking forward to skipping the cablecar on the way back down and taking instead, a very unique toboggan run in a wicker chair sled, controlled by men in white suits, straw hats, and giant rubber-soled shoes that they use to slow down the chair as it hurtles around corners.
What, you ask? Men in white suits with straw hats and rubber shoes escort you down a steep winding road at speed, for two kilometres? Yes, that’s right. How was it, you ask? Excellent question. I wouldn’t actually know because they wouldn’t sell us tickets as it was 5:30pm and they close at 6pm and there were too many people in the line already. I considered asking to speak to their manager but I got the distinct impression they didn’t really give two hoots about me and the fact that I came all the way from Canada to ride in their stupid wicker sleds down their dumb winding roads and ANYWAY. I’ve since convinced myself that it was way too pricey (it was exorbitant: 25 Euros a person!) and then I learned that they were unfriendly and ignored you on the way down and then ask for a tip at the end AND it doesn’t go all the way to the bottom but spits you out halfway down AND you have to take a bus the rest of the way. FINE, whatever, wicker-toboggan-run-through-the-streets-of-Funchal-at-high-speed, I didn’t want to do it anyway. *bursts into tears of extreme disappointment and has to take the gondola back down instead*.
Back down at the bottom of the hill, Jenna tactfully suggested some gelato to ease my disappointment. It was an excellent suggestion and I felt much better afterwards. We ended that day with another great dinner in the Santa Maria neighbourhood – this place is bursting with character.
After sleeping another sleep of the dead, we woke up to more sunshine.any plans we had went out the window and we opted for a beach day instead and spent it swimming in the local lagoon outside our house
marvelling at the colour of the water here and the spectacular waves,
sunning ourselves on the black sand beach, eating grilled limpets and octopus salad at the local restaurant,
and having a laugh at what Jacob called ‘the worst surfing lesson ever’ that was going on in front of us.
By the time they got anywhere close to standing up, they were already on the beach where the fin on the surfboard promptly lodged itself in the sand and that was the end of that. I wish them well in their future surfing exploits.
Before we left for dinner, Nathalie and Kev showed up straight from Coventry, Kev swilling a beer as he parked their car before running around the entire dock area in a state of extreme excitement. He downed another beer before dragging a large inflatable boat and a couple of plastic oars out of the trunk and proceeded off first to the bar for another drink and then down to the beach. We were already in the car or I would have insisted we stay and watch. I mean what could go wrong?
There he goes…
For our last night here, we drove to the northernmost point on the island for the sunset, stopping on the way at an unassuming butcher’s shop that I had heard was getting rave reviews for grilling cubes of steak over an open fire.
It’s just a one-man show, and he couldn’t really be bothered to talk to us, gesturing to a stack of plates and cutlery as he took one of three remaining huge skewers of beef from the meat case and grilled it to perfection over an open fire. It really doesn’t get much better than that.
After our pre-dinner snack, we headed to Ponto do Tristao, the northernmost point on Madeira to watch the sunset. Again I wasn’t prepared for the extreme height, although you’d think I would be by now. They terrace every spare inch on these mountainsides here – I have no idea how they do it. The topography really is remarkable here – basically stunning whichever way you look.
Our last dinner was at a fancy-ish place in Porto Moniz where they have Ham Powder on their menu. Yes of course we ordered it and it turned out to be bacon bits. I do love me a good bad translation.
And that’s a wrap on Madeira. We’re so happy we came here –I’d love to come back sometime and stay for longer, long enough to make my own wicker sled at any rate. (Still not over that.)
Off to London tomorrow – Sarah Gower, there will be cake, I promise!
breathtaking Jane!!!!
ReplyDeleteSuch a beautiful place!
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