I know it’s been a solid week since my last post, and I apologize to everyone trying to live vicariously through me. I’m sure you’ve all been sitting at home in snuggies, twirling your thumbs and praying for photos of a Portuguese paradise, but I couldn’t seem to dust the sand from my fingers long enough to sit down and write.
Today I stuffed my belongings into my pack and took my tan buns to the bus station to move east, headed to Sevilla, Spain. I thought to myself, “A bus will be a nice change. Maybe buses don’t loathe me the way trains obviously do…”
The bus was fully booked, and the next one leaves tomorrow morning. So yet again, I find myself strolling back into town after a wasted effort to leave. Luckily, my life in Lagos has been like living in a photoshopped postcard and my hostel mates welcomed me back with love and cheers. (Notice my indubitable urge to use the word “mate” after spending 8 days with a pack of Aussies.) I now have 14 hours to catch up on emails, alter my itinerary and write a new post.
This is my world in Lagos, Portugal.
I stood in awe for about ten minutes until I realized something was missing…
After scarfing down a double caramel Magnum ice cream bar, I fell into a brief food coma and gave in to an embarassing mouth-breathing slumber on the beach.
The beaches in Lagos are surrounded by Mother Nature’s gates of towering stone. Small gaps of sandy shore, covered in umbrellas and sunbathing travelers appear between rocky cliffs that dive vertically into the water. There are small caves and voids in the stone walls that offer a tiny amount of coveted shade, but tans around here are inevitable.
Even with perfect crystal water and sandy toes, my time in Lagos was made memorable by my excellent choice in hostels. I booked 3 nights at Bura Surfhouse and I’m now staying my 8th. From the minute I hopped in the crummey van that shuttled me to my new home, I became part of an evergrowing family. The town is full of Aussies, Canadians, and British travelers, making life quite simple for an english speaker. With a crew of 10 to 15, we bounced around Lagos with Sangria stained bikinis and trunks, leaving trails of lost flip flops, tshirts and even a tooth (But we found out that dental work is dirt cheap in Portugal).
We booked a west coast van trip to visit the end of the world and spend a day in the sun.
My hair has practically turned white and I’m not quite sure if it’s a result of sun bleaching or rapid aging. I lost my voice two days ago and the bottoms of my feet look I ran the Death Valley ultrathon in ballet flats. But Lagos has been the time of my life.
I leave here with a new motto from my favorite Kiwi, “We can do whatever we like.” It seems like a simple thought, but when you actually apply it in every single day, you find yourself in a world of tangible contentment.
I begrudgingly leave Lagos tomorrow, but I’ll be travelling a few more weeks with some of my new “friends for life.” The travel bug really bites deep when you meet a plethora of adventurers spreading the contagious desire to go literally everywhere.
It’s a hard life I live…