The drive from Sagres to Lagos is a very short one. As I noted in the previous post, it’s barely more than 170 kilometers from the western end of the Algarve to Spain. So, knowing that almost no chance existed that my hotel room in Lagos would be available before 14:00 allowed me to make an unplanned stop in a place that wasn’t on my pre-departure radar – the town of Salema – which is in the Southwest Alentejo and Vincentine Coast Natural Park.
Salema alone
I can’t claim I understand the road numbering and identification system in Portugal but it seems that most of main highways have a designation of A or N (I think for nacional) and most, if not all, of these will have tolls. (Rather than provide a detailed explanation of how tolls work in Portugal as of 2022, I’ll provide this link for anyone considering a driving trip along with emphatic advice to either purchase a Via Verde pass or get one from the rental car company if you’re renting a car because all, or nearly all the A and N roads are tolled and many accept only the pass.) Smaller local roads are designated with an M and tolls are, at the very least, less likely and perhaps non-existent. I set out from Sagres heading north on the N268 before turning east on N125 – which is one of the major roads crossing the Algarve.
The road into Salema (reached by a roundabout – a subject I’ll discuss further [or just cuss without dissing] in a later post) is a two lane M or municipal road that’s full of twists and turns as it traverses the two or so kilometers to the seaside before the town and the ocean come fully into view.
Salema is a small and charming town with a large sandy beach and homes on the hillside that overlook the Atlantic Ocean. You can get a good sense of the setting and why it might appeal to me looking at it from the beach.
It felt a bit less isolated than Sagres but walking around a bit left me uncertain about what life there might be like. When I left, I was still considering another visit.
No Lakes or Nigerians that I noticed
Salema was small enough that I walked through and around most of the town in a bit over an hour before setting off to Lagos ready to fall in love. Before I left the States, Lagos was at the top of my list as a possible landing spot and those hopes intensified after both Martim who drove me from the airport to Cascais and Armando talked of the town in glowing terms.
When I arrived at the resort that Portugal Trails booked for me, I realized I’d made another small mistake in in my communication with them. The facility was beautiful,
the view from my room was splendid, 
and the property abutted the Natural Park allowing for
several spectacular walks. However, it was also three to five kilometers from the center of town and I wanted immersion in the town more than at a resort. I’d make the best of the situation but I should have been clearer in my intent.
I still had some time before my room would be ready so I made a quick drive into town to get a notion of how long it took and where to go to meet the boat for the grottos tour I’d booked for the next morning. (Even though this was an exploratory trip, I still wanted to take part in some of the regular tourist activities.) Once I had that wrapped up, I returned to the hotel, checked into my room, read some emails, and went for a long walk above the ocean to try to settle my mind.
Among the emails was an update from my vet about Zicomo’s health and it wasn’t encouraging. The diagnosis included pancreatitis, kidney function issues, and an infection of some sort that she wasn’t able to identify but that was indicated by a high white blood cell count. While it saddened me being 6,000 kilometers away with no possibility of trying to comfort him, there was little I could do beyond authorizing the vet to begin treating him as completely as she could. (This is probably all I could have done had I been home but it felt different.) The walk helped focus my mind though I knew concerns about my cat would continue for the duration of the trip.
Old town – scary driving but not scary dinner
In general, the folks at Portugal Trails did a spectacular job pre-programming the GPS they supplied by anticipating everywhere I might want to go. Once in a while, however, I’d have to ask it to direct me to an unplanned stop such as a central parking lot in Lagos’ old town. Although it eventually got me where I needed to be, once inside the narrow maze of streets that drivers can use in the old town, the device wasn’t quite as precise as I would have liked. It occasionally instructed me to turn at a point that, had I followed the instructions would have sent me crashing into someone’s shop or house which was probably not the best idea. As a result, I would sometimes turn either ahead of or behind where the GPS thought I should be and I was repeatedly rerouted.
The issue was further complicated by the fact that I’d asked for the smallest automatic transmission vehicle available. They placed me in a nearly brand new Toyota Corolla hybrid that looked something like this one (from Motor Trend).
Even at that, the vehicle was more than two feet longer and 8 inches wider than the Chevy Spark EV I drive at home. Fortunately, it had retracting side view mirrors – a feature I used often in Lagos and some of the other towns in the Algarve. This made me a bit more comfortable but with the combination of the larger car, narrow streets, and a general unfamiliarity with all the regulations of driving in a foreign country, I can only stress the stress I felt while driving and the relief of stress when I finally found the parking lot at the beginning of the evening. I had a similar pattern of stress and relief when I wound my way out of town onto roads that were more comfortable and familiar.
In Portugal, people tend to start their evening meal later than we do in the U.S. In fact, while the tradition of closing after lunch and not reopening until 19:00 or later for dinner, like the disappearing couvert, appears to be changing, some restaurants still adhere to the practice and such was the case with the restaurant where I’d planned to have dinner. It was closed when I arrived.
(Another dining tip is that you should always carry sufficient cash to pay for your meal. Ask in advance if the restaurant accepts credit cards otherwise you might find yourself in embarrassing circumstances.)
I spent some additional town exploring some of the town’s many pedestrian only streets (and you can see the rest of my pictures from the day here)
until hunger overtook me and I simply chose a spot for dinner without noting its name but I did have some olives, bread, and butter that I followed with grilled octopus in garlic and olive oil served with boiled potatoes and cherry tomatoes. Of course I had a Sagres to accompany that and capped off the meal with a pastel de nata and a glass of port. All in all, the entire meal with a rounding up the bill tip was 30 euros. (Normally I’d drink a cup of black tea or chá preto with my dessert but I’d come to like the combination of the egg tart custard pastry and port wine and it’s not unusual for tea to taste a little off throughout southern Europe – especially drinking it with nothing added as I do. At some point during the trip I concluded that it’s a result of something to do with the way they treat their drinking water. Tea made using bottled water tasted better but that could have been the result of a self-fulfilling expectation.)
While I liked the fact that this part of town still had some liveliness late into the evening as I left to return to the hotel, on the whole it felt disappointingly cramped and lacking the ocean views I’d hoped for.