Last night there was a party in Funchal somewhere, and there was lots of party music booming over the city until the wee hours. Julie tells me that it went on until 1.20, when I was snoring. So I was up a little before her, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Once she had showered away the sleep, we walked a few hundred yards up hill to a pastelaria for breakfast. We had the breakfast of champions, custard doughnuts and milky coffee, (galao). I think that all the hiking up hills will wear off the calories (possibly).
It felt like time to get into the middle of Madeira, so we caught a number 81 bus from the sea front towards Curral de Freiras, the Valley of the Nuns. In the 16th century, Funchal had a serious pirate problem. I’m not talking annoying blokes in striped shirts at stag parties, these pirates were very mean and deadly. So the Nuns of Funchal took sanctuary in a secluded valley high up in the centre of the island.
The bus ascended a winding road out of the city, and went up and up and up! I have never been on such a circuitous and precipitous road. A crash barrier separated the bus from a thousand foot drop to the valley below, and the bus driver honked his horn in warning as he went round blind bends. Before we reached our intended destination, the bus stopped at Eira do Serrado and most people stood up to get off. Some English people told us that there was a walk from there to the Nuns Valley, so we got off as well. The views from there were amazing, steep side valleys clothed in Eucalytus trees and mountains topped with yellow flowering broom. The strata on the mountains showed how they had been built up from many volcanic eruptions over millions of years.
After a coffee in the tourist trap cafe, we deccended down a path. It was about a metre to two metres wide and was paved in stones. The stones are flattish and laid edge up, so they form a serrated grippy path. We zig zagged down through wild flowers and saw tiny lizards on the rocks. It was gorgeous in the warm sun and fragrance from the grass and flowers. Halfway down we stopped to eat the ham rolls we purchased at breakfast, it was a fantastic location for a picnic.
At Curral de Frieras we had a small beer in the cafe, and got the bus back to Funchal. Madeiran buses are not designed for men over six feet tall, I sat with my legs spread like a lout on a park bench.
Back in Funchal we took a walk down the seafront, which is a bit utilitarian. There is no beach, and a big dual carriage way runs along the front cutting it off from the old and quaint town centre. There are no nice bars or cafes overlooking the sea, unless you are in one of the big hotels on the seafront.
All the restaurants have waiters posted outside to persuade you to eat in their place. It was like avoiding chuggers on Kingston High Street, so we pretended we had eaten already and went to the same place as last night. Wanting to fit in with the locals, we tried a Maderian speciality, Picador. It was a sort of tomatoey beef casserole served with chip and salad. The waiter said the traditional way to eat it is with a toothpick, so I did! It was bloody lovely.
The only blot on the days copybook was that I LOST MY PHONE!
OMFG.
It got taken by leprechauns somewhere between the walk down the mountain and eating in the restaurant. I hope the little buggers have fun with it.
C’est la vie, shit happens.
timharnesstravels 