Lagos, Portugal

by @ReinaAnnie

The Age of Discovery launched here—can you imagine? Sailing into nothing as a career. Maybe not nothing, but certainly nothing known. Where Is My Mind is the best soundtrack I can think of.

It takes a certain person, captain-wise—T claims they were equal parts glory-hungry, nationalistic, and adventurous. As for the common sailors, they probably weren’t looking at a ton of rosy alternatives, because boat life sounded pretty bleak. Aside from ruminating on scurvy, mutiny, and the state of 15th century sailors’ lives, the view is impeccable.

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The crumbling remains of the walled in city encircle historic old town where we’re staying. Our balcony looks off into forever. Sea birds and swallows cruise all day, and we fling open windows for the sweet sea air. Some baby sea gulls are trying to fly on that second roof down on the right.

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And there’s seafood everywhere. It’s so cheap. Portugal’s economy struggles and it shows in the cost of living. The town is full of sunbirds from Northern Europe, Brits in particular, and a healthy sprinkling of Swedish who get a tax break if they’re here at least half the year.

Garlicy buttery squid dream. And some clams, too.

The best is the street art. ARTURb (roughly translated as United Artists in Residence) hosts international muralists (about 5-7/year) to make mural magic on the curving streets of old town. The program has been running as part of LAC (Laboratory of Creative Arts) since 2011 and the city looks spectacular. The websites don’t do justice to the art. The LAC is based in an old jail and you can take a walking tour of the murals.  

http://mgapski.blogspot.pt/
Meeting the God, by Polish artist Bezt
It’s not our door, but I love it.
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Yellow-eyed alley cat. Got that shifty look.

Y ou’re gorgeous, Lagos. I love you. Thanks for all the beachy days, sunset skies, and old men in newsboy caps.

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