Having yet finished the blog for my wedding day, forgive me for jumping ahead for this 3 night break to The Algarve in southern Portugal, primarily to watch Wales play a football friendly versus Gibraltar. A slight shame as I’ve yet to tick off Gibraltar as a country, whereas I’ve been lucky enough to visit Portugal twice before… Porto in 2009 and Lisbon in 2022.
What makes this holiday unique, especially for a football match, is that I dragged along my mother, who, approaching the age of 69, was a bit of a gamble but what’s the worst that can happen eh? (She’s alive this is not an obituary).
Introduction
The Algarve is the collective area of tourism hotspots along Atlantic beaches. Its capital is Faro but other prominent places include Albufeira and Lagos. Given its southern European location it offers good weather all year around. Although the resident population is around 500,000, it welcomes circa four million visitors each year. That’s like 11 thousand per day on average!
Flights, Locations and Accomodation
The flights direct from Bristol to Faro were around £200 each, using Jet2 going; easyJet coming back.
Having followed Wales away for 7 years now, I had been crying out for a proper beach destination, so this trip focused on more relaxation than fussing around seeking out interesting things. I had been in the sea during trips to Albania, Turkey and Latvia, but this was a different vibe.
We spent 2 days near Albufeira (in a tiny village called Evaristo, which was nothing like Albufeira) and 2 days in Faro. The game on evening 3 was played in the Estadio Algarve on the very outskirts of Faro.
In Evaristo, we stayed two nights in Hotel Torre Velha costing £113. For a 2 star hotel it was lovely. The pool was small but quiet and the restaurant and bar would excuse you from having to leave the place, although apparently one of the nicest beaches in the Algarve was just a 5 minute walk down the road. That being said… 2 nights here were plenty. Another day I’d be pulling my hair out as there’s only so much relaxing (or grey hair martyrs) I can muster.
In Faro, we stayed at Villa Monaco at £74 a night. Looking for somewhere on the centre of Faro proved difficult in my price range (I was originally going solo) so I think I got lucky here.
The villa was outstanding with it’s own pool, endless amenities including loads of perfume and kitchen essentials, that were nice but certainly unnecessary for our single night. They had 3 ensuite bedrooms but it was unclear whether you would stay with strangers as the place was marked sold out on booking.com. Only a 4 euro Uber into town too, which was out of walking distance.
Costs
So the flights and hotels mentioned above amounted to £400… £200 each. Finding a package holiday anywhere near that price for 3 nights would be impossible and we had the freedom to stay in two different places.
Drinks were in the region of £4 for imported lager and cider, with local lager variants a quid or so cheaper.
Food in an average/nice restaurant I’m gonna say is between £15-25, but there are enough places around, even in quieter areas, where you can pick up a burger and fries for under €10.
Uber over here is REALLY good and a bit of a must considering mum’s mobility. The public buses that I researched beforehand appeared punctual if you’re happy for slower journeys, but with two travelling the prices weren’t that cheaper. For example, an Uber from Albufeira to our hotel, about 15 minutes ride, came in at £6 whereas the bus was £5 and would have taken 45 minutes.
I have to mention the ticket cost set by either the Gibraltar football association or the stadium. Thirty quid to watch Wales reserves against one of the lowest ranked teams in the world in a mostly empty (shit) stadium. Good job I had already booked flights as this was a piss take. Before the full time result.
Getting Around
This is a stab in the dark as it really depends on where you stay along the southern coast.
You can get a coach from the airport to the major spots, ours cost €10 each to Albufeira, so Faro won’t be dearer than that and I doubt Uber would be as much. For that reason I’d use the airport taxis as a last resort (but then I am frugal AF).
Public buses in Albufeira and outskirts had good routes but seemed to run hourly and were cash only.
Uber, as I’ve mentioned in the previous section, was by far my most convenient way to travel. From Evaristo to our hotel in Faro it only cost €26 for a 45 minute journey. We could not have done that cheaper spending hours on buses and coaches.
Everywhere we went would be a walkers paradise if you’re comfortable with narrow pavements and uneven paths especially outside of the popular areas.
Google maps worked very, very well here. Research your mobile data usage with your provider before you go as per. O2 still offers free EU roaming in 2024, mum with Sky cost £2 per day but if my wife joined us I think EE charge £6 per day!
Things we didn’t do…
Ok this is going to be a drop in the ocean as there are so many places to stay. Before the trip I did plan on going quad biking or a boat trip but ultimately found myself content lazing around. The boat trip is perhaps the one thing I should have done. Available from most beach areas I believe, they advertise potential dolphin sightings and a trip to Benagil cave, a cave with a hole in the roof that can only be accessed by sea.
In my defence, the offerings on TripAdvisor or GetYourGuide didn’t really offer anything unmissable. A lot of other Brits we shared a bar with seemed content with beaches, pools and beers.
Itinerary
This is usually the longest part of the blog but I really thing the majority of my time especially in Evaristo isn’t worth writing home about! But anyway… One of the benefits for never writing this without a beer in hand!
Day One
I’ve never seen Bristol Airport so busy at 4am. Both the parking checking-in and security entailed long queues, but in fairness to the Airport they dealt with demand really well I thought. You can imagine how surprised I was then, when on the plane I had a whole row to myself! The flight was only half full and that was including 30-40 Wales supporters. I was not complaining.
The Brexit passport control in Faro was infuriating as per but nothing to cause too much stress, in fact by the time we asked about transport to Albufeira we were just in time to catch the coach to Albufeira bus station.
From here we had a 50 minute wait for a public bus with a coffee. Yet after a quick browse on Uber decided to use this with a car already outside direct to our hotel.
On set by 11am and with our room not yet ready, we enjoyed a cider poolside.
Once we had the keys to our room and had hung my aging flag over the balcony, we headed to the beach. I’ve never had to pay that much attention to inclines with maps usually so was not aware of the hill and 50 odd steps down to the beach, both of which were a challenge for Mum (bear in mind I walk her 500m from the pub to the stadium on County matchday!)
The beach was nice albeit a bit sharp with shells. The sea was warm and clear. The sunbed hire at 15 euro a day was never going to get me to part with my cash but the stewards did double up as lifeguards.
We returned to the hotel before the lunch service ended at 3pm to enjoy a burger and a swim in the pool, paying zero attention to the rules as we chucked around a tennis ball. Aww playing catch with my Mum, how cute.
True to Iberian culture, I allowed myself a siesta before we wandered around the streets for some tea. I had researched every eatery within reasonable walking distance but decided on a low end sports bar offering peri peri chicken. I’m starting to think peri peri must just mean grilled rather than a specific spicy flavouring, as my chicken had no flavour at all, but was ok whilst simultaneously watching cricket, a Portugal friendly, Wales women and drinking a Kopparberg before the short walk home to have an early night.
Only once I jumped into bed that evening did I notice my solar panel shoulders on fire from sunburn. The factor 50 was still in my bag…
Day Two
Up early and straight to the beach. On my own this time to ensure mother would be on a seat on the flight home rather than in a box with the cargo! I was the only person here at this time, and whilst I didn’t notice a particularly low tide as signed, I did notice the jungle of seaweed I had to wade through. I’m someone who can’t stand the little bits in the milk after my cornflakes so this was an issue I was proud to overcome!
For breakfast, we headed to an English pool bar called Scooby’s a few minutes away. A large proper English breakfast worth the €13 whilst being really impressed by the venue. In addition to a pool with slide, complimentary if you have a drink or food, they also had a park, sandpit, animal area with ducks and terrapins, showers, comfortable seating, complimentary sun lotion… A proper effort that otherwise wouldn’t make it in this piece of literature with such a high bar. To top things off, the place also had a mini golf course we intended to use tomorrow.
The afternoon was spent by the pool side, which was lacking in interest aside from me starting to write this rubbish.
We grabbed an Uber into Albufeira arriving at 6.30pm in the old town. I immediately noticed on our approach that where we were staying was nothing like Albufeira, a bustling tourism hotspot, countless apartments built in to the cliffs, hundreds of bars playing British classics filled with thousands of tourists and a beach that looked better than where we were based. In comparison calling Evaristo a village is pushing it a bit!
From our drop off point we wandered through a narrow street aligned with bars that led to the main old town square. Here there were loads more restaurants, with each one having two people trying to persuade you to choose them. This got really annoying really quickly even though I’m somewhat used to it. I didn’t take my earphones which are always a good piece of equipment to encourage the “marketing” gangs to leave you alone.
Escaping at the other side of the street (think British bulldogs fighting to get to this stage) we were greeted with an excellent view of the sprawling beach.
An outside escalator – genius idea I must say – took us up to a panoramic view out of ear from another play of Sweet Caroline. The views here were really nice and made me think we should have come here earlier than we did.
After our descent back to the chaos, we chose a bar/restaurant… Obviously one without any fuckers outside begging for custom. Chicken and chips weren’t the worst at 12 euro including a pint, but you could tell the places were filling up fast. From our seat you could watch 5 different football channels (win) and hear four different speakers (not win).
Instead of escaping back home there and then, we braved another walk through Bon Jovi hell – back to the main square to grab mum a magnet, enjoying an ice cream in some relative peace near the steep narrow streets of the proper old town.
Christ, I’m a miserable old man! Maybe because I wasn’t on the piss myself? I do over worry about things kicking off at any given moment, without realising my total European away game days must be now pushing 2 months and I’ve never witnessed anything above slight inconvenience.
By now, mum had used up her 110% effort for the day, so after a few hill climbs to the nearest road we grabbed an Uber back to the hotel.
This was the only moment I thought to myself I would have done more if I were alone. I bet there were some really good viewpoints up here once the streets were navigated. Just as the sun was setting too. But never mind.
It’s not everyday you go to sunny Europe to watch the footy with your mother is it, and I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who would give anything to be in my shoes.
At the hotel we had a coffee, and I did sneak in one cider enjoying my own company (again writing this) but still in bed by 11pm, noticing that I would have trebled my alcohol intake had I stayed at home for quiz night down the local.
Sunburn update. Shoulders are now okay. It’s my thighs that now resemble a pair of doner kebabs being roasted on full.
Day Three – Faro and Matchday
Lets get the sunburn sorted nice and early. It was fine here on. I did ultimately tan orange but it did highlight my wedding ring beautifully. Very helpful with my psoriasis too!
Up at 8 for one final swim in the pool. Back to Scooby’s for breakfast as we had to check out at 11. I kept my promise with mini golf as I absolutely annihilated mum, not my usual matchday routine, before out Uber to the next hotel.
Our host for our villa who was waiting for our arrival 2 hours before planned, was overly nice telling us all of the complimentary facilities. I didn’t have it in my heart to tell her that as soon as we set bags down and freshened up, were going for a beer in town.
We headed straight to what we thought was beer central in Faro, yet the three bars in a row were sparsely populated with Cymru fans. Good for us, as pints of Super Bock and Somersby Apple were consumed, chatting to a decent guy and fellow Bucket Hatter called John who lives in Sheffield who we ended up giving a lift to the ground.
We got to the ground. A purpose built facility for Euro 2004 when Portugal hosted the competition. If you Google map it, the stadium was designed to look like the trophy, which it does majestically.
In reality the stadium was absolutely awful given its young 20 year age. Perhaps the way we were accommodated and the ground 5% full added to my opinion.
For such a low key game, our Uber took us to the drop off point 200 yards from the turnstiles, yet when we approached the ground, we’re herded through a 400 yard, completely OTT fenced area to actually get to said turnstiles. Half way there, with a security check, a number of groups were walking the other way as, for the first time in probably 1,000 games I’ve seen, they breathalysed random people upon entry. I did not note the parameters of the exclusion. Although I was with my hobbling mother, I did worry my 4 (only 4 FFS behave) beers might have been too much.
For a usual game our football association, the FAW, try to warn such mediocre stipulations. So that was frustrating.
Token flag photo. Up the County.
Gosh, what to say about the game. We drew with one of the lowest ranked teams in the world. It was so bad it will be “one to tell the grandchildren”. I clocked the dry pitch disadvantage early on but every conversation ultimately must end with “you have to win against fucking Gibraltar”. Shambles.
A few caught me on the Tele. Absolutely loving the spectacle. At least it didn’t rain?!?……..
Back in to town afterwards using yet another Uber, we chose an Italian for pizza with a bucket of salad and called it an early night.
Day 4
As our flight was not until 10pm we had a full day to look around Faro.
Approaching the marina and yesterday’s brief visit, I could tell the city was a lot smaller than imagined.
We booked a boat trip for later so after a small breakfast headed to Santa Maria church, primarily for the views, although a chapel made using human bones was something rather different!
The views from the top were worth the 5 euro entrance. It wasn’t very high (less steps like) but neither is Faro.
Although you’d think Faro is a coastal place given the marina, there is a whole national park between the city. Wetlands that run for some massive square kilometre-age that I forget. A bout tour around these was the next stop.
The boat tour around the area cost 17 quid for an hour, not bad. Our Portuguese guide Andre spoke fluent German, French and English which was something special in its own right.
As Mum and I left the harbour we were flown over by at least four aircraft. I’m always in awe of how such metal machines can glide through the sky and still be considered the safest method of transport.
I was informed the area is a nature park, rather than a nature reserve. The difference being that if it was the latter, our small boat wouldn’t be allowed and neither was the big bloody airport!
We meandered through the park / marshes / bogs / whatever. Because the tide was so high at the time our obviously knowledgeable guide told us that we wouldn’t see a plethora of birds, but the one guarantee was that we’d pass an area full of “fiddler crabs”, which was good enough for me.
Fiddler crabs are known by their massive left claw, that they use to…. pull a lady crab and shag. Bigger the claw and all that… and wave to tourists on a boat, obviously.
Imagine coming to read this as a football blog and learning about a type of crab. I spoil you.
Back on solid ground, we wandered around the central streets so mum could get a Portuguese pastry and a coffee (and a rest).
Given it was only now 2pm and the town didn’t look as though it offered a lot, I kinda put my foot down for the first time and suggested we book yet another boat trip, this time going further than the national park to a beach on the coast.
Ilha deserta. Gonna take a hunch and guess that translates to deserted island. A perfect choice a few hours before a flight home.
In actual fact, there was a public shuttle to here and when we arrived there was a sole restaurant. But the rest was proper nature. Whilst mum enjoyed a sit down watching the waves I had a very detoxing walk.
We had a (nother) coffee in the restaurant before our boat back to mainland, Uber to the airport via villa to collect the bags, and that was that.
It’s a shame the football always has to ruin a Wales football away trip.
Thanks for reading.
How Not 2 Life 