A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

  Disoriented and confused; is that how travelling is meant to make us feel? It's not jetlag, when Portugal is in the same time zone as the UK and the Azores are only an hour behind. Rather, after extending both our trips with sojourns with the family to maximise time with Grandotty, I reckon that we probably only spent 5 nights at home (correction: in the rented premises) in the course of a month. Coming back now to a house where I thought we had everything sorted and at hand, I've realised that the period of time away was sufficient to totally flummox me when it comes to identifying where anything might be. Is it here and, if so where? If it is being stored, just where exactly?  Goodness, I couldn't even remember the postcode  for the property and had to look it up. Today Mister E was certain that he'd brought head torches to have to hand at the rental; think boy scout mode for power cuts. Ultimately we established that they hadn't made the journey with us, but at

  Our final stop and the fourth out of the nine islands that make up the Azores was Terceira. We based ourselves in Angra do Heroismo, the most important city in the Azores historically and with a certain period charm and grace that we had not identified on our other stops.  All of the islands have their own individual characteristics and just when you think that you cannot imagine there being anything unique on another trip to view volcanic craters, you are proved wrong. This time, I actually entered a inside a dormant volcano vent and even ventured through ancient lava tunnels. The celebrations for the Festival of the Holy Spirit continued here too but unlike the parades in Ponta Delgada , we encountered White Night when everyone wore white and a band played in the town square.  Terceira is also known for its bull fighting and running where the bull remains tethered to a long rope and is not killed. Although there were instances of both taking place during our visit, we did not seek

   We made the journey to and from the Island of Pico by ferry. As well as its volcano, Pico is known for being the main wine producing island of the Azores. That volcano seems to attract cloud constantly, denying a view of itself and resulting, during our visit, in some rain. Many people stay on Pico with the aim of following a  guide to the summit of the volcano and the island has any number of walking trails. Obviously we walked a lot during our trip but if an island is known for its wine then it's fair to say that's what you want to see, or am I just strange? To cope with the sea air, thin soil and wind, the island developed its own technique for growing vines in a series of  "currals" which are small rectangles or circles constructed from volcanic rock. In fact it's claimed that there are so many of these structures on Pico that if laid end to end they would stretch twice around the circumference of the Earth. The salt and mineral content of the ground is obv

    Back in 1980, I read "The Restaurant at the End of the Universe," Douglas Adams' sequel to "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy." Like most books that I've read, I now remember very little about the plot, but at the time and in the ensuing years it continued to evoke a feeling of a place perched on the edge of time and space which all manner of life forms from different civilisations frequented.   I recalled the reactions that the descriptions induced when visiting Jema el-Fnaa, the square in the centre of Marrakech. It provides a gathering point between two worlds at the threshold of the Sahara where the people, sights and sounds converge to create a unique encounter for the visitor.  Moving on from Sao Miguel described in my last post we arrived in Horta on Faial. Immediately that awareness of the boundary on the rim of the familiar world was invoked again. In the past Horta provided a stop-over for trade ships ploughing across the Atlantic Ocean

    After a brief sojourn in the UK to provide sufficient time to process the laundry from our last trip, vote in the General Election and catch yet another awful cold, we headed south again. This time our destination was Ponta Delgada in the Azores. You may recall our aborted mission to reach there in 2022. This time we decided to eliminate the risk of an ocean crossing by flying directly to Sao Miguel, 41 years since Mister E sailed there from Dartmouth in a small 34 foot yacht. It was something of a history test for him as he sought to get his bearings but, in so doing, becoming resigned to the fact that the spot where he had tied his boat to a buoy is now buried under a concrete extension to the port infrastructure. He also bewailed the tourist industry that has developed since he plus his crew of one had arrived as something of lone adventurers back in the day. At least he was thankful for the absence of the packs of wild dogs, as he described them, and our hotel accommodation wa

  I have already referred in passing to our trip to Portugal from which we returned on 4th July. It was a fascinating journey arriving in Lisbon and returning from Porto in the company of a small group of similar aged travellers. I suppose the big question is, can I recommend it for retirement vacations? Like so many of the world's popular destinations, Lisbon and Porto in particular were very crowded with lengthy queues to enter the best known attractions; the number 28 tram had standing room only and allegedly carries pickpockets as well as tourists in a city renowned as one of the safest in the world. The railway station in Porto with its beautiful tiled frescoes is awash with sightseers making the simple act of boarding a train something of a squeeze before even reaching the platform.   Away from the better known towns, life is much more peaceful and the Douro Valley astoundingly beautiful. Wine, port and traditional pastries made to old recipes were abundant. Our accommodation