Stay in a Windmill

but never to be deterred we marched to the village to watch the street festivities of singing and dancing. A man in his late fifties, dressed in camouflage trousers, a hunting hat and mean looking t-shirt was in full hunting mode. He prowled the throngs sniffing out his prey among the single women. He glanced in my direction and I quickly averted my stare.

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Termas do Carapacho – A Medicinal Bath

Traditional houses with small holdings planted with sweetcorn, onions, garlic and cabbage were scattered along the route and a few cows were herded across our path to pastures new. Preparations for the winter were already underway as young lads sat in sheds, sorting onions and garlic into bunches for drying. Wild fennel grew everywhere and the liquorice aroma wafted on the breeze.

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BBQ on Monte Brasil

We were the only people using the picnicking area so after a short rest and a drink began collecting twiglets to start the fire. Mr Wood Craft Folk had the fire going in a jiffy and then tied up the hammock between two nearby trees. I sat swaying gently in the hammock with my chilled glass of Vinho Verde looking at the sea below in the dappled shade of the trees and listened to the song of the blackbird and the colourful little finches.

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Praia da Vitoria

We took the bus and followed the coastal route towards the town. The countryside was green and lush, with cornfields protected by dry stone walls covered in rambling pink roses. Cows munched on the lush grass in meadows speckled with blue cornflowers. Pretty traditional Azorean houses painted mostly white with blue window frames and doors added to the charm of the hour long drive.

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