Those of you that have read my usual reports of my time in Carvoeiro will know that I have only visited Christmas/New Year and March/April . . . never in the 'season'. This year Sharen and I made the effort to see what it's like in June.
We flew with EasyJet out of Stansted during a slight lull in a massive thunderstorm. When at the Gate looking through the windows we could see forked lightening streaking up into the sky as planes osscilated their way to precarious landings on an ocean of water that covered the runway. The spray chucked up by the wheels made the planes disappear from view as they floated to a halt - it was like attending a David Copperfield show without the annoying Mr Copperfield. We were sat on the tarmac for an hour, waiting for the storm to abate before we took off . . . a flight already one hour later than first booked.
We weren't stopping in the village this time - our usual villa was occupied by its owner who vacated it on the Wednesday as we arrived on the Tuesday and he handed the keys over to someone else! Instead we got a great deal from an EasyHotel @ 17 euros per night for a one-bedroomed self-catering apartment at Salgados Bayview. According to info gleaned off t'internet the apartments had been fully refurbished so we weren't that bothered about not having the villa this once. At Easter we had driven around to find the location of Bayview, and after a bit of tooing and froing we found it - and marked it in our memories for our return eight weeks later.
Unfortunately, due to the storm and the late take-off we arrived at Faro in the dark . . . and as you all know, everything looks different late at night . . . as indeed did the route we'd carefully filed away. I drove a lot more too and fro this time seeking out landmarks in the dark - a journey reminiscent of the Easter car treasure hunt (and that set me in a bad mood as those of you that read my report might imagine). Mrs C and I were not having a lovely time; driving around in the dark like a bat with a blindfold careening about the Algarve in search of our apartment. Eventually, more by luck than judgment or navigational skills, we stumbled upon it.
Access, that late at night (0030) ,was via the Reception and then through the bar. It was this walk through the bar that didn't auger well for us - it was karaoke night and our fellow residents were belting out unfathomable lyrics gulping in lungfuls of cigarette smoke in a bar that appeared to be for smokers only! It was only a short distance but when we exited into the clear fresh air our clothes and hair stank and I was coughing up a lung like a forty-a-day Capstan smoker.
Mind you, the smell of smoke soon went as we entered our apartment . . . . to be replaced by the welcoming aroma of wee. The beds were damp and the place smelled of wee - I just hoped the two were unconnected for we were both too weary to go elsewhere as we climbed into bed. (I later learned from roy4eyes that wet cement smells of wee and I have kept that thought ever since - the alternative being too dire to live with).
As we lay in our cement-scented bed we decided that one night was more than enough to spend at Bayview and the following morning we drove to Carvoeiro and booked ourselves into the Mirachoro - the 4* hotel on Estrado de Farol. For 87 euros per night we got the best room in the hotel, overlooking the pool, the village and out to sea, including an all-you-can-eat-for-the-rest-of-the-day breakfast. Bliss.
We had planned to get out and about a bit more in the car this holiday (we were just using Bayview as a base) but, two factors kept us from this admirable plan. 1. the room and balcony was so inviting; 2. a tyre on the hire car blew and it couldn't be replaced until after the weekend and I didn't fancy driving around without a spare. We had also planned to self-cater but, now we didn't have a cooker we ate out every night.
We went to A Rede a lot (very near to the hotel) and enjoyed most meals, with the exception of their chicken cataplana. So far as I am aware (and I base this on other cataplanas we'd enjoyed elsewhere in the past) the dish is a whole chicken casseroled in a pan with loads of local vegetables. If this is true of A Rede's chicken cataplana then they are serving six-legged chickens for we were served a dish containing six lumpy, bony chicken thighs and several wings. Six legs might account for the time it took to arrive on our table - the little sods must be buggers to catch! Sadly it appears that the nicer bits of the chickens (lovely succulent breast) is reserved for 'proper' chicken dishes and the bits that no one else wants is shoved into a pan with an onion and a pepper and is reincarnated as a cataplana. It was a disappointing meal and one which we left mostly untouched as our vain quest for a slice of chicken breast proved impossible.
However, this was the only 'bad' meal there and I don't want to put anyone off from eating there. We did enjoy the Algar Seco fish 'special' on two occasions and would recommend it, especially on a meet-up Thursday night.
We have come to the conclusion that we prefer our usual holiday periods and won't be returning during the 'season'. Too many people about for our liking.
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