My Life as a Travel Agent

Last Thursday they celebrated a holiday here, which meant two things to me: I was liberated from classes, and I could begin my practice as a travel agent. Most businesses close on Fridays after holidays because it doesn’t make sense to go back to work for just one day, but when it looked like I was going to have to work anyway, I decided to flee the country. It was not easy, let me tell you. Everyone in Andalucía was traveling, which meant high prices for anywhere in Spain. So Wednesday, I looked at a map of Europe in desperation. France is too far by bus, so I turned to Portugal and found the little town of Faro, in the middle of the southern coast about 3 hours away. I called one of the program directors and got the name of a bus company that went there, found a hostel on the internet, and found a few things to do. A couple of the other girls had wanted me to find a place for us to go, and I must say they put a lot of faith in me considering I only found the place by looking at a map, and because they gave me their credit cards and passports to arrange things.
As it turned out, only Cherith ended up going with me, which was fine because I really needed a relaxing trip (and my style of traveling light, cheap, and flexibly is not for everyone). We arrived early in the morning- we thought the bus ride would be exciting when a couple stupid Americans didn’t have their passports, but it turned out the police didn’t care, and they wouldn’t even stamp our passports! Faro is a very small town, not really touristy, next to wetlands near the ocean. We found the old part of the town and the Se Cathedral that was beautiful and had great views from the roof. Evidently a long time ago this town liked to decorate some cathedrals and altar things with skulls and bones… We walked around the coast near the wetlands, watching people fish and lay out fish traps. We took a bus to the beach where we spent most the afternoon, and even though it was too chilly for bathing suits, we laid in the sun getting tan and thinking about how it was snowing in Cedarville and this was the second time we’d been to the beach in February.
We found our hostel and a small typical Portuguese restaurant before turning in early. Friday we hung out in a nice park with peacocks, walked around the new part of the city, and sat in the sun by the water at the dock for a few hours. We kept cracking up when the police kept riding by on their bikes, peering down at us and trying to talk to us. “Oh, you’re doing Soduko?” We saw the maritime museum before catching the evening bus that eventually got us safely back to Sevilla.
This trip was very much what we needed; even though we walked a lot, it was very relaxed and quiet, away from the city, leaving us in sun and peace. The only catch was that we don’t speak Portuguese, and even though Portugal is surrounded by Spain, nobody speaks Spanish. And that led to a few interesting encounters, namely when the guy at the tourist office asked where we are from. Because the answer is not as easy as it might seem, I paused for a moment before answering in English, “We live in Spain.” The look the guy gave me was priceless, albeit quite disdainful. Cherith and I aren’t sure if the best part was that I said it in English or that I had to pause for a while before saying it. To talk to other people we had to speak English, or talk slowly in Spanish to more or less understand both ways. It is even more confusing that they say “hola” and “gracias” in Portuguese, so we were never quite sure what language to use. We think it might be helpful if Spain would take over Portugal, or at least export their language and bread. Preferably before I figure out a trip to Lisbon :^) Well, it’s back to real life for me now. For those of you on spring break, have a good time!