Ryan, the Kiwi who can fix any bike and makes a mean mulled wine.
Olivier, the Frenchman who taught me the wonder of camembert and honey for breakfast.
Peniche Harbor
Daniel the Swede, whose love of surfing is only rivaled by his love of desserts.
Brad, the mischievous American with beautiful ombre dreads.
At Bar de Bruno, the best cafe in Baleal.
THINGS I LEARNED IN PORTUGAL:
1. Portuguese sounds like Russian.
2. When living in relative filth (camping) I turn surprisingly domestic. I suddenly felt an overwhelming need to "deep clean" the kitchen and would set the dinner table each night as though a tablescape is necessary when eating ramen mixed with tuna.
3. Pangs of homesickness strike at surprising times. After ordering an iced coffee I practically flipped the table over in a rage when the server arrived with a tiny cup of espresso accompanied by tiny cup of ice. I was obviously expecting something that AT LEAST VAGUELY RESEMBLED a medium iced regula(r) from Dunkin Donuts: obscenely massive cup with at least 15 tablespoons of sugar. C'mon, Portugal. However, they did make-up for it with this.