I read a random blog post, no idea the name of it, listing the cheapest flights to take in Portugal. Listed among them was a cheap flight to an island called Madeira. It also mentioned the main attraction is the ancient Laurel forest that’s designated a UNESCO world heritage site. I instantly googled images of these ancient Laurel forests. They looked lush and serene. Long hikes in an ancient forest with plenty of fresh air, solitude and on an island I’ve never heard of? This was exactly the right note to start our adventure, I was sold. I easily pitched and won Hachem on the idea too. Our first stop, Madeira.
By the time we landed in Madeira we both felt more than a little strung out. The four hour drive to the airport, three flights and two layovers took their toll. Plus, we hadn’t slept much in a long time. Our days and nights were filled with packing, logistics, moving, renewing licenses, comparing storage facilities, drawing up wills, and canceling services. All the really exciting things you don’t think of when you imagine traveling around the world for a year.
Couple our exhaustion with our frigid flight from Ponta Delgada, Azores, and we started to wonder what we were doing to ourselves. With scarves and wool hoodies on, we were still severely underdressed and our coats were in our checked bags. Hachem commented it was the only flight he’s ever taken where he could see his breath. Yes, it was that cold.
It was also on this flight that we started to joke about our lost luggage. We both sensed our luggage wouldn’t be waiting for us at baggage claim. I’m not suggesting we’re clairvoyant, but there were plenty of hints the airline wasn’t going to get this right. Just pick any one of these things: We were denied online check in. We were given a very illegitimate looking boarding pass and equally illegitimate looking baggage receipt. Both had no logo, no color, just black text in typewriter font. The flight attendant’s double take when we showed our boarding passes. Our names were announced over the intercom at the gate in Boston, where our passports were scanned once again. When the Azores customs agent asked us, “No luggage?” we were confused. In Chicago they said our bags were checked all the way through to Funchal, Madeira. We asked airport personnel if we were doing the right thing by not picking up our bags, but with a language barrier, you can’t be sure you got the right answer.
But we had arrived safely in Madeira. A thought I kept reminding myself of over the coming days. Exiting the aircraft in Madeira even had a little novelty to it. It was the first and only time I sat in the last row and was off the plane in under two minutes. The airport uses rolling staircases to exit the airplane, which meant we exited the plane at both the front and rear exits.
We shuffled through the airport corridors and finally arrived at baggage claim, our moment of truth. When I came back from the restroom and saw Hachem all alone standing next to an empty baggage carousel I was not surprised, only disappointed to be right. His first words to me, “The lady’s already started a claim.” In fact, she was a little too happy about our lost luggage. She beamed at Hachem’s side and eagerly asked, “Your baggage is lost?” Her name is Olga. We happen to have a bad history with women named Olga.
We followed Olga to her counter. We looked at the laminated sheet of luggage types and made our description. This was when we realized in our sleep deprived rush, buying and attaching luggage tags never happened. We felt doomed. At this point, we were convinced we’d never see our bags again. But Olga assured us, this happens all the time and they always turn up! In fact, says her coworker, just have all your contact details prepared ahead of time for the next time this happens.
After giving a description of our bags and leaving with a claim receipt in hand, we ambled our way to find the Aerobus. Aerobuses are found all over Portugal’s airports to connect you with the city. The Aerobuses are convenient, economical, and one of the best options I’ve run across anywhere to get from the airport into the city. We paid 8 euros each for a roundtrip ticket. Olga at baggage claim gave us a printed schedule and we easily found the right bus shelter, thanks to the loud Aerobus green branding all over it. We sat and waited for the next bus to arrive, while feeling quite empty handed and far too unburdened.
As we waited, a nice British couple departing Madeira offered us their city bus passes with 2 rides left on each card. We gladly accepted and Hachem said, “See our luck is already turning around.” I smiled because I was thinking the same thing.
We are sitting on the Aerobus on our way into Funchal, Madeira’s largest city. Hachem’s dozing off on the bus, I feel like doing the same until I catch my first glimpse of Madeira’s mountains. Words can’t prepare you for the scenery of Madeira. It’s an island of jutting mountains and deep gorges. I nudge Hachem awake because I can’t believe any place on earth has cliffs this steep, with houses and roads attached to the edges. We drive at a speed that seems too fast for so many curves, tunnels, and bridges. However, the main highways are in perfect condition with smooth blacktop. Madeira is an architectural feat. The highways are tunneled through mountains and bridges cross the gorges between mountains.
We make fast time from the airport to Funchal, the capital. We start to see the outskirts of the city shortly into our drive. The city fans itself out from a low lying marina where houses are so dense all I make out are the tops of terra cotta roofs. From the center of town, the houses spread up and out into the mountains, becoming less and less dense the higher up you go. It is a larger city than I hoped or thought it would be.
The Aerobus driver tells us we’ve reached our stop and we get off. It’s startlingly hot. We quickly remove our hoodies and Hachem gets out his small notebook, where he’s jotted directions for us on how to get the hostel.
I can’t remember much about the walk to the hostel the first time, even though it’s so clearly marked in my mind now. All I remember are narrow streets, even narrower sidewalks, and the steep hill we have to climb to get the hostel. And I sweat, a lot. For the first time, that hill makes me so happy to not have my backpack with me.
We are staying at Phil’s Hostel Haven in Funchal. Hachem has picked this place because of all the reviews that say how nice, Philippe, the owner is. The first thing Phil asks when greeting us at the gate is, “Can I help you with your bags?” And we groan, “They’ve lost them actually.”
We check in and find out that there’s been a bit of mix up and we’ll have to take Couple’s Budget room. He asks us if that’s ok. We honestly can’t remember what room we booked, so it’s fine with us. We get a brief tour and the hostel rules. We rent towels for two euros each. Of course, we’re thinking of our free towels packed away in our backpacks. It’s midday in Madeira, but we go right to sleep, we don’t even consider trying to stick it out.
We wake up several hours later, finally rested enough to care how sticky and gross we feel. We’re staying in a private room with a shared bathroom right next door. Luckily, we both have all our toiletries with us, so we take showers. I use men’s body wash found in the cabinet to wash out my shirt. Luckily, I had just enough room to pack an extra t-shirt and pair of undies in my carry on. Hachem is not so lucky, he has no backup clothes. Hachem and I agree slipping back into your hiking boots after a refreshing shower is the quickest way to lose the fresh feeling fast.
Hachem heads upstairs to ask Phil for a recommendation for a close place to eat dinner. He grabs an 80 cent beer and talks to Phil for awhile. They talk about the States. Phil says inevitably there’s always two things that come up when you talk to Americans: war and oil in the middle east and how terribly we eat. Hachem doesn’t disagree. Phil’s English is fantastic, which proves very helpful. He’s traveled to a few a places in the States, including Chicago, but really loves San Francisco (don’t we all). He’s from France and worked in I.T., but when the recession hit, he came to Madeira and opened up this hostel. Phil really is as hospitable as the reviews say.
Following Phil’s recommendation, we head back down the big hill in the direction of town and arrive at OTasco. We eat delicious and cheap small plates of food under the full moon. The octopus is our favorite, it’s buttery and tender. This dinner, in this setting, is the highlight of our day. Once again, we agree things seem to be going our way, despite our lost luggage.