Home » Portugal » Madeira part IV.

Today we're going on a roundtrip. The bus picks us up by the hotel at 8.35, and first stop is Pico Do Areeiro, 1818 m, close to the Island's highest peak (Pico Do Ruivo 1861 m).
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With height the vegetation changes, and near the top there are no trees. On the top there's fog (clouds). There's a strong wind and it is bitterly cold - not pleasant for the optimists wearing shorts.
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Madeira part IV.

Eric
2005-12-08 20:15:44

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with a free view to the ferocious sea deep down, and one must admire the chauffeur who holds all our lives in his skilful hands - and feet.

That reminds me of a joke the guide told. A priest and a bus-driver from Madeira die, and when they knock on the pearly gates Saint Peter tells them there's only room for one in Paradise, and the bus-driver is the lucky guy.

Of course the priest complains. Isn't he a holy man? Has he ever broken his wow of celibacy? Wasn't his church full every Sunday? How can a sinful bus-driver be better qualified? Administration must have messed things up - it must be a mistake!
Saint Peter answers:

"No, it is no mistake. While every Sunday your church was full of people sleeping, each and every day the bus-driver had loads of people praying to God with devotion!"

Porto Moniz used to be a whaler's station, but today they live from tourists and winemaking. There are some natural sea pools where you can bathe, but today the waves are much too big, and the water is beaten to foam. While we're in Porto Moniz it turns from brilliant sunshine to grey rain in 10 minutes. The weather here seems unpredictable.

To get back to the South side we pass through a new 3 km tunnel (the EU again) thus avoiding the mountain pass. It is grey at the South side too, but it doesn't rain. Last stop is at a viewpoint west of Funchal close to Câmara de Lobos, where Winston Churchill liked to spend time painting. We're dropped off at Carlton Park at 6 and go to our room to rest.

It was a fine trip, and the weather has been great most of the day. The lunch was hearty, but none the less we think we can handle a late supper. Helle would like spaghetti, she says. By half past seven we catch a bus. The chauffeur drives with much macho aggression, but fortunately the seats are not plastic, so it suffices with a firm one-hand grip.

We go to "Estrela Do Mar" again - we remember they had pasta on the menu. We skip first courses, Helle orders spaghetti and I pork in wine. The red "Monte Velho" is slightly sweet, powerful and good to the nose.

Helle tries cheese for dessert, but Madeira's dairy products aren't culinary jewels. No wonder: a cow on Madeira spends the life tied in a shed, for if let out it would promptly fall down some cliff. If the farmer is a nice fellow the cow will see sunlight once a year on its birthday. I suspect the cheese (as the beef) is imported from Portugal or the Azores. I get a fruit salad with semidry Madeira, which is almost sherry-like.