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Cidade Velha: Where Cape Verde Began
Darkness has long fallen as we reach our next home, Michaela is in desperate need of rest after the ordeal of the ferry crossing from hell and curls up in the foetal position on the bed, a sure sign she needs recovery sleep. Of course, we haven’t eaten since breakfast: Michaela won’t be in the mood to face anything – I’m empty but don’t feel I should leave her alone so it’s just a handful of Pringles for my dinner tonight. While she sleeps I go to catch up on some admin and to research our new place – but the wifi is as dead as a dodo and stubbornly…
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To A Land Called Fire
Having from breakfast time till 4pm to make our way back down the island, we take a leisurely scenic drive down the east coast before turning inland across to Praia, rather than retracing our steps through the mountain ranges. Just before we leave the coast, we take a short break in the very appealing town of Pedra Bodejo where a great looking restaurant on the clifftop makes us wish we needed more than just a fruit juice. And so by mid afternoon we’re back in Praia, car returned to the rental company, ready for the earliest morning start of the whole trip for the dawn ferry to our next island,…
- Africa, Cape Verde, History, Independent travel, Outdoor Activities, Photography, Travel Blog, Walking, Wildlife
Hikes And Histories: More Of Tarrafal
It’s a few minutes before 9am and our guide Seeto is already waiting in the square, chatting and joking with friends. He meets us with the warmest of smiles but is continually interrupted by greetings, handshakes and fist pumps – you get the distinct feeling that everybody knows everyone else in Tarrafal. Seeto introduces us to our companions on today’s expedition, Alejo and Gabriella, on holiday here from near Albacete in Spain. Today’s hike is a downhill challenge, we will be starting high up in the mountains of Serra Malagueta and dropping way, way down to arrive at the natural lake in the bottom of the canyon some three hours…
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Exploring Santiago: Northwards To Tarrafal
Language is interesting here: the tongue spoken by Cape Verdeans is known as Krioli, but due to the variations between the different versions spoken on each of the islands, there is not really an accepted definitive strain, either written or spoken. It certainly sounds more than a little unfamiliar to us, and even the Portuguese spoken here is uncharacteristically choppy to our ears. Fortunately, a degree of English is understood and, with the majority of the population being of Senegalese descent, French is pretty widespread. I think you could say we’re talking Babel most of the time. Makes a change from Drivel, I suppose. Monday morning we collect our nicely…
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One Man’s Passion: Rua d’Arte, Praia
Before we move on from Praia, we take another wander through its ripped backsides with an offbeat destination in mind: Rua d’Arte. Local artist Tutu Sousa, who honed his skills at Senegalese artistic workshops, later returned to Cape Verde and converted his childhood home into a studio and gallery. Augmenting his paintings by transforming the exterior of the house into a canvas, Tutu soon began persuading neighbours to allow expansion of the works until eventually the whole neighbourhood has become an open air gallery. Here’s some examples of how it looks today….
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From Boa Vista To Santiago: A Praia Arrangement
There’s an endearing simplicity about the names of places on the Cape Verde islands, a simplicity which somehow reflects the unhurried, uncomplicated way of life here. The island with salt pans is called, simply, Salt; the island with hills is called Good View and a town with a sandy shore is named Beach. Perhaps even more amusing, the two islands with active volcanoes are named Fire and Angry. In the native tongue, these five are, respectively, Sal, Boa Vista, Praia, Fogo and Brava: translated into English they sound hilariously basic. You can’t get much more straightforward than names like those! Thursday morning sees the hazy cloud lift and the humidity…
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Cape Verde: Island Life Begins On Boa Vista
It looks a little strange from the air, rolling dunes topped with tufted grasses leading to desert-like landscapes where angular outcrops stand above dry, waterless canyons, dunes which form the hinterland to miles of empty golden beach. There’s not a single building to be seen until just before the wheels of the aeroplane touch down on the tarmac – and even then, it’s an airport terminal which looks more like a sand castle than a transport hub. The island of Boa Vista fights two perpetual battles with nature. One, Sahara sand from continental Africa blows constantly across the island, shifting dunes from east to west and regularly forming damaging sand…
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Storm Ciarán & Friends
By Tuesday the TV news is full of it. Never mind the wars raging in both Europe and the Middle East, there is, it seems, a storm heading towards Britain which is akin to the four horsemen of the apocalypse powering across the Atlantic to wreak devastation on our forlorn shores. Storm Ciarán, somebody somewhere has decided. With Ciarán due to enter the fray Wednesday night into Thursday, we bring our plans forward by 24 hours and make the 350-mile 6-hour drive to Cornwall ahead of those “essential travel only” messages which will no doubt soon boom across the nation. We hole up, batten down, listen to the wind as…
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The Lefkosa Half Of Nicosia
A small sign saying “Pacific Car Rental return point” is all there is to guide us at Ercan/Lefkosa airport, and with no office presence, it’s soon clear that we have to phone Pacific for them to come and collect the car. “I have no drivers just now”, she says when we call, “send me photographs of the car and leave the key under the driver’s mat, we will pick up the car later”. This means that we leave an unmanned rental car parked on double yellow lines immediately outside the airport terminal where it will probably stay untouched for at least a couple of hours – just imagine the consequences…
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Escaping Cyprusgrad: The Better Parts Of The East Coast
There’s a palpable air of relief in the car as we drive past the little harbour at Bogaz, knowing now that the horrors of Cyprusgrad are behind us, at least for a few hours. The land opens up to olive groves, fruit trees and even vineyards, then ploughed fields and vegetable crops, and at last there isn’t a high rise or a construction site to be seen. Turning east into the start of the island’s guitar neck, we are, somewhat ominously, suddenly on a brand new roadway of pristine black tarmac. Ominous because, why build a new road to nowhere unless you have development plans? We decide not to dwell…
