1. Over the azure to The Azores (Portugal).

I am just waiting to embark on my second plane journey within 24 hours to get to the first proper stop for this trip - Pico Island, the Azores. The Azores are a group of 9 inhabited islands, which are owned by Portugal but actually sit 950 miles out to the west of main land Portugal, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean! The language is Portuguese, which seems surprisingly different to Spanish, I’ve found. I arrived on to the only island that you can fly to internationally, San Miguel. There I had a night in the port town of Porto Delgado because hopping another plane to Pico island.

My initial journey to the airport, by train this time, was all remarkably smooth. The train got busier the further north (towards London) we went - the person who ended up sitting next to me was nice quiet boy who immediately got his book out and read for the journey, so I liked him. There were also some very loud and excitable youths who were clearly off to Gatwick too, presumably on a ‘lads’ holiday’ and who’d brought a box of beer - onto the 9.12am train for the journey. They were actually all surprisingly well behaved and kept getting up to fill the little bin with their clinking empty bottles so my initial judgement of them proved incorrect. Although I can’t imagine they will continue to be so quiet and well-behaved once let loose on the streets of Ibiza or Playa de Las Americas!

The terminal I flew from this time, which I realise is not one I often seem to end up in was the south terminal. I don’t like it as much as the north - it has falling out display screens, was busy and all the seating has apparently been removed or replaced with weird benches, presumably for the more minimalist look, regardless of functionality. After my fish and chips lunch, I went off in search of my tea refill only to realise Starbucks was disappointingly, the only option. Nonetheless, I presented my cup and asked if they could fill it with hot water. I got a glare from the server lady and fully expected to be asked to pay for a tea but in fact, she filled it and handed it back and moved to serve the next person. I popped my own tea bag in, went to the stirring station, added a slosh of milk and off I went with my cup of tea! Does seem to highlight the £3.20+ charge for a tea as totally unreasonable! Although I’m not sure they intend you to use it like a free buffet!

Anyway, after the most inefficient boarding process I have ever known, which took roughly one minute per passenger, we were on the plane … then, having missed our take off slot, had to wait for an hour before we could leave. I used the time very productively by having a nap!

On arrival at San Miguel island, I found myself a taxi to my little house, had a delicious cup of tea (once I’d worked out how on earth to operate the odd kettle type thing, which had temperature options ranging from 50 up to 100°) and then had a walk into town to have a look. Got slightly lost at one point and thoughts I’d ask the lady in the shop doorway to check I was going the right direction …. Before realising she wasn’t going to be that much help!

The port itself is operational and fairly ugly as a sea front but there were lots of very pretty buildings, some excellent paving design choices and pretty cobbles around the town. At around 6pm, all the cafes seem to cease trading and the men rush about clearing all the tables and chairs off the street only for a similar looking set off men to then unpack a very similar looking set of chairs, all from the same building and doorway, and set up bars for the evening!

It was an early start to the airport this morning - fortunately, the nice taxi man arrived back to pick me up as he had agreed when he dropped me off yesterday. I had a coffee at the airport because there was no way that their version of tea looked even close to satisfactory. I found the water fountain and filled up my bottle, after waiting inline behind a family of 3 (2 adults and a 5ish year old) who filled up three 2 litre bottles of water. All the flights this morning were inter island - 40 minutes at most. They must be a thirsty bunch. I suspect my sister would approve.

And now I’m on my next plane -  having discovered that it’s got propellers. Not nice engines that power up and lift us into the air. Nope, propellers. It’s basically wind powered. I hope there’s enough to get us up and over the sea to Pico Island! My mild concern was not helped by the man next to me performing some rapid signs of the cross actions as we thundered down the run way for take off!

The overhead compartments are quite tiny (as is the plane). Lots of useless looking people blocked the aisle during boarding, apparently hoping the air steward people would spontaneously magic up some additional previously unopened gaping storage spaces. They did not and people were instructed to shove their cases under the seats infront, which had remarkably rooms space thanks to the basic nature of the design of the chairs! For a 35 minute flight, I’m sure they’ll cope and why people insist on massive wheelie hand luggage when they’ve all got checked luggage is beyond me - and very annoying, particularly when the flight info does warn of small cabin storage and under seat options only!

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We landed safely on Pico Island. The man next to me did several more crosses as we came into land then another with a little prayer once we’d landed. Clearly praying to and thanking his Jesus for all his hard working in keeping the plane up. I wonder who he’d blame should the plane have crashed?  There are a lot of planes in the air for Jesus to be keeping an eye on around the world, not to mention everything else they keep asking him to do.

Anyway, I managed another taxi and discussion about where I needed to get to and off I went with a nice taxi man who also likes to give a tour. He pointed out the traditional houses made of volcanic rock, told me about the weather and the mountain, showed me the vineyard and restaurant he’d recommend and also that if I look around, it’s all black sand and rock and then trees which are green, not yellow. To be fair, he’s right that it is very green here! Despite arriving onto the island and to my hotel by 8.30am, I was thrilled to find there was a room I was allowed to go straight to rather than wait about until 2pm check in. Such a treat! My room is a proper little studio luxury. It’s definitely the poshest place I’m staying in this trip (which is possibly a shame that it’s the first one too and setting the bar high!). It’s one of those fancy hotel rooms where they’ve obviously spent a lot of time on the lighting design features. Thee are 6 lamps, coving lighting, main lights and lights in the cupboards that come on when you open them! None of the lights are necessarily in the parts of the room that you’d need to be able to see. The little kitchen area doesn’t have any lighting and the cupboard lights are in the otherwise dark entrance hallway bit but only above the top shelf, which is solid wood (and a little higher than I can reach to actually use as a shelf). I’ve had to unpack onto lower shelves and will use the power of feel to locate my clothes in the darkness. Once I’d managed to redirect a lamp towards the kitchen, I then wandered about the room trying all of the many light switches, performing a minor disco until I found the one that switches the lamp on.

Speaking of the kitchen, they provide you with ‘tea and coffee making facilities’. This means there is a fancy machine thing, some coffee pods, tea bags and a tea pot, which is exciting. However, there is no kettle and I have no idea how to work the fancy machine and also no idea if it can actually just produce boiling water. It doesn’t actually matter though because I’ve learnt from these issues in the past and I’ve bought my own kettle with me this time! Already located the supermarket and got milk so I’m all good! I was so early, breakfast (which is included) was still being served. I thought I’d chance my luck and see if I could have some, even though I didn’t stay last night. Luckily, the levels of service and (dis)interest are similar to those that you find in a lot of south Western Europe so when I asked a woman if I could sit (after she’d walked straight past me loitering in the door way by the desk and I’d then chased her across the room to ask what I needed to do for breakfast), she just waved a hand in the directions of the tables. I sat down and got on with helping myself to the full breakfast buffet and had tea (obvs), bacon, egg and toast!

After a little walk along to the harbour, I found my dive shop and have located a few restaurants and then spent the afternoon by the pool. The town is very pretty - and looks like where the well off people buy their houses. Pretty buildings, a harbour and coast and all at the foot of the island’s mountain - (Mount Pico, imaginatively named, which is the highest mountain in Portugal at 2351 metres. It’s a dormant volcano fortunately, which last erupted in 1720).