Silves and l'Orange

Day #4.

Friday 2nd April.
Good Friday.

Awoke with a jump at 6.25am. Wondered what had startled me and had to have a long wee to calm down. Then roused hours later to the familiar echoey sound of James opening the white window shutters. Went for another wee and peeped through my curtains to see James on the balcony lounging in his white fuzzy dressing gown.

Bloody scorching. Three course breakfast of cornflakes, a chocolate croissant and a creameo strawberry yoghurt in a cute curvy pot. Decided to take dressing gown pictures. I ran like a giant fuzzy bird towards the end of the balcony, preparing to take flight.

Taxied to Silves, an old town described by James as ‘higgeldy piggeldy’. There were a lot of pretty buildings, steep cobbled walkways and a red brick castle atop. We paid 2.50 euros to walk inside the ruins of the castle where there were walkways, turrets and Portuguese music seeping out into the sunlight. It sounded like it was coming from the old walls. Obviously there were many picture opportunities; crouching in wall holes, sitting on steps, under arches and taking to a makeshift stage with a solitary stool to try out our best interpretation of the court jester look.

We sat on colourful chairs next to skeletal parasols and ate steak ruffles whilst playing The Hungry Caterpillar card game. It was a gift I’d bought James from Amerton Farm on a day out. It turns out to be a brilliant game, particular as the beautifully illustrated cards have food on them. WINNER. The aim of the game is for the hungry caterpillar to eat all of the food and turn into a butterfly. I won two out of three and so am the ultimate hungry caterpillar extraordinaire. 

Decided to leave the ruins after over an hours worth of sun and snaps to explore the rest of Silves. The steep cobbled side streets caused a bit of jip with my kneetard. I almost went down a few times. We stopped at an open door to look at a colourful painting. It was the entrance to a local artists studio. Stepped inside the shaded house after seeing a large painting of a peacock on newspaper and looked around the cramped studio for a painting that would feel right for me. I was quite excited about the prospect of buying some local art from a pretty place I’d enjoyed visiting. I’ve never bought a piece of art before but the prices were affordable and so I got swept up in the idea of purchasing. Liked the look of a small impression of a sloping Silvan street but James wondered if it was too clichéd. Also enjoyed a larger piece of three abstract Portuguese women. James was drawn to a collaged horse hanging at the top of one of the walls. I was less sure. Decided to give it more thought and return later.

Walked further down the Silvan streets and reached a square piazza type opening with benches, trees and a fountain, surrounded by more beautiful buildings. There were two big birds nesting atop a long old chimney and people were pointing and watching. One flew off and circled the nest, soaring through the blue sky. We stood for a while trying to get a good shot.

Sat down at some café tables in the square. James had a coffee and I had a twister which was undoubtedly refreshing but a large chunk came off the stick and froze my mouth a bit too much. I almost choked. We discussed Silves, the pace of life in Portugal, independence, not wanting to go home and other places we would like to visit like Russia, Germany and Egypt. James liked the idea of Boston and I was probably too enthusiastic about the prospect of one day visiting the Deep South. James said he’d get bored because there wouldn’t be a lot to do there.

We left our battered retro coca cola café tray in the shade and I wanted to go back and buy a painting. I’d decided on the three women. James said they symbolised my three influences in life; Celine [Dion], Nicola [Roberts] and myself. Reached the studio with its grand doors and heavy ornate fish door handles but it was all locked up. It wasn’t even 5pm but that’s the Portuguese for you – wasted. Slightly disappointed but I promised myself I would return one day. I’ve got his deets anyway, I stole a piece of paper which described the artist. Reading over it I enjoyed his ideas about the ‘visual climate’ and how one piece of art moves on from the next. Maybe I can give him a bell sometime and get him to ship over my three women. 

To recover we took another self timed picture of us both sitting on a bench. I did a little smile because James said he wanted me to smile in pictures more. I don’t like my smile because I always end up falling over on it and breaking teeth. The photo turned out looking very relaxed, almost as if we’d been papped.

Walked to the bottom of Silves and found an urban looking bridge. Decided to take urban looking pictures near some graffiti. Also took pictures of James leaping over a crater on the bridge and of me sitting in it looking hard. All the ghetto people surely must spend their days sitting in craters. Two Portuguese locals walked past wondering if they were getting in the way of pictures. They weren’t, James was just trying to set the camera up for another self timed picture. 

Left the bridge to try and find a taxi rank. Stopped to take a picture of a lonely boat in the river that had a dirty garden chair in it. A Portuguese jack-the-lad cycled past and said something as I was taking the photo. I looked back at him and he was looking back at me. James was all ‘Oh my god!’ because he’d been checking him out when he heard him say ‘Wowee’ or something of that ilk. I thought I’d heard him say the Portuguese version of ‘Aye aye!’ I told James that it was because the Portuguese really couldn’t get enough of my pale prosthetic legs. Stopped to take a picture of a group of old Portuguese men sitting on a shaded bench, looking artsy and wondered if the jack-the-lad wanted to marry me. I was quietly smug that he would definitely cycle back and propose to me. There was a giant rainbow fish jumping out of the river which was a sight for sore eyes. Sadly it stopped jumping when we pointed our cameras at it. Must’ve been shy. 

Realised that we had walked right into the taxi rank – three taxis at the side of the road with their drivers all asleep behind the wheel [again, wasted]. Had a lovely drive back to the villa with sweet soft classical music playing on the radio. Contemplated the sunny green fields and felt at one with Portugal. 

Got back, had food by the pool and decided to empty the bin. James walked ahead with the white bin bag and likened it to a giant clutch bag. I walked behind holding a glass of gin and lemonade. Discussed what crazy japes we might discuss over dinner tonight. We have a table booked at l’Orange for 9pm. Apparently the desserts are yummy. Back from the bins James decided to crack out Sonic the Hedgehog [bought on a whim from Dixons at the airport]. I listened to the familiar retro music and him saying things like, ‘Oh titty bollock!’ ‘Amy I’ve got no rings!’ [story of his life] and ‘Piss on me’ whilst I try to journalise. James gives up on Sonic when it’s game over and asks how my ‘manual’ is going. I feel tentative about reading bits out but choose the bits I think he’ll like. He laughs and tells me that it sounds better than he remembers. I tell him that I do have a tendancy to make life sound better than it is. 

Decide to go inside as it’s getting chilly. James puts on one of Madonna’s live DVDs and I carry on writing. I look up a few times and wonder if he’s fallen asleep again.

Arrived at l’Orange wearing a green dress and the vivs [Vivienne Westwoods]. James felt very Italian in his leather jacket, rolled up jeans and brogues. We were greeted by a Dutch woman who could only be described as ruddy. She kept telling us the restaurant was full. All James could say was ‘We’ve booked!’ over and over. She didn’t know what the dog was going on. Once the confusion was over we were seated at out reservad table. Noticed the walls were orange, the seat cushions had oranges on them and the ‘o’ in the title of restaurant was an actual orange! Brilliant. Ordered gin and lemonade, followed by bread and butter and then a teeny fancy looking salad. Noticed that there was a small hen on a stick [decorative] in the flower vase. I wondered if I could get away with stealing it. 

Main course of chicken in peppercorn sauce with vegetables and cheesy potatoes. Absolutely lovely. The sauce was creamy and the chicken was tender. James’ steak also looked bangin’. We discussed TV programmes and how it seems we are the generation of the TV DVD boxset. Dallied our way around Friends, Six Feet Under, The OC, Ally McBeal. Briefly talked about travel writing and the journal format. Then about any new fashion ventures. Nothing drastic in the pipeline for me at the moment apart from a gold studded ‘leather’ jacket from Matalan and a new outfit for Sarah and Ste’s wedding. Conversation then moved onto how casual outfits work so much better when on holiday. There was constant gigglyness throughout the meal regarding orangeness [James and the Giant Orange], Dutch ruddiness, bom dog and overtly confused faces. Found that I couldn’t breathe and my tummy was hurting so I tried to compose myself. Also I didn’t want to choke.

Table behind us was filled with a German party. The conversation sounded exciting, drunken and full of ballsy banter. ‘It’s like we’re in a scene from Inglourious Basterds!’ After their meal they ordered shots. God bless them.  

Amazing desserts came. James drizzled hot chocolate sauce onto his neat mound of homemade vanilla ice cream and I took a dainty spoon to homemade chocolate mousse. It was so yummy and moussey and there was definitely a hint of orange, ‘Where isn’t there a hint of orange?!’ Somehow managed to snort my way through dessert without dying.

Waited a crazy long time for the bill. Discussed sports and PE. James explained the craziness that is the rugby scum and that he always preferred to be on the fly. I mentioned how I tended to be wing attack or wing defence in Netball, further proving that we have both always had an affinity with bird-kind. There was nothing left to do but carry on drinking our way through the litro bottle of water that had ended up on our table. We’d only asked for a small bottle. If that was the small one then we wondered what the big one would be like. I ventured that it could’ve been like a beer keg with a tap. 

Requested the bill and for them to call us a taxi. It was after eleven so you’d think they’d want to get rid of us. They seemed fine leaving us titting about in the corner drinking water. Bill was brought over in a wooden trinket treasure chest box which is one of the most wonderful things I’ve ever seen. Sadly there were no mints though, or complimentary oranges. Paid and taxied home, lots of ‘Orbi gados!’ (Thank you). I’m sick of hearing it mainly because I'm too shy to say it. James jas been throwing it around left, right and centre.

Jammies and joggers time. We watched a bit of Bros&Hoes complete with silly commentary, leggy kicks and leggy violins at the closing credits. Last day tomorrow. I worried about being thrown back into a dissatisfying life with it’s boring routine of all work and no play. Today has been a super duper day and one of the best meals out I’ve ever had. The food was fancy but affordable, the waitresses were adorable, the company ridiculous, the atmosphere cosy and orange. I didn’t feel uncomfortable or self conscious one jot, which always seems to happen at some point or another when I eat out. Hmm why can’t it always be this way. Sweet dreams.

PS; Sniffed out some major sewage issues in the downstairs bedroom corridor. We kept that door closed.