Tranquility Rediscovered

In the middle of a popular beach destination, there sits a small village seemingly a million miles from nowhere.  Whitewashed buildings with terracotta roofs and terraces cluster in the rolling hills at the edge of the cliffs that plummet into the ocean a hundred meters below.  As I gaze from the balcony of my apartment in Areias de Porches, I see orange roofs sprawling out to the North and the tranquil blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean to the South.  For three days there has not been a single cloud in the sky, and in that month of March the temperature remains a steady twenty-six degrees Celsius.

A seagull flies overhead and draws my eyes to the sea, a thousand shades of blue and green stretching to the sky.  A series of cliffs and beaches stretch as far as the eye can see.  At the edge of one of the cliffs sits a small church, pure white against the aquamarine background.  I had not seen more than two-dozen people since arriving in the small village, something very unexpected since I had heard so much about the area.  I had expected beaches crowded with tourists and unhappy locals, but was pleasantly surprised to find only a few, very content locals roaming the quiet streets.

After taking in the quiet scenery, I walk the short distance from my apartment to the beach. A light breeze carries the smell of sea salt and the faint aromas of local cuisine.  The nearest beach, also my favorite, is nestled quietly between two towering cliffs, one of which holds the church.  The sand is glistening white and warm against my feet.  There is no one else there except for a few people in the restaurant that sits 50 meters from the water.  I say hello, they wave and smile, and I continue on my way to the beach. 

Yesterday I noticed a hole in the cliff of the church and was curious as to where it would lead me.  Like the wardrobe that leads to Narnia, the cave calls to me, “Come see my hidden wonders.”  The idea of the unknown intoxicates me and I cannot help but be curious as I walk slowly toward the base of the cliff.

It is the perfect time of day, the sun is warm, the water is cool and the tide is low enough to reach the cave.  I enter the opening and am able to stand, at first.  The cave begins to narrow, forcing me to crawl through.  It is longer than I expected and I loose almost all of the daylight.  Finally, I see light at the end of the tunnel.  I reach the exit and am forced to practically lie down in order to get out.  I crawl out of the cave and am blinded by the brilliant sunlight. 

Not knowing where I had gone, I look up to see a small, isolated stretch of sand.  No one else is around and there are no other entrances or exits to the secluded alcove.  Small rock formations jut out of the water.  The sliver of sandy shoreline runs in and out of the rock structures and into the waiting ocean current.  Not twenty meters from the sparkling water rises one of the magnificent cliffs of the Algarve, completely isolating the bay.  All I can hear is the calming sound of the water lapping against the shore and the call of seagulls, miles away.

I spent 3 hours on that beach that day in Porches, Portugal; calm, quiet, and tranquil in the sun until the tide forced me back through the hole to reality. As I returned through the cave, I could hear the sound of children laughing and playing in the water.  The delicate aromas from the restaurant invaded my senses bringing my journey to an end.  Exploring the unknown caves of the Algarve coast led me to many adventures that week; but no others led me to the peacefulness of that isolated shore the way that hidden, magical portal did on that beautiful day in March.