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Day 9 : Lagos 2 It's basically hiking

 This is the day my wife has been waiting for, walking along cliffs and enjoying the view! Hiking, but slightly less strenous, less gear, and almost no goretex.

We head out dressed for chilly, windy weather. But when we  arrive at the first choice, it's crammed with cars. Of course, it's the weekend, so the tourists and the locals will be cramming to the hot spots to get their nature time in. This must be a popular spot because we counted at least 10 cars idling in the middle of the lanes, hoping for a parking spot to open up.

We go to a different spot. But it's hot. Well, it's warm. And, as I've said before, I tolerate heat like a chocolate Easter bunny. So I end up having to roll my sensible slacks up and just grin and bearing it along the way. Yes I look ridiculous and someone that perhaps mothers with young children should give a wide berth but I'll probably not drop from heat exhaustion and who am I here to impress anyways. My kids, perhaps inoculated to my... middle agedness, don't even bat an eye.

The stretch of cliff/water/beach has absolutely no railing anywhere. The misuss is used to this sort of sight seeing and gets heart attack starting, 'hold up let me curl into a fetal position in a corner and rock' level of anxiety inducing close to the edge of cliffs to get a 'nicer view'. I end up just trying to look away and not panic, thinking about all the loose rocks near the edge of each cliff. I likewise fight the urge to Google 'annual deaths of tourists in Lagos near cliffs' because there will likely be too MUCH information, or worryingly little. 

Afterwards I let her know that getting close enough to a cliff where a sneeze would lead to a fatal fall is a NO GO for me. Thankfully she complies to my worry-wart hen like instincts. Taking risks where you might break a bone? Ok. Where you might die? Maybe not.

We walk for about 20 minutes but the heat (really, just a pleasant spring day for most folks) wilts me and my daughter, and our intrepid crew is forced to turn back. 

So back to home base, change, shower, get ready to go out again or form some sort of plan.

On our way back we stop at a gas station. After puzzling over the on screen options to even get it in  English, I have everything set. Then I grab what looks to be the simplest nozzle.. the least expensive nozzle..? And try and fuel up, but it doesn't fit. Uh oh. I think. The fuel types in Portugal are given letter and number designations, like B7, or E5. I, ignorant Canadian, assumed the diesel would be at a different pump, or at least be named something that someone could guess at, like Dieessel and Gasolina. I am aware I am no linguist. 

After some frantic googling I find out that yes, I did just try and put diesel into the gasoline rental car and who knows what sort of horrendous explosions might have occurred. I pick the right one, the nozzle fits, we are off to the races. Or.. the trip back to our room, in any case.

We get back, have a little rest, then off for lunch/dinner. Empanadas! This is one of those Latin foods that made it's way into Filipino culture so we are excited to try it at it's source. It's great! As we predicted, seeing as the restaurant was entirely dedicated to empanadas. Pockets of meat in a pastry is a universal recipes that gets repeated across cultures, and it's neat to see a hip cafe serving a food that really only rings true in our memories as something our moms would make at Christmas time with a suspicious amount of raisins.

We next make out way out to another cliff/water .. formation.. thing. This time, with a wonderfully safe boardwalk, where I will not take years off my life watching my family pick their way through a path that is one clumsy mistake away from oblivion. The weather is perfect, very Pacific Northwest. Cool, windy, with enough intermittent sun to remind you you are are in Portugal.

Look at those wonderful, death averting railings.
Good to be hyperventilating from the walk and not from paralyzing anxiety

The views are admittedly, spectacular, but I'm not fooled, we are hiking.

Here is a picture which also reminds me we are in Portugal. This sort of decorative roof which really provides no cover from the rain would NEVER be countenanced in Vancouver, where rain is the norm, and dry weather is something to be mistrusted, and perhaps appreciated before some form of precipitation takes its place.

The kids plead/ask/jostle us to get gelato. Of course we get it, what is vacation without stuffing yourself with treats and sugary goodness that makes you think a few weeks later "oh why did I eat so much ice cream". It's also a bit of celebration for me, a little hip hip hurrah for the wonder of guardrails.


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