Brick Lane, in London’s East End, was once among the poorest slums in the capital. It takes its name from the 15th century brick and tile production based in this area. Like all poor city districts it became a magnet for various groups of immigrants over the centuries. First Jews, then French Huguenots, then Irish established communities here over the centuries, and later Bangladeshi-Sylheti immigrants settled here and made the street famous for its restaurants.
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Some of my best memories of my previous visit to Faro were of exploring the streets of the Old Town especially around the beautiful Cathedral. I was keen therefore to revisit favourite spots and discover new ones.
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April showers bring May flowers. This is supposed to console us on wet April days with the thought of better weather to come. It reminds us that we need the rain to help things grow. But what if it doesn’t rain?
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I doubt you can walk more than ten metres through a traditional Portuguese town and not spot a ceramic tile or several! The unique craft of azulejos portugueses is an unmistakable feature of these lovely old houses. And just as you can’t walk far without seeing them, I find it impossible to walk any distance without photographing some!
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I couldn’t go to the Faro area and not meet up with blogging friend Restless Jo, could I? Or perhaps I could! We planned to meet, naturally, but on the day fate intervened and our coffee date had to be … not cancelled, I hope, but certainly indefinitely postponed.
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When we visited Tavira for the day from our weekend base in Faro, I couldn’t help noticing the life-size statue of a soldier outside the station. He holds his kit bag in his right hand while his left is raised in farewell.
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One of the delights of a spring break somewhere a little warmer than home is of course to get out and enjoy the sunshine. And if you can do so by the sea, so much the better. I’m not one for lying baking on a tropical beach; I can’t take the heat and I get easily bored. But I love the sea: the sound of waves on the shore, the fresh sea air.
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Never go back, they say. And in fact, I rarely do. But occasionally I make an exception, and especially if I have fallen for a place while visiting without my husband and want to introduce him to it. Riga and Tallinn were in the past such places, and now Faro, on Portugal’s Algarve coast, has joined them.
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On our recent visit to Faro I found myself often looking down at my feet as I walked around. This was partly out of necessity; there were plenty of broken or uneven cobbles to trip me up! But it was also due to my fascination with the traditional patterns of the Portuguese pavements.
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The Basilica of the Sacred Heart of Paris, to give it its full name, seems to divide opinion. Built only in the early 20th century, I have seen some commentators criticise it as an eye-sore. Others (actually often the same people) abhor the reasons behind its construction. Its inspiration was the defeat of French troops during the Franco-Prussian War, which some felt was due to spiritual rather than political causes.
