For the past year I’ve read a few travel articles comparing Madeira to Hawaii. While there are some obvious comparisons: they are both volcanic islands in the middle of an ocean, and they are verdant and lush with wild scenery and beautiful beaches - but they really are not to be compared for a variety of reasons. First, no one can really afford Hawaii! The hotel prices are ridiculous, the food is mediocre, it is difficult to get around in Hawaii, and the most glaring difference is that you can’t get Spam in Madeira! Madeira is most likely what Hawaii was sixty years ago and it all might change here in another twenty years, but for now, this is really a marvelous island with marvelous people and a fun place to spend weeks upon weeks without busting the budget.
Every morning I stand on our balcony and do my resistance/tai chi exercises and marvel at how clean this island is. I watch with great admiration as the two-man street cleaning crew begins its twice daily task of keeping this areas streets and sidewalks immaculate. First the guy with the leaf blower makes sure that all the papers, cups, leaves and other debris that has accumulated on the sidewalks is blown into the street so that the little street sweeper truck can scoop it all up. In the early hours just after sunrise, the little park across the street is peppered with the ‘green men,' (wearing neon green vests) - those who are charged with cleaning, pruning, sweeping, clipping and mowing, doing their jobs. Poetry in motion!
Many of you may have been reading about how some European cities are trying to limit the number of tourist that flock to their cities. Of greatest concern is how many large cruise ships there are that now pull into small ports and discharge upwards of five thousand passengers per ship. The mayors and city councils are all too aware of the fact that these tourists do not contribute much to the economy since they seldom purchase meals or other high ticket items, choosing instead to bring food from the ship to eat in the public places of these towns or returning for meals on the ship. Venice, Barcelona, Nice, and many Greek Islands have all set caps on the number and size of ships that can visit their cities. Just this week the mayor of Nice announced that beginning July 1 of this year no ship with more that 900 passengers will be allowed to visit the city. He said the passengers on the larger ships that, “pollute and dump their low-cost clients” in ports of call have no place in the French region.” Here in Funchal we have watched in amazement at just how many tourists can arrive all at once. Today there are three ships in harbor with a total passenger population of 9,500! When that happens, and it happens every four-five days, the town has a very different feel. The passengers are either German or British and can be identified easily. The Brits are loud, sunburned and casually dressed, meaning they are wearing flip flops and tank tops. (It appears no one told them there is no beach in Funchal.) The Germans are - well, German - in mismatched shorts and tops, wearing sandals with socks, and oblivious to their surroundings. What they have in common is the propensity to sit at an outdoor cafe for hours with just a coffee or beer! We have spoken to several taxi drivers who think that they add nothing to the economy; certainly they don’t take taxis.
We had a spell of foul weather, lots of rain and wind, and I thought, "well why not get a haircut, - it is, after all, an indoor event." I wandered out between storms towards a place where I thought I had seen a lighted barber pole. It started raining so I took off my glasses which were getting rather wet and saw the pole and sign that read Old School on the shop window. Old school is just fine with me so I walked in and was told to come back in twenty minutes for my haircut. I arrived at the appointed time and was directed to a small waiting area Where I put on my now dry and clean glasses. What to my wondrous eyes should appear but a much clearer vision: The sign which really read Old Skull! The next thing I noticed was that other than the skeletons of a large cobra and huge mongoose encased in glass, I was the oldest thing in the room by at least fifty or sixty years! The young kids getting their haircuts were all getting fades or something like that; in any event I knew that was not the look I wanted. The young barbers all had one thing in common and that was their extensive tattoos covering every exposed part of their bodies, legs, arms, shoulders, etc. I was trying to decide if I should just get up and leave when a well-dressed young man came up, called my name and shook my hand. Well I’ve always been a sucker for courtesy so I followed him to his work area. He had greeted me with Bom Gia, which is Brazilian Portuguese for Bom Dia so I asked him where he was from in Brazil (I did this in Portuguese, if you please). He was delighted I knew the difference and he also knew I didn’t speak Portuguese so he spoke to me in perfect English and we established what I wanted and we were off to the races. I got a perfectly lovely haircut, so says Cindy, and had an interesting experience to boot!
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