Terceire, Azores: Smiles in abundance, umbrella needed
The plane touched down in high winds, and I almost wanted to cheer the pilot. Normally, I’m pretty calm in planes, but it was a wobbly landing with loads of turbulence, and we both released our breath when the little plane bumped on the tarmac.
Peeking out of the small porthole, I scanned the landscape. Luscious greens in all shades, a few hills, a blue sky and of course the Atlantic ocean stretching out majestically towards the horizon. Everthing looked a calm prisma of greens and blues.
The taxi hurdled us across the island and into the streets of Angra do Heroismo. It suited us. We needed to be at the marina asap. Our friends were arriving by sailing yacht from a long trip and the winds had given them a last day spur. Arriving at the top of the dock, we saw a classic dark blue sailing yacht making its way to the marina. Its bow cut smoothly through the waters of the Atlantic, the sun following its course.
I saw myself spending two weeks here. Sailing the Azores with my friends, on this beautiful yacht, accompanied by this beautiful weather.A lovely evening at the yacht club followed. The most fun night, full of jokes, wine and new made friendships. I was thrilled by it all.
Then the rain came.
Two weeks of rain force you to process yourself through a variety of stages: anger, despair, indifference, and finally telling yourself to stop whining. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and look at where you are.
The wind decided to join, and a 6-7 Beaufort kept us company and moored ashore. We sampled all the wine, tried most of the sympathetic restaurants and played a lot of Ludo.
The people here are special. They are full of smiles and welcoming. “Try this wine, taste these pasteis de nata. The sun shines” they joke, letting out a belly laugh while they point at the rain splattering against the windows. They are also a beautiful people, proud of the island’s rich history and not easily intimidated by the forces of nature that are an intrinsic part of their lives.
We had overloaded our backpacks with our hiking boots and we were glad for it. We spent days walking in and around Angra in a haze of rain. Climbing Monte Brasil, rambling across the old fortifications jutting out into the choppy sea, and visiting the churches that showed the cracks of the earthquake of 1980.
Our friends had to leave. We stayed. Watching the ocean, walking in the wind, and hoping for the weather to allow us on the ocean and sail around the island. Alas, 6-7 Beaufort and torrents of rain kept us company.
The day of our departure, a watery sun tentatively showed itself. In a matter of minutes, the clouds disappeared and a calm Atlantic stretched out before us. I quickly put on my hiking boots and took a last walk along the coast. The incredibly blue ocean, the green of Monte Brasil, the colourful houses and the light of the sun. It was a wink suggesting a practical joke, but an invitation to return. I smiled and filed it all away for next time.
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