Madeira was a very pleasant change for a few days. The island is almost entirely tourist focused and for good reason. On the south side it is warmer and tropical with banana, cherimoya, passion fruit, chestnut, and avocado trees, sugar cane, and other crops all terraced up the steep mountains that created the island way out at sea. I was on the 4th floor of an inexpensive hotel in the capital city Funchal. The room was more than I needed with a TV and phone, except it had no internet connection; I am getting used to very basic accommodations. While I was looking at the tram that ran above my balcony to about 2km up the mountain, I thought I would try to see if there was wireless in the neighborhood and lo and behold, if I stuck my laptop out the window I could get the lowest possible connection. With the assistance of a chair straddling the window sill I was able to have the computer safely outside the window. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Since I was only on Madeira briefly, I opted for a minibus tour (42 euros) of the west end of the island. There were only five of us and I got the front seat with operable window so I could take pictures. The island is all up or down except for a small plateau near the top of the island. I saw very few two-wheeled vehicles because, according to the guide, it was too difficult or dangerous with the steep streets. And when I say steep, I mean STEEP at times. It would be a great place to open a clutch and brake shop.
We stopped at the second highest sea cliff in the world at about 1500ft. Took a few pictures hanging off the edge and moved on to a small, not particularly notable, beach town, and then climbed over the center of the island to the north side, which looks like the mountains from “Land of the Lost.” I won’t bother trying to describe it, because I won’t do it any justice. I will only say it was awe inspiringly beautiful and lush green impossibly high mountains. At the top we were in clouds that changed by the second, allowing limited pictures unfortunately. We headed down to the sea and stopped at the, according to the guide, “the only souvenir stand I recommend.” Which of course means that he gets a cut of anything we buy. This was confirmed by the way he stood near the cashier anytime one of us made a purchase. The prices were still cheap, so I could not complain. I bought a small, molasses colored cake that was made with sugar cane, honey, and Madeira wine—very rich and tasty. For a dollar, I also tried a good sized glass of the local drink Poncha, made fresh at the stand. It is honey rum and lemon juice and goes down like punch and has a heck of a kick.
Next at Port Moniz we had lunch at a very touristy restaurant where I had scabbard fish, a very traditional meal on Madeira, and one of my new favorite fishes. The naturally formed lava rock swimming pools were closed because of the high tide had swallowed most of them. The sea was incredibly blue and the waves were huge and hypnotic to watch. Back over the mountains we saw a few of the several hundred cloud enshrouded wind turbines that cover the plateau and provide the electrical power for the island. It was weird to go up and up and up and then hit a very flat 23 sq mile plain.
Later that night I went out for the “Typical Night” tour for 30 euros. An older couple, a younger couple with a small boy, and I were the tour group. They spoke almost no English, but once again that did not prove to be a problem. It was an interesting night right from the start. At the restaurant the first thing I noticed was that there was a coat rack or two sticking 5 feet out of the middle of every table--a little odd. Dinner started with some Madeira wine of course. Garlic bread, pitchers of red and white wine came next, and then French fries, and milho fritos, which are mashed corn that is formed into cubes and fried (very tasty), salad, and then came the meat.... Four foot long skewers of sizzling beef where hung off what really are meat racks on the tables. One chock full skewer for every two people and if you managed to eat about half the skewer, they brought more. Ooof! That was a lot of meat. That was followed by your choice of fruit salad or ice cream. I opted for the green apple ice cream. The meal ended with espresso and aguardente (a brandy) and licor de aniz. Plenty of meat and alcohol that preps you for the traditional folk dancing and fado show that follows. I passed on the 5x7 picture (5 euro) of me sliding meat off the oversized skewer, just as I passed on the picture of me sitting on the tram, just as I passed on the picture of me eating dinner in Port Moniz with the traditionally dressed waitress. Like I said, they are tourist oriented and have figured out how to squeeze the maximum out of us. Well maybe from the people from the QE2 anchored in the harbor but not me.
Leaving the this morning, I was chauffeured in style to the airport as part of my package deal, got on the plane and had a slightly unnerving experience. We were about to leave when the stewardess announced that we had to wait for the ground crew. They opened the door back up and a few guys in fluorescent vests went in to talk to the pilot. After a few minutes, all but one of the crew, including stewardesses, went outside. I looked out the window and about a dozen people were standing around a guy laying under the jet engine. They opened panels, fiddled for a while, and some of the crew came back on board. The rest stood way back while the engine was cycled on and off, at times to great speed. During this procedure, the cabin systems were going on and off with lights and bells and emergency illumination blinking. This went on for about 40 minutes with not a word of explanation to the increasing anxious passengers. Then they shut the whole plane down and turned it back on again, like a Microsoft reboot. Apparently satisfied, they said, "sorry for the delay," and we took off with still no explanation. Now, I have been on many planes and I know what a jet engine sounds like. This was not normal sounding. It was a bit too motor boatish for my tastes and those of my terrified seatmate. One of the bad things about being on a mountainous island is that when you take off you are over water the moment you hit the end of the runway. Bad I say because no one has ever survived a water landing in a commercial aircraft in the history of aviation, anywhere. Those floating seat cushions are merely to make you feel better. Obviously we lived. Although for the first half hour my seatmate would sit sharply forward every minute or so and nervously verify the engine was still attached to the wing.
