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Costa da Morte

פֿאַרעפֿנטלעכט: 15.08.2023

Besides the snoring of the late neighbor, we were awakened by the opening of his sliding door early in the morning. Once outside, he peed in front of the car and then went back inside. We agreed to leave quickly, we will brew our coffee elsewhere. When leaving, we saw people everywhere in the bushes, relieving themselves and throwing toilet paper into nature. Not my camping world! Up above the bay, we finally had coffee for ourselves.

The journey continued to Costa da Morte, a new attempt to find a nice little town. In the end, we ended up in Arou, in a parking lot by the village beach. Thanks to the rather mixed weather, the place was hardly visited. After a short walk, we treated ourselves to a lunch snack at the village restaurant. The service was super friendly and the food was really delicious.

The turquoise water and the raised green flag invited us to swim. On a day like this, the naming of the coast is completely incomprehensible. Della encountered the highly poisonous Portuguese jellyfish with 1000 stinging cells per square centimeter of surface area while swimming. But it looks pretty blue.

In the afternoon, we took the bicycles to the neighboring town of Camelle, where there is a Museo do Alemán. Manfred Gnädinger emigrated to the village in 1952 at the age of 26 and seems to have convinced the people here, as they still operate the museum and his house remains untouched 21 years after his death. An approaching drizzle made us return.

The next morning, we decided to stay for another day and have a day at the beach. The yellow flag was raised at the beach, larger waves came in than the day before, and they broke quite vigorously.

More and more people populated the beach and bathed in the waves. At some point, the desire to swim overcame the respect for the jellyfish. It was wonderfully beautiful in the waves and my nose was rinsed thoroughly. The second round with the bodyboard was also a lot of fun, as the flood tide created some higher waves again.

Recently, we learned that the Spaniards like it close. When we returned from bathing, someone had stood so close that we couldn't even get in. A few hundred meters further, there was another parking lot right by the harbor, which we promptly headed to.

There we stood alone, overlooking the sea, cooked a delicious pasta with tuna, and enjoyed the evening with a glass of red wine.

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