Geeky Yet Waterproof

Yesterday we arrived at the destination it took us five days at sea to reach: Funchal. Funchal is on the island of Madeira, which is owned by Portugal and is located about 300 miles off the coast of Africa.

Now, there’s something exciting about being in a new country where they speak a language that you don’t. I’ve been studying Portuguese for the last few weeks, so I know a smattering — just enough to say some basic phrases and read signs, like “Insert card”, and “Card rejected” (more on that later).

One of the first things we did when we got on the island was to buy a phone card so we could call my dad back home. It was a struggle to communicate with the man running the stand, since the only English he seemed to know was “card”, but in the end we had the card and he had the euros.

It was then that we realized the current time in Oregon was 3am. OK, time to explore Madeira and come back in six hours.

The island is basically a steep mountain coming out of the sea. There’s a funicular that takes you up to the top, and the view is amazing — and terrifying. The highest the cable car goes from the ground is several hundred feet, but the view alone isn’t all that makes it scary — it’s the wobbling.
When you get near the top, you can see the whole side of the island, including the two cruise ships that were docked at the port.

We spent about an hour at the top of the island, looking at the sights, walking through the Jardim Imperador (”Emperor Garden”?), poking through souvenir shops, and wondering at strange hats which had what looked like a knit antenna on top. And of course, asking for directions in English (as all good tourists ought to do).

But the back way down the mountain was a little more unique than the way up: the most popular mode of transportation is to slide all the way down (2km) in a big wicker basket with two guys on the back supposedly steering.
This concept was just too good to miss. But by the time we got there, all the steersmen(?) were walking back down the road and, worst of all, had removed their signature hats. I asked one of them, “Voce fala ingles?”, to which the answer was “nao”. But they explained in Portuguese that it was finished for the day, and would start up again tomorrow. And surprisingly, I understood it!
We ended up taking a taxi back down the mountain, which was probably as close to a Disneyland ride as the wicker baskets would have been; if you’ve ever been to Europe, you’ll know how narrow the alleys are. Now imagine slanting the ground down at 30°. OK, now drive a car through it at 40mph — with no seat belts!

But of course, any good foreign travel story has to contain some mention of food. And this one is no exception.
During the ride down, our taxi driver advised us to try the Madeira “espada” (swordfish) while we were there. We ended up going to a mall and eating in a food court. But it was some of the best fish, potatoes, and fried banana I’d ever tasted.

After we had eaten, it was time to start heading back to the ship. But first we decided to give the phone booth another try; the time was now 9am in Oregon.
We took a look at our phone card, which said to “insert into slot with chip facing up”. We took a look at the phone. No slot. We dialed some 20 digit numbers that were on the back of the card, and managed to deactivate the card completely. It was then that we noticed the phone on the other side of the booth, which appeared to be about 10 years newer — and it had a slot. A friendly message saying “Introduza um cartao” prompted us to insert the card, which was immediately rebuked with “Cartao recusado!”.
Several 1-euro coins later, we had made a successful call to the States. And the moral: “the phone is always newer on the other side.”

We boarded the ship again at about 5pm, after spending eight hours in Europe. Tomorrow, we’ll be in Lisbon, Portugal, where I’ll have another chance to try out my Portuguese. Until then, I’ll be studying*!

*Except when I’m watching Nacho Libre, floating in the hot tub, pigging out on Filipino food, playing Guitar Hero, or laying out in the sun. Don’t sue me.