I like going to Portugal. It's always warm and sunny, the locals are never surprised or annoyed when you don't speak any Portuguese (I try, but I always end up just speaking bits of Spanish by mistake, which is probably more insulting than speaking English), and they have an abundance of waterparks. I also like waterparks.
This week in Portugal consisted of:
Saturday: Went to hotel, after much confusion finding the hire car. Cooked a nice spaghetti thing.
Sunday: Went to supermarket and picked up food. Went to bar for happy hour, staggered down to pub down the road and had terrible burgers.
Monday: Went to Parque Naturel de Rio Formosa (I think that's how it's spelt). Failed to encounter a striking member of the coot family. Did see fish jumping out of the water though. Cooked the rest of the pasta.
Tuesday: Went to Zoomarine. Ate an entire piri-piri chicken.
Wednesday: Reacquainted myself with Phantasy Star for the Master System.Visited nice restaurant in the mountains and ate wild boar and goat.
Thursday: Went to Slide and Splash. Ate pizzas for dinner.
Friday: Visited local beaches. Ate a big steak and half a pingu icecream.
Saturday: Went home.
I will look back on this epic blog post fondly. Or, more truthfully, it'll be a useful memory jogger, but little interest to anyone else. However, when currently-pregnant friends are parents of children of about 3 or 4, we may suggest a week in a villa in the Algarve for all of us, so Elissa and I can throw the small children down water slides (and so the parents at the theme parks don't look at us suspiciously).
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