Paradise

“The true paradises are the paradises we have lost.” -Marcel Proust

I found paradise this week! It just so happened that paradise coincided with a place some of my family once called home.

When I tell people about my family background, and ask them if they’ve heard of the Azores, I am long used to the dumb looks I am given. “What are you talking about?” When I tell them they are islands in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, the inevitable, “There are islands there?” comes up. I am then subjected to getting out my phone, and zooming in on their location 900 miles west of the Iberian Peninsula. “Oh, there are islands there.” You think I’d lie to you? But, in all honesty, after having visited the islands for the first time, I appreciate that most Americans do not know the islands exist. The islands are at their best when they’re quietest, when one can ponder on the serene atmosphere around them, while sipping a glass of wine, and munching on Azorean cheese. I found paradise this week, and I’m happy to share it with you.

Green, Green, Everywhere

I regretted not having a window seat as our plane landed at the Horta airport on the island of Faial. It felt like we were mere inches above the sparkling blue waters of the Atlantic, and as I looked to my left, I observed a cow peacefully munching on grass, unfazed by yet another plane landing right next to its home. As Shiloh, my travel partner, a fellow API student and west coaster (BEST COAST!) started walking towards Horta, we were surrounded by beautiful red roofed farmhouses, with every shade of green imaginable patch-worked in between the sporadic roads. Everything seemed so unreal! I found myself repeating those words many more times as we journeyed around Faial. It made me wish to be like my great-grandparents, who were born on this beautiful island, and got to experience this lush environment unlike any other I have experienced. They must have appreciated the looming giant, Mt. Pico, 5 miles across the water on Pico Island. They must have appreciated their hometown, Praia do Almoxarife, and its sparkling black sand beach, a stark contrast to the looming mountain, and the rolling hills surrounding it. I feel lucky that I got a chance in my lifetime to appreciate and live, even if only for four days, in this picture of pristine beauty. Keep reading for a profile of a few of my favorite three memories from Faial, my home island.

Memory 3: Horta Restaraunts

Horta is the largest town on Faial, and also one of the largest in all of the Azores. Yet, it doesn’t have that many restaurants. Luckily, the two restaurants Shiloh and I ate at in Horta were probably two of the quirkiest I have ever been to. Our first lunch was at Casa, a tea house by trade that also had sandwiches, soups, and a different unannounced lunch everyday. We got there a little early for the lunch, but ended up enjoying a delicious fruity tea along with our hors d’oeuver of a sandwich and a cheese plate. We enjoyed the ambiance, with a scraggly gray cat scratching itself outside our window in a beautiful garden with low-hanging trees and flower bushes, as the waiters walked around the restaurant barefoot. Quite frankly, this is the closest to hippie culture one can get on a tiny island in the middle of the Atlantic. We finally got our lunch, which was a vegetarian curry that was scrumptious and filling. The combination of the atmosphere and quality of the food is enough to make this restaurant a must visit in Horta. The second restaurant was maybe even better. A Arvore was listed as an all-you-can-eat buffet in my guidebooks, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. What we got was probably the most homely version of a buffet you can get. The dining room seemed like a enlarged room attached to the elderly owner’s house, with the food placed in serving trays one might see at a church potluck. You can’t go wrong with home-cooked food! I really wish I had known the names of the dishes, and had gotten recipes. The food was a delectable mix of meats in sauces, and other staple foods. I left with the largest food baby I have had in a while, after the owner wrote the bill on our paper tablecloth (how authentic!). So, while dining is hit or miss in Horta, you can’t go wrong with these two restaurants.

Memory 2: Praia do Almoxarife

Imagine the scene: You ride your moped up a steep hill, enjoying the wind whipping in your face and the smell of the countryside, and then you look to your right, and see a tiny hamlet of red-roofed buildings surrounded by green fields full of grazing cattle. There is not a person in sight, except for a few stragglers sunning themselves on a beautiful black sand beach. As you look at the beach, you look to your left, and see a stately 300 year old church colored with the sharpest blacks and whites around. You then look to your right, and see the omnipresent Mt Pico, its top peeking above a layer of fluffy cotton-white clouds. This was the peace and quiet of Praia do Almoxarife, only 2 miles north of Horta, yet completely isolated due to the bluff jutting between the two cities. It is probably the most breathtaking beach I have ever been to. This town is where my grandfather was born in 1923. Although he was only 1 month old when his family left for the United States, I’m sure he was with me in spirit to enjoy the beauty of where he was born. I felt at home in this place, and I guess that makes sense. Home is wherever your roots have been buried, no matter how deeply. I was in awe the entire time I was there, imagining my great-grandparents living here in the shadow of Pico with azure water beckoning to the farmers in their fields to take a break and enjoy their surroundings.

Memory 1: A Scooter Trip

One of the days, our goal was to make it to the Caldeira do Faial, and hike around its rim. The weather seemed promising, and we would have amazing views! The problem? It is a half-an-hour drive uphill, a distance we really couldn’t walk. So, Shiloh and I made a pretty decent decision (if I do say so myself). We rented a scooter. Our little banana. I’m still not sure we were legally able to rent it. I’m also sure we were supposed to have experience. The guy didn’t care. He gave us a 30 second tutorial on how to use it, we gave him 25 euros, and off we were to scooter heaven. Luckily, the scooter was easy to drive. To me, it handled and had controls like a ride-able lawnmower (well maybe not handled, it couldn’t do donuts…) With Shiloh driving, we made it the rim of Caldeira in record time, with a cool breeze in our face, as I held my arms out in euphoria, whizzing by pastoral scenes of green. The Caldeira itself was stunning, as the weather remained clear, and we had views of the whole island, of Mt. Pico, and the Atlantic Ocean as we circumnavigated its perimeter. I got my chance to drive on the way down, as we took the scooter everywhere we could before we returned it at 3 pm. It honestly made me want to buy a Vespa right then and there, and spend the rest of my days riding it around the world. I had to settle for using it to tour the natural beauty of Faial, one of the most beautiful, if not the most beautiful, place I have ever been. My family may have left paradise 100 hundred years ago, but now I have found what was once lost.

END NOTES

Thank you for reading! Please subscribe clicking the button in the bottom right corner to get e-mail updates about when I post! This is the first of three in a series of the three P’s of the Azores. Next: Pico. Look for that one before this week has ended. I hope you are enjoying me writing, and also feel free to leave feedback so that I can improve! School starts for me tomorrow, so I apologize if I slow down a bit on this blogging my thing, but I’ll try my best to uphold to my promise of one post a week. Until next time!

Jeremy Caldeira