Azores 2026 - A Final Walk and Thoughts On The Trip

I awoke early and lay there for a while wondering what to do. We didn’t have to leave for the airport until noon so there was time for something. I thought of trying for another swim. I considered a neighbourhood walk. The prospect of a hot beverage and some writing held some appeal. But there was one thing left on our list we’d hoped to do - a walk along the Lagoa oceanfront trail, which we had discovered during our last trip, and I had thought about many times since then.

Ana decided to pass, so I drove a whole five minutes to the start of the trail, which is at the restaurant Ondas do Mar. It was a beautiful morning, overcast but warm, and almost no wind. The trail is not long, maybe a kilometres or two, but it is a good one to take slow and absorb the surroundings: the pitted and black basaltic volcanic rock, the gorgeous natural ocean pools, the vegetation crawling across the ground, the sundial, the ocean vistas, but also the man-made phenoms facing landward – a large animal feed factory and towering grain silos, an urban farm field leaking farm smells, perfectly sculpted volcanic rock walls, the rocky backyards of homes backing onto the trail.

I took my time and savoured every step as I considered our visit.

These last two trips here have felt much more like slices of living in the Azores than vacations. We have gotten to know the family here much better and spend a lot of time with them doing family things. There have been the administrative tasks, then this time a funeral, not things you are usually required to do on vacations. We’ve also avoided as much of the tourist stuff as possible (except for the caves this time).

We have now been visiting the Azores together for over 25 years. I can’t even remember how many trips we’ve made during this time, maybe 7 or 8? During the first trips we were overwhelmed with everything we saw. The one big question we had was, “Where are all the tourists?” It just had so much to offer and the only visitors were expatriated Azoreans returning home to see their families. There wasn’t a single American chain restaurant on Sao Miguel the first time we came. I felt like I’d discovered a lost world. And I still don’t believe the Azoreans really knew what they had back then. But I think they probably do now.

What’s changed on Sao Miguel? Well, for starters, there are way more cars on the island. This was particularly evident this trip. Every street is jammed with parked cars. Streets that used to be clear or maybe had a car or two are now packed from top to bottom. Cars park on every available space from boulevards to vacant lots to sidewalks, sometimes making a street impassable to anything but the smallest vehicles. Tio Manuel’s neighbour has five people living in the house and five vehicles. Many other households are like this too. I don’t know how this can go on, and I suspect it won’t be long before the government has to put some tough policies in place to slow the growth as it is not sustainable. But it does seem to be a clear sign that people here are generally doing well, at least financially. The other bizarre thing is they are overwhelmingly gas cars. This is on an island powered by clean geothermal electricity. Something has gone terribly wrong with government policy. I always imagined the government here would someday outlaw gas passenger vehicles. But then cousin Tiago told us that it is illegal to leave a power cord on the sidewalk connecting your vehicle to your home. But since the vast majority of people do not have garages and use public street parking, how are they supposed to charge their vehicles? It is a messy situation.

Another change is the prices. Prices are generally higher than they were before (like everywhere) and it is no longer a cheap place to visit. Saying that, there are spectacular deals on a few things; namely cheese, beer, wine, bananas, some vegetables, and bread. Meat, fish, and most vegetables are about the same as home. Gas and clothes are way more, as is the dollar store type stuff and specialty items. The cost of housing has rocketed up, like pretty much every other developed country in the world.

Finally, there used to be derelict houses all over the island and beaten-up buildings, and many signs of poverty. You see very little of this now – another sign that things have improved…at least for some or hopefully most people.

What hasn’t changed is that our family considers it a difficult place to make ends meet. Everybody here has to work hard and they don’t earn a lot of money. But yet, I think most folks here have not traveled much, so really don’t know what it’s like living in other places. In fact, Ana’s cousin Carmelia who works at the university, recently asked a class of 40 how many of them had ever left the island. One person raised their hand. I think the locals see the tourists arriving here with money falling out of their pockets, and members of their families who emigrated to the US or Canada decades ago returning with money to spend (but possibly returning home broke…). It’s easy to get the wrong impression and assume the money comes easy everywhere else. I don’t think that’s the case. It seems to me there are as many opportunities in the Azores as there is anywhere else…maybe more. The opportunities for enrichment are here, but you can also choose to take a traditional job, live modestly, and have a pretty damn good life, going to the beach when you want, never having to shovel snow, sleeping with your windows open, breathing clean air, eating natural and locally grown food, drinking great water from your kitchen tap, and having access to decent public health care and schools.

Would we ever live here? Probably not, at least not permanently. But I see us continuing to spend time here, and probably longer stretches when we eventually wind down our work careers. My most compelling dream is to sail our boat here one spring and spend the entire summer in Sao Miguel, as well as exploring the other eight islands of the Azores, five of which we have never been to.

I thought about all this and more as I walked.

And now as I try to capture these thoughts in words, I also consider what I would like to do here on future visits. It’s good to make notes for Future Kris and Future Ana to read next time they are planning a trip.

Here are a few ideas:

• Get close up to one of the geothermal power plants on the island
• Get a tour of the Salcicor meat factory in Feteiras
• See how the mobile milking operation works for the cows grazing at the tops of the volcano craters
• Spend some time with the craftsman building the volcanic stone walls
• Do more scuba diving (I’ve only been once, many years ago)
• Go to a play or art or cultural event
• Visit in the summer to do snorkelling along the coastlines
• Do many more of the official trail walks (there are 30 of them)

Azores 2026 - The Window to Hell

Yesterday’s merrymaking was of such ferocity that Ana and I decided we needed to do a morning trail walk. I had my heart set on the Janela do Inferno (Window to Hell) trail, as it sounded so metal and wicked. By the end, it was a nearly three-hour affair, through eight kilometres of such a variety of landscapes it was hard to believe. It began with a long, slowly then rapidly ascending walk along grassy and serene meadow roads and trails with magnificent vistas over the ocean and the city of Ponta Delgada and hussies of cows to the left and right. The trail markers led us across a bridge over a dry river, then a narrow but deep valley up and down steep staircases, then into a 100-metre-long dark concrete tunnel that required crouching walking and had half a foot of muck and water in some spots, which put Ana in a dark mood indeed after we emerged and the natural light exposed the filthy condition of her favourite white fashion sneakers. In fact, I took a look into her eyes and I think I saw a window into hell, so maybe that’s where they got the name.

From here we entered a forest with a few more tunnels and a huge, ancient aqueduct. The midpoint of the forest trail was the actual window into hell, which was simply a big hole in a cliff from which water spouted and, surprisingly, there seemed to be a series of water collection systems pipes that, I assume, that formed part of the municipal water collection system. The path eventually exited the forest and we were back into grassy meadows and cows, then after a while ended up on a steep downhill road, then an equally steep path that was muddy, washed out, and rather grown in, suggesting we had lost our way, but then it emerged in the town of Remedios, where we found trail markers and scrambled up and down some steep streets, then popped out right where we had parked the car at the trailhead. The good news is Ana was able to clean her shoes back at Tio Manuel’s house, bringing them and her mood back to pristine condition. I checked her eyes again and the regular window into sweet heaven had returned.

Tio Luis and Geneveva stopped in for a visit as we hoovered up some of the many leftovers for lunch. Sadly, they were unable to make the party the previous day, but they were probably still cleaning up their house after the smashing party they hosted the weekend before.

Ana had a few things to do so I found a bit of time to sneak out to the beach. I had my goggles and had hoped the ocean had flattened with the low winds so I could explore the underwater world. But it was rougher than I expected, and I was the only person on the entire beach. I walked in up to my knees, then had a flash of a rip current pulling me out to sea, or a wave rolling me over, or some other unfortunate accident, and got completely spooked. Strange, I can’t ever remember me making such a mature decision concerning the prospect of a glorious, but risky, ocean swim. Am I growing up? I hope not.

After I returned and got cleaned up, we realized we had a bit of time before yet another scheduled evening event. So Ana and I went first to Tia Ana’s local church where Ana magnificently worked through some funeral and will administration with the priest, then we drove to the town of Caloura, which is home to one of our favourite watering holes on the island, and enjoyed a plate of mussels and a drink to the sound of the ocean waves crashing into the volcanic rocks, right below the restaurant deck.

After picking up Ana’s folks we drove to Ana Margarida’s house for the final evening meal and final event of our trip. I thought maybe it was going to be a memorial sort of thing for Tia Ana, but it was just a nice meal together with various members of her family, and such a kind gesture from a remarkable lady who took care of Ana’s aunt right to the very end and beyond.

We returned to base camp sometime after 10:30 and found Natercia there waiting for us. There is nobody, and I mean nobody I have ever met who has as much energy as Natercia. Sadly, I was demolished and said a quick hello and goodbye then retired upstairs, leaving Ana and her folks to finish up the evening.

Tomorrow, we return to Canada.

Azores 2026 - Dinner for Breakfast and a Sunday Extravaganza

Our original plan to visit Restaurant Faria in Ribeira Grand for the Sunday morning rise and shiner dinner for breakfast, but the owner was on holidays so they were temporarily closed. That was a real bummer as our breakfasts here had become one of the highlights of recent trips. Imagine arriving at a slightly skudgy Portuguese café restaurant at 7am, being promptly served a large metal pitcher of red wine, baskets of fresh bread, then told the day’s meal options include octopus stew, beef stew, potato and chorizo soup, fried rabbit, fried fish. There is no menu. There are no prices. One time we went there with a crew of twelve and to make space for us, the owner kicked out two local dudes who were taking up a four-person table. They just had to find someplace else to sit. The wine pitchers are instantly refilled when they run empty, as are the bread baskets. You can wipe your mouth and fingers on the tablecloth. About two thirds of the way into your meal you realize two things. First, you are getting rapidly wasted on red wine on Sunday morning. Second, you’ve misunderstood breakfast your entire life.

Well, cousin Paul Fernando, as usual, delivered. He told me to be at his house at 6:30 am and we’d be going to a similar restaurant, but in Porto Formoso. Nobody else on my team wanted to go, so it was just Paul, Natercia, and me. In twenty minutes (a very, very, very long ways to travel for breakfast for typical Sao Migueleans), we arrived at Silenco Das Palavras, which Paul Fernando pronounced to me very solemnly as we entered.

“Silence of the Words?” I asked.

“Silence of the Words.”

I thought about it for a second.

“What does it mean?”

“I have no idea.”

It didn’t matter. Of course Paul and Natercia knew most of the people there, including the server, and he quickly seated us at a long table then brought out a big jug of red wine. The venue was smaller than Restaurant Faria, but nicer, and very cozy. Paul Fernando had warned me earlier that this place only served soup, like that was going to make any difference to my enthusiasm for a winey Azorean breakfast. The soup was served in steel bowls, and was mostly broth, collards, potatoes, carrots, and other floating substances which were difficult to identify, but  worked together to produce a formidable and delicious soup. As I was into a few spoonfuls, the server returned with a plate for each of us that contained the reason for the deliciousness of the broth – boiled meats. There were ribs, pigs feet, and shingles of beef. I did an autopsy on the pigs feet with my fork, teasing out as much flesh as I could and tossing it into my soup. I can confirm that pigs have a hell of a lot more meat on their asses than in their feet. I did the same with the beef and ribs, sucked the bones, then gobbled up the rest of the soup, with the help of the fresh bread as sponges.

We had a lovely meal together, and it was only ruined when Paul Fernando said he had to take a leak then snuck away and paid the bill. I will have my revenge.

Before driving back, we stopped at the port area and then beach area of Porto Formoso. I had never been here before and it was lovely, especially the beach which was devoid of humans and being punished by the large boiling waves crashing into the black sand, crafting a different beach. We stopped at their favourite café/gas station on the way back and enjoyed espressos and a pastel de nata. Yes, it is possible to get fantastic coffee, not to mention fancy liquors, gifts, and baked goods at a gas station.

Once back at base camp, the cousins started arriving and all flew into action, as today was the John and Maria Borges sponsored family home picnic. A lot of things started to happen. A raging wood fire was started in the brick oven. Squash and apples were skinned and cubed, other squash were halved, buttered, sugared, and doused with port wine. Potatoes peeled and boiled, onions fried. Coleslaw made. Trays of natas, pumpkin pie, rice pudding, Halloween monster cookies, and cakes were brought in from vehicle trunks. Tables were assembled, clothed, chaired, and set. Music was queued. Yams were foiled and fired, as were the squash apple casseroles. Mini-chorizos were bbq’d. Buns were sliced. Trays of cooked chickens and fried fish were purchased. Wine bottles were uncorked. Beers were opened. Juice was poured.

It was a magnificent affair. Everybody came. It lasted all day and into the night. An Azorean family jamboree. A jantarian extravaganza. Uma festa do comida e bebidas e amor.

Best, none of the Borges/Olson contingent had the requirement to report to work the next day.

Azores 2026 - The Poem is Discovered

It was a new day.

After a bunch of yelling and screaming over breakfast figuring out the plan for the day (btw, the Portuguese to English translation of “discuss” is “yelling and screaming”), I drove Maria to her older sister’s house for a visit. Her name is also Maria, like most Portuguese women, but hers was stylized as “Maria de Luz” which is very bright and cheery and means Maria of the Light. I asked Ana if anybody ever went the other way and called their kid Maria of the Darkness or Maria do Inferno, or something similarly sinister, for when you have a bad, bad feeling about that baby. Seems they don’t. It must be their inherently optimistic nature.

I returned to the house, picked up Ana, and we went to the Sunset Beach café for coffee. I do not drink coffee at home, but when in Europe I allow myself to indulge, and it is always heavenly. People here know how to make it properly (without being called anything fancy like Barista). I just need to ensure my coffee dates are sporadic so I don’t get hooked on that wickedly addictive substance again.

Ana and I went to Maria de Luz’s house and had a nice visit with her and her husband Lionel. And, as I fully expected, when Ana asked her about the long lost poetry and plays of her grandfather, she said, “Sure, I have a copy of one of his poems, it’s right over here,” then plucked a paper booklet from a shelf and gave it to us. I'd had this feeling the only place we’d find a copy of it was shoved in a box in one of the aunts or uncle’s homes. And here it was. I had thought he had written a play, but it was actually a 45 stanza poem. And we now had it, written in 1951 by Luiz de Medeiros Cabrinha, Ana’s grandfather. It is a two-part poem, the first describing the event, and the second a mother’s lament for her dead son. It is powerful and sad. Ana is so grateful we were able to track it down. I did an initial translation with AI but am going to do more work on it before posting it here.

From here we drove to the central market to pick up vegetables for the big family dinner we’d be hosting tomorrow. While there, I realized I was slinging out the Portuguese today like the fish guy was slinging sardines. I was small talking with vendors. I was negotiating. I was counting bananas. I was striking up conversations with strangers. Back at Tia Maria’s I had been making jokes and they were actually laughing, and not just politely. Damn, it’s fun to have a good Portuguese day. Maybe it was the one week of full immersion in the language, but something definitely clicked. Yet another reminder that learning a language while not immersed will only take you so far…and it’s not that far.

After the ladies did some souvenir shopping we stopped for lunch at a downtown café then headed home. The distances here are incredibly short; you are rarely more than a fifteen minute drive away from anything.

We had a bit of time to consume before our 7:30 date at family friends Cidalia and Francisco’s house, so Tio Manuel got out the anise-infused moonshine and we had a couple of shots. Maria also partook, and the healing booze seemed to instantly straighten out her back, improve her mood, and put some spring in her step. Magic stuff.

We had a lovely evening of eating, drinking, laughing, and extremely loud and fast storytelling with Cidalia, Francisco, their son, wife, and new beautiful baby, Paul Fernando, Natercia. I tried to keep up as best as I could, but by the end of the night those aerodynamic Portuguese words were entering one ear, whizzing right past my brain, and exiting the other side without registering anything. And because I was driving, I didn’t have the luxury of using any alcoholic elixir to slow down life speed to an understandable velocity. So I sat in sweet ignorance, still having fun listening to the rhythm and cadence of the language, picking up what I could, but putting down little.

Azores 2026 - Great Sadness Followed by Great Joy

Ana had such a good sleep she is considering only sleeping every second night from here on in. Her nocturnal hours are regularly dominated by bathroom breaks, sweaty hot flashes, jerking around, yanking sheets off me, closet rearranging, checking her phone, thrashing, moaning, and sometimes just flat out studying the swirling popcorn ceiling finish with wide-eyed insomnia. Fortunately, there was really nothing left to do for today’s funeral so she was able to sleep in and catch up on a few of the previous evening’s lost hours.

Today, on our second attempt, and with the help of Tio Manuel, we were able to do what we needed to do with our banking in Vila Franca, then we took him out for coffee at the marina and enjoyed a lovely visit. He is the eldest brother in my mother-in-law Maria’s family and we have become very close with several branches of the Medeiros/Cabrinha clan over the years, both in Canada and here in the Azores. What runs through the family is a spirit of kindness and generosity and the unstoppable ability to have fun. They are a crazy bunch and we are very fortunate to be part of it.

After lunch back at home we all dressed up in the best clothes we had (hadn’t packed much for funeral attire) and went to the chapel early to greet attendees. Ana Margarida had spent the night there and got a reasonable amount of sleep on the provided leather couches as she kept Tia Ana company.

The service was quite short and obviously all in Portuguese, using a lot of religious language that was hard for me to follow, but Ana told me he knew Tia Ana well and spoke of her dedication to the Church, her generosity, and her kind nature and that she would be sadly missed by the entire community.

I need time to process all that happened in the previous 24 hours. I feel my earlier thoughts and assumptions about the Portuguese relationship with death were not accurate. Or let’s say they were incomplete. They certainly have been challenged and expanded.

The sadness of the day was followed up by great happiness and joy at a family gathering at Tio Luis (Tio Manuel’s youngest brother) and Tia Geneveva’s home. This was planned earlier in the week and happened to come at exactly the right time. It was an explosion of food, drinks, chatter, garden tours, and a whole lot of male grandchildren of various ages that together comprise Tio Luis’s personal clone army – all wirey, muscled, handsome, and smiling all the time. One of the two granddaughters was there – Iris – who is a real beauty and said to be regularly first in line at the late night dance clubs. I’m sure Stella and Iris would get along famously, and I hope they get a chance to meet soon.

It was a tough day followed up by an exceptionally fun night.

Azores 2026 - We Lost A Special Person Today

Tia Ana survived the night and in the morning I took John to the hospital to see her. The two Ana’s hadn’t gotten much (if any) sleep, so I took my Ana for a walk to the nearby Parque Atlantico mall for a strong coffee and some food while John and Ana Margarida maintained vigil. Ana wanted to stay until the end so I took John back to the house then went down to the beach to enjoy the beautiful, sunny day. I always imagine we will have a lot of down time on these trips but it never works out like that as our schedule quickly fills up with family events and outings. But this morning, it was just me and the giant waves and the black sand and my thoughts. I enjoyed the time immensely and considered many things. Sailing to the Azores. Our kids visiting the island as adults. The eventuality of death. Learning to surf. Not being at work. The stickiness of sand. The difficulty of learning Portuguese. When did I last shave?

The mind roams and wanders.

I returned home to pick up Ana’s mom and took her to the hospital to see Tia Ana. I circled the area hunting for a parking spot, which took a very, very long time. At 2pm Ana messaged me with the news that her aunt had passed away.

The world had just lost a loving, joyful, beautiful person.

From here, things moved very quickly. Within a few hours the funeral had been completely arranged for the following day and Tia Ana was prepared and transported to the chapel at the cemetery. Ana and I made a quick stop at home for dinner, then packed up the elders and we all returned to the chapel to greet visitors for several hours.

It had been a mentally and physically exhausting day. But we felt very lucky this had happened while we were here visiting instead of having to grieve from afar.

Azores 2026 - Western Tour

There’s always a certain amount of administration for us to do when we visit here. We have a Portuguese bank account which is used to pay taxes on the land we own, and we have a family member here as power of attorney on it, which requires period updating or changing. Ana is a Portuguese citizen so her citizenship card and passport expire regularly, as do her parents’. All of these require trips to banks or a variety of government offices, which means we have become relatively adept at carrying out this administration, but quite used to discovering we’re missing that one document (at home, filed away) required to finish things off. Today, we made the first attempt to sort out a banking issue in Vila Franca (as the nearby branch had permanently closed about a week ago). It was a bust. We’d need to return tomorrow with Ana’s uncle Manuel to sign a document.

After the banking, we took the folks on a little island tour. As we passed by our land in Feteiras, we saw a healthy crop of 12 foot tall bamboo cane growing on it, which we should be cutting down for the neighbour’s sake, but we discovered a few years ago that if we let it grow, the municipality will eventually cut it down for us, haul it away and they don’t charge anything. Each time we visit the Azores we are faced with a decision on what to do with this land. And each time we decide to do nothing. The land has a sweeping view to the south overlooking the beauty and terror of the Atlantic Ocean. It is a large lot, perfect for building a house we could use for ourselves or to rent. It is located in a quiet part of the island, but still only a ten minute drive from the airport and fifteen from downtown Ponta Delgada. The only drawback is the town. Feteiras is nice, but it is very sleepy, and there is not much of interest to walk to. It is a perfect getaway location to reconnect with your inner thoughts and think about life and all that, but you need to drive or take the bus to get anywhere interesting or see mammals other than cows. We’ll see.

We drove to the western end of the island along a series of winding and scenic secondary roads, passing through the towns of Relva, Feteiras, Candelaria, Ginetes, and finally to Mosteiros, and after a little tour around the coastline, went to the restaurant we always visit here, but it was unexpectedly closed. So we found another, which turned out to be just as good, and had a terrific view over the ocean. John and I had the local swordfish, which was delish, Ana had a pork dish, and Maria ordered this breaded chicken platter that came with enough food for three people. The Portuguese like to slap a fried egg on top of their meals (which I think you should eat first), and Maria kept moving her fried egg around on her plate. It originally sat on the chicken and was plump and plucky. She moved it off the chicken and atop her fries then ate a piece of chicken. Then she moved it atop the rice and ate some fries. Then she plopped it right on her salad and ate some rice then some fries. When she was about to put it back on the rice to eat some salad I intercepted it with my fork. By this time it was punctured, limp, and melancholy so I ate the whole thing in one bite and put it out of its misery. She seemed relieved. I was happy to assist.

Back at base camp a manageable fam jam with some of the cousins ensued, and I learned that the nature of fresh potatoes here are such that even the slightest mashing motion turns the fragile and tender beauties into thick unsightly paste. To divert attention from my disastrous potato dish, I made a joke about the old folks using the potato paste to stick in their dentures instead of the Polygrip. For some reason the Portuguese elders here all regularly remove their teeth to eat, which doesn’t make any sense at all, but in any case my joke fell flat. Maybe I butchered the delivery. Maybe they couldn’t hear me. Or maybe I’m JUST NOT THAT FUNNY. But I think it was a language thing.

At around 10:30 pm Ana received a call from her aunt’s best friend and caregiver Ana Margarida. The news was that her aunt’s conditioned had worsened considerably and she was back in the hospital. Ana and I drove there immediately to see her and could see it would not be long. I returned home at 12:30 and Ana stayed with Ana Margarida to be with Tia Ana throughout the night.