Albufeira is a place I’ve visited three times in my life: the first time as a rest stop after a festival, the second time as a pre-holiday to a festival and the final time, June 2026, with a group of my friends, a villa, some duty-free drinks and a lifetime of memories.
The heat when you step off the plane, it is said to have some healing powers; it takes away all your worries, adjusts your sleep schedule to “no rest”, your money becomes monopoly money and last of all, there is just the happiness you feel being anywhere but home. Of course, for a third time visit it also felt like home away from home.
The day started off slow; you get your groceries, figure out the pool, where things are, who sleeps where, and once everyone finally settles, you get an overwhelmed feeling of, where do I begin.
Usually, I would be pulling out my notes app and creating an itinerary; we were a group of seven, and there was no way in my mind we could coordinate actual plans without one. But instead, I headed for the pool, the pool that would become the hotspot for everyone. The heat would be beaming down on us as we played Marco Polo, or I forced my partner into mermaids with me as the sun set. Then there would be the rush inside to make a quick sandwich before showering and changing for the strip. This became a routine, at least for the most part, with various activities we would choose to do in the day.
The strip. Now, you may wonder why a 25-year-old would care for a strip, but back when we first went to Albufeira, the strip wasn’t what it is today. It wasn’t a British party holiday destination, but a strip of locals and people from all over. Despite the British finding this new party destination, we got dressed, drank our duty-free drinks and made our way to join the rest.
There’s a bar there; it’s called Mojo, and we met the owner the first time we went. We thought he wouldn’t recognise us, but we thought, why not see anyway, and he did. It’s funny how you remember people you meet a couple of times and assume they wouldn’t remember you, but they do; it makes me wonder how many people have stories of me. Maybe I’m the villain in someone’s story. But that’s okay because not this one.
Albufeira had a lot to offer, including boat trips that take you along the coast. Now, in hindsight, a boat trip hungover was not a good idea, but I got up and dragged my sorry butt there. Between needing to sit down and trying not to throw up or fall overboard, I saw the most beautiful caves and coastlines. In that moment, despite feeling like a cautionary tale, I was reminded of how beautiful nature is, how lucky I am to be witnessing it and how grateful I am to be there despite how lost and imperfect I felt in that moment. Sometimes, the universe just lines up perfectly to show you something so amazing when inside you feel so defeated. Beauty doesn’t wait for you to be ready.
After a few pool days, a beach day, and a small town wander, I decided I wanted to go to a castle and a cathedral, so a couple of my friends and I did just that. What I didn’t anticipate was the hills I would have to climb to get there, but regardless, we walked our way up. We climbed up the castle, took in the views and tried not to collapse from heat stroke.
I love adventure, but I fear adventure. Sometimes I lack the motivation. I think that’s why I enjoy holidays so much. The motivation is all around you; you can be whoever you want to be, do whatever you want, and you never have to see those people again. For someone who’s been running away from her past, travelling allows me to slow down, reflect and come back to myself. I can remind myself it’s okay. Albufeira has saved me every year, allowed me to come back to the peace, remind me of life outside myself. I think we all need that sometimes.
After all, travelling changes you because it forces your identity to loosen its grip.
The trip ended with a day’s exploration in Faro, an underrated city in the Algarve that doesn’t try to impress you; it just quietly does. After the chaos, the amount of Pastel de Nata consumed, the local Portuguese bitoque, seafood, sunburn, sunsets, beach trips, boat trips, castle trips and questionable drunk decisions, hangover decisions, Faro felt like a perfect way to end the trip. Cobbled streets, warm colours, slow cafes and the gentle coastal breeze.
We wandered without a plan, letting the city show us what it had to offer, and when we couldn’t handle the sun anymore, we found a local cafe and ordered plenty of mcpreggos (a glorious Portuguese sandwich).
Faro is a reminder that endings don’t have to be loud; sometimes all you need is a small cafe with all the people you love, where stories and laughter fill the silence of the end of the trip.
In the quiet between the city and the sea, the Algarve reminds me of how beautiful life is when you simply let yourself witness it.
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