As the finer details of San Diego fade, what still echoes is curiosity—namely, people asking about our plans and us offering only vague answers. Perhaps the absence of a plan is our plan now. And after a lifetime of planning, letting go of plans sounds like a great plan to me.

Any given day in Portugal, I seem to accidentally wander into an open-air museum. Sometimes I’m sort of looking for it — murals, street art, painted walls, the odd little corners I’ve started to notice. Other times, the exhibit appears without warning.

I’ve gotten to the point where I want to take off the training wheels and put my translation app away. The problem is, I’m not always sure what I’m ordering — or what just arrived. My food literate goal is being able to recognize enough words to avoid ordering ensopado (stew) when it is espetadas (skewers) I want.

This week was a simple one, but full of little Algarve moments — bikes, friends, sunshine, views, and one very good detour.

The Alentejo had been calling, so we answered with a lunch plan. Mértola would be the destination. Everything else was negotiable.

May in the Algarve brings traditions tucked into village streets and small discoveries waiting just around the bend.