Having many days of cloudy and rainy skies is new for this California girl. Last winter was non-typical and, as it turns out, so is this one. The rain and wind took a break, but the clouds lingered, keeping us in check. When Thursday rolled around and we were finally greeted with sunshine, we rolled out on an Adventure Day.
The Art of Deciding
Usually, we start with an idea of an idea, and the day reveals itself into something cohesive. This time, art led the way.
Rotunda sculptures.
Stone pavements.
Tiled walls.
Ancient stones.
And this large octopus mural.
Igreja de São Lourenço
First, we headed to the town of Almancil to see Igreja de São Lourenço. Likely dating back to the 15th century, it was first recorded as a small chapel and already considered old by the mid-1500s. Over time, it underwent repairs and rebuilding, but the church we see today came from a moment of desperation. In 1722, during a severe drought, the people of Almancil prayed to Saint Lawrence while digging a new well, promising to build him a new church if water appeared. It did—abundantly—and the promise was kept.
Construction began in the 1720s under the direction of Antão and Manuel Borges—brothers who did something unusual for the time. Instead of treating decoration as an afterthought, they planned the church around its tiles.
The azulejos, installed around 1730, were produced by Policarpo de Oliveira Bernardes, one of Portugal’s most important tile artists. They depict scenes from the life and martyrdom of Saint Lawrence, flowing across arches and vaults like a graphic novel in ceramic.
The dome, completed later, is the showstopper. So finely constructed and harmoniously tiled, it has been described as one of the most beautiful domes in Europe—often compared to those in Rome. Even the 1755 earthquake barely touched it; only a handful of tiles fell.
Amid all that blue and white, the gilding comes last. Finished in the 1740s by Algarve painters, it was one of the final layers added to the church—gold laid carefully over carved wood once the tilework was complete. It brings warmth and balance, catching the light without competing for attention.
Photos aren’t permitted inside, maybe because this is a church that wants your full attention. To get these interior photos, I bought postcards and photographed those.
From there, we walked down to a local snackbar—nothing fancy, exactly what we wanted. Coffee and a slice of the cake of the day, which happened to be orange. The kind of cake Portugal does quietly well: simple, moist, not trying too hard.
Rotunda Fun
Caffeinated and sugared, we headed west, picking up right where In Orbit left off. More artful rotundas pulled us through Quarteira and Albufeira, each one daring us to get the shot without looping back for another pass.
Quarteira
We were in pursuit of a panoramic swing—one of many on my growing Everything Bagel list. Entering the town, we passed through a rotunda announcing our arrival, then drove past an impressively large waterpark—so large it took three photos to fully capture. Parking at the beach was effortless this time of year.
The swing was exactly what it promised—set high enough to catch the view. Tom took a turn while the Atlantic stretched out before him. The beach itself told a different story, marked by visible erosion and a small landslide.
Lunch Break
By lunchtime, we were skimming the outskirts of Albufeira, but the vibe wasn’t quite right. Adventure Day lunches have to be either a bit special or a bit quirky, and this wasn’t landing as either.
Something nudged us toward Lagoa, to a place called Café Fórum, with a reassuring 4.9 rating. It turned out to be surprisingly hard to find, blending seamlessly into the ground floor of an apartment building—part pizzeria, part hideaway.
It added to the adventure. We took a wrong turn down a narrow street lined with cheerfully painted houses, passing an extraordinary flowering tree and a lemon tree heavy with fruit. The restaurant was understated from the outside, yet inside it felt comfortable and relaxed. And the food was good too!
More History Please
After lunch we were craving some old historical stuff, an old moinho on the hill reinforced the idea, and we were off to see Os Monumentos Megalíticos de Alcalar. On the way, we had a couple firsts.
We crossed Ponte Nova do Arade. Its design echoes the Ponte Internacional do Guadiana, which connects Portugal and Spain. From the bridge, the landscape opens into salt pans and river flats along the Arade.
Then we came across a remarkably narrow tunnel. The sign gave right of way to oncoming traffic, so we eased into reverse and waited. An enormous truck passed through as if it were nothing, followed by a steady stream of cars.
Os Monumentos Megalíticos de Alcalar
The megaliths at Monumentos Megalíticos de Alcalar date back more than 5,000 years, making them among the oldest structures in the Algarve. The site includes a funerary monument from the third millennium BC, alongside a much later 19th-century limekiln—evidence that this landscape has been reused and reshaped across centuries.
After rotundas, tiles, and murals, Alcalar felt like the earliest version of the same impulse—to shape space and leave meaning behind.
Mexilhoeira Grande
On our way back through Mexilhoeira Grande, a rural parish inland from Portimão, we came across something larger than a shrine but smaller than a chapel—a simple structure shaped as much by weather as by belief. Three walls offered limited shelter; inside, Bibles and small devotional objects showed the marks of dirt and rain.
The road narrowed, widened, and narrowed again, and then we were headed home. The day held together not by a plan, but by what kept catching our eye.
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