Four days of photos in Faro

As I type this, the last of the sunburn is fading from my pale Irish skin, returning me to my natural state of being paler than a ghostly apparition. The weather is currently overcast, and rain is on the way, much like it was a couple of weeks ago when I was unexpectedly added to a WhatsApp group chat with two of my friends, followed by the message, “Guys, there are cheap flights to Faro next week.” The idea intrigued me, so I ran with it to see where it would lead.

To be honest, I thought we’d just talk about it, maybe plan it a bit, and then quietly abandon it — as these things usually go. But after a few hours of back-and-forth texts, lo and behold, we had booked the trip. Happy days!

Fast forward five days, and our flight touches down around 8pm at the crowded, chaotic Faro airport. (All the videos on social media are true.) After waiting two hours to get through passport control, we had officially made it.

The next morning, I woke up and the first thing I did was check for the hundredth time that my camera was charged. After making myself like civil, it was time for full tourist mode. I left the accommodation and proceeded to wander through the narrow streets and wide open squares of Faro. The first thing that struck me about this place was how peaceful the atmosphere was, despite it being a touristy town.

I caught up with my friends who had gotten up earlier (I’m not a morning person), had some breakfast, and then we decided to check out the Capela dos Ossos. (The Bone Chapel) It was both impressive and incredibly creepy, with the remains of 1200 monks arranged geometrically. You almost get the impression that all of them are watching you with the way the skulls are arranged.

Once we were weirded out enough, we strolled back towards the harbour to grab a quick coffee before catching a bus to the beach.

Normally, I’m not a beach person. Lying in the burning sun, surrounded by noise and tourists — not my idea of a holiday.

But I was pleasantly surprised to find a tranquil, picturesque stretch of sand, sparsely populated by locals and the odd tourist.

There was this little bar that was serving Pina Coladas in actual pineapples. I couldn’t resist.

Once we had been cooked enough by the sun, we headed for a small Portuguese restaurant with the nicest seafood I’ve ever had.

I spent the rest of the holiday wandering, framing shots of sun-faded buildings, reflections in motorbike mirrors, and the quiet kind of street life that happens when a place isn’t trying too hard. Faro’s got this slightly worn-in charm — chipped tiles, crooked alleyways, all glowing under the late sun. It’s the kind of place that looks best when you’re not looking for anything.