Lagos – Booze, Beaches and Boats

Nic and I got off our uneventful seven hours train ride from Porto into the blazing heat of Portugal’s Algarve region at about 6pm. We had written down directions to the Rising Cock hostel, but still had a few issues finding it, due mostly to the length of the walk to the hostel, from the train station. After checking in and dumping our stuff in our room, Nic and I were both famished so we walked down the road to get some of the famous Portuguese chicken we had been recommended. It was fantastic chicken, and we felt better after eating. Well enough in fact to go back to the hostel and start drinking the three litres of Sangria we had lugged from Porto. After a few hours on the Sangria spent acquainting ourselves with the hostel and the nearly entirely Australian clientele, we decided to go to bed reasonably early due to the fact that we were booked to do the infamous Rising Cock booze cruise the next day, and we felt that we should be fairly lucid before beginning that epic, alcohol fueled adventure.

The next morning we woke up for Mamma’s famous crepes. The couple who run the hostel are known as Mamma and Pappa, and every morning mamma cooks crepes for the guests between 9:30-11:30am. They were delicious and a great way to start the day, being tasty and free. Unfortunately, while at breakfast we were given the news that the boat cruise had been postponed until tomorrow due to bad weather. Nic and I then decided to walk around the town a bit, and then head down to the beach. The town is pretty touristy, filled with middle aged English couples and Australians in their early twenties. The beach was packed, and as with pretty much all other Mediterranean beaches, lacking any real waves. It was sand though, and being surrounded by sandstone cliffs it was gorgeous, and reminded me of the 12 Apostles section of the Great Ocean road.

We got back in time to have a shower and join the rest of the hostel guests in the common room where they were putting on beer and nachos as we all sat in and watched the World Cup qualifier between Hungary and Portugal. I was barracking for Hungary as I love Budapest and hate Cristiano Ronaldo, but, to the delight of most of the establishment, Portugal won the game 1-0. After the game had finished, Nic and I had downed about 6 beers each and had started on the homemade Sangria. After a few glasses of that, it was time to head out into the nightlife of Lagos. We started at Nahnahbah, which is a restaurant/bar over the road from the rising cock, before moving on the Joes Garage, which was an absolute shit hole, but Nic’s friend worked there last year so she was told she had to go in there. I think we must have been getting double shots in our vodka and redbulls once Nic introduced herself, as the night went pear-shaped very quickly after that. Neither Nic nor I have any clarity in our recollection of the night’s events, but what we can piece together is that Nic went to the loo, I disappeared, and we caught up with each other 4 hours later in the hostel. Hmmm….

The next morning we woke up still drunk and again found out the booze cruise had been postponed due to weather. We were the President and First Lady of struggle town and were not afraid to show it. After a few crepes we went back to bed for a while and waited for the drunkness to pass and the hangover to kick in. After awaking a few hours later with the hangover having definitely arrived we went to a café down the road for a full greasy English breakfast and felt much better after that. We then made our way down to the beach, where we both fell asleep for most of the afternoon. By the time dinner rolled around, Nic and I both felt that we could do with something mildly healthy, so after walking around for a while staring blankly at restaurants we decided on a Japanese buffet. It was better than it sounds, as they made everything for you as you ordered it, so nothing had been sitting in the buffet for hours. It was absolutely delicious, and because of the “all-you-can-eat” factor, we both left the restaurant absolutely stuffed. We didn’t feel like doing anything much, so we sat in the hostel, watched a movie and got an early night. Well, not an early night, but a night without drinking. That’s nearly the same thing.

The next morning we woke up for crepes and were delighted to hear that the booze cruise was definitely on. Nic and I went down to the beach for a morning swim (well, I swam, Nic lay on the beach), before getting back to the hostel in time for the 1pm start. The group met over the road at Nahnahbah and was given all you can drink sangria and beer and some fairly average curry dish for lunch before we all head out into the afternoon heat to get on the boat and make our way out into the Mediterranean. The sangria on the boat was made out of White wine, not red, and tasted like cheap goon mixed in a jar of ass. I quickly moved onto the beer as did most of the rest of the group. We all got turns to go out in the biscuit type thing and be towed behind a speed boat. It was really fun, but we managed to get massively airborne and flip it over. We hit the water hard, I felt like Jean Claude Van Damme had just kicked me in the chest, whereas Nic had hurt her neck and found it painful to turn to the left. We climbed back on the biscuit and nearly flipped it again a few times, but it was brilliant fun. After that we continued to drink and swim near the boat for another few hours before coming back to shore and returning to the hostel.

After eating, showering and buying more alcohol, we continued to drink on the Patio of the hostel. I started talking to a cool chick named Saskia about our mutual desires to become modern Pirates and pillage, plunder and loot for our own benefit. We were working out a ten year plan to make all this happen when we were joined by Saskia’s friend, Layla and the conversation moved onto less ridiculous topics. At midnight everyone left the hostel and went out to the pubs and clubs of Lagos. For some strange reason we again went to Joes Garage, which was full of world class fuckwits, mostly there for a bucks night, so I will excuse some of the behavior, but not all of it. Suffice to say that man, especially fat, unattractive men should definitely keep their clothes on at all times when in a public bar. I caught up with Saskia and Layla at the bar a bit later and we soon all left to go to InsideOut, a club down the road. On the way there it was Saskia’s brilliant idea to play “ultimate steal”. I gave her the challenge to steal a man’s shirt off his back and keep it. She got two shirts, but gave both of them back, although the photos are very amusing. Saskia wanted me to get a dude to buy me a drink. I failed. I guess I have no more luck with the lads than I do with the ladies. After a few hours of this ridiculousness, we all decided to make our way home. We left Layla with the boy she had been talking to for the last 2 hours and Saskia and I went out for a walk around Lagos.

We made our way down to the port where we found three British lads attempting to catch either fish or crabs with their bare hands. Both were right there for the taking, but their reflexes were not up to the task, muted by a lack of coordination and excessive alcohol consumption I imagine. We sat there and had a chat with them, while laughing at their pathetic efforts and girlish screams for a while before moving along the port to climb a tree and chat about piracy, life and family. All the important stuff.

We got back to the hostel at about 5am and I immediately passed out on my bead. Waking up 5 hours later, I again found that someone had eaten my ham and cheese from the fridge so I decided to go out for a big breakfast. Courtney and Jess joined me, as Nic was still fast asleep in bed, having only returned to the hostel at around 10:30am. Jess and Courtney were nice enough to share their stories of public vomiting while I was eating, but I was so hungry it really didn’t matter. We ate and then went back to the hostel, where Nic had woken up and began to pack. We would be parting with the awesome friends we had made in Lagos. It was a bit of a shame to be leaving really, as we really only just started to feel like one of the crew after the booze cruise and going out with everyone the night before. Oh well, some we will see again in Lisbon, and others will be at Oktoberfest. Travel friends come and go, but the bunch we met at the Flying Cock were as fun as any, so we said our goodbyes and got on the train to Lisbon, where we had a date with John Malkovich’s club, Lux.