The Beach Town

I have only heard British and Irish accents since arriving in Albufeira. Which means that the coastline is covered in burnt gingers. It’s great. Because that means that there will be Indian restaurants and I need biryani (how is this word not in the recognized words on this phone? Samsung, how White and out of touch are you?)

When I picked Albufeira, it was a random location on the map, chosen because I wanted to be anywhere in the Algarve region. What I hadn’t realized until I arrived, is that this is a proper beach town, overrun with tourists, and the locals hate us. I imagine that this has really messed with property cost in a town that was just until recently a little fishing village.

Which is why I began my day by hanging out with the fishermen, lined up along the Atlantic minding their own business. The spot where I sat is around the corner along the cliffside in the photos I posted yesterday to instagram. My intention was to walk as far along the cliffs as I could, and that turned out to be literally around the bend unless one is interested in falling to their death between the shards of rock.

Lucky for me, there were a set of steps carved into the cliff and I occupied the entire staircase, much to the chagrin of the Brits. Which did give me a little pleasure, because history. THAT WRITTEN, I AM A FAN OF MEGHAN MARKLE AND HER MOMMA. I will always get behind a woman of colour raised by a single woman of colour. (Are you following @sussexroyal? You should be. The old-ass White guard is not down with Meghan and what she reps. I am not down with the concept of ‘royals’. Not anywhere and not ever. But her, I will support, because every White Supremacist loathes all that she stands for. And do not let it be lost on you that their first post had both hijabis and POC. Also worth remembering: Harry bombed Muslims. Don’t forget.)

The fisherman on the right gave me a thumb is up when he noticed me sitting quietly, watching. I had my journal with me and wrote out both macro and micro intentions of what I hope for rose-water syrup to achieve in my small world. InshAllah.

He was happy. Until a random woman came and sat very seriously right next to him. So close that he almost tripped over her as he moved to cast. I almost yelled for her to move her stupid ass, but sadly, he is the one who moved away instead.

I collected some sea-shells because I am really a token version of a human, and then had sardines. I can’t stop having the sardines, how have I been missing out on the sardines for so long in my life?

Having spent my day walking back and forth and enjoying biryani, tomorrow I plan on actually having a proper beach day by laying out in my bathing suit and exceptionally high sunblock.

Today, I am grateful for:
1. Sardines. On a stick. In a can. In my mouth. Down to my tummy.
2. Biryani. It is as close to MENA cooking as I have gotten since eating at Omar’s mom’s place in Sharjah. I miss our cuisine something fierce, so biryani was a welcome flavour.
3. This world. It is full of so very much beauty.

Albufeira | April 16, 2019

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