The invasion of the big weekend is barely noticeable in the quietness of the Porto Santo morning. The town, still half asleep, spreads itself under the August sun, that is bound to remain for the whole weekend.
Those who chose the holiday to come to the smaller island were lucky – luckier than those who spent dome days here last week.
The quietness of the island is well known, and there is no rush, no stress, and no traffic lights.
Before noon, the rush is towards getting a place in one of the terraces of the town, where one invariably finds the same people, and the newspaper stall, with the arrival times of the paper still being a big unknown, but with people generally having no problems in not being caught up by the bad news.
This is Porto Santo (translated as holly harbor). Where the sand meets the turquoise sea, and where we discover a world of things to do. It’s just a matter of (re)discovering the island that cures…