Madeira - The Pearl of the Atlantic
Our first holiday as a three
Madeira Botanical Garden
We stay in an Airbnb in Madeira’s capital Funchal, at the top of a steep, residential road. The flat is on the fourth floor with a tiny lift up to it, so tiny we have to fold the pram each time to fit it in. The hallways are full of plants and the day-to-day sounds and smells of our temporary neighbours. One morning when we leave we hear someone practising the saxophone, the notes drifting up and up. The flat is clean and modern and has everything we need to make a home from home. But what attracted us to the booking in the first place was a balcony with a glass side and a view that stretches across a maze of terracotta rooftops and ends with the wild Atlantic Ocean. To the left, you can see the cable cars that carry tourists up to the Monte Gardens and by the port you can count how many cruise ships have docked for the day. This is where I read when my husband gives our son his bedtime bottle. With a non-alcoholic beer and olives from the local supermarket, I catch the evening sun whilst sinking into my book about defining your idea of success. After nine months of breastfeeding with a difficult start and a winter that felt like it was never-ending - this is my version of success.
Caught unaware reading Emma Gannon’s ‘The Success Myth’ during nap time
Madeira is known for its diverse microclimates. It can be sunny on the coast and rainy in the mountains. Apparently, it is possible to experience all seasons in one day. In a taxi, the driver tells us it has rained more than usual lately. ‘But that’s okay,’ he says, ‘we welcome the rain because without it we wouldn’t have the nature.’ The island is lush with flora and fauna. We get up early and come home early. My phone tells me about the thousands of steps we take. We explore the many beautiful gardens of Funchal, wandering amongst laurels and cacti and banana trees. We spot lizards and butterflies. We take pictures of rainbows and exotic flowers that people say look like the Bird of Paradise. It is exhausting and energising.
The Strelitzia reginae flower aka the Bird of Paradise flower
People look at our son in wonder. Faces that at first appear indifferent shift into smiling eyes and O-shaped mouths. As we patiently queue for the cable car a security guard spots my son attached to me and asks that we follow him. Inside he helps us buy our tickets and whisks us straight onto one of the moving cars. We are joined by a German family and one of the girls shyly practises her English with us. We visit churches and a cemetery, follow neighbourhood walks in our Lonely Planet book and struggle to negotiate the pram across some busy roads. It rains and we put on our Macs, the sun shines and we put on our sunglasses, the wind picks up and we reach for another layer. We discover that my son will now nap indoors in his pram whilst stationary and with white noise on - a holiday miracle!
Cemitério de São Martinho
There is a beautiful park not far from our flat. It used to be the site of a sugar factory and features a tall chimney you can see from a distance. We order pastel de natas and coffee from a cafe full of locals. The sun is shining and my son is napping on me in the sling. It is perfect until I notice a TV above the counter and an image of a severely malnourished baby - I catch the word Gaza flash up on the screen. My stomach turns and I want to cry. I hold my baby that bit tighter as we do a leisurely loop of the park.
On our last day, we eat lunch at a teahouse high above the city and surrounded by trees. From here we walk part of a Levada - these are small channels that carry water down from the mountains. My son loses a sock but we need to catch a bus so we leave it somewhere behind us. In the evening we order pizza and eat it on the balcony, our faces warm. It is Easter Sunday and we can hear a group of children playing and giggling below us. We talk about how simple things make us happy and how much we will miss the view. We are ready to go but sad to be leaving, uncertain if or when we will be back.
Walking a Levada
At the airport we watch the planes landing and taking off. Huge, metal birds we put our lives in the wings of. I watch a dad hold the hands of his son who wobbles as he walks. It looks like hard work on both parts. A woman who must be his mum appears scoops him up and attacks him with kisses. We did it - I think. We had our first trip as a family of three and what an adventure it was.