I am convinced that drinking Coronas is a humanitarian service.

I don’t know what made me come to Sagres. No one recommended it to me. Perhaps it was the description in my Portugal Lonely Planet that it had a ‘relaxed vibe’ that drew me in. Not that I try to rely on the LP too much – have you ever read the LP for your own city? In Brisbane, they recommend that visitors go to the Three Monkeys in West End. A coffee shop that was cool when I was at University 15 years ago (15 years? God, almost fell of my seat just writing that). So clearly the LP is not to be totally relied on.

So maybe it was gut instinct.

When I first got on the connecting bus from Lagos that was destined for Sagres, I was a little concerned that my gut instinct might just have been a stomach cramp, or perhaps some weird form of food poisoning. Because piled on to the bus was me and about 30 grey haired pensioners. I nearly went and asked the driver if I was on the right bus – perhaps I had got the Aged Care Shuttle by mistake. It turns out that Sagres does attract a lot of retirees (and lots of grey hair nomads in swanky winnebagos), but it attracts an equal amount of surfers – of the hot Portuguese variety.

So I quite like Sagres after all.

It’s a small town, and out of season there’s hardly anyone around. Just me, the oldies and the hot surfer dudes. Right now I am sitting in my room, looking out over the ocean (just took pic for you, nice eh?) and watching the old guys in the square next door play boules. In about an hour I’ll head down to the bar owned by a crazy German where I have become a familiar face after my first night spent there drinking Coronas and reading my Kindle like a nigel-no-mates. Now the owner is giving me complimentary barnacles with my beer (who ever would have thought barnacles could be so tasty? I always thought they were a type of weed that grew on Popeye’s boat) while his hot surfer barman gives me free shots (because I am clearly just a free-wheeling, party all night long, reading Kindles in bars kind of fun time girl).

Well, I am often the only customer. As much as I would like to think it’s my great personality, I think they’re just bored. And I’m happy to be entertained, at least for another week because I’ve extended my Sagres stay. I like my routine here, which basically consists of five main activities:

Eating: I always have this fantasy when I travel abroad that I am going to live off fruit and fish for months and come home whippet thin, only to stay at places that offer white-bread-served-twenty-ways and cake at the buffet breakfast.

Writing: Since I don’t actually have to go anywhere to smell the sea air or look longingly at the ocean, the motivation to keep my bum on the seat and write is much higher than when I was in London and felt like I should be out visiting museums and doing other important cultural activities rather than sit inside at a computer all day. The fact that I have no internet connection in my room helps a lot as well. With all of these things aligned, I am writing anywhere between 2500 and 4000 words per day (of varying quality).

Reading: all my e-book angst is long behind me. I am officially in love with my kindle, which allowed me to bring about 40 books to Portugal. Since arriving in Lisbon nearly two weeks ago, I have read 13 books, which averages out to one a day. It’s been a book reading binge. I will probably start vomiting up words very soon.

Walking: Need to burn off those breakfast cakes somehow.

Drinking: There’s something about being in Portugal that makes me want to drink a lot of Corona. And someone has to pay the wages of the hot surfer barmen. It’s practically a humanitarian service really. Just like the UN.

Looking at this list, you’d be forgiven for wondering if perhaps I'm getting a tad bored. I’m not sure what it means that I'm not. In fact, half the time I don’t seem to have enough time in the day to do things I set out to do. It took me a week to organise to get my washing done. This week I need to try and squeeze a hair appointment into my hectic schedule - I feel slightly stressed just thinking about it. It's a ridiculously self-focused existence really. Thank God I’m doing the humanitarian work for the hot surfers to appease some of the guilt.