“What an unusual harbourside venue,” I said to Mr Word Loft. One minute, we were ambling along watching a regatta, and the next, the Cristiano Ronaldo Museum came into sight. The world-famous footballer is our eight-year-old grandson’s icon, and it wasn’t until we were on the way to our holiday destination that we learnt the sportsman originated from Madeira. A bronze sculpture looms outside the entrance as a tribute to the celebrated resident. It is about four times the size of a normal person and oozes energy. Like other tourists, we had our photographs taken beside it. Not that we are huge football fanatics, but I forwarded the images to our daughter via WhatsApp and our grandson was elated.
As recommended by travel buddies, a local botanical garden in a quieter region of Funchal was another spot for a jaunt. Statues are popular in Madeira, and at Quinta Magnolia Centro Cultural, there was an assortment intermingled in the landscape, bursting with blossoms.
Tennis balls being thwacked rang out from the courts and merged with birds’ trills as we admired the scenery. There is also a handy pavilion serving reasonably priced snacks and refreshments. A shady venue under vines with views of Funchal’s enchanting houses mounting the hillside, and it was soothing listening to the sounds of nature without the distraction of music.
The Modern Art Museum is nearby and was enlightening. Bold artworks are arranged in a quirky style, some featuring nudity. Collage is widely used, and was a reminder of why I would like to experiment with the technique. Quotations scribed on walls from the 1600s and 1700s, including those by the Portuguese philosopher Baruch Spinoza and Britain’s William Blake, were a surprise, their words being pertinent to today.
Our final excursion was also around Funchal. The coach driver managed the curly wurley bends magnificently on our way up to Monte Palace, the island’s biggest, most notable tropical garden. However, it wasn’t them we were going to experience first, but another much-anticipated activity. A ride in a wicker toboggan starts there. We queued for ages, and eventually boarded the bizarre form of transport powered by two boater-wearing men propelling the vehicle helter-skelter through the streets without a trace of snow. With the wind rushing around us on the eight-minute journey, it wasn’t a good hair day, but exciting. The strange way of travelling, which is renowned internationally, started over a hundred years ago, when ladies’ flouncy, flamboyant dresses were tricky to manage down and uphill. Transporting them back must have been arduous.
At the bottom, the coach waited to take us back to the top. The grounds of Monte Palace are inspired by Japanese culture. Probably, because the Portuguese were the first Europeans to go to Japan in 1543, where they remained for ninety-six years. And, it is believed that a dozen or so Japanese words are borrowed from the Portuguese language.
Crystals intrigue me, and I was eager to see the highly praised mineral and gemstone collection. Darkened chambers resembling grottos twinkle with huge-sized geodes, including calcite, amethyst and quartz, amidst ferns, lichen and moss. I hadn’t expected to see the showcase of precious rocks to be indoors, but I imagine the reason is to protect them from the elements.
Curved, graceful footbridges, buddhas, water features, swathes of bamboo and pagodas capture the essence of oriental life. Steps and pathways meander through tranquil wooded glades, and by ponds swirling with shimmering yellow and orange koi.
Among the hundred thousand plant species, some of the olive trees are over a thousand years old. I was considering the changes they must have been part of throughout the millennia when I was distracted.
What was the flash of pink? Down on a lower terrace, with a spangled waterfall, flamingos preened and stretched as they balanced on a single leg, then dipped their heads under ripples. I was disappointed not to spend more time watching them dancing in tandem with their reflections, but with only two hours to see what normally would take a day, we moved on.
In 1897, the mansion and estate were initially a hotel, but in 1987, they were purchased by Jose Manuel Rodrigues as a family home, when the parkland was created.
Eager to fit as much in as possible, we waited for a vintage-design electric car to take us up to the cable car terminal.
Smokey glassed carriages turned onto the designated stop’s platform. We quickly boarded and settled down for an aerial perspective over Funchal and outlying villages. It reminded me of a model town as we were elevated over the tumble of white painted ginger-roofed buildings, jigsaw patios, swimming pools and roads. The closer to the ground, the more detail came into focus. I even spied the amusing antics of two young girls and heard their laughter as they chased their panting dog along a lane.
Instead of going back to our hotel at the end of the trip, we spent an extra hour or two in the centre, especially the historic quarter, as the market had been closed when there before. The scent from stalls, selling flowers, native bulbs, plants, and glorious baskets of fruit, mixed with spicy aromas from culinary retailers, fused and emanated throughout the produce hall.
Two family members are keen cooks, and we are always stumped about what to buy them as a souvenir. We selected two types of seasonings, plus the spices for a Madeiran curry. I hope they invite us over for dinner when they make it – an evocative reminder of Funchal.
Best wishes, Sue. X