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Actually, "Madeira" is not the place I yearn for. I planned to go to Portugal, but I couldn't buy a boat ticket, so I put it down because I couldn't cross the sea. The next day, I saw an advertisement in the newspaper published by the travel agency: "Madeira" seven-day tour, round-trip air tickets and hotels can be handled. On impulse, we went to the city to pay the bill at once. We were completely unprepared psychologically and ran out in a hurry. The morning after signing the contract, Portugal Airlines took us to the airport of that small island. "Madeira" is an overseas province of Portugal in the Atlantic Ocean, which is more than 700 kilometers away from the mainland, with an area of more than 700 square kilometers and a population of about 200,000. In Europe, it is a famous holiday resort, as famous as the Canary Islands, but in fact, not many people know about it.

We flew in from gran canaria. It is said that "Madeira" airport is one of the few airports in the world that is the most difficult to land. For me who has no common sense of flying, the difficulty is the same; I just think, from the air, this island is as green as spring.

Before, when I entered any country, I felt that criminals were on trial. This is the first time to enter Portuguese territory, and I will make an exception and not try people. Instead, it makes people feel a little relaxed and uneasy. There is no visa, no entry form, no seasonal customs inspection, and there is no problem. I can see several people in uniform at the airport, and the atmosphere is peaceful and somewhat pleasant. Some staff I occasionally meet are also kind and smiling. The nationality of a country, the first time I went to its land, I could tell it right away. The airport is really a strange place. It can't lie. Rome is Rome, Paris is Paris, Berlin will not be mistaken for Vienna, and "Madeleine" is Madeleine. Thin and cool air is a Portuguese poem.

Xia Feng, the capital of Madai, is a dilapidated port, just like any Latin country. -according to the sparkling sea, colorful fishing boats are moored, and the stone steps lead to the singing bar ... When the tour bus carrying us passes through the boulevard, mansion and small lake stone bridge in the "summer" urban area, I am surprised to find that the imaginary things are so far away from everything in fact, and my imagination is too rich. "Summer"

Our hotel is a long luxurious cement building, which is said to have 750 rooms. This is one of the latest buildings in Xia Feng. There are many antique hotels nearby. New The Old Inn is built on the mountain, and most of it is hidden in the thick green shade. Blending with the surrounding scenery seems to be a kind of spiritual enjoyment. Only we, a monster named "Park Casino", completely ruined the scenery and were complacent in the scholarly family like nouveau riche. It's a pity that we are on its side.

Hotels are as big as a lost city. Luxury things are always cold, reserved and inaccessible, just like modern civilized people.

After arranging the room and putting on clean clothes, Jose and I visited the hotel according to the map, and then walked to the "Xia Feng" city without nostalgia.

The man at the entrance of the hotel kindly wanted to call a taxi for us, but I declined him, preferring to walk on Qingshi Road into town. The sidewalk is green and rusty, and the big phoenix trees on the roadside are falling leaves.

"Xia Feng" is not so much a metropolis as a small town, mostly two or three-story European-style buildings, with storefronts next to storefronts, arcades with semicircular arches, gas lamps with glass covers, old-fashioned wooden windows in Fang Gezi, heavy and solid carved wooden doors, dark yellow copper door rings and antique dark chandeliers, which are also brightly lit during the day.

A * * * is just a dozen winding streets, a cathedral, three or five squares, and a long coastal beach. This is all the prosperity of "Xia Feng".

I lived in Madeira for a few days, and I went to Xia Feng almost every day. Strangely, the more I know about it, the more I feel it is kind, warm and changeable.

A small town with a population of only 40,000 has its prosperity. The diagonal streets are full of flowers and fruits. There are many different shops, such as wooden barrels, tiles, shoemakers, newsstands, cake shops, hardware stores, petticoats, lace, bridal gowns, saddles, wind lanterns and, of course, clothing stores.

There are no department stores, cinemas, big advertisements, electric toys, noisy record stores and even few traffic lights.

This is really a street painting of17th century. The food market is in the square of the city. People who sell goods and buy goods in big baskets also carry small baskets made of simple poplar branches. Red tomatoes, light green grapes and yellow lemons are everywhere, and nylon bags are nowhere to be found here. It is a kind of natural flavor, and the bustling human prosperity has reached its extreme here, which is a safe and secure world in itself.

In such a small town, there can be no ugly people. It looks pleasing to the eye and makes people feel at home. The oppression of wandering in big cities is impossible to feel here.

I met several interesting things in Xia Feng.

Several times in a row, we passed an old shop, so small that we could hardly see the storefront. Piles of sculptures made of red mud are in a mess. Only two or three shapes. Pigeons, angels and smiling children walked into the store and touched it for a long time. No one came out to meet us. They ran to the store next door and asked, saying that the shopkeeper was playing chess in another street. After a long wait, they came back with a thin old man with white hair.

At that time, I had chosen an angel statue with a price of 300 Portuguese coins and held it in my arms. The old man saw it, nodded and went to get three identical angels, one of which was four, and put it in a broken cardboard box for us.

"Just one," I said in Spanish, gesturing for fear that he wouldn't understand. "No, four together." He replied in Portuguese and continued to pretend to talk to himself.

"One-an old man." I patted him on the shoulder and reached out to move the angel out of the box. He stubbornly held the box in his hand.

"Just one." Jose was afraid that he couldn't hear, so he shouted into his ear. "Don't scream, I'm not old, I can hear you!" He protested in a hoarse voice. "Ah, I can hear you, one by one, just one." I said it again.

The old man looked at me and began to shake his head. He sighed, took my arm and walked behind the store. The narrow wooden stairs creaked, and the old man pushed behind me and had to go up.

"Hey, hey, where are you going?"

The old man didn't answer, so he pushed me onto the rooftop covered with flowers on the second floor. "Look!" He pointed a trembling finger at the white-walled and red-tiled house outside the city and whispered.

"What?"

"Look!"

"Ah?" I see.

It turns out that this clay sculpture is used to decorate the roof. Every household posted four identical images in the four corners of the house, either angels, pigeons or smiling children. It's beautiful, but I don't know if there are any religious reasons besides beautifying the roof.

"yes! Got it! But I still only want one. " I can't help looking at the old man.

This time, the old man got angry and thought we were disobedient.

"This is unconventional and there has never been a single sale."

"But I bought it and put it on the shelf!" I lost patience, too. This man makes no sense.

"No, this kind of thing is only on the roof. How can you mess around! " "Well, the roof is one of the roofs." Let me tell you something.

"Don't buy the whole set, no way!" He shook his head hard, put the box on the ground and left us in the shop. He walked slowly in the street, looking so stubborn and so natural that we couldn't steal his angel and leave. I have never seen such a lovely shopkeeper. He doesn't want money, he wants tradition.

Another time, I was thirsty. I saw a small hotel under the arch in the far corner, and the table on the open-air seat was actually a vat. That gesture immediately reminded me of the mysterious and romantic old stories such as pirates and Treasure Island. This kind of joy seems to hear the sailors singing "the song of liqueur" in the bar.

Hurriedly ran up and took a big barrel, and shouted to the bald boss who stuck his head out: "Two glasses of rye."

Inadvertently looked up and found that this hotel is really extraordinary. It has an interesting name, which makes people fall in love at first sight.

When the boss came over with a plate in his hand, I pushed the camera to Jose, bowed my knees slightly to the boss and said to him with a smile, "Boss, how about taking a picture together?" Please. "

The amiable fat man was very happy, trimmed his moustache, cocked his left leg, raised his chin high, stopped breathing, and waited for Jose to press the shutter. As for me, I looked up and read a big sign word for word: "/kloc-established in 832-funeral home-wine-we-"

As soon as the boss listened to me, he was taken aback and didn't dare to move. When Jose took a photo, he quickly looked up at his own brand. "No, no, madam, the funeral home is upstairs and the hotel is downstairs. How do you relate the two brands? Oh, my God. Me? Funeral home? "

He threw a white rag on his shoulder and screamed.

Don't scream, this scream, shoeshine on the corner, drinking on the bar in the store, and passing by on the road have all stopped. Everyone pointed at him and laughed, and the shoeshine almost sang.

"Funeral home bar! Funeral home! "

Honest people can't stand it, their hands are scratched, and their faces are colorful, so watch it.

"You don't call XXX hotel, just write' hotel'. If a wise man thinks too much, he will make mistakes! " I leaned back in my chair and kicked the barrel embarrassedly. "Hey hey! Hey! " He raised his hand, stamped his foot and sighed, as busy as a bee.

"It's so special that there are no other hotels in the world. Not good? " I added another sentence.

Hearing this, he hugged his head and cried, "Go on, go on, my God!" " The whole street was laughing, so we left the money and ran away.

It's called-"The restaurant is mistaken for a funeral home-no return until you get drunk."

When people are on vacation, they are in a better mood than usual and especially want to eat. I personally have this problem. No matter what dish is not cooked by yourself, it has become a delicacy.

"Xia Feng" sells Portuguese food, which is very delicious. I tried it in a small restaurant, and I will never repeat it.

One day, I saw kebabs on the menu of a local restaurant. I wanted to eat them.

"Five skewers of barbecue." I said.

The waiter didn't move.

"Do you understand what I said?" Asked him gently, he nodded at once. "A string." He said.

"Five strings, five-"I wrote five words in the air.

"Mr. Eat together, five strings?" For some reason, he was a little surprised. "No, I eat fish, and she eats it alone." Jose immediately said.

"A string?" He said again.

"Five strings, five strings." I spoke louder and looked at him strangely. What's wrong with this man?

The waiter went into the kitchen and looked back as if I had scared him. Many local people came to the hotel one after another and became lively.

Jose's fish came to the table, and the latecomers began to eat, except my food.

I looked at the kitchen, looked at it again, looked at it again, and found that the cook was secretly looking at me.

He fiddled with his fingers and slowly rocked the old wooden chair back and forth, waiting and waiting. Only then did he see the waiter coming out of the kitchen with his hands raised as if he had surrendered.

In his hand, on his head, that squeaky, smoking brown broom is actually a "fake pine barbecue."

Jose and I jumped up almost at the same time. I nervously propped up my chair with my hands and squinted.

The waiter waved a broom in the air dramatically, stroking gently in front of me and slowly across my plate. There are many tables on both sides of this thing.

The whole restaurant suddenly became quiet. I became Bridget Ba Du, and everyone looked at me transparently.

"This-"I swallowed and wiped my hands, not knowing what to do. "madeira country kebab" waiter said in a businesslike manner.

"The other four strings must be returned. If this doesn't work, then you are dead. "

I was embarrassed to see the waiter and shouted at Jose.

Everyone was silent, staring at me. I quietly stretched out my arm and measured it, one hundred and twenty centimeters.

I am one hundred and sixty-three, and there is hope-a string.

I still remember clearly how I walked out of the hotel that day. There is nothing uncomfortable, and my eyes are not blocked. It was that step, solid and heavy, as if an elephant had passed the parade ground.

Pine branch barbecue, delicious, delicious.

People confiscated the other four strings of money and didn't attach a cup of warm lemonade for digestion. They are also afraid of death.

One year my parents and I traveled to Mount Li, and when I came back, my father praised me. He said, "I didn't expect traveling with my sister to be so interesting."

"Keep talking all the way, and you will be happy!" I'm proud to say. My father smiled at my words and said, "You have' eyes' and even ordinary scenery comes alive in your heart, not because you can talk." Later, I learned that many people really don't have spiritual eyes to travel, but they talk more than me.

In the carriage of "Madeira", all the people who went with me sang songs and told jokes in the car. Only I took a big blanket and curled myself up by the last glass window of the car, quietly enjoying the beautiful scenery that passed by. Our way up the mountain is a big pine forest built by the government, which slowly rolls up in a zigzag shape. The road is still very narrow, and the tourists of the two cars are screaming when the cars cross, which is very scary.

The tour guide is a middle-aged Portuguese, personable and full of silver hair. He speaks fluent Spanish. He is the best passenger in the car. When he is talking with a microphone in the car, few people are really listening to him. Most of the passengers on the bus were women, making a scene.

"Madeleine Island was an island discovered by Portuguese navigators in the Atlantic Ocean in the 5th century A.D./KLOC-0. Because I saw the big pine forests all over the mountains, I named it" Madeleine ",which means" wood ". At that time, there were no residents or fierce beasts on this desert island. Portuguese immigrants came here to reclaim land, and the nobles at that time came to "Xia Feng" to build their summer capital. ...

The tour guide had no choice but to stop talking. I was the only one who saw it. What he said is very nice. Why don't people pay attention to him?

The tour group stopped at each hill for a few minutes, and the tourists began to take photos regardless of the scenery.

Finally, we visited a cathedral on the top of the mountain and walked for two or three minutes. Then we arrived at a very interesting pulley station.

The "pulley" is actually a big chair made of poplar branches, which can seat three people. Under the car, there are two wooden strips without wheels. The whole car is very similar to the sled used by Eskimos on ice. The difference is that "Madeira" is a means of transportation used by residents when they went down the mountain in the past. The top of the mountain is about 2500 meters above sea level, and a stone road with high inclination shines like a river in the sun.

Each of us paid about NT$ 100 in Portuguese, starting from the hotel, mainly to taste the flavor of the tools used by the ancients to go down the mountain.

In front of the pulley, the inevitable hesitation and dispute emerged from those ladies, and the time was delayed. The guide patiently persuaded them.

Jose and I got on the second bus, because three people sat in a row, and we brought a Spanish girl to sit with us. She came with three other friends and just gave it to us.

Sit down, Jose is in the middle, two women on both sides of us, hold him. "good!" Go back and shout to the two Portuguese who pull the pulley with hemp rope, let them let go, and we will go down.

Hearing this, they loosened the rope tied to the side of the car and jumped behind us. The car began to slide slowly down the hill.

At first, the pulley moved slowly, and the surrounding scenery was still very clear. Later, the wind came and my vision blurred. Shadow, faster and faster. The car jolted as if it were falling apart.

Sitting in the car, I suddenly feel that this is like a life. Time flies, I can't go back. The wind blew my hair back long and flat, and I couldn't catch anything in front. It's sinking, sinking.

Suddenly, the girl in the same car screamed, high-pitched and persistent, which woke me up from my meditation.

"Catch Jose, catch Jose!" I bent down and shouted to her.

Her pointed nails have long been stuck in Jose's thigh, and it seems that they are not strong enough. She wanted to wear Jose's jeans and nail him to a chair, but she kept screaming.

Jose is in great pain, and it is not easy to pull her away. She had to close her eyes and cry silently. The expressions of the two people match just right, which is wonderful.

The man standing behind the chair saw this situation, jumped down, put the hemp rope in his hand, shook it from side to side, and began to pull behind us, and the speed slowed down immediately. When I turned around and saw the rickshaw pullers, they leaned back as far as possible, their heels pressed hard against the ground, and their hands clung to the rope, almost falling to the ground. In this case, they were still trotting with rickshaws, but in a few minutes, sweat rained down from their straw hats.

"Get on the bus and step on it, we are not afraid." I called out to them, and the girl started screaming again.

"Come up!" I turned to call again, and the trailer man shook his head, refused, and trotted half-cocked.

At this time, the children along the way began to spread wild flowers on our car, reaching out and catching some big hydrangeas.

It seems that after skating all my life, the ancient road has come to an end. I got off the bus and turned to see the church on the top of the hill. It is actually a small black dot. Looking up from the bottom, the mountain road hangs down like a waterfall. God knows how we got down. The two people pulling rickshaws were soaked to the skin, as if they had been fished out of the water. They took off their hats, carried us honestly, and silently wiped their faces and sweated in a corner. Their wooden, shy, silent manner shows their unspeakable responsibility and kindness. I stared at them, somehow moving badly, blinking and staring at them.

Jose suits me very well in these places. He didn't look at me. He went up and stuffed a ticket for everyone. I quickly followed him and sincerely said, "Thank you. I am so sorry! "

Of course, giving a small account is not worth encouraging, but we just can't pay NT$ 100. Travel agencies should be divided, buses should be divided and tour guides should be divided. These rickshaw pullers may make less than one-twentieth of the real money, so they have to support a large family to make money!

Long after we arrived, pulley after pulley followed us. The driver who fattens up the ladies is really unlucky and not dead tired.

I pay attention to the tourists who get off. Everyone came out of the car yelling, patting their chests and laughing wildly and shouting loudly. I've been waiting, hoping that there will be a passenger in this row. I turn around and thank the rickshaw puller. I don't expect to tip, just ask them to say thank you and say a good word. It's also polite. However, no one remembers just holding their hands and pulling rickshaws.

This kind of sightseeing game is based on the hard work of others, and I regret it afterwards, but I don't even have money to live without them.

At this time, I thought of a good way to reduce Ralph's hard work-this pulley actually doesn't have to hold the car all the time. Although the speed is fast, it will slow down as long as someone pulls hard every few tens of meters to ease the momentum.

In fact, as long as two branches hooked like walking sticks are installed on the back of the block, the raffles will stand down along the narrow ramp in pairs, just like the relay race, and every block will slide down every minute. They just need to jump on the hook when the car passes their own section, slow down and put it down. As soon as the passengers screamed, Raff jumped up and pulled down the next section, which saved a lot.

I told the tour guide this suggestion, but he just smiled and didn't take it seriously. I don't know if it's true.

After careful analysis, "Madeira" actually does not have good sightseeing conditions.

It has no beaches, only reefs, no excellent big ports, no modern cities and no cultural relics. It is far from the European continent and the route is not direct. ...

However, tourists still come to "Madeira" day after day.

The local government knows very well that this is just an ordinary island. They must create unique features to attract tourists, so they choose flowers to decorate themselves. Nothing can beautify the environment better than flowers.

There are no flowers in the downtown area of "Xia Feng", but it sells flowers and decorates a city with colorful colors. Looking around, the suburb of Madeira is a sea of flowers except mountains.

It was already autumn when we went, but we drove more than 300 kilometers and the flowers never stopped along the way. At first, we thought most of them were wild, because they were all over the mountains and plains without pruning. Later, when I chatted with the tour guide, I realized that these hydrangeas, swallows, chrysanthemums, Chinese begonia and roses were all planted by residents in the wild with the government's beautification plan, but it took ten years.

More than 300 kilometers of road, there are hundreds of millions of flowers floating in front of me. It's so beautiful. I really wonder if I am on the earth.

The two middle-aged ladies in a tour bus probably couldn't resist the temptation of flowers and reached out and picked two white roses outside the window. The guide turned around and saw him. His face suddenly turned red and roared like a lion. He walked towards the two ladies. He picked up the microphone and began to humiliate the whole car in front of them. Everyone was scared. The tour guide blamed the tourists for ruining his local scenery and protecting his life. Hundreds of millions of flowers, but they picked two, but were "repaired" so badly, that's great. The whole car will never touch the leaves again.

How can you blame the tour guide for not being angry? Flowers are one of Madeleine's lifeblood. "Madeira" pine trees grow on high mountains, and poplar trees grow by streams. One of the characteristics here is the large and small baskets and furniture made of thin and straight poplar branches, which are very elegant and simple. When I look at the branches of poplar trees, I think they are also full of charm. Strangely, whenever I see poplars, I will naturally associate them with The Water Margin, which is the chapter of Li Kui jy River begging for fish, which leads to the appearance of Zhang Shun with white stripes in Langli.

Almost all the residents on the island live in modern farmhouses with white walls and red tiles, surrounded by grapes and flowers, and there is no sign of poverty.

In the deep mountains of the island, there is a small village called "Santana", which still maintains the style of ancestral immigrant houses.

The thatched roof is covered with a sloping roof, which has tilted to the ground. The walls are made of wood, the windows are open, there are chimneys and small narrow doors. Fat people can't get in. At first glance, this kind of house was thought to be only for tourists. Later, it was found that the whole valley was littered with houses of the same style, some of which were well maintained and painted brightly, which looked like a cake room in a fairy tale from a distance.

Santana is located on the edge of a big forest. Residents grow a lot of vegetables and raise cattle and sheep. Tourists go to see the house by car, and they don't care much, even a little. If I were you and saw so many tourists visiting, I might set up a stall to sell red bean soup. Otherwise, I will nail some small huts of the same color as souvenirs and sell them. Or I'll drag some villagers.

What is precious is that this is just my personal opinion. There are no laymen like me in this valley, and tourists have not polluted them. Here, over time, the flowers on the thatched roof are in full bloom, fluttering in the wind and enjoying themselves. I wouldn't be surprised if the little girl who picked beans in the field also left vegetables on her head. This place has long been divided into heaven and man, and man is natural.

The longing to return to the countryside and homesickness stung my heart when I saw Santana. They can spend their whole lives on this day, and I can only stay here for a few minutes. Why do they live in my dream village so safely, but I have to be kicked out?

Reality and ideal will never be completely consistent one day. My ideal is not a cloud. I just want a farmhouse and some vegetable fields. Why is it so hard to find such a dull dream?

Everything was fine when I traveled, but there were too many touching things and my feelings deepened. When I got back to the hotel from the mountain, I couldn't sleep until dawn.

The day before we left Madeira Island, we had a rest in the hotel and enjoyed the hotel facilities. Unfortunately, everything in it goes against my temperament. Nightclubs, casinos, beauty salons, Sannuan, celestial bath on the roof, big vegetable houses and Little Golf are not my favorite places. Only its hot spring swimming pool looks very happy under the tall palm trees. At dusk, there was no one in the pool, so I went to the water to have a good time and returned to my room until stars appeared in the sky.

Seven days passed quickly, and when I went back, I found that the middle of the Greek sandals was broken. These shoes followed me through Europe, Asia and Africa. Now, I put them in the wastebasket of the hotel. This is the story and fate of these shoes. Neither I nor it expected to end in Madeira.

There is a Portuguese rooster painted in coarse pottery in my luggage, with a basket of poplar vegetables in my hand, which I chose as a souvenir for myself.

When I returned to my home in gran canaria, my neighbor asked about the trip, chatted for a while, and then asked, "Where are you going next time?" I don't know! A casual response.

The world is full of green hills, so why plan your future journey?