I was living in Edinburgh and dreaming of the sun, dreaming of sand in my shoes and the taste of the sea’s salt on my lips. After a week in Paris and a brief foray in Lisbon, I headed south to the Portuguese Algarve, to Lagos. Famous for blue Atlantic waters and beautiful rock formations, it was exactly what I was looking for: a quiet little city where I could spend my days on the beach and my nights gorging on fresh seafood and cold Sagres. And I did just that, adding an afternoon boatride, a long hike along the cliffs, shopping in the local markets, live jazz bands, dinners of fresh cod, walks around the marina, and funny little clubs where I drank aguardente de medronho with the scores of other travellers who systematically fell in love with Lagos. I was relaxed, I was sunburnt, I was happy.