on waking up for sunrise in the Algarve

by Abbie

I came to Lagos (pronounced by locals as “Lagosh”) to see the sea cliffs.

I saw them in afternoon light, then I came back for sunset.

The next morning, I woke up early to see them at sunrise, but it was raining when I looked outside.

I got back in bed and laid on my back, covers up to my chin. The room wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm.

I may have dozed, and the next time I looked out the window, the clouds had begun to clear up.

Then, through a gap in the curtains, I saw the end of a huge rainbow.

I leapt out of bed with frantic energy, threw on clothes, and grabbed my camera. I ran down the lane until it turned to dirt and the lighthouse appeared in front of me.

A few days later, I was in Sagres (“Sagresh”).

This is the end of Portugal, the end of the Iberian peninsula, and the end of Europe. In fact, Sagres feels like the end of something — it’s flat, windswept, and has a very big sky. The lighthouse at Cabo Sao Vicente marks the westernmost piece of land in Europe.

Again, I set my alarm and wake up very early, dressing silently and slipping out the door so as not to wake my hosts or their 7-year-old son.

In the dark, I stumble up the land mass south of the docks and wait for the planet to rotate and for the sun to show me the Atlantic Ocean.

And it does.

And I relearn a lesson that the world has taught me many times over: Waking up for sunrise is always, always worth it.