Behind the glass, the Ocean is drawn in the foreground. From the terrace of one of the 248 rooms of the hotel Tivoli, a circle of white concrete harmoniously anchored on the cliff, near the village of Carvoeiro, one can hear the undertow of the waves ; the cry of the seagulls. Of the Algarve south tip of Portugal, monte a sweet and tender melancholy: here, Europe is nearing its end. From the west to the east, the mythical cape St Vincent, which went out as explorers and legends, tranquil fishing port of Tavira, the elegant white city that cradles the rio Gilão, extend tens of kilometers of sandy beaches, hidden coves, cliffs with distorted shapes. Visions striking, the beauty of which fierce resisted, both good and bad, to the encroachment of modern constructions.

It can be now, at the beginning of the spring and away from the invasions of the summer tourist, as it should be to move through these landscapes, the natural rough and mind-blowing. The sun is shining, the …

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