If you have ever looked at a map of the Algarve and whispered “we should just go,” congratulations—you are legally allowed to own a Tesla and still make impulsive Portugal decisions. We pointed the car west-ish from home (about 2.5 hours by car from Jerez) and rolled into Tavira like two people who absolutely had a plan (we had a rough plan: eat, beach, repeat, panic-charge only if drama).
Spoiler: Tavira delivered. Hard.
Tavira: the old town that isn’t a theme park
Some “charming” towns feel like they were built for Instagram focus groups. Tavira felt like an actual town where people live, argue about parking, and still manage to look picturesque doing laundry. Narrow lanes, tiled facades, history that does not shout—it whispers, then trips you on a cobblestone so you remember who is boss.
We wandered until our phones begged for mercy and our calves filed a complaint. Lovely. Non-touristy in the best way: fewer novelty sombreros, more normal life with better weather.
Camping economics: when the spreadsheet smiles back
We checked into a camping site for 10 nights at €25 per night—math so friendly it felt illegal. Even better: walking distance to long white sandy beaches, which meant we could forget the car for a while and pretend we were athletic.
Our actual workout was carrying beach snacks and pretending six trips to the water counted as cardio.
Tesla + campsite: first time, no tent (yet)
Plot twist: this was our first real camping-site experience with the Tesla—without a tent. We slept in the car setup we had, enjoyed the “we are camping” vibes, and tried not to look at serious tent people with too much respect (they had poles; we had pride and USB-C).
We are picking up our tent in Germany later in May—at which point we graduate from “camping cosplay” to “camping with fabric evidence.” The Algarve has been warned.
The United Nations of the power strip
Campgrounds are basically speed-dating for people who own cool-boxes. We met so many interesting folks—mostly from France, Germany, and Portugal—swapping stories, adapter opinions, and that universal nod that means “yes, the shower token machine is humiliating for everyone.”
By day three we had a social calendar. By day six we were emotionally invested in someone else’s awning. By day ten we were definitely coming back.
Lagos in a day (because FOMO respects no border)
We did a one-day excursion to Lagos—about 1.5 hours’ drive—because someone said “dramatic cliffs” and we are weak. Worth it. Sun, rock, sea, and enough steps to justify another pastel de nata.
See you in September or October (same campsite, same chaos)
We are already plotting a return in September or October, partly for the light, partly for the beaches, and partly because we want to see our long-stay camping friends again—the people who know our coffee order and our charging anxiety.
Tavira, you were the kind of trip that makes you open Zillow “just to look” and then close it before you do something permanent.
Até breve, Algarve.
