The isolation and connection of islands

Reflections on the Azores

Last month I had the good fortune of traveling to the Azores. Growing up in Europe, I've known of these islands for a long time, and was accustomed to their name being pronounced, in English, Uh-ZOR-ess, and not the way I hear the name pronounced in the US—AY-zores. I also note that many people don't know where these islands are located, and even those who know they are part of Portugal assume they are much closer to the mainland than they are. The set of nine islands that make up the Azorean archipelago is about two thirds of the way from the East Coast of the US to Portugal, or just about 900 miles from Lisbon. So not close at all to the Portuguese mainland. And this location—out in the Atlantic ocean, distant from all the continents—is what I want to talk about.

Photos from Terceira and São Miguel.

These nine volcanic islands are striking in appearance. Rocky coastlines, an exuberance of white and blue hydrangeas, verdant pastures dotted with black and white cows and crisscrossed with black rock walls, whitecaps dancing on blue water. The mineral-rich soil and temperate climate, the cold ocean water and thermal springs, make for a lush environment. And here's the most interesting (to me at least) thing: the location of this archipelago on the migratory paths of many birds means that not only can over 400 species of birds be found (not all at the same time, mind you) on these islands, but so can a vast number of plants from other countries—from Europe, the Americas, and Africa. Both people and birds have introduced these plants—intentionally planted by the former and unintentionally carried on the feathers and in the stomachs of the latter. The water, too, is home to a vast number of species, including, according the World Wildlife Fund for Nature, the greatest diversity of marine mammals in the world.

More photos I took around Terceira and São Miguel.

But there is a flip side to the celebration of diversity and variety in the flora and fauna. The introduction of some species has caused the crowding out, even extinction, of native ones. Changing patterns of land use have altered habitats. Forced cohabitation, as it were, has changed behaviors. One can debate which of these effects are "good" and which are "bad", but I won't engage in that. Rather, I remind myself that combining elements can have far-reaching and unintended repercussions, and can change landscapes and futures forever. It's why, despite a penchant for things (and people) that are the embodiment of combinations, I'm always leery of art or cuisine that explicitly bills itself as "fusion." What has been retained of the original? In what way is the result greater than the sum of its parts? What has been lost so that something can be gained? Fusion can be an amazing creation. Or it can be a terrible ruining. And always the difference will be in the eye—and the experience—of the beholder.

Flowers galore.

I was on this trip with just my youngest child and we feasted on fish and seafood and beef and linguiça (but not enough vegetables). We dipped our toes in gorgeous but frigid ocean waters and immersed ourselves in relaxing thermal pools. We drove through narrow, cobblestone village streets and up and down hairpin curves in the hilly interiors. We listened to frogs sing and watched lizards dart into rocky nooks and resisted petting the many cats we encountered. We scrambled over rocks to hidden waterfalls and took in sweeping vistas. We photographed flowers. I enjoyed the local Rocha Negra gin. I cobbled my few words and phrases of Portuguese and adorned them with a mix of French and Spanish. It was delightful. But always I was aware that we were only scratching the surface, experiencing some of the results of a layered and complex coming together of peoples and species and migrations and shifts and intentions.

If you go, I recommend booking a car through Way2Azores (they had a selection of automatic transmission cars when other rental agencies didn't) but take as small a car as you can! The roads, especially in towns, can be very narrow. We had a great stay at Quinta do Espirito Santo on the island of Terceira (the owner, Francisco, was a truly delightful multilingual retired historian and professor). We ate some wonderful meals at Tasca in Ponta Delgada (go very early to put your name on the list; they don’t take reservations), as well as at Cais da Sardinha right on the water. (Of course I ordered the sardines.) Other highlights on São Miguel included the Terra Nostra botanical gardens in Furnas, and the Poça da Dona Beija hot springs right nearby. On Terceira, we enjoyed climbing down into the plant-lined lava tunnel of the Algar do Carvão, and poking around Angra do Heroismo, with stops for ice cream right on the public beach. Boa viagem!

And more! A small selection.