Azores Day: 7

We woke up on time today. Progress.

We packed, headed down for breakfast, and were pleasantly surprised — decent spread, the nesquick cake was actually good, the fruit was delicious, and the staff were as attentive as ever.

We headed to Furnas do Enxofre to walk around the geothermal site. It was a small, pretty, quick loop — cool to see, but it paled in comparison to the geothermal sites we'd visited on São Miguel earlier in the week. We did spot some gorgeous fern trees which I personally found very exciting. We then drove toward the airport along the coastline for a scenic send-off — pretty, though admittedly most of the viewpoints looked like things we had already seen many times over by this point.

And then we got to the airport, and everything that could happen to Fern happened to Fern.

It started with the pocket knife. Fern had a TSA-approved Victorinox Jetsetter multi-tool — or, to common folk like me, a Swiss Army knife — well within the 6 cm blade limit — except security measured it from the handle rather than the blade itself, declared it non-compliant, and sent her back to check her bag. I made it through perfectly fine. I waited by the gate.

What should have taken ten minutes took the better part of half an hour, because checking the bag opened an entirely new frontier of issues. The liquids needed to be reorganized into different bags. The agent informed Fern that her solid makeup counted as a liquid and needed to go into the liquids bag — while simultaneously waving through her toner and sunscreen because those, apparently, were "medicine." I continued waiting by the gate.

Bag checked, Fern returned to the original security line — the same one she had already passed through — where they asked for her boarding pass as if seeing her for the first time, and then demanded her passport. They looked at both, looked up at Fern, and announced: "That's not your name." Fern asked why. They placed the boarding pass and passport side by side and said again: not your name. Fern said: it is. They said: no, your last name is actually your middle name. Fern said: I don't have a middle name. She showed them two additional forms of ID. They remained unconvinced, and informed her she would need a new boarding pass issued under her "correct" name — for a fee of 30 euros. At this point Fern, exhausted, agreed to pay and dispute it later, just to get through. Then they realized her already-checked bags were under her "wrong" name, so baggage had to be called to retrieve the bags, recheck them under the new name, and start the whole process again. Third time through security, Fern was told to remember to use her "real name" going forward, as the US would not let her back in under her "fake" name. I was still by the gate. I had a very nice time waiting.

The flight was delayed, so we sat and waited some more. We eventually made it back to Ponta Delgada by 4 pm.

At the rental car desk they tried to upgrade us again. I asked for something smaller instead. They gave us the most visibly battered car on the lot and assured us we wouldn't be charged for any existing damage since it was, in their words, already covered in scratches. Whether that turns out to be true remains to be seen.

We checked into the hotel — a regular hotel this time, which felt strange after the eco-lodge — and after some deliberation headed to Gorreana Tea Plantation, Europe's oldest and only continuously operating tea plantation, established in 1883 right here on São Miguel. It produces 100% organic, pesticide-free tea using traditional century-old methods and machinery, and it was a genuinely lovely afternoon stop. I had scones with the teas, which were delicious. Fern sampled every single hard kombucha they made with their tea. We both left happy.

Dinner was at a Japanese restaurant, which was exactly what we needed. We ordered a little too much and rolled back to the hotel for sauna, shower, and bed.

While I was in the shower, Fern was in the sauna (which was down a dark eerie hallway - video below), where she encountered a woman who needed to talk. The woman opened by announcing how desperately she needed a vacation and Fern attempted to politely not engage. This strategy held until the woman asked Fern a direct question, leaving her no choice but to respond, at which point the trauma dump began in earnest. The woman shared that she could not afford to put her dog down ethically (even though she was currently on vacation and was wearing a Cartier love bracelet) and so her son had had to shoot the dog — but the dog wouldn't go down. Fern, deeply uncomfortable and not entirely buying any of this, let out an involuntary chuckle and promptly left the sauna. Also her data hadn't been working all day so she was phoneless, which did not help matters.

All in all: I had a very calm, pleasant day. Fern had absolutely everything thrown at her. Here's to a peaceful one for both of us tomorrow!

♡ Ink