We sat on the steps of the local cathedral behind a Faro flautist listening to the enchanting sounds of his silver flute. I could have stayed there all day, watching people stopping, some momentarily, others longer. The power of the flute that has no argument, no need for conflict, no hidden agenda. Instead passers-by responded in their own unique ways.

Three men wandered up the steps and sat quietly, their backs against the ancient city walls. A young woman stopped and looked at her boyfriend, a look often confined to more private spaces, but here on a large plaza of cobbles. Another older man cheekily included the flautist in his video, nonchalantly casting his phone across his presence. We had earlier believed we had been culturally enlightened and paid him first. 

A big jolly man could not help smiling as he purchased a CD, looking like someone who had recently had a photo shoot with some migratory storks. Another four bought the musician’s  exquisite sounds. Every second person treated his cap as a depository for small coins. Many others simply paused for a moment because that can be the power of the flute. We had stopped for awhile because I had a dizzy spell and I needed to be close to the ground on my own terms. 

Recovered and soothed we set out through the beautifully tiled shopping and eating plaza, funnelling down to our tall narrow one-way graffiti gathering street, to a secret restaurant in a back lane decorated with street paintings of days of old. We ate with locals and less affluent visitors in this little hideaway a kilometre from the heart of town. 

Back in our hotel room we look down on a school named after a socially minded king, Afonso 111, and turn on the TV. It is on ‘Canal de radio’ and the melancholic sounds of a female Fado singer can’t help but bring back sad memories, because that is the power of the Fado. It’s maybe appropriate that we, at least temporarily leave Fado in Faro as we move with some difficulty by public transport from Portugal to Spain. Their relationship still tense in some quarters, provides some of the energy to those forever lingering Fado memories.