From Grand Prix Roads to Goat Paths: A Journey Through Madeira

First off: Madeira airport. Wild. Built on pillars, dangling over the edge of the sea like someone dared an engineer to play a game of "how far can we push this?" You spot it from the plane window and think, surely not. If that concept alone gives you pause, Madeira might not be for you. Honestly, you should just hit the homepage now and find somewhere less… structurally adventurous. I didn’t snap a picture—too busy marvelling at its audacity—but do yourself a favour and Google it. And then come straight back here, obviously.

The main roads? Brilliant. The ring road looping the island feels purpose-built for a Grand Prix. Smooth surfaces, clear signs, zero roundabout-induced rage. But the B roads, that’s where the fun stops. Narrow, twisty, vertical affairs that seem designed by someone with a vendetta against cars. You go from sleek tunnels to navigating what might generously be called a goat path. Stark contrast, and yet oddly on-brand for Madeira. 

The weather is another head-scratcher. I packed bikinis and a raincoat — in the same suitcase. That’s a weird combination to leave the house with. One minute in Funchal you’re baking under the sun, and the next, climbing the vertical B roads, you’re suddenly soaked in a tropical rainforest. Confusing but admittedly fascinating, especially when you’re rewarded with lush ferns and the iconic birds-of-paradise flowers. Nature’s way of apologising, I suppose.

Now, those Porto Moniz rock pools everyone raves about on Instagram? I’ll be honest: not quite the paradise pics you see online. Cold. Rainy. And the Atlantic Ocean? Absolutely Baltic. But I did it. Jumped in. Said yes to the experience. The locals weren’t fazed by the temperature, so I put on a brave face and gave it a go. I’d even go so far as to say… I actually enjoyed it. Bonus moment: spotted a huge red-and-black crab in the pools, which was genuinely cool.

Driving back to the sunny side of the island was like stepping through the Narnia wardrobe. Back to the Formula 1-worthy roads, the warmth, and—most importantly—pastel de nata hunting.

Speaking of pastries: Madeira supermarkets are not messing around. They’ve got this genius contraption where you slide open a little window, grab your pastry, and it rolls down a mini slide onto your tray. Ingenious, entertaining, and hygienic. You don’t have to worry that your de nata has been fingered by several other people.

Also, I was pleased to see Super Bock on the shelves. Great beer.

Now, because I know a 'travel blog' is supposed to sound insightful, here’s my official “interesting” observation: the geology of Madeira is marvellous. It reminded me of parts of Asia — lumpy green mountains, dense greenery, banana plants everywhere. It felt like a tiny slice of Southeast Asia… only three hours away by plane. And I love Asia. 

Madeira surprised me, and that’s saying something because I plan holidays with military precision, right down to Google Earth reconnaissance. Even so, the island managed to catch me off guard—in the best possible way. The unpredictable weather, the flora, the odd but delightful pastry machines, the wild topography—it all came together beautifully. Would I return? In a heartbeat. Would I recommend it? Absolutely. Even with the hair-raising runway landing, the goat-path roads, and the Atlantic chill. Madeira has a charm entirely its own—I even toyed with the idea of buying a house there. That is, until I saw the prices. Clearly I’m not the only one captivated by this enchanting island.