Santiago is unique. One of a kind. From the streets of Praia, with its unmistakable Central African vibe, through the winding Serra Malagueta mountains and the countless villages along the way, the journey finally leads to Tarrafal.

Then Fogo. Fogo is something else entirely. The wind shook my plane so hard it almost took my soul with it, taxi drivers tried charging 20,000 Escudos for a 10-minute ride, and the landscapes were unreal. I explored the island from top to bottom. Even villages deep in the bush weren’t safe from my little Chevrolet Spark.

Now just enough time for a quick stay in Brava, then back to Santiago by ferry. Four hours on the Atlantic to avoid air turbulence… and what a mistake that turned out to be.