Playing in Portugal.

One day last Spring over lunch at the Royal Oak, my good friend said to me, "Let's go to Portugal".

So we did.

I have to admit Portugal was not on my bucket list. Spain maybe, but Portugal?  When you think about it, what comes to mind when you think about Portugal?  Port wine? The City of Lisbon? Vasco Da Gama? (he lived 500 years ago - what has Portugal done lately, notwithstanding their economic difficulties)?

But as I write this blog, I think back fondly to the friendly and accommodating Portuguese with their language that looks like Spanish but sounds like guttural Russian, to the dramatic coastlines of cliffs interspersed with sandy beaches, to medieval walled towns with narrow cobblestone lanes and passageways, to castles on just about every hill, to delicious wines and grilled food and to sunny and warm weather. And to have shared this experience with our treasured friends made this experience, as Marie said, one of our top ten trips if not for the company (this is an inside joke, folks!).

We had planned our trip to start in Lisbon (pronounced Lishboa in Portuguese). On the Thursday of our departure from Canada, we met at our friends' daughter's place (she was the designated parking lott attendant while we were away) and she took us to the airport.  And as usual when I fly on points, I got stopped yet again by Air Canada internal security because my name is persona non grata unless I use my Aeroplan number which you can't do when flying on points. It seems that a certain Robert Macdonald is not welcome on their flights. Once the phone call to security was made by the check-in agent and Air Canada established that I was still not a threat, we were immediately put on another flight going to Toronto to catch our overseas flight.  Apparently, the other pre-flight security people in Toronto, unhappy about their contract negotiations, were working to rule (a good thing probably) and lots of flights were delayed. I don't think these delays had anything to do with my security issues with Air Canada. So even though we were on an earlier flight, we left for Toronto at the same time as our originally booked flight.

Somewhere between London and Lisbon

After a short visit to the Air Canada lounge and duty free store in Toronto, we settled into our next leg, the midnight flight to London Heathrow. Marie and Debbie took advantage of the lay flat beds and went to sleep shortly after takeoff, but Miguel and I decided to have dinner and drinks to celebrate the start of our Portuguese adventure.  After an all too short nap, we arrived in London where we changed planes yet again, this time to TAP (Portugal's national airline) for the flight to Lisbon. Shortly after take off,  Miguel and I had our first Sagres (a pretty good Portuguese beer) as we were pretty sure it was afternoon somewhere in the world.

After clearing customs and gathering up our luggage in Lisbon, we grabbed a cab to the hotel and this was to be our first indication of how inexpensive Portugal is - the cab ride was really cheap compared to what it would cost in Canada.

Evening in Lisbon

At the hotel, we freshened up as best we could, being jet lagged, and decided to take a walk towards the city centre (about 2km from our hotel) as our first event in Portugal. As it was quite late in the afternoon (although our internal clocks said otherwise), we strolled down Avenida da Liberdade, a large boulevard that runs from the Marques de Pombal traffic circle towards the harbour.  The concierege at the hotel had recommended we go to Rua de Sao Jose, part of which is a pedestrian walkway similar to the Sparks Street Mall, as it featured several restaurants and bars. When we arrived at dusk, the activities on the street were just getting started. Buskers were setting up to sell junk to tourists and the restaurant hawkers were trying their best to get the few tourists to eat at their establishments. We decided to stop for a drink before making up our minds about eating. So we sat at an outside table of a small establishment and ordered Sagres and wine and watched the people go by and the hawkers do their thing.

Waiting for Sardines

Suitably refreshed if still a bit zoned out, we strolled down the rest of the pedestrian street as the number of tourists and some locals increased. We stopped periodically to check out the menus at a few places. We wanted to try seafood and perhaps grilled meat and restaurants offering either of these choices abounded. However, we finally settled for one of the first we had seen at the top of the street which seemed to offer both. As it was a pleasant night, we sat outside and it was here that some of us had our first 'sardines' in Portugal.  Now sardines in Portugal, while part of the herring family, are not what we in North America call sardines. First of all, they are anywhere from 15 to 25 cm long, are served grilled with the heads and tails on and are usually accompanied by boiled potatoes. And they are quite good, although Miguel would (and did frequently on the trip) disagree about the potatoes.

After dinner, we took another stroll to the end of the pedestrian street, to a plaza where a small group of singers were doing their thing to busk for money. But by now we were dragging our proverbial tails, so we headed for the taxi rank and got a cab back to the hotel.  So ended our first day in Portugal.

The next morning dawned sunny and cloudless (we did not see clouds in the sky until our last day in Portugal, and they were only wispy ones at that). We met in the lobby and Miguel and I asked the concierge about Fado shows, about what to see in Lisbon and about a good place for breakfast (eating in the Sheraton would have been muito dinhiero). For the Fado show, he said he would make a reservation for us for that evening. He further suggested since we only had a full day to see some of the sights to take the Hop On - Hop Off tour bus that makes a circuit around the city, and finally he told us to go around the corner to a small patisserie where he ate his own breakfast.  So we bought tickets for the tour bus and went out for breakfast.  In Portugal, like most of Europe, coffee choices are expresso and cappuccino, or coffee with hot milk. The usual croissants, small pastry type sandwiches, buns and other baked goods, with and without meat and or cheese, and basic fruit make up the 'breakfast' menus.

Marques de Pombal

After we ate, we went back to the hotel to get ready for a day of touring.  The Hop On-Off bus had a major stop in a park at the Marques de Pombal traffic circle which was a five minute walk from the hotel.  A statue of the Marques, who was Minister of the Kingdom (Prime Minister) around 1750 and who rebuilt Lisbon after the devastating earthquake of 1755 among other accomplishments, dominates the centre of the circle. We got on the tour bus and went upstairs (as everyone does) and it headed out, retracing our route from the evening before down Avenida da Liberdade. These types of tour buses are good in that they provide commentary on what the bus is passing, run often and to the majority of major 'tourist' attractions and if one only has a short time to visit a city, provide a good overview.

Commercial Square

We jumped off at the stop in front of the Commercial Square (Praca do Commercio), a large plaza dominated on three sides by government buildings which housed customs and other port facilities. The square is open on the south side along the Tejo (called Tagus in English) River. A statue of King Jose I, who was the monarch at the time of the 1755 earthquake, dominates the square's centre. The tram line also stops at the square and although we did not take the tram during our visit to Lisbon, Tram 28 apparently also passes by many of the tourist sites in this area of the city and is an alternative to the commercial tour buses - at a fraction of the cost.

Tejo River

We wandered through the square down to the river to check out the boats and other river traffic. Sail boats of different sizes cruised back and forth in front of us, as did small tour boats and we could also see ferry boats taking people to the other side of the river. Several people were fishing along the river embankment although many of the poles were not attended or people were using several poles at once. We did notice later in the day that they were catching what appeared to be sardines or at least a fish of the same size and shape. After consulting our map of Lisbon, we turned east and headed along the river bank, past some warehouses, towards the oldest part of Lisbon called Alfama.

Alfama

The Alfama is located on a hillside between the river and the Castle of St. George high on the hill. It is a delightful warren of crooked and narrow cobblestone streets, alleyways, and walkways that wind their way up towards the castle. It is easy to get lost in the Alfama, but as long as you are going up, you know eventually you will reach the castle, or go down, and you will eventually get to the lower city or the river.  The climbs are quite steep (like San Francisco, some of the streets actually have stairs on them), but there is lots to see on the way up or down, including small shops and restaurants, Fado clubs, local people scurrying about and of course fellow tourists looking lost, hot, and panting, as they make their way up towards the castle.

The main Cathedral, or Se, is also located in the Alfama

St Anthony

and we popped in for a quick look. With some of it dating from 1147, it is the oldest church in Lisbon. Severely damaged in the 1755 earthquake, it has been rebuilt, appearing like a fortress outside but beautiful inside. On the front steps, we were accosted by two or three beggars who probably spend most of their days here doing their 'jobs'. This is a common sight in major cities in Europe, just like it is in Canada. The beggars are not usually aggressive and I suspect they make pretty good livings from locals and tourists alike.

We chose not to visit the castle so after reaching the top and getting our breathing under control, and watching another beggar do his thing, we started back down and eventually arrived at the Commercial Square again. We would be back to visit the Alfama in the evening but we did not yet know that.

We crossed the square once again and this time headed west on the embankment towards the ferry terminal where ferries cross over to Cacilhas on the southern bank of the Tejo. Our concierge recommended that we make this trip, that the ferry was a good way to see the Lisbon skyline. He also said that the fish restaurants near the Cacilhas terminal served excellent and traditional fish lunches. As it was getting on to lunch time, we decided to follow up on his recommendation.

Cafe Seating Plan

After a short walk along a designated walking path and dodging bicycles whizzing past, we passed between the nondescript Portuguese Navy Headquarters and a large construction site to emerge on another plaza alongside the river. We walked by a cafe where bean bag chairs were piled in a heap and came to the ferry terminal located on the Cais do Sobre (Sobre Quay). After Miguel and I spent a few minutes trying to figure out the ticket dispensing machine, I noticed a staffed booth where I went and bought return tickets from the lady who spoke excellent English.

Lisbon Skyline

We waited about 10 minutes before boarding the ferry. The ride to the other side lasted about another ten minutes. Unfortunately, the ferry was completely closed in so there was no opportunity to go out on the 'deck' for better views. Upon disembarking, we thought that we could walk along the embankment of the river so we set out to do so. Only to find that we were on the back (delivery) side of the buildings and that there was absolutely nothing to see - other than Lisbon proper across the river. Although there are modern buildings to the west and north on the Lisbon skyline, the older parts of town (Alfama and the Bairro Alto on the other hill) dominate the view of Lisbon from Cacilhas, with the highest buildings being religious ones (Cathedral, Church of Santa Engracia and the Monastery of Sao Vincente de Fora). The newest section, which includes modern buildings, is behind the hills and only the tops of the buildings can be seen.

Cacilhas Church

We retraced our steps back to the ferry terminal plaza and then headed inland. We could immediately see what our concierge had recommended; several fish restaurants, all with menus in at least four languages. It being very hot outside already, and as it was approaching noon, we decided that a refreshment was in order while we pondered our next move. So we gravitated to a small cafe with outside chairs and patio umbrellas. Miguel went in to order the beer and we slaked our thirst while enjoying the weather and the hustle and bustle as passengers went to and from the ferry. Suitably rested, we decided to check out some of the restaurants of the small 'village' and to see the village proper. Unfortunately, as the main street was under construction, we did not wander far into the Cacilhas, but returned to the restaurants grouped around the ferry plaza. We sat down at one and had an excellent lunch and then headed back to the ferry for the return trip to Lisbon proper.

Ferry Terminal Fishermen

After disembarking, we walked to where we thought the Hop On -  Hop Off bus would stop only to find out a few minutes later that we needed to walk across the plaza to the other side of the road. That sorted out, we did and waited about 15 minutes for the bus to arrive. We once again climbed up to the upper seats and watched the scenery and listened to the commentary as we rode out to Belem, about 4 km down the Tejo.  On the way we crossed under the 25th of April bridge. April 25, 1974 was the date when Portugal became 'democratic' during a military coup, called the Carnation Revolution, because citizens used carnations to decorate soldiers' uniforms (and put into the muzzles of their rifles). On the other side of the river, the large Cristo-Rei (Christ the King), the 100 metre tall statue inspired by the one in Rio de Janeiro, dominates the skyline.

Belem Palace

We got off the bus at the first stop in Belem, just in front of the National Coach Museum. No, it is not a training facility, but a museum which has one of the best collections of historical carriages in the world. However, it being an extremely beautiful day, and with no real interest in our group to visit old carriages, we passed it by as we walked west, past the National Palace of Belem. This complex was begun in 1559 by King Manuel I, but after reconstruction in the 1700s, became the official residence of Portuguese Kings and later, Presidents of the Republic. Soldiers, resplendent in their blue and white uniforms (and sunglasses), guard the somewhat inconspicuous entrance to the grounds. The palace can be visited on weekends only.

Belem Pastry Shop

Just a few metres down the road, we wondered what the large line-up on the other side of the road was for. Could it be a sale or a ticket office? It was actually a lineup for what are supposed to be the best pastries in Portugal. Sold at the Pasteis de Belem shop since 1837, the pastries are handmade with a secret recipe that originated with the monks at the nearby Jeronimos Monastery. The Monastery did not survive, being shut down in 1834 by the state, but the recipe did, being passed to master confectioners at the shop. Tours of the pastry shop and bakery can be taken. A pastry here will cost you $7.  They must be good, because a similar pastry in a shop anywhere else in Lisbon costs about $2.

Jeronimos Monastery

Not willing to line-up for a pastry, we moved on to the massive and magnificent Jeronimos Monastery where military monks of the Hieronymite Order lived. One of the best examples of Manueline architecture in Portugal (Portuguese late-Gothic, named after King Manuel I), it was begun in 1501 on the site of a chapel built by Henry the Navigator in 1459. Vasco da Gama prayed in the original chapel and the Monastery was built to acknowledge his 1497-99 voyage to India and back and thereafter became known as the place of prayer for Portuguese seamen during the great age of Portuguese discovery when they left or entered the port of Lisbon.

Jeronimos Church

Da Gama is buried in the church as are several Portuguese Kings (including Manuel I). Built of gold tinted limestone, appropriate in that the construction was financed by a 5% tax on commerce from Africa and the Orient that amounted to 70 kg of gold a year, the structure is enormous and richly decorated with sculptured stone, often containing maritime motifs. It took 100 years to build the Monastery and Church. It is a UNESCO World Heritage site and is visited by tour buses so if you want to see it, get there early. There is no fee to visit the church, however there is for the monastery proper.

Henry the Navigator

At the western end of the Monastery, we could see the Portuguese Naval Museum, and crossing the road, we passed by the Belem Cultural Centre, a new facility that architecturally does not look out of place in front of the Monastery. We took a passageway to cross under the busy Avenida da India so that we could visit the Padrão dos Descobrimentos, a stunning monument and square that celebrates the Portuguese Age of Discoveries. Completed in 1960, it marked the 500 anniversary of the death of Henry the Navigator. The monument which soars into the sky, represents the prow of a Portuguese caravel, one of the principle sailing ships of the Portuguese explorers. On each side, statues of prominent explorers (i.e. Dias; da Gama), cartographers, missionaries and royalty march up a ramp, led by Henry the Navigator himself who faces out to the River Tejo, a caravel in his hands.  In front of the monument, laid out in coloured marble on the ground in the square, is a large Compass Rose and a Map of the World depicting the dates of significant Portuguese voyages.

Belem Tower

From here, we continued west down the River Tejo shoreline to the Belem Tower that we could see in the distance. On the walk there, we pretty much decided that we had had enough sightseeing for the day. The combination of the sun and heat, plus the fact that our internal clocks were not yet aligned to the six hour time difference, were doing us in. After Marie and Debbie stopped for ice cream sold from an ice cream wagon, Mike, Debbie and I walked through the park to see the Belem Tower while Marie went to check out where the Hop On-Hop Off bus stop was. The fortified Belem Tower, or Castle of St Vincent, was built in the Manueline style in the late 15th and early 16th centuries to defend the mouth of the Tejo River and the town of Lisbon. The tower, like the nearby Jeronimos Monastery, is also a UNESCO World Heritage site.

We met back up with Marie who had found where the bus stop was, so we headed towards it. Not knowing how long we had to wait, we crossed the street to a small deli/bar and ordered some Sagres to slake our thirst while we waited the 20 minutes before the bus showed up. We again climbed to the top of the bus and listened to the commentary on the ride back to Lisbon and to the stop near our hotel. A bit weary and sun and wind burned, we all headed into the hotel for a couple of hours of relaxation before we headed out again to go to the Fado show and dinner that evening that the concierge had arranged for us.

A couple of hours later, feeling much refreshed, we grabbed a cab in front of the hotel and provided him with the location of the Fado cafe in the Bairro Alto part of town. While heading in that direction, the cab driver, who spoke some Spanish, suggested to Miguel that we should go to a more authentic Fado place as the one chosen by the concierge catered to tourists and was more of a theatre spectacle, complete with flaming torches and dancers he said.

Before Fado

We immediately agreed and he took us to the Alfama part of town which we had visited that morning. He stopped his cab in the middle of the road and telling us that he would be right back, disappeared up an alleyway. He returned in a couple of minutes to say that the Fado restaurant, called Guittares de Lisboa, could accommodate us. In that the show and dinner were not starting for an hour, we asked Dora, our hostess, for a location where we could have a drink while we waited. After assuring her several times that we would be back, she told us to walk about 100 metres down the cobblestone street to a bar and had wine and beer while we waited.

During Fado

After returning to the Guittares de Lisboa, now packed with locals and surprisingly a group of Canadians from Quebec who sat behind us, we ordered our dinner and sat back to a pleasant evening of seafood, wine and the melancholy and mournful sounds of Fado music which was sung by three different soloists. Fado, although derived from the same Latin word that corresponds to the English word 'fate', is a structured type of music that expresses the Portuguese word saudade which means a feeling of permanent, irreparable loss. This feeling is definitely enhanced by copious amounts of wine and the dark atmosphere of the low ceiling restaurant.

After Fado

After the two female and one male singers were finished entertaining us, most people began to leave the restaurant. We said our goodbyes and obrigados (thanks) to Dora and wandered down to the same square where we had our pre-dinner drink for a nightcap. Then, all agreeing that we had very much enjoyed this last evening in Lisbon, we hailed a cab and headed back to the hotel.

Early the next morning we checked out of the hotel and took a taxi out to the airport to pick up our rental car. I had read that renting a car at the airport was a time consuming event and we were not disappointed - at least in this regard. First, our taxi driver was not sure where to go, so he took us to the garage where rental cars are returned. After a few minutes, Miguel had determined that we had to go into the terminal so with the ladies guarding the luggage, he and I ventured forth and got into line at the Geurin Car Rental counter. With customers in front of us and an average of 10 minutes to do all the paperwork with each customer, it took about 40 minutes before we had finished. In most places in the world, the next step would be to go and get the car, but not in Portugal. Miguel had to take his paperwork to the garage where he got into another line. It was at this point that I decided to go outside and join the ladies. What happened to Miguel we don't know, but it took another 30 minutes before he came out with a jet black Renault Megane station wagon.

We all piled into the car, I plugged Jack (my GPS) into the lighter socket and fired him up. And found out that the lighter socket had been disconnected and that Jack was on his last couple of minutes of battery power. So we reverted to the map and the driving itinerary I had on my netbook while Mike tried to get us out of the airport and onto the highway towards Sintra and the coast. After a false start and a close encounter with an airport police car, we made it onto the highway and headed west, following the signs.

Motorcycles at Cabo da Roca

We finally found the road we wanted that would take us up the coast to the most western part of Continental Europe, Cabo da Roca . We stopped in a small village for breakfast, having expressos and croissants and while Miguel and I sampled the sights outside the local market, Debbie and Marie went in to get water, and as it turns out, snacks for driving. As we headed towards the Cape, we noticed that there were a lot of motorcycles out and about. We mostly noticed them as they sped by us, usually on a curve. When we arrived at the Cape, we found out why - there were hundreds and hundreds of motorcycles and riders in the parking lot and grounds.

Cabo da Roca Monument

Cabo da Roca shoreline

We found a place to park and walked out to the Cape to check it out. There is a monument to signify the edge of the Continent with the longitude and latitude, and magnificent views of the rugged, rocky coastline. As well as the monument, a light house is located at Cabo da Roca as the top of the Cape is 140 metres above the sea.

Bounding up Sintra stairs

Back in the car, we headed back eastward towards Sintra, our next stop. Or so we thought. With no GPS and a map with insufficient scale to mark all the small roads, we probably circled Sintra and added a few extra kilometres to our trip. It was while trying to find the town that Marie discovered another lighter socket in the back seat. I plugged Jack in and he happily came to life. So with Jack mispronouncing the road names in Portuguese (he sounded like a drunk and lisping Russian reciting Jabberwocky) and all of us keeping a look out, we eventually saw road signs directing us toward this beautiful, but overly touristy, town that is a UNESCO World Heritage site. We finally found parking at the bottom of what seemed to be the highest staircase in the world (we must be getting older or something). After giving the disheveled looking man wandering about the car park a euro to look after our car (a common practice in car parks in Portugal), we took quite a few minutes to climb to the top of the stairs, but when we did, we emerged onto the street beside the National Palace of Sintra.

National Palace of Sintra

It now being lunch time, and as we were parched from the climb up from the parking lot far below, we crossed over the street to the closest restaurant and commandeered an outside table. Instead of fish, I tried grilled sausages for lunch which turned out to be quite good.They were small in diameter and lightly spiced and went well with the tomato and onion salad.

Look Up. Look Way Up!

By now, the traffic (both vehicular and pedestrian) was heavy and constant on the main road in front of us, so we only managed to walk a little ways up past the Palace before getting a little discouraged with the crowds. We also were discouraged by the staircases leading up into the rest of this medieval city and the thought of a walk up to the Moorish castle on the very top of the hill was the most discouraging thought of all. We could have taken the car, but it was at the bottom of the stairway from Hell and the number of cars actually going up the hill to the castle, controlled by one way streets, hinted at a mass of humanity at the castle itself. The good thing about Portugal is there are a lot of castles!

Going in the right direction

So with too many stores selling too much overpriced stuff to too many tourists, we decided that we had seen enough of Sintra (maybe a visit in the dead of winter would be better, or in the middle of the week instead of a weekend) and wandered back to the stairway to heaven (we were now going down so the my description has become positive) to descend to the car. Not surprisingly, the descent was much more enjoyable and with thoughts of a cardiac arrest gone, I noticed some interesting and strange sights I had not seen on the way up, including another stairway with wrought iron railings that went nowhere on the side of a house, and a sign with the name of the staircase on it that proved to be very prophetic for those going uphill.

Stairway to ?

We collected the car and set out for our final destination of the day, the town of Nazare. Miguel and I had decided to avoid the major expressways as much as we could and had designed a driving itinerary that kept us to the smaller back roads.With our daily routes programmed into Jack, we headed north passing through the town of Enceira on the coast and then through gently rolling topography as the road headed inland. It was on this stretch that we noticed a large plume of smoke quite a ways ahead of us. As we got closer we speculated on what could be causing such a dark and large cloud of smoke. And then, as we rounded a curve in the road, we could see that a copse of trees was on fire in the valley below. We pulled off the road into a dirt parking area beside a roadside food kiosk where a gathering crowd watched the firemen far below as they tried to contain the fire. The food kiosk was doing a roaring business because of the fire so there was some good coming out of this situation. This was not the first forest and grass fire we were to see on our trip. Portugal had not had much rain for several months and the forests and countryside were tinder dry.

Forest fire

After leaving the excitement of the forest fire behind, we continued our drive. We passed through several villages and towns, noting that in many, there were traffic lights operating for no apparent reason as there were no intersections or pedestrian crossings at the lights. We learned, or surmised a couple of days later, that they existed to keep people from speeding. If we were travelling over the speed limit, we often got a red light. If we travelled at or close to the speed limit, the lights stayed green. Needless to say, we hit more green lights later on in our trip.

Nazare beach from hotel

We arrived in Nazare, our destination, in mid afternoon. Nazare supposedly got its name after a monk and Roderic, the last King of the Visigoths, brought a Black Madonna from Merida Spain to the area. The statue had supposedly originated in Nazareth in the Holy Land. King Roderic, who had been the only survivor of a battle (yeah right), and the monk supposedly then became hermits and lived in a grotto where the older part of the city is located on the cliff top. A church now exists over that grotto. However, history says King Roderic died in that battle in 712, albeit knowledge about him is scanty at best so maybe he did live to see another day. While the naming of the town may be legend, Nazare (the part we saw near the beach) is a very pretty seaside resort. The wide and long sandy beach is lined with small hotels, restaurants and shops. We checked in to our hotel (we had two rooms with small balconies that faced the sea, each room costing us 45 euros complete with breakfast) and then went for a walk down the seaside promenade. We had refreshments as we watched people swim and sun on the beach before exploring some of the back streets, looking for a place to eat that evening.We found one that looked promisinga nd we returned

Deb's Dinner

later than evening after watching the sun go down over the sea and the beach in front of our hotel. With no clouds in the sky, the sunset was not spectacular, but it did have orange and tangerine colours that set off the silhouettes of the people on the beach.

Dinner that evening at the Tasca do Zambas was absolutely fantastic and not just because of the great food. The restaurant's owner, Joachim (Jack), cooked most of our meal on a grill he had built himself that was just behind our table which was located outside in an alleyway. The most amusing cooking tool he used was a hair dryer to fan the coals of the grill. Jack's English was perfect  and he explained to us that cooks used to use a hand fan to heat up a grill's charcoal, but one day a colleague of his tried his wife's hair dryer. The other cooks were appalled with this break with tradition and even more so with using a woman's item to do a man's job. This disdain apparently did not last long , for Jack told us that all the restaurants in the area were now using hair dryers as less

Joachim (Jack) and Gril

charcoal could be used for the same amount of heat. Charcoal is very expensive and because most food is grilled, a restaurant goes through a lot of it each day.

As there were only two other couples eating at the restaurant, Jack spent quite a bit of time talking to us and laughing with us. He provided a great deal of information about the area telling us what to see the next day on our travels, about Portugal and its traditions and culture, and about the food he was preparing which made for a very enjoyable evening.

Nazare Funicular in background

The next morning, I got up early and went for a walk up the beach towards the cliffs. I wanted a closer look at the funicular railroad that ran from the beach to the Sitio, or old town, on the cliff above. We had not seen it operate once since arriving in Nazare and I had hoped that it would run that morning. However, very few people were up and about at this hour and despite watching for 15 minutes, there was no funicular. A couple of hotel owners were busy hosing off the walkways in front of their establishments and a two or three workmen passed me by as they headed into the town behind the beach along the narrow passageways, clutching their lunch pails in one hand while they munched on breakfast with the other. Seeing them eating their breakfasts, I returned to the hotel about a half hour later and joined the others in the hotel restaurant. A small tour group of Portuguese were also ready for breakfast, so there was a lineup for the coffee machine. We circumvented the line and had the barman get us our expressos. Our simple, yet filling breakfast consisted of rolls, croissants and buns, cold cuts, cheeses, fruit, juices and coffee.

Nazare Fishermen

Jesus! What a Fishing Boat

After breakfast we checked out and headed to Nazare's protected harbour via the back streets of the town as we wanted to see the painted fishermen's boats that the town is also known for. Miguel talked the harbour guard into letting us enter (it was fenced off) although we had to bribe him with a euro. We parked by a large fish plant and the ladies decided to walk along the pier. Meanwhile, Miguel and I took the car around to where we could see fishing boats tied up to the docks. We watched a few fishermen sitting in front of the plant as they mended their nets before joining the ladies and walking along the docks to check out the boats. There was very little harbour traffic, although a couple of small boats, one entering the harbour and two others leaving, did slice through the absolutely still water in front of us. The boats were highly painted with symbols and bright paint and most were named after religious figures.

Alcobaca Monastery and Church

Alcobaca Cloisters

After touring the harbour and marina, we headed inland away from the sea and over a set of hills covered with a pine forest to go to the city of Alcobaca to visit the Monastery.  The first King of Portugal, Alfonso Henriques, decided to build a large church in Alcobaca in 1147 in thanks for a nearby victory over the Moors. Over the next 100 years, this church evolved into the Alcobaca Monastery, a magnificent Gothic edifice that is located in the centre of town. The Monastery is the burial place of King Pedro I and his mistress, Ines de Castro. There is quite a story connected with these two. Pedro, who was in love with Ines, was forced to marry another, an infant Princess who died shortly after their marriage (she was older when they got married). This gave Pedro the opportunity to go to Coimbra to live with Ines. Meanwhile, Pedro's father, King Alfonso IV, feeling threatened by Ines and her family, had her murdered. When Pedro became King, he declared that he and Ines had been secretly married all along. He took out revenge against her murderers, had her exhumed, and with a golden crown placed on her now somewhat worse for wear head, had his court swear allegiance to her. He had her reburied (he was not THAT twisted) in front of the Albobaca Church altar and joined her in a similar tomb when his time came.

Tomb of Ines de Castro

The Monastery is huge and although it does not contain many items (it was looted on several occasions by occupying forces with Napoleon's troops doing the most damage), is interesting to visit and tour. It is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Looking Snappy

After spending a couple of hours in the Monastery, we turned our car north and started our journey towards Oporto. We took secondary roads and passed through several eucalyptus plantations on the way. Eventually, we made it to the town of Figuera da Foz, a seaport. We had read about a restaurant in Miguel's Lonely Planet book that was located there and we decided to try it for lunch. Following Jack's (the GPS, not the cook) instructions, we made a few twists and turns in the town and then all of a sudden we were there. The restaurant was affiliated with a Sporting Club and it offered all you could eat (grilled fish, chicken or beef) and salads for 7.5 euros. Some of us also added a large beer each which brought the bill up to 9 euros. So we had chicken - lots of chicken, with salads and boiled potatoes (Miguel's favourite!). The restaurant was very unpretentious, more like a diner or cafeteria, but the food was good.

Mr Taylor and Mr Fladgate

Tasting Port

After we ate, we headed back out of town and as it was getting a bit late and we definitely wanted to go to Taylor and Fladgate's port wine facility, we headed out onto the toll road where we could cruise at 120km. We rolled into Vila Nova de Gaia, the city opposite Oporto on the Duoro River. Taylor's facilities were located in this part of town, near the river. After parking in a nearby parking garage, we walked into the Taylor's property (Port producers's sites are called Lodges) and went into the reception area. After letting one of the hostesses know that we wanted to go on a tour, she had us sit down for some Port tasting while we waited for the tour to begin. We tried three different kinds of Port, all of them really good and quite different in taste. The ones we tried were offered free, but they did have a 100 year old Port that could be tasted - for 135 euros a taste. We declined to try this one.

Port Barrels

A few minutes later, a hostess gathered us up with a few other people for the last English tour of the day and we were off. During the half hour tour, she imparted a lot of information about Port and the history of Taylor's. Taylor's was established in 1692 by Job Beasley to ship Duoro Valley wines (not Port as it had not yet been invented) to England. Because the duoro wines did not travel well, brandy was added to fortify them. The brandy was soon replaced with pure grape spirit and Port was born in the early 1700s. Beasley's sons and their offspring operated the firm until 1816 when Taylor joined as a partner through marriage to a Beasley girl. A few years later, Fladgate joined the firm the same way. In 1844, Morgan Yeatman joined. Several other partners have come on board over the years, yet the firm is still marketed as Taylor Fladgate and it is still family held. We learned how Port is made, stored and classified as we went through the wine lodge where barrel after barrel of Tawny wines were stacked high. We saw other huge vats to hold the Ruby, Premium Reserve and Late Bottled Vintage wines. And the special casks that hold wines that were good enough to be called a vintage year (this does not happen every year). We also learned that although the addition of grape spirit stops fermentation, some Port wines continue to age even when in a bottle.

Oporto from Taylor's

Suitably impressed and much more learned, we now undertook the challenge of driving across the bridge into Oporto, then through the centre of the city out to the suburbs during rush hour. Miguel did an admirable job, being assertive when necessary to get us through the bewildering traffic, particularly when there were no traffic lights or stop signs. We finally found our hotel, a new upscale place and checked in. And spent the next 10 minutes trying to figure out the door locks -  I even returned to the desk for a demonstration by the hotel clerk (and an admission on his part that the door locks were garbage), yet even after this it still took time to get the doors open.

Once rested, we headed across the street to a bar for refreshments. We were the oldest people there as our hotel was located right beside a couple of large universities. Maybe the kids thought we were professors checking up on them. We went on to have a meal in a nearby grill house - the temperature inside was hot enough to grill us - before returning to the same bar after dinner for a nightcap. After the girls had gone back to the hotel, Miguel and I had a couple of glasses of Port and chatted with the young owner of the establishment for an hour or so. He provided us with an enlightening and somewhat dire description of Portugal's economy and why the country was suffering so much. However, his bar was doing fine (university students) and throughout our entire trip, so were most restaurants and shops. Hopefully, Portugal was beginning to recover.

The next morning, we went across the street to a cafe for breakfast. Then it was back into the car and through morning rush hour traffic to one of the major highways heading south from Oporto.  Once we were on the highway, it was clear sailing as we were going against the inbound traffic.

Conimbriga House Floor

Our major stop of the day was just south of the Portuguese city of Coimbra. Although we only drove through Coimbra to get to our destination, it seemed to be a lovely, yet very old city, founded by the Romans. Its claim to fame is that it has one of the oldest Universities in the world, having been founded in 1290 CE. But we were on our way to Conimbriga, the largest Roman archeological site in Portugal. We got slightly turned around as we left Coimbra because new road work had yet to be updated in the GPS maps in Jack, but the Conimbriga signs soon had us going in the right direction.

Conimbriga House

Conimbriga was first settled by Iron Age Celtic people, around 900 BCE. The Romans arrived early in the second century CE and established a settlement that grew over the next 300 hundred years until invasions by Visigoths in 468 sealed its fate as most of the remaining citizens left for the better protected Coimbra. Sometime in the 8th or 9th century CE, the city was completely abandoned. Although Conimbriga was not the largest Roman city during the Empire's rule in Portugal, it is the best preserved and to date only about 10% of it has been excavated. So if you go in the future, you will see more than we did. What has been excavated is impressive. It is the best Roman site I have seen outside of Italy, as the city walls, and many of the tesserae (tiled) floors of houses and lots of the flat Roman brickwork remain intact. It also has one of the largest Roman houses I have seen outside of Rome - at 4500 square feet, the house must have belonged to a pretty prosperous person. There is also another well preserved house that has been covered to protect it from the elements. The fountains that were in the house's atrium have been recreated and for 50 euro cents you can make them work.

Fountain House

The site contains a pretty interesting museum with hundreds of exhibits described in English which is helpful for non Portuguese speakers. It is worth going through before going out into the excavated area. We spent a couple of hours walking around the site, which is also well signposted in Portuguese and English. Conimbriga was also where we saw our first olive trees on our trip and we even saw people on the site harvesting the small black olives this area of Portugal is known for. As elsewhere, olives are harvested by laying a circular net on the ground under the tree and then the tree is shaken. The fallen olives are then scooped up in the net.

Penela Castle

It was well over 30 degrees and sunny when we visited Conimbriga, so our first order of business upon leaving was to find a place for our daily lunch refreshments. This area of Portugal is quite hilly, and after driving for about thirty minutes, we pulled into the hillside town of Penela in search of food and drinks. Penela has a fine castle dominating the town, but it seems to have a lack of fine restaurants. The people at the one we visited (called D. Sesnando) did not seem to want our business - it took twenty minutes to get the surly waitress to even bring us a beer. We did not even try to order food. So we sat outside on the patio and watched as several fire trucks left the large fire station on the other side of the valley and headed down the highway that we were to also shortly follow.

Tomar 'Main Street'

Sure enough, it was another forest fire that the firemen were going to and we soon passed it, burning in the trees on the side of the road. Having already seen a forest fire, we kept on going. We decided to forgo lunch as we had lots of snacks in the car. As we drove along, we passed by many people walking on the side of the road. We had seen some in their distinctive green safety vests the day before and we had learned that they were Pilgims on their way to Fatima. We saw them walking in small groups until just before they turned off on a road that headed towards Fatima while we continued south to our destination for the night, the medieval city of Tomar.

Our delightful bed and breakfast (Residencial Uniao) was located in the oldest part of the city and trying to get to it by car proved fruitless. After circling the area a couple of times, we finally stopped on one of the wider streets (it might have been 3 metres wide) and Miguel and I got out to ask a gentlemen if he knew where the bed and breakfast was located as we could not find the street nor a way to get the car into the small lanes (we could see the paint on house walls that other motorists had left behind when turning into the narrow streets). He walked with us for a couple of blocks and showed us (he spoke English) how to find it, as well as informing us that it was actually located on a pedestrian 'mall'. He said we could park the car near the post office which was located on the river and walk to the bed and breakfast. Which we did.  After checking in, the owner told us how to bring our luggage through her 'back door' and to leave the car at the post office where paid parking lasted until 5 p.m. After that it was free for the night.

Convento do Cristo

Tomar is most famous for the Convento de Cristo, the headquarters of the Templar Knights in Portugal, that dominates the hill behind the city. We definitely wanted to visit it, but as it was still pretty hot outside, it was getting close to closing time for the Convent and we were tired from Conimbriga, we decided that we would put off the visit until the next morning. Thus we had the late afternoon to explore the medieval section of Tomar. But first things first. As we had to wait twenty minutes before we could put another euro in the parking machine, we sat at a cafe close to the post office parking lot and had a couple of cold ones. After getting some of our energy back, we set out to explore this beautiful town.

Tomar Doorway

We wandered up and down the narrow cobblestone streets. At one point, we stopped outside the old synagogue, the oldest and best preserved in Portugal, dating from the mid 15th century. For most of its existence, however, it was not a synagogue, because in 1496, King Manuel's edict gave Portugal's Jewish population a choice - convert to Christianity or leave the country. Over the years, the synagogue has been a jail, a centre of the Portuguese Inquisition, a Christian chapel, a hayloft and a warehouse. In 1921, after being purchased by a Jewish person, it was declared a national monument and today is a museum.

Water wheel

After touring much of the medieval section of town, we walked across the bridge over the River Nabao that flows through the centre of town. We checked out a restaurant on the other side which is where we ended up for dinner later on, then walked past a recreational complex (soccer field etc) and back over the river on a footbridge to Mouchao Island. This small island contains a lovely park and an old building housing what appeared to be an upscale restaurant. The views across the river to the medieval side of town are particularly appealing from the park with a weir on the river,  many waterbirds, the old arched stone bridge, the medieval buildings of the town and high on the hill in the background, the Convent. As well, in this park is a wooden water wheel which represents those that were once common in Portugal and were used for centuries.

Dinner spot

After our walkabout,we went back to the cafe close to the post office and had another refreshment - or two!  Then we went to the bed and breakfast to freshen up for dinner and a pleasant evening sitting outside, first at the restaurant where our table overlooked the river and medieval town and the sun setting behind the Convent on the hill, and later at another cafe just up the street for a nightcap.

Tomar morning

The next day, I went out for an early morning walk through the medieval section of town. The town and the Convent were bathed in a soft yellow-orange glow as the sun rose into another cloudless sky. There were hardly any people on the streets; a woman washing the stone paving in front of the beautiful Manueline entrance of the Church of São João Baptista (John the Baptist) was the only person I saw for at least 30 minutes, but then I could hear the chatter of school kids echoing in the street as they headed towards me and soon they passed me by, all in their school uniforms.

Tomar Headdress

By now, the town was coming alive, so I finally headed back to the bed and breakfast where we ate in a large dining area. Our host told us about a parade, called the Festa dos Tabuleiros that happens every four years in July. She informed us that 2011 had been a parade year. Over 600.000 people from around Portugal and the world came to watch the six hour parade.  Four hundred 'maidens', all in traditional dress and wearing their 15 kilogram headdresses that represent a basket of bread which they balance on their heads, wind their way through the flower bedecked streets of old Tomar. This parade has been happening for hundreds of years. Our host's 2011 headdress was displayed in the breakfast room.

Entrance to Convent

After breakfast, we packed up the car and headed out to go to visit the Convento do Cristo. As the direct route was under construction, we took another route suggested to us to climb the hill behind town and circle around to the Convent's entrance.  After parking the car up against a huge stone wall, we walked to the front of the massive complex, following what appeared to be the same path that travellers would have taken when walking or riding horses all those years ago. Picking our way along a narrow path, we climbed the stone stairs that brought us to a narrow door in the outside wall of the complex through which we could see the inner walls and a wider cobblestone path leading to them.

Inner Walls of Convent

The next set of walls that surrounded the convent are huge. The castle part sat on a large platform of stones to make an impregnable defensive system. Round towers and the castle Keep proper were new to Portugal when it was built in about 1160, the designs having been imported from fellow Crusaders from Normandy. We walked up to the walls, following the cobblestone 'road' to another narrow entrance way in the inner wall. This castle/church complex would have been easy to defend and indeed, in 1190 CE, a contingent of knights did exactly that when the Moors tried to take it. Unlike the Moors who could not get inside, we easily entered the large open courtyard in front of the church and castle. To our right was the castle keep and tower, to our left the remains of Henry the Navigator's palace when he was the Head of the Order of Christ (it supplanted the Templars in Portugal when Pope Clement took over the Templars holdings and vast treasuries across Europe in 1307 CE). In front of us, the Church and convent soared over the courtyard trees into the sapphire blue sky.

Approach to the Church

We climbed the stairs to the entrance of the Church and paid our entrance fee. Then we spent the next two hours exploring this huge church and castle complex.The castle was built by Gualdim Pais, a Portuguese Knight of the Crusades, who was also the first Master of the Order of the Temple in Portugal. The construction started around 1160 CE as part of the defences against the Moors, who occupied southern Portugal at the time. Shortly thereafter, the Portuguese Headquarters of the Templars became established in the castle at Tomar. That is when building activity took off in earnest; in the next century, the round 16 sided church based on the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem, was built.. And the building pretty much continued off and on until the 1600s when Spain and Portugal formed the Iberian Union and the last modifications and additions were made.

Chapel Columns

The chapel inside the Romanesque church has eight sides, with the original capitals of the pillars depicting flora and fauna motifs, as well as religious stories (Daniel in the Den of Lions). The walls, ceilings and the ambulatory around the inside pillars are all decorated with paintings and sculptures from the King Manuel I period (early 1500s).  The Gothic nave that was added during Henry the Navigator's time as Master of the Order in the mid 1400s was also renovated by Manuel I.

One of 8 Cloisters

What I found amazing about the Convent complex was the number of cloisters. I have visited quite a few of these religious structures throughout Europe and what I recall is that most have 1 to 4 cloisters. This complex has eight! They were built in the 15th and 16th centuries and each by a different architect so the styles change, some dramatically as you wander from one to the next. The dormitory, with its multitude of cells for monks and visitors and its large communal eating room (with pulpits on each side for entertainment one assumes while eating) and a separate dormitory for visitors complete with stables are all interconnected by way of passageways and stairways. The open roof tops of some of the cloisters provide views of the magnificent Manuline window of the Chapter house, other parts of the convent and castle and as well, the countryside around the complex. The Convento do Christo and the old part of Tomar are definitely must visits if you go to Portugal.

Bull Ring

Once we were done visiting the convent, we descended the hill back into Tomar and then headed out on our way to our next stop, the UNESCO city of Evora (from the Celtic Ebora).  We travelled through very pretty countryside, crossing the Tejo River (which meets the sea at Lisbon) on a very narrow, almost one lane bridge.  A truck on the other side of the river waited for us to cross as both of us would not have been able to pass each other on the bridge. We followed the Tejo valley for a bit, stopping for lunch in a small town. We parked our car in the town square near the bull ring. Most large towns in Portugal have bull rings. Bull fights in Portugal are quite different than in Spain and Mexico. In Portugal, a horseman called a cavaleiros 'fights' the bull in the first phase. In the second phase, a group of eight men called forcados fight the bull without weapons or protection, the goal being to catch the bull's head and thus subdue it.These guys are sometimes affectionately called The Suicide Squad. The matadores often finish the fight, but the bull in not killed - at least not in the ring. It is butchered later out of sight of the audience.

While we did not eat any bull (we think), the restaurant in the town square was full of local people. Deb and I ordered Sopa do Pedro, a thick local soup speciality with beans, sausage, and other odds and ends while Marie and Miguel had grilled chicken. The soup was pretty salty, and I think Deb and I later drank at least a litre of water each on our continuing drive.

Newly harvested cork oak

We now were heading through gently rolling hills where cork oaks grow. We had seen lots of trucks carrying cork north as they passed us on the roads the day before and earlier today. So we eagerly scanned the hillsides looking for cork trees although none of us knew what they looked like. But it was not long before we recognized the first cork trees.  They are distinctive because of the harvesting of cork from their trunks; the cork (bark) is stripped from just above the ground to the first branches.  Cork is not usually harvested until a tree is between 25 and 40 years old. Then cork can be harvested every 9 to 12 years for the rest of the tree's lifespan which is quite long as trees live up to 250 years. Cork is only harvested by hand. Portugal produces about 50% of the world's cork. Trees that are freshly harvested are red, as if they are bleeding from having therir skin removed.  The colour of the trunk then changes to black and eventually to a dark brown as the next layer of cork grows outward from the tree.  Harvested trees are marked with white paint - a digit indicates the year that the tree was harvested.

Egret? Nests

We had also been seeing lots of large bird nests located on the tops of telephone poles or dead trees as we drove along.There were no birds around the nests, so whatever species had built them had probably gone south for the winter. The nests tended to be near water (streams, small ponds) so perhaps they belonged to fishing birds, such as egrets or storks. Later that day we asked people in Evora what kind of birds they were, but the folks we talked to did not know.

Arriving in Evora, we checked into our hotel which was located just outside the walls that surround the city. And this is where we met Miguel's sister and her husband. They were coincidentally travelling around Portugal, Spain and Morrocco in a camper van. We enjoyed some wine and beer with them before grabbing cabs to go into the walled town for dinner at a Portuguese Tapas restaurant that was recommended by the hotel staff. It being a warm and pleasant evening, we sat outside for dinner, literally in the street on a small platform as there are no sidewalks in Evora and the streets are very narrow. The boys agreed to sit on the street side (maybe we were feeling

Dangerous Dining

especially chivalrous after visiting the Templar castle that morning). As this location was on a marginally wide street, traffic whizzed by us all night long and it was particularly scary when a garbage truck went by within what seemed like centimetres from our heads.  Although we had a great time visiting with Miguel's sister and her husband, the food was not the greatest as most of the tapas we tried to order the restaurant did not have, and those they did have were mediocre at best. The wine was good though. I guess the lesson we learned is that Tapas really belong in Spain.

After dinner, we walked through the narrow streets to the city square whch was lit up like an enchanted fairy tale story. We found a table outside in the plaza and enjoyed an after dinner drink while also drinking in the atmosphere of our surroundings. Then it was time to call it a night. Miguel and I decided to take a cab back to the hotel while the others decided to walk. They took about thirty minutes before they arrived and so ended another day.

Chapel of the Bones

Evora Walls and Gate

We had agreed to meet Miguel's sister and husband at the Chapel of the Bones (Capela dos Ossos) in Evora early the next morning, so we headed over to the gate through the wall and wandered up into the inner city. We stopped for coffee and croissants at a small cafe that was like a cave with its old brickwork and low ceiling before sauntering over to the Chapel of the Bones which is located at the Royal Church of St. Francis (Igreja Real de São Francisco). The chapel is bizarre and is a very, very small version of the catacombs in Paris. As you enter the door, above your head carved in stone are the words "Our bones that are here wait for yours". Not an overly pleasant thought, nor is the sight of the two mummified cadavers, one obviously a child, that hang by chains in one corner of the chapel. Like in the Paris catacombs, the relocated bones belong to perhaps 5000 people who were previously buried in medieval cemeteries.We had no idea who the cadavers were, although legend has it that they were thieves.

Evora 'Street'

After leaving the bones behind us, I popped into the church while the others went to sit in the nearby square. the church was beautiful inside and with the early morning sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows, did evoke an ethereal feeling.  Deciding that I needed a coffee, I left the church and joined the others. We chatted for a few minutes before saying goodbye to Liseanne and Steve. The four of us then wandered off to check out the rest of Evora. We walked through narrow streets and even narrower passageways until we emerged at the Se or Cathedral. We were going to go in to look at it, but it was one of the only churches in Portugal that we visited that had an entrance fee so we chose not to go inside. On the steps leading to the cathedral, which apparently is the largest medieval cathedral in Portugal, I noticed masons' marks carved into the stonework. Each mason had his own mark, much like an artist's signature so archeologists can trace the builders as they worked on one or more sites even if their names have been lost to time.

Cathedral

We passed the front door of the cathedral and continued our walk uphill towards the highest point in Evora, at the cathedral's north end. A large plaza that was once the Roman Forum leads up to the ruins of the Temple of Diana, goddess of the moon, the hunt and interestingly enough, chastity. The temple dates from the Roman period when the city was the headquarters of the Roman governor. However, there is no proof that the temple was built for Diana - this is a legend that was started in the 17th century by a Portuguese priest. Most likely, the temple honours Augustus Caesar as it was built in the 1st to 2nd century CE ,or maybe the Roman

Temple of Diana

god, Jupiter.  Much of the stone from the temple which was destroyed by invading germanic tribes in the 5th century ended up in the nearby church and in Evora Castle which stands on the tallest bit of land.

View from top of Evora

At the end of the forum square, a balustrade overlooks the drop to the streets below. Spectacular views of the aqueduct winding its way into the city and of the surrounding countryside are spread out in a panorama in front of you. If you turn around, you can see the backside of the Temple of Diana and to its left, the castle keep.

Main square buildings

From here it was all downhill. Literally. We strolled down towards the main city square which looked stark and completely different in the harsh late morning light than from the night before. No one was sitting at the few tables set up in the centre of the square and there was not much activity anywhere else. So we wandered through the square to the street that led back down to the gate and our hotel. As we started down the street, who should we run into but Steve and Liseanne again as they crossed our path on a quest of their own. So we said goodbye once again and continued to the hotel, got the car and then got lost on our way to see the aqueduct.

16th Century Aqueduct

You can't, however, really get lost in Evora because the walls that surround the inner city are often visible as is the castle so after touring through a couple of neighbourhoods, we came to the large and imposing aqueduct. Built between 1531 and 1537 to bring water to the city, it stretches for 9 kilometres. It is often mistaken as a Roman aqueduct because of its design.

Portel Castle

Now it was time to bid the city goodbye as we still had quite a ways to go before we were to reach our next destination, the city of Real de Santo Antonio on the Mediterranean coast where Spain and Portugal share their border. The landscape immediately to the south of Evora is fairly flat with large farms and olive orchards. Miguel wanted to see an olive oil manufacturing process so we had checked to see where these might be located. There were at least a couple on our route south through the Alentejo region. We stopped in the town of Portel, where the geography was becoming hilly again, and Miguel and I went into the town offices to find out about olive oil production in the area. Unfortunately, no one in the office spoke English, so with a lot of sign language and some shared commonality with Spanish and French, we learned that, yes, they did have an olive oil producer near the town, but no we could not visit because we had just missed the harvesting season and the olive oil plants were now shut down to tourists. We found this to be the case in the next couple of towns we checked. So we were relegated to just eating olive oil - which we did at every meal.

By early afternoon we had reached the beautiful hill top city of Beja so we turned in off the highway in search of a restaurant. As we drove through the 'suburbs' toward the city centre, the streets became

Beja Castle Keep

Queen Eleanor

progressively narrower until we reached the site of the castle at the top of the hill. The castle, built in the 1300s on top of a Roman and Visigoth fort, has the highest Keep (at 40 metres) of any castle in Portugal. Next to the castle is a non-descript white church (which I have since learned is one of only four Visigoth churches left in Portugal).  We parked in front of the castle for a few minutes while we tried to find a restaurant with a patio. Finally a gentleman told us to drive a little further on down the street to an area of town where he thought we would find what we were looking for. After parking in a small lot, we walked up a hill towards a couple of restaurants. And although we did not find a patio, we did find a small family style restaurant and had a decent meal. On the way back to the car, I noticed a statue of Queen Eleanor (Rainha Dona Leonor) who was Queen Consort to John II in 1481 CE. She is one of only two non-foreign Queen Consorts of Portugal, so is held in high regard by the Portuguese. There is some evidence, however, that she poisoned her husband in 1495 CE so that her brother, Manuel, could become King instead of John's illegitimate son (I wonder if the Portuguese learn this part of her story?).  The statue is located  in a square in front of the Museu da Rainha Dona Leonor which is eclectic in its holdings (paintings, archeological finds etc.). It was closed so we all we could do is admire the outside of the beautiful late Gothic building that dates from 1459 CE.

Museu da Rainha D Leonor

 We returned to the car and tried to find our way out of Beja through the very narrow streets that plunged down the hill to the plains and the highway below. After a couple of false starts, we were on our way south again. The topography gradually became more rolling, with higher hills as we entered the National Park of Vale do Guadiana. The park offers recreational activities and boating on the Guadiana River which is dammed (we drove on top of one dam). We passed through the town of Mertola (that has the only surviving Moorish Mosque in Portugal from the early medieval period) and climbed up over the hills for the long descent through valleys and hills towards the sea.

Miguel's Friend

Bridge to Spain

We arrived in Real de Santo Antonio late in the afternoon, and after finding our delightful hotel, we paused for refreshments. It was while enjoying a cold one that Miguel made friends with a free range chicken. As he seemed able to talk to it, getting it to stop whenever he made a certain noise, we dubbed it his Portuguese girlfriend.

It was also over a beverage that we decided to make a trip into Spain, the border being just a few kilometres away. So shortly before dark, we drove across the Guadiana River into Spain and headed out to the beaches on the Isla Canela for what we hoped would be dinner on the beach. We soon found a likely looking place on the beach and after exchanging pleasantries in Spanish and French with a group of drunk and stoned Moroccan labourers who were partying at the table one over from us, we asked for menus and tried to order some food.

Spanish Sunset

However, with the beach season winding down, the restaurant had very little left to eat, so we made do with Spanish beer and wine and watched a beautiful sunset behind the beach dunes. After dark we retraced our steps back to Portugal, although in the nearby Spanish town of Ayamonte, we took a different route and drove along the riverbank and then through a rather seedy part of town until we once more reached the highway. Once back in Real do Santo Antonio, we had a really simple, yet excellent dinner at a family restaurant/diner a couple of blocks from our hotel. So ended a long and pleasant day.

Local transport

The next morning, we were up and out fairly early as we had not purchased breakfast with the room. We were not driving far today, so we decided to take it easy and poke our way along the coastal highway. There was not much traffic on the N125, but we did meet an interesting vehicle coming the other way. We were passing by several signposted beaches so I picked one at random and we left the highway for the short drive down to the town and beach at Manta Rota. Manta Rota is full of colourful condominiums, some with English for sale signs on them. We parked the car in the plaza near the beach and headed out on the long wooden boardwalk that crossed the coastal dunes to the wide, and very long sandy beach and the brilliant blue sea. After walking on the beach (the girls did the walking, Miguel and I did the sightseeing from the boardwalk), we walked back into the small town and had our breakfast at a cafe, sitting outside and watching the town come alive.

Manta Rota Beach

A few stragglers from the season were heading past us to the beach, their collapsible chairs and inflatables on straps slung over their shoulders. Most were well into late adulthood in age and probably winter in Manta Rota much the same way that Canadians winter in Florida and Mexico.

Entering the pottery shop

After a breakfast of Portuguese pastries and expresso, it was back out to the highway. We passed through more small towns and started to notice quite a few pottery stores. When we came to a small one in the middle of the countryside, we pulled over, parked and walked across the road for a look. An old gentleman and his wife, the owners, came into the shop shortly after we did. We walked around their tiny shop, checking out the wares. It was kind of evident that not a lot of people shopped at this place as some parts of the shop were pretty dusty. However, they did have some nice bowls, plates and other items and we bought a few. While wrapping them up, the old gentleman gave Miguel and I each a small (3cm tall) delicately painted terracotta rooster. The rooster is an unofficial Portuguese symbol. He wrapped them up as carefully as he did the bowls and plates we had purchased. Through hand gestures (he did not speak English) when paying him, we indicated that he now had some spending money. With his own hand gestures and a look of resignation, he indicated that the money would be going to his wife.

Olhao Market Buildings

Back in the car, we continued on our way, with our next stop the fishing community of Olhao. We had read that it was famous for its fishing fleet which was supposed to be painted in bright traditional colours. It is the largest fishing port in Portugal and is a working town, not a resort town like many along the Algarve coast. We made our way downtown to the waterfront and parked near two enormous and curiously shaped red brick market buildings. As we walked back towards them, I noticed the benches in the park we were passing. They were made of concrete, but what really interested me was that each one was decorated with tiles of many colours, including the blue and white tiles that Portugal is famous for. The latter made pictures of some famous event, person or religious icon and all were related to fishing and the sea.

Bench in Olhao

One of the most famous stories depicted on a bench was what happened in 1808 when 17 fishermen crossed the Atlantic Ocean without charts to Brazil in an 18 metre boat. It took them two and one half months to get there. They set out on this amazing journey to let the exiled Portuguese Prince know that the occupying French (Bonaparte's army) had been defeated as part of the Peninsular War between Portugal and France.

At the fish market (D Wilcox)

Even before we entered the first market building we could tell what they were selling. The odour of fish permeated the air. And talk about fish!  I don't think I have ever seen so many varieties of fish and other seafood before and I have been through several fish markets around the world. There were many varieties of tuna, rays, shark, monkfish, espada, which is like a giant eel with sharp fins, cuttlefish and squid and octupus, sole, bream of all kinds, seabass and of course, sardines (the large variety of herring) and salt cod - the list goes on and on. It was fascinating to watch the people behind the counters clean and prepare the fish for sale. The place was full of locals buying their supplies for the day as the morning is when the catch comes in from the local fishermen. The sound of fishermen (or mostly their wives one would assume) hawking their fish rang out throughout the market hall.

Eclectic Foodstuffs

We then crossed over to the next market in an identical red brick building to the vegetable (and other non fish food items (nuts, meat)) market. Here local farmers sell their produce. Some imported items are also for sale, such as figs and dried apricots from Turkey and exotic vegetables from Africa. There was a small area set aside for butchers to ply their trade, and as is often the case in Europe, some of the items on display (i.e. the head of a pig) are foreign to how North American supermarkets display their meat. We bought some nuts from a vendor before exiting to continue our exploration of Olhao.

Olhao house

After leaving the market buildings, we crossed the street and had some beer (Do you think this might be becoming a habit?) at a restaurant and ate some of the pistachios and other nuts we had bought. Not quite ready for lunch, we then walked into the old part of Olhao to see a bit of the town. As it was lunch time, there were not a lot of people about. A few people were shopping, but I suspect most were in restaurants eating or at home. Some of the houses and buildings we passed had Moorish influences in their architecture, but otherwise there was not much of interest to see - and it was getting very hot. We walked as far as an old church before heading back to the street that runs along the sea as this is really where all the action was. We picked a seafood restaurant (were there any other kinds?) and went in to eat. The grilled fish was, as expected in a fishing town, excellent.

After lunch we got the car and drove back to the harbour we had passed on the way into town. Our waiter had told us that this is where the fishing boats could be seen. Miguel talked the harbour guard into letting us in (he was getting good at this - too bad we weren't visiting a bank vault) and we drove around inside the fence, but there was not much in the way of boats and certainly not very many painted fishing boats that the guidebooks talk about. We saw more colourful boats on the Atlantic coast at Nazare a few days before.

An empty pool

So, we continued on towards Albufeira where our hotel was located for the night. We drove by Faro or at least we drove across the northern top of Faro on the N125, passing the largest shopping complex (we say mall in Canada) we had seen in Portugal. As we headed west, the area became more and more built up, with lots of signs advertising tourist attractions in the Albufeira area. These signs and the attractions advertised are basically the same kinds that you see in Florida. Waterslides, animal parks, zoos - not my kind of tourist attractions, but since Albufeira is the centre for the British and German winter get away crowd, one can understand why these are located here.  Our hotel was in an area surrounded by like hotels and some residences, and after we checked in, Miguel and I scooted up the street to the local grocery store where we replenished our supply of beer and wine. We returned to the hotel and joined the ladies on the balcony that overlooked the small pool of the hotel.  A few people were outside sunbathing on loungers but few were swimming.

Getting ready for Piri Piri

Late in the afternoon, Miguel and I asked the hotel receptionist where we could go to get Piri Piri chicken, a speciality of the region. She suggested a restaurant and gave us a poorly drawn map upon which she highlighted the route to take to get to it.  So we piled into the car and set out to find it before doing more exploring. We tried to follow the map to the restaurant but soon got lost. Jack was not helping us either. Little did we know that one of the streets we turned into and then immediately did a u-turn to exit was the street the restaurant (and many others, it being called the Strip) was on. So not finding THE restaurant, but finding a Piri Piri chain restaurant which we marked in the GPS as a last resort, we decided that we would like to go to old Albufeira to see if it had survived the Disneyization of the rest of the city, but of course, we got lost again because the map was terrible and the GPS not much better. As it was starting to get dark by this time, we turned around and headed back to where we thought The Strip might be, this time Jack taking us back towards the chain restaurant. We pulled into a strip type mall when we got close and Miguel asked a policeman who was there where the restaurant was. We were actually only a street away, so with his directions, we headed over and then up the Strip - which is as mentioned full of restaurants, most with British names. As the Chicken restaurant where we were going was not yet open (people eat late in Portugal), we crossed the street and sat at the outdoor terrace of a beautiful inn and restaurant where we enjoyed a pitcher of white sangria.  Then, suitably fortified, we headed to the Piri Piri Chicken restaurant where we had a good feed. The Piri Piri sauce I have had in Canada is much thicker than that in Albufeira, but the taste is similar - somewhat piquant that complements the grilled chicken. Getting back to the hotel after dinner was easy - I had previously had an inspirational moment and had marked its coordinates in the GPS.

Albufeira early morning

The next day, we were up early as we had a long drive ahead of us back to Lisbon, this being our last day on the road. As we left the hotel, we all remarked that Albufeira was our least favourite place on the trip so far as it did not represent 'Portugal' and it was much too crowded with weekly and weekend holiday makers from Britain and Germany.

Cork

We wanted to drive up the Atlantic coast on our return to Lisbon as we had heard and read that is spectacular. And it was. Heading west first, we passed Portimao and got on the N120 that took us north towards the Atlantic coast. This road wound its way up and over a ridge of hills and passed through more cork forests. The trees here were not as big as the ones we had seen inland, but they all were harvested. We stopped at a cork harvester's place where huge piles of cork awaited shipment to a processing plant. The people in the house came out to see what we were doing as their dog had barked at our approach. When they saw we were taking photos and not touching anything, they went back inside and left us to our examination of the cork piles. We continued up the valley, which was obviously heavily farmed, in fact with the potatoes that Portuguese boil for every meal and which Miguel loves, towards our next stop.

Bom Dia

We soon reached Aljezur, the town that we had read about and wanted to see. The old town is on the west bank of the Aljezur River and the new town, built after the 1755 earthquake, is on the other bank where the land is flatter. We could see Aljezur from some  distance away, with the ruined tenth century Moorish Castle perched on the high hill upon which the town is built (at least the old town part is). When we arrived, we parked the car outside a cafe and started to walk along the street towards the old town centre, soon realizing that we had not gone far enough before parking. So while the girls went to have coffee at a cafe, with Miguel soon going back to get them, I walked into the town by myself. Seeing a cobblestone street heading up the hill, I followed it for about 500 metres. It climbed steeply alongside the hill and I was soon out of breath. I paused by a whitewashed house with a beautiful garden, panting, as an old man, his hands clasped behind his back, descended slowly towards me. As he approached, I offered the standard Bom Dia (Good Morning), to which he replied, in a long drawn out and very hoarse, Diaaaaa.  I watched him go down the hill for a few minutes and thinking that he was much smarter than me, decided to go back down as well.

Aljezur Old Town

I waited in the park for a few minutes for Miguel and the girls to return. Actually, I waited for several minutes, learning afterwards that Miguel had joined the girls for coffee. Soon though they arrived and after parking the car, the four of us crossed a small pedestrian bridge to a market building on the other side of the river. Here a small fish market was underway inside and beside the market was a shop selling pottery and other crafts.  We bought some more pottery and watched the fish market folks do their thing for a while before returning to the old town side of the river. Deb and I took a short walk down the "main" street of the old town that runs along the river while Miguel and Marie consulted the map on a bench in the small park by the bridge , but most shops were closed and we soon returned to the small park and the car.

Odeceixe Beach

I could see on the map that we were in a National Park (Parque Natural do Sudoeste Alentejano e Costa Vicentina) as we continued our drive north and also that there were many beaches just a kilometre or two to the west of our route. I suggested to Miguel that we should check one out, so when we got to the town of Odeceixe, which was located in a river valley at the bottom of a steep hill, we followed the Ribera de Seixe to the Odeceixe beach.  We did not actually go onto the beach since it was at the bottom of steep cliffs on either side, but the view from the road on top of the cliff was spectacular. We could see surfers far below (there is a surf school in Odeceixe), as well as local people gathering periwinkles in the river mouth and a few people sunbathing on the sand.

Boat under repair

We returned to the N120 and continued north out of the Algarve into the Alentejo region until we reached the N393 which headed back to the coast while the N120 went inland. We continued along the ridges of the National Park and as we were now approaching the time for lunch, I consulted Miguel's Lonely Planet guidebook to discover that it recommended a restaurant on the riverside quay (Cais) in the town of Vila Nova de Milfontes. So we pulled into town and parked when the road headed back into the town away from the river, then asked how to get to the Cais. We walked down a steep cobblestone hill to the restaurant (we could have driven we found out later if we had followed the road into the town, but the walk was nice). Shortly after we arrived, a group of motorcycle enthusiasts also arrived. We ordered our food and while it was being prepared, I went for a short walk down the quay to take photos of a brightly painted fishing boat that was beached on top of the quay.

Arts and Crafts Store Clerk

Three of us had a very good lunch, much to the chagrin of Miguel who had, upon the waiter's suggestion, tried a 'regional sausage' which turned out to be some kind of virtually tasteless bread and meat mixture while I had a different and delicious regional sausage dish. We ate while we watched the tide race up the river, reversing its flow temporarily. On the way back up the hill from the river (not so pleasant a walk now) we popped into a couple of shops to check out some of the local arts and crafts before collecting the car and continuing our drive north. We stuck close to the coast and the road took us towards the city of Sines. Just before we got there, we came upon a horrendous accident - a car had run into an ambulance and both vehicles were really smashed up. The police had closed the highway into Sines, so we were diverted back south down a lesser road until we could get to the coast and head north again. As we approached Sines and drove past some beaches we could see that it was not a place to stop - it was dominated by a refinery, container cranes and other heavy industry and the sky was quite polluted. So we took the first road that cut across the peninsula just before the city limits and headed east and north towards Lisbon.

Vasco da Gama Bridge

Soon, we descended from the hills unto the plain of the Tejo River as we approached the city. Pine forests gave way to farmland. We got off the smaller highway we were following and unto a four lane highway as it would take us across the north of Lisbon to our hotel which was supposed to be close to the airport. We had chosen it because we had a very early flight the next day to get our connection in London.  But first, we had to cross the Tejo River which was very wide here because of marshland. The bridge we crossed was called the Vasco da Gama bridge. We headed into the smog of Lisbon on the other side, and after reaching the north shore, we drove for several minutes before turning off the highway unto another, as directed by Jack the GPS. At this point we were relegated to following the small sign for the hotel as my GPS was struggling with the new roadway and the fact that the hotel was not listed in the Points of Interest. We made a wrong turn (of course) and seemed lost for a few minutes, but the GPS suggested we head towards the downtown which we did and soon enough, we found the hotel by seeing the sign on it looming up ahead of us.

We checked in, unloaded all of our bags and other stuff and then Miguel and I took the car to the airport to turn it in. And because of road closures, we again had a problem finding the right road, but a man helped us and we soon were at the airport. Turning the car in only took five minutes compared with the lengthy delay to get it a week before. We grabbed a taxi back to the hotel then went out on the patio to join the ladies for a beer and to toast an excellent road trip through Portugal. We ate nearby and called it an early evening as we had to get up at 4:30 a.m. for our flight.

Waiting at Heathrow

The next morning, our last in Portugal, was foggy and cloudy. Naturally; we had to fly. We got a taxi and got to the airport and checked in for our flight, then went to the lounge for breakfast. Everything was on time according to the board (it was the first flight out) and we boarded the plane on time. And then sat on the runway for almost two hours. The pilot came on the loudspeaker to inform us that while the fog was not thick enough in Lisbon to keep him from taking off, the fog was much worse at Heathrow in London and all flights there were significantly delayed.

Finally we took off, but when we got to Heathrow, we had missed our connection to Toronto by a half hour (the connection was also delayed but alas not enough). We went to the lounge where an Air Canada representative was trying to rebook us and several other passengers. We waited for her to do this and enjoyed a drink while she checked to see what could be done. After about an hour, she offered us a flight home that day that would have us seated all over the economy cabin, but since we had used our  points for business class seats, we declined and were put on the first flight out of Heathrow direct to Ottawa the next morning. Marie got us rooms with her hotel points (this is where all her business travel pays off) at the nearby Marriott and we went through customs into Britain and then downstairs to get our luggage. When told it would take up to an hour to retrieve it, Deb and Marie abandoned Miguel and I to do the 'blue' job and they headed to the hotel.

England for a night

The supervisor of the luggage office finally went himself to find our luggage and after about another half hour, he returned. Miguel and I got a cart for our luggage and exited the airport to get a cab over to the hotel. And ran into the first surly taxi driver I have ever had the pleasure of meeting in England. I suspect he was upset with the short trip - too bad for him. He also, for his efforts at insulting us, got no tip.

That evening we walked into the village that is nearby Heathrow to a pub that the luggage supervisor had recommended while we had been waiting for our luggage. It was absolutely full of locals and a few people who were taking flights the next day, but we finally got a table and got our food. And we had sticker shock when we paid for it - each meal and a pint were about three to four times what a similar meal and half litre of beer cost in Portugal.

Over Greenland

The next morning was sunny, so our flight left on time. It was an uneventful crossing and the only noteworthy thing was checking out the icebergs and receding glaciers as we flew over Greenland. The amount of icebergs in the water, the lack of snow on the mountainous terrain and the noticeable distance some glaciers were from the coastline really put global warming into our thoughts.

We got home late in the evening local time, got a taxi to Miguel's daughter's house to collect our cars, said our goodbyes and headed to our respective homes, tired but very pleased with our trip.

And so ended our excellent adventure to Portugal. Adeus! (for now).