Bikerscott & Jamikins in Portugal 2010/2011
Jan 3rd, 2011, 08:11 PM
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Yes I'm still with you guys and following along on your adventure! Thanks for the fun report and also the really great photos. I think I will have a glass of wine "just for something different" tonight (Hah! Hope you don't mind but I'm stealing that line, it made me laugh out loud) as I look again at the amazingly atmospheric photos of Sintra. Obrigada!
Jan 4th, 2011, 12:50 AM
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Here's the website - but be very clear that you want the tasting menu restaurant! http://www.restaurante100maneiras.com/
Jan 4th, 2011, 12:58 AM
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Thanks for all the comments!
Day Five – Seeing Out the Year (December 31, 2010)
The morning dawned brightly and extremely early. Fortunately, our stylish room is fitted with electronic blackout blinds, so we missed this wonder of nature, instead sleeping off what would probably have been pretty good hangovers. Actually, if truth be told, I suspect that dawn would have arrived with more of a wet slurp than a bright *ding* - the rain was back and the clouds were dark and as threatening as a group of hoodie-wearing large men at the end of an unlit alley at night in an unfamiliar city for a man wearing a suit of money (my ability to extend metaphors beyond the realm of the believable continues to astound me).
After our morning ablutions, we made our way rather more steadily than would have been expected to the metro station, and from there to the Terreiro do Paço station. This would be setting-off point for a day of walking up and down large hills and stairways – we were off to explore the Alfama neighbourhood – the hilly side of the city that escaped destruction in the earthquake of 1755 that levelled most of the city.
We hadn’t had breakfast yet, or even my morning coffee, so our first and most important mission was to find a pasta store (they don’t actually sell pasta, however the Portuguese for pastry shop- pastelaria- looks like it should mean pasta store, so that’s what we call them – much confusion when we first arrived as I couldn’t figure out why a non-Italian city should have so many pasta shops...). We found a place just below the large cathedral oddly called Sé – I ordered a latte and a sausage in a bun, and Jamie went for a spinach thing and also a latte.
One of the things that always confuses me when travelling is the procedure for paying for food (not in restaurants, that doesn’t really change). In London, the rule at pubs, coffee shops, and pretty much everywhere else is that you pay before you eat or drink. In Portugal, even at coffee shops, it seems that you eat and drink, then pay afterwards. As they say, the exception proves the rule, and this particular pasta shop was the exception. We ordered, received requested coffees and snacks, and went to sit down and eat. In the mean time, the queue got quite large and the staff was very busy serving all the various customers. When we were finished, we joined the large queue and discovered that we probably should have paid at the start, as everyone seemed very confused as to why we hadn’t actually done just that, and it took forever to find someone to whom we could give money.
From this inauspicious beginning, we looked forward to a good day. We walked up the hill, taking a quick look at the Sé cathedral, and then continued further up to a nice viewpoint to take some photos. The viewpoint at the top of Alfama is quite scenic and presents a very good view over Lisbon. At this point it started to drizzle again, so we walked down the hill a ways looking for somewhere to take shelter from the impending downpour (we’d learned our lesson yesterday). We found refuge in a tram shelter and waited out what turned out to just be a light drizzle.
For reasons that we cannot now explain, we felt it would be a good idea to get on the next tram that arrived, despite the fact that it was going entirely the wrong way. We went one stop before deciding that going DOWN the hill was counterproductive, given our plans for the day. We got off the tram and retraced our steps up the same bloody hill to the outlook, where we turned left and found the castle at the very top of the hill. We also found a wine bar that Jamie had heard about just below the castle, and felt that it was time for a beverage and a bite of lunch.
We were almost the only people in the Wine Bar do Castello when we first arrived, and had an excellent chat with the owner about what wines we might enjoy. He poured us two excellent and very generous first glasses; I love the tendency of the Portuguese to feel the need to fill wine glasses to their appropriate level, rather that the British tendency to measure to an exact and specific pre-determined volume. We also ordered a plate of regional black pork products and Portuguese cheeses.
We spent a highly enjoyable few hours trying several different wines, including a 15-year old port for me. The invasion of the bar by a large group of extremely loud and apparently hideously rich French couldn’t even dampen our spirits. After our mostly liquid lunch, we stumbled rather unsteadily back up the castle to wander around the battlements and take more photos.
I have to be honest – after touring various castles in various parts of Europe, they all sort of start to look the same. High walls, steep stairways, fantastic views as they seemed to be obsessed with finding the tallest bloody hill they could to build interesting things on the top of. We looked around for a while and took a large number of shots before deciding that it was time to call it a day. We headed back down the hill, but being very clever, we chose a different path down than we’d taken up, so that we could see more of the area.
We almost immediately got fairly lost. This actually worked out in our favour, as we found a local little store that sold wine (amongst other things), and then even better, a non-touristy little bar to rest our feet and recuperate. A litre of beer and two glasses of wine later, they appeared to want to close down, as it was getting fairly late on New Year’s Eves, so we left. The general rule in Alfama apparently is when in doubt, go down (a good rule at all times I would have thought), so we found the nearest hilly street and walked down it.
In time, following this downhill theory, we arrived at the metro station and from there we made it back to the hotel to freshen up a bit before our New Year’s dinner.
Jamie had found a recommended restaurant that turned out to be only two blocks from the Marquês de Pombol station, which is just one station from us on the metro. Bocca - http://www.bocca.pt/ Of course, it is up a bloody great hill, but that seems to be expected around here. We arrived somewhat apprehensively 10 minutes early at 8:50, but they seemed to take this in their stride and seated us immediately without making us stand around at all.
Dinner was very good, although some of the dishes missed their mark a little bit. We also had the wine pairing that was offered, but soon realized that they didn’t have a proper sommelier on staff, as the wines seemed like somewhat odd choices, the oddest being a light and citrusy white to pair with a pork cheek braised in red wine in a potato soup. Very odd.
They also had some trouble with timing – it had been advertized as a New Year’s Eve dinner, with champagne to be served at midnight, however we were done just after 11pm. We asked if we could have our champagne and pay early, as we thought we might make it into Central Lisbon to see the New Years in. To their credit, they not only allowed us to pay early, but gave us a half bottle of the champagne that we were meant to have at midnight to take with us – fantastic service if you ask me.
By the time we’d organized all this and paid the bill, it was just after 11:30, so we rushed back down the great bloody hill to the metro station, and crammed into the first train that arrived. I can tell you that the Lisbonians have something to learn about crowded metro trains, as it wasn’t really busy at all by London rush hour standards – I could still breath for example.
We eventually got to the Terreiro do Paço station and rushed up the stairs with everyone else. We’d made it to the Praça do Comércio in time to see the final countdown for midnight. The centre of Lisbon was absolutely packed with surprisingly well behaved Lisbonians. We took our place as close to the centre of the square as we could get and waited with the rest of Lisbon for the final minutes of the year.
The countdown began, and the air was electric. Midnight came, and the celebration really began. Yelling and shouting from all side, music blasting from the speakers, and the most impressive display of festive fireworks rang out over the city for at least ten minutes. I’ve never seen such a happy group of people, everyone smiling, hugging, smoking quite a lot of pot from the smell of it, champagne, singing, dancing. A wonderful way to ring in the New Year.
Jamie had somewhat naively thought that we might be able to take the metro back home, or at least catch a bus. Silly girl. We walked with the crowd through the centre of town, cheering and laughing. It soon became clear that we would have to walk back to the hotel, which wouldn’t have been that big a deal as it’s only two or three kilometres except that we were a bit drunk and IT’S UPHILL THE WHOLE BLOODY WAY! Why is everything in this city up a hill?
A tiring hour later we made it back to the Sheraton. We popped a final bottle of what turned out to be really crap champagne and settled in for the evening. Maybe not the way we normally spend our new year’s eve, but one of the best I can remember.
And our pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/jamie.a....eat=directlink
Day Five – Seeing Out the Year (December 31, 2010)
The morning dawned brightly and extremely early. Fortunately, our stylish room is fitted with electronic blackout blinds, so we missed this wonder of nature, instead sleeping off what would probably have been pretty good hangovers. Actually, if truth be told, I suspect that dawn would have arrived with more of a wet slurp than a bright *ding* - the rain was back and the clouds were dark and as threatening as a group of hoodie-wearing large men at the end of an unlit alley at night in an unfamiliar city for a man wearing a suit of money (my ability to extend metaphors beyond the realm of the believable continues to astound me).
After our morning ablutions, we made our way rather more steadily than would have been expected to the metro station, and from there to the Terreiro do Paço station. This would be setting-off point for a day of walking up and down large hills and stairways – we were off to explore the Alfama neighbourhood – the hilly side of the city that escaped destruction in the earthquake of 1755 that levelled most of the city.
We hadn’t had breakfast yet, or even my morning coffee, so our first and most important mission was to find a pasta store (they don’t actually sell pasta, however the Portuguese for pastry shop- pastelaria- looks like it should mean pasta store, so that’s what we call them – much confusion when we first arrived as I couldn’t figure out why a non-Italian city should have so many pasta shops...). We found a place just below the large cathedral oddly called Sé – I ordered a latte and a sausage in a bun, and Jamie went for a spinach thing and also a latte.
One of the things that always confuses me when travelling is the procedure for paying for food (not in restaurants, that doesn’t really change). In London, the rule at pubs, coffee shops, and pretty much everywhere else is that you pay before you eat or drink. In Portugal, even at coffee shops, it seems that you eat and drink, then pay afterwards. As they say, the exception proves the rule, and this particular pasta shop was the exception. We ordered, received requested coffees and snacks, and went to sit down and eat. In the mean time, the queue got quite large and the staff was very busy serving all the various customers. When we were finished, we joined the large queue and discovered that we probably should have paid at the start, as everyone seemed very confused as to why we hadn’t actually done just that, and it took forever to find someone to whom we could give money.
From this inauspicious beginning, we looked forward to a good day. We walked up the hill, taking a quick look at the Sé cathedral, and then continued further up to a nice viewpoint to take some photos. The viewpoint at the top of Alfama is quite scenic and presents a very good view over Lisbon. At this point it started to drizzle again, so we walked down the hill a ways looking for somewhere to take shelter from the impending downpour (we’d learned our lesson yesterday). We found refuge in a tram shelter and waited out what turned out to just be a light drizzle.
For reasons that we cannot now explain, we felt it would be a good idea to get on the next tram that arrived, despite the fact that it was going entirely the wrong way. We went one stop before deciding that going DOWN the hill was counterproductive, given our plans for the day. We got off the tram and retraced our steps up the same bloody hill to the outlook, where we turned left and found the castle at the very top of the hill. We also found a wine bar that Jamie had heard about just below the castle, and felt that it was time for a beverage and a bite of lunch.
We were almost the only people in the Wine Bar do Castello when we first arrived, and had an excellent chat with the owner about what wines we might enjoy. He poured us two excellent and very generous first glasses; I love the tendency of the Portuguese to feel the need to fill wine glasses to their appropriate level, rather that the British tendency to measure to an exact and specific pre-determined volume. We also ordered a plate of regional black pork products and Portuguese cheeses.
We spent a highly enjoyable few hours trying several different wines, including a 15-year old port for me. The invasion of the bar by a large group of extremely loud and apparently hideously rich French couldn’t even dampen our spirits. After our mostly liquid lunch, we stumbled rather unsteadily back up the castle to wander around the battlements and take more photos.
I have to be honest – after touring various castles in various parts of Europe, they all sort of start to look the same. High walls, steep stairways, fantastic views as they seemed to be obsessed with finding the tallest bloody hill they could to build interesting things on the top of. We looked around for a while and took a large number of shots before deciding that it was time to call it a day. We headed back down the hill, but being very clever, we chose a different path down than we’d taken up, so that we could see more of the area.
We almost immediately got fairly lost. This actually worked out in our favour, as we found a local little store that sold wine (amongst other things), and then even better, a non-touristy little bar to rest our feet and recuperate. A litre of beer and two glasses of wine later, they appeared to want to close down, as it was getting fairly late on New Year’s Eves, so we left. The general rule in Alfama apparently is when in doubt, go down (a good rule at all times I would have thought), so we found the nearest hilly street and walked down it.
In time, following this downhill theory, we arrived at the metro station and from there we made it back to the hotel to freshen up a bit before our New Year’s dinner.
Jamie had found a recommended restaurant that turned out to be only two blocks from the Marquês de Pombol station, which is just one station from us on the metro. Bocca - http://www.bocca.pt/ Of course, it is up a bloody great hill, but that seems to be expected around here. We arrived somewhat apprehensively 10 minutes early at 8:50, but they seemed to take this in their stride and seated us immediately without making us stand around at all.
Dinner was very good, although some of the dishes missed their mark a little bit. We also had the wine pairing that was offered, but soon realized that they didn’t have a proper sommelier on staff, as the wines seemed like somewhat odd choices, the oddest being a light and citrusy white to pair with a pork cheek braised in red wine in a potato soup. Very odd.
They also had some trouble with timing – it had been advertized as a New Year’s Eve dinner, with champagne to be served at midnight, however we were done just after 11pm. We asked if we could have our champagne and pay early, as we thought we might make it into Central Lisbon to see the New Years in. To their credit, they not only allowed us to pay early, but gave us a half bottle of the champagne that we were meant to have at midnight to take with us – fantastic service if you ask me.
By the time we’d organized all this and paid the bill, it was just after 11:30, so we rushed back down the great bloody hill to the metro station, and crammed into the first train that arrived. I can tell you that the Lisbonians have something to learn about crowded metro trains, as it wasn’t really busy at all by London rush hour standards – I could still breath for example.
We eventually got to the Terreiro do Paço station and rushed up the stairs with everyone else. We’d made it to the Praça do Comércio in time to see the final countdown for midnight. The centre of Lisbon was absolutely packed with surprisingly well behaved Lisbonians. We took our place as close to the centre of the square as we could get and waited with the rest of Lisbon for the final minutes of the year.
The countdown began, and the air was electric. Midnight came, and the celebration really began. Yelling and shouting from all side, music blasting from the speakers, and the most impressive display of festive fireworks rang out over the city for at least ten minutes. I’ve never seen such a happy group of people, everyone smiling, hugging, smoking quite a lot of pot from the smell of it, champagne, singing, dancing. A wonderful way to ring in the New Year.
Jamie had somewhat naively thought that we might be able to take the metro back home, or at least catch a bus. Silly girl. We walked with the crowd through the centre of town, cheering and laughing. It soon became clear that we would have to walk back to the hotel, which wouldn’t have been that big a deal as it’s only two or three kilometres except that we were a bit drunk and IT’S UPHILL THE WHOLE BLOODY WAY! Why is everything in this city up a hill?
A tiring hour later we made it back to the Sheraton. We popped a final bottle of what turned out to be really crap champagne and settled in for the evening. Maybe not the way we normally spend our new year’s eve, but one of the best I can remember.
And our pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/jamie.a....eat=directlink
Jan 4th, 2011, 09:31 AM
#25
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Hope you are still with us...
Day Six – Meat Sweats at Midnight (January 1, 2011)
The day may have dawned brightly or otherwise, there was no way we were going to see it this morning. We didn’t actually turn out the lights until after 3am, and 9am was far too early to get up, so we slept till 11:30. Despite this extended lie-in, neither of us were feeling particularly healthy after leaving the hotel, so our first mission (as it is on so many mornings) was coffee and pastries at the first pasta shop that we could find (see Day Five for the explanation).
After much confusion and angst in buying our day pass for transit (they raised the rates for January 1st, we didn’t plan for this and didn’t have enough change, info-booth girl was informative but not particularly helpful as she couldn’t break a twenty) we found our bus and went into town for completion of our primary objective (coffee and sweets).
It seemed, much to our dismay, that much of Lisbon had also had a late night because almost nothing was open. We got off the bus at Restauradores and meandered all the way up to Baixo-Chaido without finding a single cafe or pasta shop open. Incredibly frustrating, especially given the enormity of the hangover-driven-caffeine-deprived headache I was working on.
We eventually, after much wandering down deserted streets and alleys (all of which were hilly), stopped at a tram shelter, for the consideration of options. As we waited, an incredibly full tram arrived, absolutely packed with people. Not on our list of things that we wanted to do. Oddly, however, there was an almost completely empty one just behind it, so we got on that one and got a seat.
We decided to take the tram as far as we could before getting kicked off, to see where it went and if anything there was open. We were on the number 28, which goes up the hill in Alfama, exactly where we were yesterday. For some reason, pretty much everything over there was open and bustling – I guess there are enough tourists in Lisbon to convince some people to open up, even on New Year’s day.
We stayed on the 28 until it terminated in Graca, a mostly residential neighbourhood past Alfama where not many tourist stray it seems. We did find a pasta shop, but it was closed for lunch apparently. We walked back towards Alfama, looking in every restaurant door on the way to see if we could find something that didn’t offer salt cod exclusively – not much luck to be honest. We ended up at an embarrassingly naff touristic cafe just below the entrance to the castello, where I had a hamburger and coke, much to my own horror.
Lunch finished, we went down the hill again (per the rule in Alfama), looking for photographic opportunities and possibly some wine. We stopped in a fermented grape superstore partway down to buy liquid supplies for the evening, and eventually ended up at the base of the Santa Justa elevator (the giant famous lift in the Baixa, which serves no apparent purpose as far as I can tell other than as a tourist draw).
The queue was giant, so we walked around and up the hill to get on from the top (it connects to one of the back streets and is free if you have a day transit pass, no point in standing the queue for an hour).
The views were fantastic, and the whole thing was dramatically rickety and old, which was excellent – enough to give a little jolt of adrenaline without being actually unsafe. Twenty minutes or so taking very high photographs of the city, and we were parched, I can tell you.
We found an open street cafe on one of the pedestrian streets below (Rua Áurea) and ordered 1.5 litres of water and a litre of red sangria, to take the edge off. We had an excellent hour or so watching the locals and not so locals wander up and down the road – it seems that many get dressed up in the their finest for the walk. It was getting on, so we decided to head back to the hotel for a bit of a rest and to clean up some photos before dinner. The bottle of wine we’d bought came in handy for this.
Eventually, we decided that it was about time for dinner. We’d found a Brazilian rodízio place just down the road called “Costellao Gaúcho” which looked not too bad. We went in and were greeted by one of the best signs for a restaurant in a city where English is not the native language – almost no one spoke English at all.
Rodízio is a type of Brazilian meat restaurant where there tends to be a salad bar buffet, and the servers wander around with giant rotisserie skewers of meat, slicing off strips of whatever you want as they walk past. For a set fee, you can eat more or less as much as you want.
We had the cheapest option on the menu – the Mini Rodízio for only €12 each, which resulted in enough meat to choke a donkey. Full-on meat coma. We had a few different types of steak, Brazilian roast beef, a few types of pork, chicken, sausage, cooked pineapple, deep-fried bananas...absolutely fantastic and absurdly good value for money – all the meats were excellent and the buffet salad bar wasn’t too bad either.
After eating quite a bit more than our fill, we admitted defeat and paid the tab. We rolled back to the hotel, not even concerned that we are completely out of wine. I think both of us are regretting the sheer volume of the meat we ate....
And pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/jamie.a....eat=directlink
Day Six – Meat Sweats at Midnight (January 1, 2011)
The day may have dawned brightly or otherwise, there was no way we were going to see it this morning. We didn’t actually turn out the lights until after 3am, and 9am was far too early to get up, so we slept till 11:30. Despite this extended lie-in, neither of us were feeling particularly healthy after leaving the hotel, so our first mission (as it is on so many mornings) was coffee and pastries at the first pasta shop that we could find (see Day Five for the explanation).
After much confusion and angst in buying our day pass for transit (they raised the rates for January 1st, we didn’t plan for this and didn’t have enough change, info-booth girl was informative but not particularly helpful as she couldn’t break a twenty) we found our bus and went into town for completion of our primary objective (coffee and sweets).
It seemed, much to our dismay, that much of Lisbon had also had a late night because almost nothing was open. We got off the bus at Restauradores and meandered all the way up to Baixo-Chaido without finding a single cafe or pasta shop open. Incredibly frustrating, especially given the enormity of the hangover-driven-caffeine-deprived headache I was working on.
We eventually, after much wandering down deserted streets and alleys (all of which were hilly), stopped at a tram shelter, for the consideration of options. As we waited, an incredibly full tram arrived, absolutely packed with people. Not on our list of things that we wanted to do. Oddly, however, there was an almost completely empty one just behind it, so we got on that one and got a seat.
We decided to take the tram as far as we could before getting kicked off, to see where it went and if anything there was open. We were on the number 28, which goes up the hill in Alfama, exactly where we were yesterday. For some reason, pretty much everything over there was open and bustling – I guess there are enough tourists in Lisbon to convince some people to open up, even on New Year’s day.
We stayed on the 28 until it terminated in Graca, a mostly residential neighbourhood past Alfama where not many tourist stray it seems. We did find a pasta shop, but it was closed for lunch apparently. We walked back towards Alfama, looking in every restaurant door on the way to see if we could find something that didn’t offer salt cod exclusively – not much luck to be honest. We ended up at an embarrassingly naff touristic cafe just below the entrance to the castello, where I had a hamburger and coke, much to my own horror.
Lunch finished, we went down the hill again (per the rule in Alfama), looking for photographic opportunities and possibly some wine. We stopped in a fermented grape superstore partway down to buy liquid supplies for the evening, and eventually ended up at the base of the Santa Justa elevator (the giant famous lift in the Baixa, which serves no apparent purpose as far as I can tell other than as a tourist draw).
The queue was giant, so we walked around and up the hill to get on from the top (it connects to one of the back streets and is free if you have a day transit pass, no point in standing the queue for an hour).
The views were fantastic, and the whole thing was dramatically rickety and old, which was excellent – enough to give a little jolt of adrenaline without being actually unsafe. Twenty minutes or so taking very high photographs of the city, and we were parched, I can tell you.
We found an open street cafe on one of the pedestrian streets below (Rua Áurea) and ordered 1.5 litres of water and a litre of red sangria, to take the edge off. We had an excellent hour or so watching the locals and not so locals wander up and down the road – it seems that many get dressed up in the their finest for the walk. It was getting on, so we decided to head back to the hotel for a bit of a rest and to clean up some photos before dinner. The bottle of wine we’d bought came in handy for this.
Eventually, we decided that it was about time for dinner. We’d found a Brazilian rodízio place just down the road called “Costellao Gaúcho” which looked not too bad. We went in and were greeted by one of the best signs for a restaurant in a city where English is not the native language – almost no one spoke English at all.
Rodízio is a type of Brazilian meat restaurant where there tends to be a salad bar buffet, and the servers wander around with giant rotisserie skewers of meat, slicing off strips of whatever you want as they walk past. For a set fee, you can eat more or less as much as you want.
We had the cheapest option on the menu – the Mini Rodízio for only €12 each, which resulted in enough meat to choke a donkey. Full-on meat coma. We had a few different types of steak, Brazilian roast beef, a few types of pork, chicken, sausage, cooked pineapple, deep-fried bananas...absolutely fantastic and absurdly good value for money – all the meats were excellent and the buffet salad bar wasn’t too bad either.
After eating quite a bit more than our fill, we admitted defeat and paid the tab. We rolled back to the hotel, not even concerned that we are completely out of wine. I think both of us are regretting the sheer volume of the meat we ate....
And pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/jamie.a....eat=directlink
Jan 4th, 2011, 06:12 PM
#26
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Hi Scott, hi Jamie,
It's taken me a couple of days to get back to this thread but I think it's fabulous! You're a wonderful writer and that and the fact that we were so recently in Lisbon really make this come alive for me.
SO says hi. When are you going back to London?
It's taken me a couple of days to get back to this thread but I think it's fabulous! You're a wonderful writer and that and the fact that we were so recently in Lisbon really make this come alive for me.
SO says hi. When are you going back to London?
Jan 5th, 2011, 01:31 AM
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GTG - back in London on Sunday - then back to work on Monday. I am still hoping for a big lottery win before heading back so that I dont ever have to work again! Please keep your fingers and toes crossed for me hahaha!
Kay - its actually very warm here compared to London! But I guess not compared to where you are!!
Kay - its actually very warm here compared to London! But I guess not compared to where you are!!
Jan 5th, 2011, 06:49 AM
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I am enjoying your trip report and have a few questions for you. Were you happy with your lodging in Sintra? I have checked out their website and corresponded with the owner about a stay in Sept. It looks great and I saw great reviews but am interested in your feelings since you were just there recently.
How long and steep is the "bloody hill"? My husband and I are both in our 60's and in good shape except for each of us having had knee surgery. We love to walk and explore and were ok with hiking all over Greece which was much steeper than what we have at home.
We will have 7 or 8 full days and at this time are not planning on renting a car. I have just started planning and am thinking of dividing our time between Lisbon and Sintra and bus or train day trips from either rather than driving.
This site seems to have more info on Lisbon and surrounding areas than other forums but even here much of it isn't very recent. So, any suggestions and helpful hints will be much appreciated. Thanks
How long and steep is the "bloody hill"? My husband and I are both in our 60's and in good shape except for each of us having had knee surgery. We love to walk and explore and were ok with hiking all over Greece which was much steeper than what we have at home.
We will have 7 or 8 full days and at this time are not planning on renting a car. I have just started planning and am thinking of dividing our time between Lisbon and Sintra and bus or train day trips from either rather than driving.
This site seems to have more info on Lisbon and surrounding areas than other forums but even here much of it isn't very recent. So, any suggestions and helpful hints will be much appreciated. Thanks
Jan 5th, 2011, 08:20 AM
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Hi mileaday,
The lodging in Sintra was great. Basic, but good. They also sell decent wine and breaky for 4-6 euros. Apparently lodging is not allowed to include breakfast unless they have a full restaurant.
I think without a car 2-3 nights in Sintra would be great. You can take a bus to Cascais/Estoril (seaside) one day, and the Pena Palace and Moorish castle are also worth a day.
Lisbon was great as well and we spent 5 nights. I believe you can also do a bus trip to Evora and also to Obidos if you wanted a break without a car.
As for the hill...its a hill. And not a short one. I was there with my mom and her friend (they are both 60) in Oct 2009 and we were huffing and puffing up. My hubby says if you have knee problems the downhill part might be hard on them. Sintra and Lisbon are both very hilly. At least in Lisbon they have trams to take you up and down. Not saying you cant do it, but its a good 5-10 min uphill walk from the lodging to the historic centre of Sintra.
Hope this helps! Enjoy your trip!
J
The lodging in Sintra was great. Basic, but good. They also sell decent wine and breaky for 4-6 euros. Apparently lodging is not allowed to include breakfast unless they have a full restaurant.
I think without a car 2-3 nights in Sintra would be great. You can take a bus to Cascais/Estoril (seaside) one day, and the Pena Palace and Moorish castle are also worth a day.
Lisbon was great as well and we spent 5 nights. I believe you can also do a bus trip to Evora and also to Obidos if you wanted a break without a car.
As for the hill...its a hill. And not a short one. I was there with my mom and her friend (they are both 60) in Oct 2009 and we were huffing and puffing up. My hubby says if you have knee problems the downhill part might be hard on them. Sintra and Lisbon are both very hilly. At least in Lisbon they have trams to take you up and down. Not saying you cant do it, but its a good 5-10 min uphill walk from the lodging to the historic centre of Sintra.
Hope this helps! Enjoy your trip!
J
Jan 5th, 2011, 08:29 AM
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Day Seven – What a View (Except for the Dense Fog) (January 2, 2011)
Having survived a night of the meat sweats, we awoke feeling slightly sluggish. We opened the electric blackout blind to see what kind of day was waiting for us outside and were met with a dramatic view of....nothing. Dense fog was apparently sitting on Lisbon much like a very fat man on a small bicycle seat – absolutely nothing was visible, and this was very disturbing. Either that or someone had frosted our windows in the night for reasons unexplained.
This, of course, was to be expected, as we’d planning taking a trip to the sea-side to enjoy the views of the ocean and all for the day. Undaunted, we packed up and headed out into the misty and deserted streets (Sunday morning in Lisbon is only slightly more active than New Year’s day). As our first mission, we found a pasta cafe around the corner and had the requisite coffee and tasty treat before descending into the metro station to charge our Via Viagem passes for the day’s travel. Planning ahead, we’d brought enough change to cover the new fees for the new year, which was clever, even for us.
Back up the surface streets for a bus to Cais do Sodré and from there to the train to Estoril. The trip was uneventful, although it was interesting to watch the wall of fog obscure all but the buildings closest to the tracks. Not sure why anyone would want to live backing onto a rail line, but there you have it. I’m sure the view on a non-foggy day must be spectacular.
We arrived in Estoril and walked to the beach. As expected, there was nothing to see as nothing could be seen. We walked on the sand for a bit and I managed to spend more than ten minutes next to the water without getting drenched by an unexpected wave – possibly a first for me. We walked down the seawall past Monte Estoril, almost getting to Cascais before deciding that it might be time for lunch, and definitely time for a jug of Sangria.
We found a conveniently located bar and ordered just that. We ate and drank our lunch and watched the massive waves break on the sea wall, entertainingly drenching a few unsuspecting people who should have known better. There must have been a massive storm somewhere offshore, as the waves were truly tremendous. Massive walls of water were repeatedly crashing against the walls in a highly interesting and photogenic manner, which was much appreciated.
We spent quite a bit of time trying to capture the perfect image of the water breaking over the pavement, and possibly splashing people who weren’t paying as much attention as they should have been. Eventually we grew tired of this, and after walking back towards Estoril, turned our attentions to the clearly insane surfers who were bobbing around in what must have been nut-shrinkingly freezing water. Some of them were pretty crap, but a few carved enough nice lines on the waves to make some interesting photos, so I was quite pleased.
We continued along the seawall past Estoril until we became parched yet again and found another conveniently located cafe to sit at. We spent another hour enjoying a relatively nice and relatively expensive bottle of wine (odd how the price of wine is directly proportional to the quality of the view).
The sun went down in a rather dramatic manner, making the remains of the fog glow most scenically, and then it got cold. As I was just wearing a jumper, and we were out of wine, we decided to walk back to Estoril, get back on the train and go back to Lisbon for dinner.
Dinner was a quick bus ride to Restauradores and then a tram ride up the hill to Bairro Alto. I’d read about a restaurant we’d passed a few times in a magazine (they’d probably paid to be in it, but whatever) so we decided to try it out. It turned out to have expensive wine, really good tapas (which is weird for Lisbon), and not very good pizza (which is normal for Lisbon I think). They were very friendly, but it wasn’t great and I wouldn’t go back.
After dinner we felt that a final beverage was in order before coming back to the hotel so we found our favourite wine bar in the Bairro Alto – Artis. We found a seat and ordered two glasses of wine and sat back to enjoy or last full evening in Lisbon. It’s been a surprising city. I don’t think either of us expected to like as much as we both have. I don’t know that I’d want to spend another full week here, but I’d definitely come back for a long weekend here and there. While much of it is very run down and more than a few buildings are abandoned and crumbling, there’s a vibrancy and excitement to the city that is thrilling. The food, while not fantastic, is cheap and mostly tasty, the wine is fantastic and cheap, and the people are friendly. I think a trip in better weather is going to be in order.
And pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/jamie.a....eat=directlink
Having survived a night of the meat sweats, we awoke feeling slightly sluggish. We opened the electric blackout blind to see what kind of day was waiting for us outside and were met with a dramatic view of....nothing. Dense fog was apparently sitting on Lisbon much like a very fat man on a small bicycle seat – absolutely nothing was visible, and this was very disturbing. Either that or someone had frosted our windows in the night for reasons unexplained.
This, of course, was to be expected, as we’d planning taking a trip to the sea-side to enjoy the views of the ocean and all for the day. Undaunted, we packed up and headed out into the misty and deserted streets (Sunday morning in Lisbon is only slightly more active than New Year’s day). As our first mission, we found a pasta cafe around the corner and had the requisite coffee and tasty treat before descending into the metro station to charge our Via Viagem passes for the day’s travel. Planning ahead, we’d brought enough change to cover the new fees for the new year, which was clever, even for us.
Back up the surface streets for a bus to Cais do Sodré and from there to the train to Estoril. The trip was uneventful, although it was interesting to watch the wall of fog obscure all but the buildings closest to the tracks. Not sure why anyone would want to live backing onto a rail line, but there you have it. I’m sure the view on a non-foggy day must be spectacular.
We arrived in Estoril and walked to the beach. As expected, there was nothing to see as nothing could be seen. We walked on the sand for a bit and I managed to spend more than ten minutes next to the water without getting drenched by an unexpected wave – possibly a first for me. We walked down the seawall past Monte Estoril, almost getting to Cascais before deciding that it might be time for lunch, and definitely time for a jug of Sangria.
We found a conveniently located bar and ordered just that. We ate and drank our lunch and watched the massive waves break on the sea wall, entertainingly drenching a few unsuspecting people who should have known better. There must have been a massive storm somewhere offshore, as the waves were truly tremendous. Massive walls of water were repeatedly crashing against the walls in a highly interesting and photogenic manner, which was much appreciated.
We spent quite a bit of time trying to capture the perfect image of the water breaking over the pavement, and possibly splashing people who weren’t paying as much attention as they should have been. Eventually we grew tired of this, and after walking back towards Estoril, turned our attentions to the clearly insane surfers who were bobbing around in what must have been nut-shrinkingly freezing water. Some of them were pretty crap, but a few carved enough nice lines on the waves to make some interesting photos, so I was quite pleased.
We continued along the seawall past Estoril until we became parched yet again and found another conveniently located cafe to sit at. We spent another hour enjoying a relatively nice and relatively expensive bottle of wine (odd how the price of wine is directly proportional to the quality of the view).
The sun went down in a rather dramatic manner, making the remains of the fog glow most scenically, and then it got cold. As I was just wearing a jumper, and we were out of wine, we decided to walk back to Estoril, get back on the train and go back to Lisbon for dinner.
Dinner was a quick bus ride to Restauradores and then a tram ride up the hill to Bairro Alto. I’d read about a restaurant we’d passed a few times in a magazine (they’d probably paid to be in it, but whatever) so we decided to try it out. It turned out to have expensive wine, really good tapas (which is weird for Lisbon), and not very good pizza (which is normal for Lisbon I think). They were very friendly, but it wasn’t great and I wouldn’t go back.
After dinner we felt that a final beverage was in order before coming back to the hotel so we found our favourite wine bar in the Bairro Alto – Artis. We found a seat and ordered two glasses of wine and sat back to enjoy or last full evening in Lisbon. It’s been a surprising city. I don’t think either of us expected to like as much as we both have. I don’t know that I’d want to spend another full week here, but I’d definitely come back for a long weekend here and there. While much of it is very run down and more than a few buildings are abandoned and crumbling, there’s a vibrancy and excitement to the city that is thrilling. The food, while not fantastic, is cheap and mostly tasty, the wine is fantastic and cheap, and the people are friendly. I think a trip in better weather is going to be in order.
And pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/jamie.a....eat=directlink
Jan 5th, 2011, 02:56 PM
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As always I thoroughly enjoyed your wonderful report. Your writing style always brings a huge smile to my face and your photos are just stunning!! You always seem to have so much fun, no matter where you go. You made Portugal come alive to me with your descriptions and your pics. I hope you keep traveling and keep writing these delightful reports. Would love to meet you two some day for a glass of vino!!
Jan 5th, 2011, 05:01 PM
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Beautiful report. I loved it.
We may have passed by each others, since I use the Picoas train station on a daily basis.
Another side note is the very interesting name "100 maneiras", because of it's dubble meaning in Portuguese. It stands for "no manners" or "one hundred ways" (pick one)
Your translation of "pastelaria" as a pasta shop is lovely
We may have passed by each others, since I use the Picoas train station on a daily basis.
Another side note is the very interesting name "100 maneiras", because of it's dubble meaning in Portuguese. It stands for "no manners" or "one hundred ways" (pick one)
Your translation of "pastelaria" as a pasta shop is lovely
Jan 5th, 2011, 10:18 PM
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Day Eight – Bar Xtreme (January 3, 2011)
Today was our last morning in Lisbon, and I was upset. I’d had a fantastic time there and didn’t really want to leave, the comfort of the Lisbon Sheraton possibly having something to do with this. We got up at the ungodly hour of 9am (ish, could have been a bit later) and packed up our bags.
We had, for reasons unexplained (mostly because we are cheap) decided to walk with our impressively large and heavy luggage up the Marques do Pombol to pick up our hire car. Not only to Marques do Pombol, but down to the big roundabout and then up the impressively steep hill. We eventually found the Avis and picked up Aurelia (our first Portuguese hire car had to be named Aurelia, as all our hire cars have names, as does our sat nav Tracy). Aurelia is a new Toyota Yaris, only slightly larger than one of my shoes, but in black, as opposed to the stylish white my travel trainers are.
We live in London, and therefore being somewhat sane, don’t actually own a car. It’s been some time since I’ve driven a motorcar, and I’m not so much good at starting a manual transmission car on hills, at least when I’m facing up them, I’m a star if I’m going down. It may be a good time to point out that Lisbon is built on pretty much nothing but hill.
With a fair amount of trepidation we set Tracy the SatNav at a destination, backed up down a hill AND around a corner (my driving test examiner would have been proud), and set off.
As she normally does, Tracy steered us right and got us out of central Lisbon with little fuss and almost no muss. Hills were few and far between, almost as if Tracy was as nervous about my hill start ability as I was. It was Monday late morning but traffic wasn’t too bad and before long we were on the motorway, heading for Almourol Castle, near to Tomar.
We found it with only minor confusion. Apparently Portugal has gone through a period of infrastructure improvement over the last few years. Tracy is starting to show her age, and as we got closer to the castle she started having some problems. We found it eventually, but were slightly unimpressed with its grandeur. For one, it’s on a very small island that at least in January is inaccessible, being in the middle of a river. We took a few photos and were off again.
On the plus side, the large and deserted hill leading back to the motorway meant that I got to practice my hill starts, and I got to the point where I could start without burning out the clutch. I find it’s best to practice these sorts of things on hire cars. Also, I would recommend if you are considering purchasing a former hire car to have the clutch checked, in case I’ve been driving it.
It turned out that Tomar wasn’t that far from the castle, and it wasn’t long before we were very confused again as Tracy had no idea where we were. Apparently the new highway looks a lot like forest and/or field to her, although to be fair, she is getting on in years. We eventually found the roundabout that she kept telling us to look for, and from there the road up to Casa Rosden, our home away from home for the next few days. www.casarosdenportugal.com
Apparently the road leading up to Casa Rosden was ripped apart a few weeks ago, and is now a morass of a dirt road featuring potholes and large mud puddles. Aurelia did a stellar job and we found the place with little difficulty. We were met by owners Ros and Den (thus the creatively named Casa Rosden), who showed us our room for the next few nights.
Den graciously offered to take us on a quick driving tour of Tomar and the local sights, including the supermarket so that we could buy any supplies necessary. The driving tour was fantastic and included a full tour of central Tomar, as well as a drive up the hill to see the Templar castle and the rather impressive aqueduct that fed it. The supermarket in particular was important, as after seven nights of eating out, we were ready for some home cooked food.
It’s always an adventure exploring a market in a foreign country, especially when you don’t speak the language. We did fairly well I think, picking up enough to sustain us for two dinners, including barbequed steak and salad for this evening, as well as some wine. We piled back in Den’s four-wheel drive and came back to the casa.
Fortunately, there is a really nice open air charcoal barbeque at the house, and I used it to it’s utmost in cooking two very tasty steaks for dinner. I like eating out, but it’s hard to be beat home cooked steak from an outdoor grill. With salad and decent wine, a winner all around.
After dinner we were feeling a bit restless, so we walked up to the local village of Portela to see if we could find somewhere to have a final drink for the evening. The local restaurant was closed but the XTreme bar was open (the local motorcross/dirtbike biker hangout), so we went in there.
It struck us almost immediately how important language is in feeling comfortable in a place. As we opened the door, all conversation stopped and everyone turned to stare at us. We found a seat and sat down. It took some time before conversation started again. We ordered a glass of wine and a regular sized bottle of beer between us and settled in.
The football was on, so we watched that as we chatted. It was unclear which side the residents of the bar were supporting, and we didn’t know either side as it was Portuguese league sides, so we remained silent, even at the obvious dives and near missed goals, which would normally have elicited some comment or other. We ordered another round.
Eventually, the time came to pay the bill and stumble back down the gravel pit of a street to our room. I asked for the conta and was answered in Portuguese. I didn’t want to make a scene and demand a response in English, as I hadn’t understood the response the first time, so I chose the twenty euro note from my wallet, assuming that the five euro note wouldn’t be enough to cover two beers and two wines.
It turned out that I was wrong. I was given seventeen euros forty cents change – that’s right, two bottled beers and two half-decent very large glasses of wine cost a grand total of two euros sixty. I love this place. It might not be the Champs Elysees, but it does have its charms. We settled in for the night, sufficiently sophonisified and quite pleased with ourselves.
And the pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/jamie.a....eat=directlink
Today was our last morning in Lisbon, and I was upset. I’d had a fantastic time there and didn’t really want to leave, the comfort of the Lisbon Sheraton possibly having something to do with this. We got up at the ungodly hour of 9am (ish, could have been a bit later) and packed up our bags.
We had, for reasons unexplained (mostly because we are cheap) decided to walk with our impressively large and heavy luggage up the Marques do Pombol to pick up our hire car. Not only to Marques do Pombol, but down to the big roundabout and then up the impressively steep hill. We eventually found the Avis and picked up Aurelia (our first Portuguese hire car had to be named Aurelia, as all our hire cars have names, as does our sat nav Tracy). Aurelia is a new Toyota Yaris, only slightly larger than one of my shoes, but in black, as opposed to the stylish white my travel trainers are.
We live in London, and therefore being somewhat sane, don’t actually own a car. It’s been some time since I’ve driven a motorcar, and I’m not so much good at starting a manual transmission car on hills, at least when I’m facing up them, I’m a star if I’m going down. It may be a good time to point out that Lisbon is built on pretty much nothing but hill.
With a fair amount of trepidation we set Tracy the SatNav at a destination, backed up down a hill AND around a corner (my driving test examiner would have been proud), and set off.
As she normally does, Tracy steered us right and got us out of central Lisbon with little fuss and almost no muss. Hills were few and far between, almost as if Tracy was as nervous about my hill start ability as I was. It was Monday late morning but traffic wasn’t too bad and before long we were on the motorway, heading for Almourol Castle, near to Tomar.
We found it with only minor confusion. Apparently Portugal has gone through a period of infrastructure improvement over the last few years. Tracy is starting to show her age, and as we got closer to the castle she started having some problems. We found it eventually, but were slightly unimpressed with its grandeur. For one, it’s on a very small island that at least in January is inaccessible, being in the middle of a river. We took a few photos and were off again.
On the plus side, the large and deserted hill leading back to the motorway meant that I got to practice my hill starts, and I got to the point where I could start without burning out the clutch. I find it’s best to practice these sorts of things on hire cars. Also, I would recommend if you are considering purchasing a former hire car to have the clutch checked, in case I’ve been driving it.
It turned out that Tomar wasn’t that far from the castle, and it wasn’t long before we were very confused again as Tracy had no idea where we were. Apparently the new highway looks a lot like forest and/or field to her, although to be fair, she is getting on in years. We eventually found the roundabout that she kept telling us to look for, and from there the road up to Casa Rosden, our home away from home for the next few days. www.casarosdenportugal.com
Apparently the road leading up to Casa Rosden was ripped apart a few weeks ago, and is now a morass of a dirt road featuring potholes and large mud puddles. Aurelia did a stellar job and we found the place with little difficulty. We were met by owners Ros and Den (thus the creatively named Casa Rosden), who showed us our room for the next few nights.
Den graciously offered to take us on a quick driving tour of Tomar and the local sights, including the supermarket so that we could buy any supplies necessary. The driving tour was fantastic and included a full tour of central Tomar, as well as a drive up the hill to see the Templar castle and the rather impressive aqueduct that fed it. The supermarket in particular was important, as after seven nights of eating out, we were ready for some home cooked food.
It’s always an adventure exploring a market in a foreign country, especially when you don’t speak the language. We did fairly well I think, picking up enough to sustain us for two dinners, including barbequed steak and salad for this evening, as well as some wine. We piled back in Den’s four-wheel drive and came back to the casa.
Fortunately, there is a really nice open air charcoal barbeque at the house, and I used it to it’s utmost in cooking two very tasty steaks for dinner. I like eating out, but it’s hard to be beat home cooked steak from an outdoor grill. With salad and decent wine, a winner all around.
After dinner we were feeling a bit restless, so we walked up to the local village of Portela to see if we could find somewhere to have a final drink for the evening. The local restaurant was closed but the XTreme bar was open (the local motorcross/dirtbike biker hangout), so we went in there.
It struck us almost immediately how important language is in feeling comfortable in a place. As we opened the door, all conversation stopped and everyone turned to stare at us. We found a seat and sat down. It took some time before conversation started again. We ordered a glass of wine and a regular sized bottle of beer between us and settled in.
The football was on, so we watched that as we chatted. It was unclear which side the residents of the bar were supporting, and we didn’t know either side as it was Portuguese league sides, so we remained silent, even at the obvious dives and near missed goals, which would normally have elicited some comment or other. We ordered another round.
Eventually, the time came to pay the bill and stumble back down the gravel pit of a street to our room. I asked for the conta and was answered in Portuguese. I didn’t want to make a scene and demand a response in English, as I hadn’t understood the response the first time, so I chose the twenty euro note from my wallet, assuming that the five euro note wouldn’t be enough to cover two beers and two wines.
It turned out that I was wrong. I was given seventeen euros forty cents change – that’s right, two bottled beers and two half-decent very large glasses of wine cost a grand total of two euros sixty. I love this place. It might not be the Champs Elysees, but it does have its charms. We settled in for the night, sufficiently sophonisified and quite pleased with ourselves.
And the pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/jamie.a....eat=directlink
Jan 6th, 2011, 01:18 PM
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Day Nine – On A Long, Dark, Desert Highway (January 4, 2011)
Hot damn I love blackout blinds. It could have been 4 in the morning for all I knew when I woke up at 9:30 this morning. The blackness was absolute, which caused a bit of an issue when it actually was 4am and I had to find the bathroom in the pitch dark in a strange room in a strange country, not quite awake. I got lost. Fortunately I realized my mistake before I peed in the hallway.
We made our way down the rather rustic dirt road and out to the highway, heading west (to be fair, the road to the hotel is normally paved, however the water and/or sewer people evidently needed to do some work on the water mains/sewer supply. They didn’t feel that replacing roadways was their remit, and the city road people apparently and somewhat justifiably felt that as they hadn’t ripped up the road in the first place, replacing it wasn’t their concern. The road remains dirt, and the heavy rains are doing their worst. It is expected that someone will flinch at some point and the road will be repaired, but it is hard to say when this might be).
West led us to the pay as you go motorway, which is actually relatively expensive – more than €5 to get from Tomar to Óbidos, although this does mean travelling on well paved and mostly three lane super highway at very high speeds (in fact, about 10km/hr more than Aurelia is comfortable doing – she can do it at a pinch, but the vibrations and noise don’t seem worth the effort, and I’m a gentleman – I don’t like to see a lady strain herself unnecessarily).
Óbidos is known for two things – the shimmering whiteness of the buildings within the surrounding and impressively tall medieval curtain walls which completely encircle the old city, and the cunningly crafted and deceptively strong cherry liqueur called “ginja.” It seems the tourists have discovered both the shimmering whiteness and cunning liquid and the tourist traps have followed them. The main road from the big entrance gate up to the church at the other end of the village is lined with shops selling the typical tourist tat, including, but not limited to almost hand-made and very nearly hand-painted pottery, socks for some reason, wooden swords, a Celtic music shop (not even I can explain that one), and the other 1001 tourist accoutrements which seem required.
We did a bit of an exploratory wander before the rain started up, at which point we found a restaurant for lunch. It was traditionalish Portuguese, so it had salt cod on the menu. While I’m sure some people like salt cod, we are not two of them. Instead, we had the not-particularly-traditional-but-tasty fettuccini with chicken, bacon, and mushrooms, and chicken with pineapple for me. Both were better than we would have expected. By the time we’d finished lunch, the rain had more or less stopped.
We went back out for more photo opportunities and did a fairly thorough circuit of the village. There isn’t a lot there, other than that main street, as far as we could tell. Our curiosity satisfied and our memory cards somewhat more full than they previously had been, we returned to Aurelia and set Tracy the satnav towards Alcobaça (which I think sounds awfully like the name of Chewbacca’s cousin from the country).
Tracy sometimes has a somewhat disturbed sense of humour, and our decision to set her to avoid toll roads meant that in retaliation, she tried to get us to drive through the very centre of a relatively large but hugely cramped Portuguese country village. This was not fun. Also, it seems that since Tracy’s maps were loaded, they’ve changed a whole bunch of streets to one-way, which adds to the degree of difficulty. Eventually we capitulated, and changed her programming back to the default, allowing her to take us 23 kms on the toll highway.
Almost by accident we found the town-centre parking lot in Alcobaça, directly across the courtyard from what is apparently one of the most beautiful Cistercian Abbeys left – Mosterio de Santa Maria, dating from the twelfth century. After minor annoyances trying to get change for a €10 note in the local shops so that we could pay for parking (we’d used the last of our small change paying for the damn toll road getting to Alcobaça), we entered the abbey.
Not long ago, we’d read a series of books by C.J. Sansom, one of which is set in a medieval monastery. I thought of the description of monastic life as I walked through the ancient halls and courtyards of Mosterio de Santa Maria – it would have been a very difficult life, and if today was anything to go by, often very cold. One of the things from the book that stuck with me was the description of some of the monks passing the time in the cloister by chipping engravings and messages in the walls – the walls at Mosterio de Santa Maria are covered with carved messages and symbols. The time it must have taken to do all that, the dedication, and the sheer boredom required to spend that amount chipping away at solid rock...no life for me...
We spent a good hour wandering around the monastery before deciding it was time to head back to Tomar for dinner and a quiet night in. Evidently Tracy wasn’t quite over her irritation with us, and I made it worse by thinking that it would be a good idea to change her settings again to avoid toll roads. I paid dearly this time. She sent us up to the top of mountains into what turned out to be darkness, light drizzle, and very heavy fog. It may have been the most stressful drive of my life. We went up and down and around blind corners, through tiny villages on a road barely a lane wind, on through the evening. I was shattered by the time we finally pulled into Casa Rosden. I won’t be making the mistake of trying to tell Tracy what to do again anytime soon, I can assure you.
The evening has been lovely, and has consisted mostly of cooking dinner, listening to my classic rock play list, drinking wine, and talking about the trip we’re on and trips we’ve taken. I can’t think of a much better way to spend a fairly cold and rainy evening in rural Portugal.
And the pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/jamie.a....eat=directlink
Hot damn I love blackout blinds. It could have been 4 in the morning for all I knew when I woke up at 9:30 this morning. The blackness was absolute, which caused a bit of an issue when it actually was 4am and I had to find the bathroom in the pitch dark in a strange room in a strange country, not quite awake. I got lost. Fortunately I realized my mistake before I peed in the hallway.
We made our way down the rather rustic dirt road and out to the highway, heading west (to be fair, the road to the hotel is normally paved, however the water and/or sewer people evidently needed to do some work on the water mains/sewer supply. They didn’t feel that replacing roadways was their remit, and the city road people apparently and somewhat justifiably felt that as they hadn’t ripped up the road in the first place, replacing it wasn’t their concern. The road remains dirt, and the heavy rains are doing their worst. It is expected that someone will flinch at some point and the road will be repaired, but it is hard to say when this might be).
West led us to the pay as you go motorway, which is actually relatively expensive – more than €5 to get from Tomar to Óbidos, although this does mean travelling on well paved and mostly three lane super highway at very high speeds (in fact, about 10km/hr more than Aurelia is comfortable doing – she can do it at a pinch, but the vibrations and noise don’t seem worth the effort, and I’m a gentleman – I don’t like to see a lady strain herself unnecessarily).
Óbidos is known for two things – the shimmering whiteness of the buildings within the surrounding and impressively tall medieval curtain walls which completely encircle the old city, and the cunningly crafted and deceptively strong cherry liqueur called “ginja.” It seems the tourists have discovered both the shimmering whiteness and cunning liquid and the tourist traps have followed them. The main road from the big entrance gate up to the church at the other end of the village is lined with shops selling the typical tourist tat, including, but not limited to almost hand-made and very nearly hand-painted pottery, socks for some reason, wooden swords, a Celtic music shop (not even I can explain that one), and the other 1001 tourist accoutrements which seem required.
We did a bit of an exploratory wander before the rain started up, at which point we found a restaurant for lunch. It was traditionalish Portuguese, so it had salt cod on the menu. While I’m sure some people like salt cod, we are not two of them. Instead, we had the not-particularly-traditional-but-tasty fettuccini with chicken, bacon, and mushrooms, and chicken with pineapple for me. Both were better than we would have expected. By the time we’d finished lunch, the rain had more or less stopped.
We went back out for more photo opportunities and did a fairly thorough circuit of the village. There isn’t a lot there, other than that main street, as far as we could tell. Our curiosity satisfied and our memory cards somewhat more full than they previously had been, we returned to Aurelia and set Tracy the satnav towards Alcobaça (which I think sounds awfully like the name of Chewbacca’s cousin from the country).
Tracy sometimes has a somewhat disturbed sense of humour, and our decision to set her to avoid toll roads meant that in retaliation, she tried to get us to drive through the very centre of a relatively large but hugely cramped Portuguese country village. This was not fun. Also, it seems that since Tracy’s maps were loaded, they’ve changed a whole bunch of streets to one-way, which adds to the degree of difficulty. Eventually we capitulated, and changed her programming back to the default, allowing her to take us 23 kms on the toll highway.
Almost by accident we found the town-centre parking lot in Alcobaça, directly across the courtyard from what is apparently one of the most beautiful Cistercian Abbeys left – Mosterio de Santa Maria, dating from the twelfth century. After minor annoyances trying to get change for a €10 note in the local shops so that we could pay for parking (we’d used the last of our small change paying for the damn toll road getting to Alcobaça), we entered the abbey.
Not long ago, we’d read a series of books by C.J. Sansom, one of which is set in a medieval monastery. I thought of the description of monastic life as I walked through the ancient halls and courtyards of Mosterio de Santa Maria – it would have been a very difficult life, and if today was anything to go by, often very cold. One of the things from the book that stuck with me was the description of some of the monks passing the time in the cloister by chipping engravings and messages in the walls – the walls at Mosterio de Santa Maria are covered with carved messages and symbols. The time it must have taken to do all that, the dedication, and the sheer boredom required to spend that amount chipping away at solid rock...no life for me...
We spent a good hour wandering around the monastery before deciding it was time to head back to Tomar for dinner and a quiet night in. Evidently Tracy wasn’t quite over her irritation with us, and I made it worse by thinking that it would be a good idea to change her settings again to avoid toll roads. I paid dearly this time. She sent us up to the top of mountains into what turned out to be darkness, light drizzle, and very heavy fog. It may have been the most stressful drive of my life. We went up and down and around blind corners, through tiny villages on a road barely a lane wind, on through the evening. I was shattered by the time we finally pulled into Casa Rosden. I won’t be making the mistake of trying to tell Tracy what to do again anytime soon, I can assure you.
The evening has been lovely, and has consisted mostly of cooking dinner, listening to my classic rock play list, drinking wine, and talking about the trip we’re on and trips we’ve taken. I can’t think of a much better way to spend a fairly cold and rainy evening in rural Portugal.
And the pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/jamie.a....eat=directlink
Jan 7th, 2011, 02:06 AM
#36
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Day Ten and Eleven – 40 Days and 40 Nights (January 5 and 6, 2011)
For some reason, we managed to sleep in a fair bit yesterday morning. Our original plan had been to drive back down Nazaré and the Batalha monastery, however the sky looked a bit ominous and both of us were fighting colds (a losing battle, as it later turned out). Given both of those compelling arguments, we decided to explore Tomar instead.
We took a bit longer than usual getting ready and eventually packed into Aurelia the Yaris for our short voyage into town. We started the day at the Templar Castle, perched on its defensive hill overlooking the town. The drive up the hill was exciting – I love steep winding roads, especially in hire cars. We found parking right in front of the main gates – one of the advantages of off-season travel is the abundance of parking opportunities that reveal themselves at every turn.
We spent a good two hours poking around what remains of the castle. We’ve discovered that these old castles and monasteries in Portugal are surprisingly well maintained, and much restoration work was being done at the Tomar castle. We’ve both read books recently about the Templars and the lives of monks in monasteries in the middle ages, so the castle was especially interesting for us. Again, the off season travel meant that we had the castle almost entirely to ourselves, which I think added to the atmosphere.
Somewhat oddly, the exit deposited us at the back of the residential section of the castle, on a dirt back with a sign pointing us back to the parking lots. Unfortunately the threatening clouds had revealed their piece de resistance – it had started to rain quite heavily while we were exploring. We made our way rather hastily back to Aurelia and drove back down the hill into Tomar.
Den, the owner of the cottage we’re staying at, suggested parking at the town market, as it’s just between the old part of town and the new, and more importantly is free. We hadn’t programmed Tracy, trusting instead to luck and our directional abilities, despite years of evidence proving that this is probably not a good choice. History, it seems, doesn’t always repeat itself and we found the parking lot almost immediately, albeit somewhat by accident.
We made our way into the old part of town and were astounded at how quiet it was. Apparently January 5th at about lunchtime is not a good time to explore Tomar, if you’re looking for a bustling place. We walked almost the whole way through the town looking for a place to have lunch, and finally settled on La Bella, a stylish looking place near the church and praça at the end of town. We both had pizzas, which we actually quite enjoyed, even with the embarrassment of having Italian food in Portugal.
After lunch we felt that we had to spend some time wandering around Tomar, exploring and taking some photos. It appeared, after we finished our lunch, that those few stores which had been open when we arrived were closed for their lunches. It was a ghost town. We wandered a bit, but the rain got quite heavy, so we admitted defeat and had a drink.
One of the many things that I’m finding I really like about Portugal is the sanity of beverage prices. We ordered a glass of wine and a bottle of beer in a cafe in the centre of the old town and were charged a grand total of €3.10.
Compared to what we would normally pay in London for the same order, this is absurd. Not that I’m complaining of course.
The rain had actually managed to get a bit heavier, so despite the fact that it was only 3pm, we felt that the best option for two sick people was to declare it a draw and go back to the cottage for a quiet afternoon of reading and recuperation. This turned out to be almost exactly what we both needed and we quite enjoyed our afternoon and evening, even summoning the energy to barbeque some chicken and pineapple in the evening.
Things were going well until about 4 in the morning when I woke up with a fever – despite the warmth of the room I couldn’t stop shivering. I took a few ibuprofen and the fever fortunately broke, but I didn’t manage to get much sleep in the meantime.
Morning took its sweet time in arriving. The rain, which had been quite heavy at times overnight, seemed to have mostly stopped and I was feeling quite a bit better. We decided to go ahead with our plan for the day – my birthday celebration of a trip on the train to Porto, lunch at the Taylor Fladgate winery on the terrace overlooking the city, and an afternoon of port tasting. It must be mentioned that port is one of my very favourite things, especially Taylor’s port.
We drove to Entroncamento to catch the 8:30 train to Porto, arriving in Porto just after 10:30, and navigated the only slightly confusing Porto metro system, finding ourselves at the top of the hill on the port house side of the river, just off the rail bridge. Porto is an interesting city – as with most things in Portugal it seems, it’s apparently entirely vertical. We could see the port houses spread out below us, but knew that the Taylor’s house was somewhere at the top of the hill. We, however, couldn’t see it. We deduced that either they were subtle enough not to have a giant sign like the other houses, or it was simply not visible from where we were. Gosh we are smart.
We decided to start walking towards the main cluster of port house signs, thinking that failing anything else we could find somewhere to have a restorative beverage on the way if the walk became too much for us. Honestly, the Portuguese need to either develop all-weather outdoor escalators or stop building their cities on great bloody hills. We walked about halfway down the hill before Jamie had the bright idea to get me to ask someone where Taylor’s was. I found a slightly open cafe and did just that. It seemed, from what I could gather from the stream of Portuguese that I got in reply to my question, was that we had to walk all the way down the hill, follow the river for a while until we found a church, then walk back up the hill.
These directions turned out to be quite accurate, which surprised me – who knew I could understand Portuguese? We found Taylors without much hassle and after trying a very tasty dry white port, went on the short but very informative free tour. I’m always amazed at the size of some of the barrels in wineries – the largest at Taylors holds more than 100,000 litres of their late bottled vintage – never have I so wanted to go for a swim.
After the tour, we had a surprisingly tasty and even more surprisingly affordable lunch in the terrace. Again Portugal comes up top trumps in the quality for price sweepstakes. After lunch, it was back to the tasting room so that I could select my birthday present – Jamie had decided that this year she would, in addition to taking me to Porto for the tastings, buy me a bottle of whatever I wanted. This turned out not to be the case as she refused to pony up for the €2,950 bottle of Scion Very Old port (a barrel had been discovered intact after being lost/hidden for 150 years). Instead, I got a superb bottle of 2003 vintage that apparently I’m not to open until 2019 at the earliest, and should probably drink by 2050 according to the information on the internet.
We made our way back down the hill after our purchase and sampled a few more quite tasty ports, before walking back up the hill again to catch the metro back to the train station. As expected, we arrived just after the train had left and therefore had a 45 minute wait for the next one.
Fortunately, there was a cafe just over the road where we had quick coke before catching the train back to Entroncamento.
While on the train, the heavens opened with what I think must have been a lost Indian monsoon which somehow ended up here. The ten minute walk from the train station back to the car was enough to drench us to the bone, despite heavy jackets and umbrellas. The drive back to Tomar in that rain was frightening to say the least, especially when a lightning bolt hit something rather important in Entroncamento and took out all the power for the city, including all traffic lights and street lights. Driving in the pouring rain through a completely blacked-out city is not so much fun, but even less fun is driving on a blacked-out motorway in the torrential rain with rivers of water running down the road.
Despite the rather fraught conditions, we made it back to Casa Rosden with no incidents other than an unseen pothole causing a big bump. We ran up the stairs where Ros and Den met us with a birthday card and a bottle of birthday wine for me – this is exactly why we love staying at B&B’s when we travel – the fantastic people we meet on the way. Overall, despite the fever and the monsoon, it’s been a fantastic birthday, and I’ll look back on it fondly in 10 of 15 years when I open that bottle of port.
Pics from Jan 5: http://picasaweb.google.com/jamie.a....eat=directlink
And Jan 6: http://picasaweb.google.com/jamie.a....eat=directlink
For some reason, we managed to sleep in a fair bit yesterday morning. Our original plan had been to drive back down Nazaré and the Batalha monastery, however the sky looked a bit ominous and both of us were fighting colds (a losing battle, as it later turned out). Given both of those compelling arguments, we decided to explore Tomar instead.
We took a bit longer than usual getting ready and eventually packed into Aurelia the Yaris for our short voyage into town. We started the day at the Templar Castle, perched on its defensive hill overlooking the town. The drive up the hill was exciting – I love steep winding roads, especially in hire cars. We found parking right in front of the main gates – one of the advantages of off-season travel is the abundance of parking opportunities that reveal themselves at every turn.
We spent a good two hours poking around what remains of the castle. We’ve discovered that these old castles and monasteries in Portugal are surprisingly well maintained, and much restoration work was being done at the Tomar castle. We’ve both read books recently about the Templars and the lives of monks in monasteries in the middle ages, so the castle was especially interesting for us. Again, the off season travel meant that we had the castle almost entirely to ourselves, which I think added to the atmosphere.
Somewhat oddly, the exit deposited us at the back of the residential section of the castle, on a dirt back with a sign pointing us back to the parking lots. Unfortunately the threatening clouds had revealed their piece de resistance – it had started to rain quite heavily while we were exploring. We made our way rather hastily back to Aurelia and drove back down the hill into Tomar.
Den, the owner of the cottage we’re staying at, suggested parking at the town market, as it’s just between the old part of town and the new, and more importantly is free. We hadn’t programmed Tracy, trusting instead to luck and our directional abilities, despite years of evidence proving that this is probably not a good choice. History, it seems, doesn’t always repeat itself and we found the parking lot almost immediately, albeit somewhat by accident.
We made our way into the old part of town and were astounded at how quiet it was. Apparently January 5th at about lunchtime is not a good time to explore Tomar, if you’re looking for a bustling place. We walked almost the whole way through the town looking for a place to have lunch, and finally settled on La Bella, a stylish looking place near the church and praça at the end of town. We both had pizzas, which we actually quite enjoyed, even with the embarrassment of having Italian food in Portugal.
After lunch we felt that we had to spend some time wandering around Tomar, exploring and taking some photos. It appeared, after we finished our lunch, that those few stores which had been open when we arrived were closed for their lunches. It was a ghost town. We wandered a bit, but the rain got quite heavy, so we admitted defeat and had a drink.
One of the many things that I’m finding I really like about Portugal is the sanity of beverage prices. We ordered a glass of wine and a bottle of beer in a cafe in the centre of the old town and were charged a grand total of €3.10.
Compared to what we would normally pay in London for the same order, this is absurd. Not that I’m complaining of course.
The rain had actually managed to get a bit heavier, so despite the fact that it was only 3pm, we felt that the best option for two sick people was to declare it a draw and go back to the cottage for a quiet afternoon of reading and recuperation. This turned out to be almost exactly what we both needed and we quite enjoyed our afternoon and evening, even summoning the energy to barbeque some chicken and pineapple in the evening.
Things were going well until about 4 in the morning when I woke up with a fever – despite the warmth of the room I couldn’t stop shivering. I took a few ibuprofen and the fever fortunately broke, but I didn’t manage to get much sleep in the meantime.
Morning took its sweet time in arriving. The rain, which had been quite heavy at times overnight, seemed to have mostly stopped and I was feeling quite a bit better. We decided to go ahead with our plan for the day – my birthday celebration of a trip on the train to Porto, lunch at the Taylor Fladgate winery on the terrace overlooking the city, and an afternoon of port tasting. It must be mentioned that port is one of my very favourite things, especially Taylor’s port.
We drove to Entroncamento to catch the 8:30 train to Porto, arriving in Porto just after 10:30, and navigated the only slightly confusing Porto metro system, finding ourselves at the top of the hill on the port house side of the river, just off the rail bridge. Porto is an interesting city – as with most things in Portugal it seems, it’s apparently entirely vertical. We could see the port houses spread out below us, but knew that the Taylor’s house was somewhere at the top of the hill. We, however, couldn’t see it. We deduced that either they were subtle enough not to have a giant sign like the other houses, or it was simply not visible from where we were. Gosh we are smart.
We decided to start walking towards the main cluster of port house signs, thinking that failing anything else we could find somewhere to have a restorative beverage on the way if the walk became too much for us. Honestly, the Portuguese need to either develop all-weather outdoor escalators or stop building their cities on great bloody hills. We walked about halfway down the hill before Jamie had the bright idea to get me to ask someone where Taylor’s was. I found a slightly open cafe and did just that. It seemed, from what I could gather from the stream of Portuguese that I got in reply to my question, was that we had to walk all the way down the hill, follow the river for a while until we found a church, then walk back up the hill.
These directions turned out to be quite accurate, which surprised me – who knew I could understand Portuguese? We found Taylors without much hassle and after trying a very tasty dry white port, went on the short but very informative free tour. I’m always amazed at the size of some of the barrels in wineries – the largest at Taylors holds more than 100,000 litres of their late bottled vintage – never have I so wanted to go for a swim.
After the tour, we had a surprisingly tasty and even more surprisingly affordable lunch in the terrace. Again Portugal comes up top trumps in the quality for price sweepstakes. After lunch, it was back to the tasting room so that I could select my birthday present – Jamie had decided that this year she would, in addition to taking me to Porto for the tastings, buy me a bottle of whatever I wanted. This turned out not to be the case as she refused to pony up for the €2,950 bottle of Scion Very Old port (a barrel had been discovered intact after being lost/hidden for 150 years). Instead, I got a superb bottle of 2003 vintage that apparently I’m not to open until 2019 at the earliest, and should probably drink by 2050 according to the information on the internet.
We made our way back down the hill after our purchase and sampled a few more quite tasty ports, before walking back up the hill again to catch the metro back to the train station. As expected, we arrived just after the train had left and therefore had a 45 minute wait for the next one.
Fortunately, there was a cafe just over the road where we had quick coke before catching the train back to Entroncamento.
While on the train, the heavens opened with what I think must have been a lost Indian monsoon which somehow ended up here. The ten minute walk from the train station back to the car was enough to drench us to the bone, despite heavy jackets and umbrellas. The drive back to Tomar in that rain was frightening to say the least, especially when a lightning bolt hit something rather important in Entroncamento and took out all the power for the city, including all traffic lights and street lights. Driving in the pouring rain through a completely blacked-out city is not so much fun, but even less fun is driving on a blacked-out motorway in the torrential rain with rivers of water running down the road.
Despite the rather fraught conditions, we made it back to Casa Rosden with no incidents other than an unseen pothole causing a big bump. We ran up the stairs where Ros and Den met us with a birthday card and a bottle of birthday wine for me – this is exactly why we love staying at B&B’s when we travel – the fantastic people we meet on the way. Overall, despite the fever and the monsoon, it’s been a fantastic birthday, and I’ll look back on it fondly in 10 of 15 years when I open that bottle of port.
Pics from Jan 5: http://picasaweb.google.com/jamie.a....eat=directlink
And Jan 6: http://picasaweb.google.com/jamie.a....eat=directlink
Jan 7th, 2011, 08:54 AM
#38
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This is one of the best trip reports I've ever read. Great style and sense of humor (not to mention photos)! We just returned from 10 days in Portugal in October and your descriptions bring it all back. Thanks so much.
Jan 7th, 2011, 01:00 PM
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Hi Jamie and Scott,
I haven't had a chance to read your entire trip report yet, but whoever the photographer is, has a FANTASTIC eye. I too really liked some of your "people pictures" and your photos have inspired me to do the same when we go in May. I also liked some of your "reflection" photos. You are a talented photographer. Thank you for sharing!
Allison
I haven't had a chance to read your entire trip report yet, but whoever the photographer is, has a FANTASTIC eye. I too really liked some of your "people pictures" and your photos have inspired me to do the same when we go in May. I also liked some of your "reflection" photos. You are a talented photographer. Thank you for sharing!
Allison
