Day 31 – Packing It Up In Porto

Day 31 = Wednesday, April 11, 2012

After a morning of internet searching yesterday (and a lot of Google Translate help as well), I finally got a response from a reasonable therapeutic massage place near our apartment that could take me today!

On my way there, I took our laundry to a drop-off laundry place, due to the laundry detergent fiasco.

Now that the swelling in my foot had gone down, I could get a proper workout on my leg, so my appointment ran really long (no complaints, there). When I realized what time it was, I had to literally run in the pouring rain to get there before the laundry closed. If I didn’t make it by 6:00 pm, we would lose all of our clothing, since we were leaving for the airport at 4:15 the next morning. I ran into David just outside the laundry, as he was afraid of the same thing, so we got to walk home and get drenched together.

Packing takes ages, so while David cooked dinner and cleaned up the apartment, I packed our now-clean clothes. According to the fish scale, we were seriously over the allowed weight for our bags, so we jettisoned a few things: my black skirt, David’s green pants, Quinland’s conditioner, our DK Portugal guidebook. Quinland heroically volunteered to give up his worn-once dress shoes. We stayed up until 12:45 am making these decisions, with the alarm set for 3:45 to meet with the landlady for checkout. Ugh.

We neglected to take any photos of the apartment, but here are a few from Cristina’s ad on Hostelworld:

The apartment was pretty good-sized. Quinland was excited to have a TV that was loaded with movies; we were all thrilled to have internet in our very own place.

Q’s room was tiny – barely more than a closet, really – but he had his own space again.

The kitchen was gorgeous – new and large and shiny. There was a full-sized fridge, which was a far cry from leaving our food sitting out for five days, as in the hotel room in Braga. Nothing like warm yogurt and slimy cheese to kill your appetite.

Adeus, Porto apartment!

Expenditures: Massage; laundry.

Experiences: Massage from an osteopath, and a chatty one, no less; very informative, I must say. Added to this, I have never – even at home – dropped off my laundry and had it washed, dried and folded. Dry cleaning, yes, but not the whole shebang. David’s dress shirt even came back in a fancy plastic bag.

Day 30 – The “Porto Pedro” Walking Tour

Day 30 = Tuesday, April 10, 2012

One of David’s BGG contacts is another guy named Pedro, who is a Porto native (in fact, I later had an aerial view of the very house in which he was born). He generously offered to take an afternoon off work and take us on a walking tour of the city. I was a bit nervous about walking all afternoon, so I spent the entire morning searching for massage places in town that might be able to take me the next day, our last day in Porto.

Pedro was, quite simply, a walking-talking encyclopedia of information about his fair city. He walked us all over creation and then some. Our first quick stop was a food court in the mall, which had recently been remodeled so that each restaurant was shaped to look like a building in Porto. Then we were off to see the buildings themselves.

We walked through the downtown shopping district and saw old shops covered with azulejos (traditional tiles, for those of you who missed our trip to the azulejo museum). We went into a very cool historical open-air market, as well.

Speaking of azulejos, check out these next two photos of the Porto train station. Yes, you heard me right: train station. It was unbelievably gorgeous.

Here’s a close-up look at some of the beautiful tiles, which depict the history of the city.

We walked past the cathedral (Sé do Porto), but decided not to go in, as Q had had his fill of churches in Lisbon.

You can see Pedro explaining all kinds of stuff to David. I’m not sure what he is saying there, but did you know that the old Latin name of the settlement was Portus Cale? True story… that’s where the name “Portugal” came from.

We learned some more about Porto’s grudge against Lisbon, too. Apparently, when the Castilians had Lisbon under siege in the 14th century, Porto sent all their meat to Lisbon on a supply fleet so they did not starve, and the people in Porto lived on tripe. Instead of being eternally grateful for the help, Lisboans derisively called the people from Porto “tripe eaters.” Needless to say, this still rankles (because they still do it) after 700 years.

From the Sé, we walked down, down, down, down to the riverside, which is an interesting mix of the modern (check out that square fountain!) and the historical (more azulejos!).

By the way, I am planning to launch a campaign to make Portland a sister city with Porto. Not only are their names oh-so-similar, but one of Porto’s nicknames is Cidade das Pontes. Can you believe it?! The City of Bridges! Bridgetown! Yeah, it’s pretty much meant to be.

Speaking of bridges, here is Q in front of the Eiffel Bridge, (built by Gustave Eiffel of Tower fame). There was a pontoon bridge built in this location in 1806, but when the city was under siege in the Napoleonic wars, it collapsed under the weight of fleeing townspeople. Either that, or it was sabotaged, depending on who you ask.

From the quays, we had a lovely view of the port cellars, barges, and visiting yachts across the river in Vila Nova de Gaia (the “New Town”). Each one of the cellars has their name in huge light-up letters across their rooftop. It’s very cool. (Now, it’s confession time. Although we love port, and would have loved to go and have a tasting in the port cellars, we never made it over there. Our time in Porto was the shortest visit of the trip – only three days! – and I was pretty wiped out. We will definitely have to do it again the next time we come back to Portugal, or when we retire to Portugal for the winters after winning millions in the Powerball lottery.)

We took the funicular from the riverfront back up to the main level of the city, then walked past the grand boulevards to the tallest church tower in the city, which has stairs you can climb to the top. D and Q declined, of course, but I decided that I wanted to see the views, and I was sure I could do it if I took the stairs slowly. The views were incredible.

There were young students with music books taking lessons on how to play the church bells, so we were treated to non-stop bell music. (This was not such a treat when we were right beside the bells.)

After a bite to eat at a famous student café near the tram line (where we were met after lunch by Pedro’s lovely girlfriend), we went to have a look inside the third most beautiful bookshop in the world, Livraria Lello.

It truly was magnificent. I decided that JK Rowling must have been inspired by this shop when she pictured Ollivander’s wand shop in Diagon Alley. We only have the photo of the outside because they employ a man to do nothing but yell, “No photos!” at tourists, but if you just type “Lello” into Google Images, you will be blown away. Check out the stairs. Wowza. (Don’t ask me why all those people were allowed to take photos.)

So… remember how I was worried about a walking tour when this day began? Remember how I decided I could handle climbing to the top of this tower?

Guess what? I was wrong about the whole tower thing. By the time we got out of the bookstore, I was dying (and mad at myself for good measure). I asked Pedro and his girlfriend if they knew of any massage therapists I might be able to call. She had a contact; she called him, and he said that if I could come to his home studio that night, he could take me. Hooray!

Now we just had to kill time until then by finding a place to eat dinner. The place Pedro knew of wasn’t open, but we found a good (but somewhat spendy) restaurant down by the riverfront. I was enamored of the way they presented the check in a plain wooden box with a lid. Hmmm… it was sort of like a small jewelry box to which one contributes some of one’s own riches. (I’m totally sticking with “one” since the Queen’s Jubilee.)

After dinner, we all walked to Pedro’s car and drove over to the massage friend. The others sat and talked in the living room while I got worked on in the home studio. Unfortunately, I was so swollen from walking all day that he was reluctant to do much work on me, but I did feel a bit better.

I asked Pedro to take me straight home after that, but Q and D played a game of Haggis with him in the evening, at the café where Pedro’s group usually plays.

Expenditures: Not many, actually. Dinner out, the funicular ride, and a massage.

Experiences: Many! City tour, view of port wine cellars, tower climb, fabulous bookshop, and even more friendly and helpful Porto natives. We love these guys.

Day 29 – A Drive along the Douro

Day 29 = Monday, April 9, 2012

After enjoying the lovely hotel shower one last time, we headed out of Braga. Our first stop: Amarante. We wanted to go to a super-cool museum we’d heard about (the museum of Amadeo de Souza-Cardoso, a famous Portuguese cubist) but it was closed on Mondays. We went to the tourist info office next door and were given loads of brochures about sights in the area, though we did not end up using any of them. (Not environmentally friendly or even just friendly-friendly, I know.) Instead, we went to the main square and watched a small boy in gleeful pursuit of the town pigeons.

The square contained a main church, but right beside it, up a stone terrace, was yet another church. We climbed up the terrace for a beautiful view of detail of the main church, of the São Gonçalo bridge (where the town’s residents withstood Napoleon’s troops for two weeks, until bombarded with barrels of gunpowder), and of the town.

As we climbed up, we’d picked up Very Small Rocks (name that movie) for Quinland to use with his slingshot. Sadly, the rubber strap had broken loose at one end. I managed to MacGyver it back into shape, of course, and he was able to shoot rocks into the river. He is really making me look like a shorty in this photo.

David went across the bridge to snap some photos from the other side and returned with a small fortune’s worth of pastries (though not the city’s famed phallic-shaped fertility pastries). We are all addicted to the Belem-style tarts, which have a creamy egg-yolk filling, but he also discovered some new egg-based delicacies. Yummmmm…

After saying goodbye to Amarante, we drove on to Regua, where we stopped and got a map of the Douro vineyards. The Douro region grows all the grapes for the famous port wine that is made down the river in Porto (Oporto, to some… but not to the Portuguese). The area is quite steep, and the grapes are grown on terraces on the sides of the hills that slope down to the river. In very rocky areas, small terraces are built on any available land, some holding only one grapevine.

A number of the quintas (vineyard estates) hold tastings and give tours, but the price can be a bit steep. This would be especially true for us: one person driving, one under-age, and one on alcohol-enhancing medications. We really wouldn’t be getting our money’s worth.

David found one quinta that was supposed to offer free tours, so we headed out to it. It did offer free tours, but when we arrived we found it closed for lunch from noon until 3:00 pm. With our jam-packed schedule, we would not be able to wait and still get to Porto on time to meet our next landlady. Still, we poked around the exterior, got some lovely pictures, and had a chance to stretch our legs and sit in the shade (and visit the facilities).

By this time, we were all starving. We drove on to the Alto Douro (high above the river), to a little town called Sabrosa. After peeking into (and rejecting) a pizzeria, we stopped and had an amazingly good lunch at a restaurant that looked like a truck stop from the outside. David asked for a recommendation and got a special kind of sausage stuffed with chicken and garlic and onion and bread.  He said it was the best food he’d had in Portugal so far. After lunch, we raced back to the highway so we could get to Porto by 5:00 pm.

We got to our cute little apartment, where we met Cristina, the landlady, and saw Quinland’s very own room-slash-closet. We took a nap (yeah, we nap a lot) and then raced to meet BGG-er Felipe and his friends at Café Santiago (oops – had that wrong, now corrected!) to try some francesinhas, an iconic Porto treat. We had to wait ages for a table, so we got to chat and share info on ourselves. Felipe’s friend Miguel and his girlfriend were wearing robes like wizard students from Harry Potter; apparently JK Rowling had lived in Porto with her first husband and was inspired by the students’ traditional garb. (Q went to Pingo Doce to get laundry soap, as we have to take advantage of any apartment that has a washing machine.) We learned all about Porto and the chip the residents on their shoulder because they are not respected by Lisbon.

The francesinhas were crazy. They are smothered sandwiches of steak and egg and bread and cheese and tomato-and-beer sauce, served on french fries… and apparently different restaurants purport to have the very best versions (and have their own legions of fans). The name means “little French girl,” for reasons unknown to me.

I wish I had taken a photo… you can Google away if you’d like to see one up close.

Afterward, they took us to the Majestic Café to get café. Quinland and I had hot chocolate which was MELTED CHOCOLATE IN A CUP. When you are expecting chocolate-flavored milk, the moment when the chocolate hits your lips is something you’ll never forget. We talked politics over our drinks, then said our goodbyes, kissed and kissed everyone (in Portugal, all women kiss – and are kissed – twice on hellos and goodbyes; men shake each other’s hands), and went home. I tried to put on a load of laundry so that it would air-dry by the time we had to pack in two days, only to discover that the soap I’d asked Q to get was the wrong kind of soap for this machine. Argh. At least it was a good excuse to go right to bed.

Expenditures: Pastries in Amarante, lunch in Sabrosa, dinner and drinkable chocolate in Porto, worthless laundry detergent, rent.

Experiences: So many! New food delights, gorgeous scenery, Portuguese student traditions, Lisbon/Porto rivalry, that lovely melted chocolate… and more. A fabulous day, all around.

Day 28 – He Is Risen! Happy Easter!

Day 28 = Easter Sunday, April 8, 2012

Happy Easter! (Yes, I am currently posting this in mid-July, so you will have to cast your mind back. Way back….) I didn’t take any photos today at all, for – as you will see – it was a very low-key day.

We got up early for Mass. Quinland wore his dress-up outfit and complained about his shoes every step of the way to church.  The Mass was all in Portuguese, of course, but we Catholics can follow along anywhere! We were intrigued by two things: first, the ushers were dressed in the following outfits that you may remember from the Holy Week parade:

Second, the church was very crowded, like every Catholic church on Easter Sunday morning, but the latecomers did something I’d never seen before. At our parish, they put extra folding chairs up the sides of the church and in the vestibule for the overflow, but here in Braga, folks just went right up the aisles and stood there. Right up front. Blocking the view, as Quinland pointed out, of those of us who were on time for once.

After Mass, we let Quinland take off his shoes and wander the streets barefoot. We detoured on our walk home and walked through the main square of the city. Most days, they have all kinds of stalls there, selling food and crafts – very much like Portland’s Saturday Market – but they were closed for the holiday. Q was sad, as he’d wanted crepes from a crepe stand he’d noticed the day before. We then went home for the traditional Easter Sunday nap, a new tradition we just started this year. Quinland amused himself by creating a handmade version of Piranha Pedro for us to play when we got up. We lounged around and played games and got takeaway from Telepizza for dinner.

Expenditures: Pizza!

Experiences: Portuguese Easter Mass; an Easter without our friends and family at our annual Easter Egg Hunt. I hope you all missed it as much as we did.

Day 27, Part II – Viana do Castelo and Piranha Pedro

Day 27 = Saturday, April 7, 2012

From Ponte de Lima we headed out for Viana do Castelo, which Pedro had told us was a must see. Sadly, we didn’t do his recommendation justice.

First off, Quinland had her heart set on going to the beach, but our handy-dandy GPS took us all over heck and back instead of directly there. At one point, it dumped us onto a toll highway heading out of town, but we ended up getting off before we got to the toll booth. We completely missed the window of nice weather, but we made it to the beach in time to see two guys parasailing on surfboards. It was very cool.

Q put her feet in the very cold water and played in the very cold sand, while I shot photos of the surroundings.

David got tired of the whole thing fairly quickly, so we headed back to the car and headed for the center of town. I got dropped off to go get a map at Tourismo, where the lady was very helpful. In fact, she was so helpful to the Portuguese people in front of me that she took ages explaining things to them… telling them animated stories… going back to her storeroom to get them some additional materials… and then, finally, it was my turn. I got an English-language map with a little rehearsed speech. She drew all over the map, of course.

Map in hand, we decided that our number-one priority was to drive up to Santa Luzia, a church which was modeled on Sacre Coeur in Paris. We drove up a hairpin road up a hill and found the church there, overlooking the city.

There was an elevador to take you to a viewing point atop the church; I was willing to go up (David and Quinland were not, of course), so I paid the one-euro fee and hopped in. I was greatly disappointed – not by the view – which was great -but because we only went to the base of the dome, and not, as I had thought, to the top. Still, I took a slew of photos.

Here’s a view of the beach with the parasail-surfing dudes.

When I came back down, we went inside and got a look at the lovely rose window.

By the time I came down to join David and Q on the firm ground, we were all tired, worn out, and in need of the WC. It was getting late by this point, and we had a dinner date at Pedro’s at 9:30, so we decided to head for home. The other wonders of Viana do Castelo – and I am sure they are many – will have to wait for our next visit to Portugal.

On our way back to the hotel to change, I stopped at Pingo Doce to get Q a few treats for Easter (in a Winnie the Pooh bag in lieu of an Easter basket). David and I got to sleep for an hour or so while Q took the computer downstairs to go online, and then we all headed out to Pedro’s.

Pedro lives in a town between Braga and Guimares, in a big U-shaped apartment block. His apartment was really nice (though he apologized for it, for some reason) and dinner was wonderful: clams steamed with olive oil and onions for a starter, then pasta with a creamy salmon sauce, and ice cream and a fabulous melted brownie thing for dessert. Pedro was funny and kind and spoke excellent English, as we told him all our trials and tribulations with the Portuguese language.

After dinner, we got down to the serious business of the evening: The Playing of the Board Games. We played Piranha Pedro (David lost) and Die Speicherstadt, which Pedro won and I really liked.

Then we were all so tired (it was almost 2 am) that we went home to sleep. What a day!

Expenditures: Bike rentals, food at the market in Ponte de Lima, elevator fare, Easter treats.

Experiences: My first time seeing parasurfing! Our first invitation to dinner in a Portuguese home (since 1994!).

Day 27, Part I – Bravães and Ponte de Lima

Day 27 – April 7, Saturday

At long last, we managed to get up early-ish (about half an hour after David wanted to, because our alarm didn’t go off). Our journey to Ponte de Lima first went through Vila Verde (which had ungodly traffic) up towards Ponte de Barca, where we made a detour to Bravães to see a little Romanesque church we’d read about.

That’s the full width of the church. It’s tiny.

The church, São Salvador de Bravães, was built – depending on who you ask – around the 12th century, at the request of a rich man from Porto. The facade is plain, but the decoration at its main doors is considered an exceptional example of Portuguese Romanesque art. You’ve got monkeys; you’ve got oxen; you’ve got Christ carried by two angels. I loved it.

One of the things that is considered exceptional is that the fairly-crude artwork was left alone. In many churches, the facade would have been redone over the centuries, but this tiny parish church is just as it was… give or take some years of erosion.

After our quick photo stop in Bravães, we continued on to Ponte de Lima. We parked on a random side street, then looked in vain for the tourist office. We finally found a woman who could tell us it was in an “stone tower, antiga” and could gesture that it was over there somewhere, so off we went.

See the stone tower on the right? That’s the Turismo. Now you know.

Unlike Guimarães, this tourist office was incredibly helpful. We got a map of the town (written-on, of course), directions to an internet café (for me) and to a bike rental shop (for David and Quinland).

Even with the map, I could not find the café as it had no signage at all, so I had to go back to Turismo and get more specific directions. On the way there and back, I got to walk through that great big open-air market, so it was no problem for me! As it turned out, the café didn’t have the wi-fi I wanted after all, so I just read a book and sorted photos in Memory Manager.

(We interrupt this post to mention that the vacation park lobby I am sitting in to get internet service here in the Netherlands has a) many small noisy children, and b) a machine with “The Claw” that plays “If You’re Happy and You Know It, Clap Your Hands.” The small children keep losing to the claw, noisily; there is much weeping and gnashing of teeth and – as far as I can tell – gloating by the children who actually had some luck. It’s kind of driving me insane.)

For David and Quinland, getting the bikes in Ponte de Lima was a bit of an adventure. Not because of lack of signage; there was a very prominent sign with a big arrow that pointed directly to … a parking garage and a hallway leading to some restrooms. They prowled the area looking for something that looked remotely like a bike rental office, to no avail. Finally they asked the parking attendant who said, “Rent bikes?” and then opened a secret door to a room full of bikes, which he rented.

They had a fantastic bike ride with incredible views of the town and its namesake bridge.

When they got back, we returned the bikes and then stocked up with fruit and pastries at the market before we left. We didn’t buy any souvenirs or useful goods at the market; David doesn’t want to buy anything that is not consumable, because of Ryan Air.

As we headed out for Viana do Castelo, we realized that Quinland still had her bike lock key. We headed back in the general direction of the parking garage / bike rental when suddenly we saw the woman we had returned them to walking along the road. Q jumped out and gave her the key, and it was smiles all around.

Stay tuned for more about Viana do Castelo!

Day 26, Part II – Citânia de Briteiros

Day 26 = Friday, April 6, 2012

After our adventures in Guimaraes, we drove to Citânia de Briteiros, about 15 km away. This site holds the ruins of a proto-urban Pre-Roman Celtiberian hill fort. (Gotta love that description!) We got there with only 15 minutes left before closing time, and if the nice people told us how to let ourselves out, we will never tell… but thanks to the generous ladies at the front desk, we were able to roam to our heart’s content.

The settlement was originally excavated in the late 1800s by archeologist Francisco Martins Sarmento, who later purchased the entire property and formed a Society to continue his research. Excavations have continued up to the present day.

The ruins are amazing. The sheer size is impressive; on the top of the hill are approximately 100 family compounds, each including a number of round structures and a courtyard.

Apparently the site is unusual for its age because of its city-like structure; the compounds are separated by a grid of streets, and there are even conduits to the homes to carry water from a spring on the hill.

The remains of the settlement walls are up to a meter high. I think this is what impressed us the most; often, when you see ruins, you are only seeing the edges of the foundation. Here, you could hunker down and feel the actual size, if you felt like hunkering.

Martins Sarmento reconstructed a pair of huts based on his research, but realized when he finished that he had made them too tall. They left them just as he built them, anyway.

The area was taken over by the Romans in the 1^st century BC, according to coins found at the site, but besides the coins, very little evidence of the Roman occupation has been found, so they don’t think it was a significant outpost. Remains of a church and graveyard show that the area was reoccupied in the Middle Ages.

We hiked over the whole hill, up and down the bumpy roads, until we shocked some locked-out latecomers by descending from above without warning. (I, of course, picked my way down the slope very carefully. Look at that concentration!)

On the way home, we stopped at the basilica which overlooks the city of Braga. Here we indulged in the official tourist pastime of Taking Pictures of Each Other Taking Pictures.

The view was stunning, though a bit hazy.

We went home to a dinner of bread and cheese, then occupied ourselves as might be expected: I blogged, Q did logic puzzles, and David went out to another Easter procession.

All in all, a very good Good Friday.

Experiences: European Capital of Culture; Guimaraes town square and castle; Celtiberian hill fort; great view of Braga from above.

Expenditures: Lunch at bookstore cafe, ice cream, entry into Citânia de Briteiros. Quite a bargain for such an impressive day!

Day 26, Part I – Good Friday in Guimarães

Day 26 – Friday, April 6, 2012

We got up really late, had lovely grilled cheese sandwiches for brunch at a bookstore café, then drove out to Guimarães (driving through Pedro’s town, Taipas, on the way).

Guimarães is the 2012 European Capital of Culture – an honor that I had never heard of before we arrived in Portugal – where the chosen city spends a year organizing cultural events with a “European dimension.” We didn’t partake of any of these events, but we will testify that Guimarães is lovely.

We parked in a giant parking lot after driving all around town, a crowded lot “staffed” by enterprising young men who would point out possible parking spaces for a tip.  We walked over to the Old Town and visited the church in the town square for Good Friday prayers at 3 pm.

We popped into the Tourist Info office for a map, but they were not very helpful, which we thought was odd, since this whole Capital of Culture thing is meant to increase tourism. Luckily, the shop across the way was worth a visit and a peek at the heart that is the symbol of Guimarães 2012.

Next we walked through the town (past Stations of the Cross built right into the walls) up to the castle.

  

We soon discovered that this was the Castle of Danger. Check out the stairs: no railings. Check out the parapet walk around the curtain wall (yeah, I googled those terms, but the important thing is…): no railings.

Don’t worry; it’s not as though they don’t have any safety measures. They have this sign to protect you:

The sign very helpfully indicates the direction in which you will fall and the way in which your head will separate from your body. Sadly, this did not deter mobs of people from climbing up there.

David got as far as the top of the steps; Q walked around with me until he had to go around a blind corner with very little clearance, and then he was done.

I gave up when some bozo walked right into me while I was taking a photo, got caught on my bag, and whirled me around. I can trust myself in high places with no railings, but when other people are careless, I draw the line.

After stopping to see where Afonso Henriques – later to become the first King of Portugal – was baptized in 1111, we walked back to the town square to get Q some ice cream. Did I mention the cuteness? Kind of Disneyland-cute.

Just around the corner, we found a hardware store where we purchased – ta-da! – a luggage scale for future Ryanair purposes. Technically, it is a fish scale (not for purposes of trade, incidentally) and comes with a fine measuring tape attached. Exiting the shop, I clicked a couple of photos of a cute side street, then fell over like a sack of potatoes. Why? I am not sure… Distracted by the novelty of the scale? Overwhelmed by the side-street cuteness? Bad leg collapse? Who the heck knows… But a sweet gentleman rushed over and helped me up, and besides incredible embarrassment, I just ended up with a sore leg, hip, and hand, all on the bad side of course.

That pretty much ended our Guimarães afternoon for me, and I limped back to the car. (I know, I know… gratuitous pity-mongering. That was pretty much my attitude then, too. I have no shame.) Our sightseeing travels were not done, however! We headed to Citânia de Briteiros, which was so awesome, I got a second wind! Hooray! Stay tuned…

Semana Santa (Holy Week) in Braga

Braga, which has been called “the Rome of Portugal,” is famous for its Holy Week processions. Crowds line the streets as the parades – which include hundreds of people themselves, some no older than five or six – pass by. One procession portrays the Flight into Egypt; one, the Passion of Christ; one, the Crucifixion.

I have been looking at photos for a week, trying to edit them into some semblance of something that would convey what one of the  processions actually looked like. It was difficult to take pictures at all, given the crowds (many of whom were jostling to take their own photos) and a desire not to disrupt the very solemn atmosphere. You basically just held the camera above your head, pushed the button and hoped for the best.

I’ll warn you that they are badly composed and out of focus and horribly lit. Now that I’ve gotten you excited to see the photos (yikes!), let us proceed. 

Day 25 – O Mosteiro de São Martinho de Tibães

Day 25 = Thursday, April 5, 2012

It’s a good thing I write the blog posts in this family, because I know that neither of my fellow travelers would do justice to how much I loved this place: O Mosteiro de São Martinho de Tibães, the Monastery of St. Martin of a little town called Tibães.

Originally established in the 11th century, the monastery was occupied by the Benedictines from the 12th century onward. The current chapel and cloister date from the 17th and 18th centuries.

When male religious orders were banned in Portugal in 1834, the entire property was sold at auction. Most of its treasures – paintings, sculpture, valuable books – were lost, and over time the buildings fell into disrepair.

In 1944, the monastery was designated a “Public Interest,” but was not acquired by the Portuguese government until 1986, when it began to be restored.

I absolutely fell in love with this place. It was virtually deserted, and the sense of being the only people there was really powerful. Actually, because David and Quinland don’t like to proceed at my very-slow pace, I felt completely alone. Some people may or may not have used these moments of solitude to sneak the little cloth Frisbee out of the camera bag and play a little Frisbee in the hall. However, I would not dream of propagating such unsubstantiated rumors.

Besides, that’s not a Frisbee in his hands… that’s a slingshot. (I know for a fact the slingshot did not get used indoors.)

Meanwhile, I wandered from room to room – most of them empty – just absorbing the serenity of the place. Would it have been this quiet back in the day? Probably not, what with friars going about their daily business. (Those Benedictines have quite a busy schedule to keep up!)

I took a million photos here, though we have culled it down to about 75 for future scrapbooking purposes. This is such a brief look at the place, but I wanted you to get a sense of how I felt when I was there. (Because I am Lori, and how something feels is infinitely more important than how it actually is. In my personal opinion. Yes, that was for you, my little Girl Scouts.)

The monastery was not without its beautifully-finished spaces; sometimes you’d come around a corner or peek in the closet of an empty room and see something completely unexpected.

We’ve seen other buildings undergoing reconstruction – Monserrate, for example – but this was different. It was so early in the process that most of the monastery was still rough and unfinished. I was far more impressed by seeing its “guts” than I have been at seeing far more glorious places, restored or original.

Finally, I made it outside to where David and Q were patiently waiting for me, exploring the grounds (and playing Frisbee). Look at that nice husband, carrying my bag for me.

I was in a fabulous mood.

Maybe a little too fabulous.

  

Monastery joy: deserted, lovely, under construction. Fabulous gardens and vineyards, all rustic and real, not tended and manicured. Happy Lori.

The day’s not even over yet. There was much more going on in Braga that night!

Day 25 – Feira de Barcelos (Market Day)

Day 25 = Thursday, April 5, 2012

David is a good planner and finds us all kinds of crazy things to do. Luckily for us all, he discovered that – on Thursday mornings only – the largest open-air market in Portugal is held in a little town called Barcelos, and that Barcelos is only 23 kilometers from Braga. None of us wanted to miss it, so we jumped up, showered, and left without breakfast, figuring that we could always get something at the market. (I need to note that the hotel shower in Braga currently ranks as our favorite shower of the trip: endless hot water, decent spray, good-sized tub – what’s not to like?)

As soon as we entered the market square, what did we find? The pastry stalls, where pastries of all kinds were being sold by weight. We got a big bagful for only €1.50! Breakfast is served.

The market was truly amazing. The corner where we entered was focused on vegetables and meat, but there were other sections in the food market specializing in fruit, bread, and fish. There were tables piled high with bacalhau, which (ironically) was being unpacked from boxes shipped from Norway.

The animals that were being sold were surprisingly docile. Little bunnies sitting in buckets, chickens hanging out in plastic boxes and crates, just waiting… to go to their doom.

From the food market, we moved into Housewares. If I were outfitting an apartment in Portugal, I’d come here first! There were a zillion stalls filled with everything you could possibly need.

You could even get a pet, if your home was lacking one of those!

After Housewares (and a quick trip though bootleg DVDs, clothes, and shoes), we came to Arts and Crafts. Suddenly, we were surrounded by roosters.

The Barcelos Cockerel is one of the symbols of Portugal. It dates back to a legend that said that a pilgrim on his way to Santiago de Campostela was arrested and falsely charged with burglary. He stated that he was innocent, and that if he were, the roasted cockerel on the judge’s plate would get up and crow… and it did. Now the rooster is a good luck symbol in Portugal. I tried to limit myself to photos, but ended up buying a wine stopper with a little rooster on top as a souvenir.

Speaking of souvenirs, Q picked up a couple of things for his friends.

He also found a little something for himself! Behind the Arts and Crafts area was a large area devoted to carved wood things of all kinds. Yokes for oxen (real ones as well as decorative ones), wooden shoes, bellows and bowls… and slingshots. Unbeknownst to me, Quinland has always wanted a slingshot. He has one now. He bypassed the gaudy ones with PORTUGAL emblazoned on them, and chose a tasteful one handcarved from a forked branch.

After visiting Barcelos, we journeyed on to a little town called Tibães, to visit an old monastery that is being restored. It was lovely and deserted, and I took so many photos there that it has to get its own post. Stay tuned!

Day 24 – Fátima to Tomar to Braga (Oh, my!)

Day 24 = April 4, 2012

This time, when the alarm went off bright and early, we were ready for it. David got dressed and ran down to Santa Apolónia one last time, to buy bread for sandwiches and to take photos of our neighborhood from the docks.

The station is the blue building at the far left, we are the yellow building at the far right.

I stripped the beds while Quinland cooked up the last of the eggs for breakfast. When David got back, he made all the rest of the meat and cheese into sandwiches while Q and I packed up pajamas (and Speshy and Lanky). Then we began schlepping our million bags down the stairs to the landing.

As Q waited for David to pull up the car, I went back up for a final inspection. We’d put everything back where we found it, written our messages on the blackboard wall, hung the towels we’d washed on the line. It was time to go. Adeus, Lisboa Patria!

Down on the street, I found David – who had gotten an amazing parking space right out front – unsuccessfully trying to jam all the bags into the trunk. It became clear that we were going to have to divest ourselves of the blue backpack sooner rather than later. I unpacked the few things we’d stuck in it, and David carried it down to our little tasca and offered it to the owner. He was very surprised that we did not want it, but took it gladly. Finally, everything fit! I let Q have the front seat so that he could be the DJ/Navigator; I climbed in back with our day packs, coats, and bags of food.

If you Google Map our little Lisbon home on Calçada dos Cesteiros, you will see a woman right out in front of the building grilling meat on a well-used barbecue grill. This would be a very authentic view, as she is out there grilling every day, preparing the meat for the other tasca on our block. (We never ate there, as she rarely had anyone eating there, and the one two doors down was always packed. We figured the locals had voted with their feet.) Why do I mention this now? Well, since it was too early for her to have the grill set up, this was where we had pulled up the car… and it seemed we would never get to leave! The combination of the steep hill and the greasy cobblestones caused our wheels to spin like crazy. Poor David got it under control, and off we went.

See the empty space in front of the yellow building? Little did we know that no one parks here because no one can ever leave…

GPS took us on a scenic route through Lisbon, past mile after mile of towers of flats and walls of graffiti, out past the airport and onto the freeway. This was our first long drive in the Seat Leon, and we were well pleased. David drove, Q ran the music, and I munched on granola from the food bag. Seating me next to the food was apparently a mistake, because I pretty much spilled granola everywhere.

First stop: Fátima . A pilgrimage site since the apparition of the Virgin Mary to three little shepherds back in 1917, Fátima was a pilgrimage site for me as well. When I was a little girl, I picked up a book about Fátima at my Aunt Sally’s house and was mesmerized.

Over 70,000 people gathered here on October 13, 1917… and on October 13th in recent years, nearly one million people have gathered here at once.

This next photo is terribly out of focus, but Mass was in progress so I took it from far away… too far, apparently. The little house under the big roof is the original Chapel built shortly after the apparitions, in the very spot where they took place.

These three shepherd children were little kids – Lúcia was only 10, Francisco was 9 and Jacinta, 7 – yet they never wavered in their description of the apparitions, even when mocked by their families, even when arrested, even when threatened with being boiled in oil.

Franciso and Jacinta both died less than two years later and have been beatified by the church; their grave sites are there at the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Fátima.

What thrilled me most, honestly, was finding a copy of the very book that I’d loved as a child, right there in the Fátima bookshop. I started reading it as soon as we got back in the car and was as mesmerized as ever.

I was still reading when we arrived at Tomar, and I chose to stay in the car and keep reading while David and Q went into the Convento do Cristo, a stronghold of the Knights Templar that was built in the 12th century. In my staying-in-the-car defense, it wasn’t just the lure of a good book; I’d done a ton of hiking in Sintra the day before and was pretty burnt out.

The chapel there is massive, because the Knights were said to attend Mass while on horseback.

It had (and I quote) many cloisters and a cool inner courtyard. (“We went on the roof, didn’t we? Remember the stairs and the tiny door?” “Ooh, yeah! The one with the holes? And all the people laying on the edge? That would have freaked Mama out. A lot.”)

As we left Tomar, we were a bit irritated when the GPS woman took us south and west instead of north to Braga, though in hindsight she was trying to get us off the local roads and onto a highway. The rest of our drive to Braga was pretty uneventful, and we pulled up to the Hotel Caranda before we knew it. (Before I knew it, at any rate, since I was still reading.) We unpacked our zillion bags, got a password for the lobby-based internet service, and chilled out for a while.

Of course, since we’d been eating out of a food bag all day, we were soon hungry. One of our guidebooks had directed us to a restaurant called Frigideiras do Cantinho for what they called “quiche and pastry.” What they neglected to say was, “Oh. My. GOSH.” Quinland describes the frigideiras (the house specialty) as “pure awesomeness.” They are basically a flaky pastry with a base of ground meat and your choice of other fillings. Yum, yum, yum.

We were met at the restaurant by Pedro, a BGGer who graciously set up our stay in Braga. He and David went out for a drink and to hunt down one of the Holy Week parades, while tired Q and I walked back to the hotel to sleep.

I’ll leave you with one last Tomar photo, which I love. Is Q meditating or reading something on his iPod?

Experiences: long-distance driving, a visit to Fátima, some history of Knights Templar at Tomar, and fabulous frigideiras in Braga.

Expenditures: highway tolls, a book and ice cream at Fátima, entrance fees at Tomar, hotel in Braga, frigideiras dinner.

Day 23 – Sintra #4 – Palácio de Monserrate and Cabo da Roca

Day 23 = Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Welcome to the final installment of Day 23! You can find installments #1, #2 and #3 by clicking on the respective numbers.

When you last checked in with us, we had just visited the Palácio da Pena and the Castelo dos Mouros. From there, we intrepid Sintra-goers jumped in the car and drove like maniacs to Palácio de Monserrate, about 15 minutes away. We’d purchased a multi-park admission ticket at Palácio da Pena (which also included Castelo dos Mouros, Monserrate, and a Capuchin hermitage), so if we could get to Palácio de Monserrate before it closed, we could see it for free as well. When we got there, we jumped out of the car and asked the ticket-checker which way we should go to see the Palace. He warned us that the park was closing and that we might make it if we RAN. Again, David’s strides got him there first, just in time to beg the lady with the keys to let him hold the door for us before they locked it. Quinland and I made good time, with him encouraging me to run down the hill. (It was fun to run for a change, but I’d regret all the foot-pounding later.)

We blazed through Monserrate, snapped photos of the highlights, and then took a little more time to stroll around and admire the grounds. I think you’ll agree it was worth a little extra sweat to see it, even if it was only for 15 minutes.

The palace is in the midst of restoration, and when you see the amazing work they have done so far, it takes your breath away.

  

Once we got kicked out of the Palace, we had a bit more time to take some photos of the exterior.

     

Whew! What a day!  All palaces and castles seen? Check.

We decided we had a tiny bit more sightseeing in us, so we headed for the coast. Our destination? The westernmost point of Europe. (Did you know that Cabo de Roca, Portugal, is the part of Europe that is closest to the U.S.? Well, now you do.)

It reminded me a lot of going to see the lighthouses near Newport, Oregon last summer.

Look at him. Doesn’t he look so happy? I think that having this time with my family is my favorite part of the entire trip.

We drove back through Sintra, where we stopped for a bacalhau dinner, before heading home to get ready to leave Lisboa at the crack of dawn. Q was the first to bed, but not before giving us a time limit:  we HAD to be completely ready to go and in bed sleeping by midnight.

We made it by 1:00 AM.

Expenditures: rental car, entrance to Nacioanal Palace, entrance to Toy Museum, multi-park ticket at Pena, dinner in Sintra.

Experiences: For Q – Nacional Palace, Palacio de Pena, Castelo dos Mourous. For all of us – Toy Museum, Monserrate, and Cabo do Roca.

Day 23 – Sintra #3 – Palácio Nacional da Pena and Castelo dos Mouros

Day 23 = Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Hello from Sintra, Portugal! If you are just joining us, you may also want to read Sintra Part 1 and Sintra Part 2.

Discouraged by the time we wasted looking for Sintra’s apparently non-existent Modern Art Museum, we raced up to the Palácio Nacional da Pena on a hillside overlooking the town. This place is amazing. It was built from 1842-1854 by Ferdinand II (who was a cousin of Queen Victoria’s husband, Albert), who had married the Portuguese queen Maria II. He built upon the ruins of a monastery and chapel that dated to around 1500 AD, and he included vault arches and Islamic elements in the design. The resulting façade is a fabulous mix of colors and styles.

 

We hiked up a big hill through lovely lakes and gardens (with a very frustrated Miss Quinland, who was not thrilled about the hike when there was a closer parking lot) until we reached the colorful castle. We braved the windswept terrace, climbed the walls, and poked about to get the best views for our photos. Everyone’s favorite room was the Queen’s bedroom, but we were not allowed to take photos in the interior of this castle. So sad! The biggest hall is currently being restored; it was cool to see the workers sitting right there, working on cleaning and repairing the furniture.

From Palácio da Pena, it was a mostly-downhill hike to the Castelo dos Mouros (that’s an especially good one: Castel-oo doosh More-oosh). David and I had been here before, back in 1994, but I didn’t remember it well.

The castle – in true Portuguese style – had no safety rails or railings anywhere, and you were warned to climb around at your own risk.

D and Q made it up into one tower, then sent me up higher to get more photos. Okay, I volunteered. I love that stuff. The only time I felt a bit queasy was when I had to descend a stone staircase with uneven treads, no railing, and a switchback in the middle, all while carrying the big camera in one hand. I am not ashamed to say I sat right down on that one for a while.

See the switchback? See the fall from a great height if you don’t negotiate the switchback properly? Yikes!

When I got down off the walls, David used his long legs to go get the car while Q and I hiked back to the road.

Stay tuned for even more Sintra goodness! Heck, we should have stayed in Sintra for three weeks!