1) Into each vacation some rain must fall, as we know . . . but why on the day I was going to Sintra? This is when I needed to laugh a little louder, and I did.
2) I was downstairs a tick before 9 AM to meet my guide, Fernando, and we had the bonus of a driver, Rui, who really knew his stuff. We were off through Lisbon and over the bridge in record time.
3) When this excursion had first been presented to me I was told I would be seeing one of five particular sites in Sintra — which I expected they would tell me, and they were expecting me to tell them. Oopsie! So after I suggested Pena Palace and was told “No — lines,” I quickly said “Moorish Castle.” The tickets were arranged en route.
4) Fernando gave me a lot of the local history, but the topic turned to local life and involved all three of us, especially when we came to standstill traffic. I don’t know what was going on, but it was not everyday traffic. Somehow Rui found a way out for us — you’ve got to hand it to skilled drivers — and we wound our way into foggy Sintra.
The fog did clear enough for this marvelous view of Sintra from the Moorish Castle. I half expected the Von Trapps to appear.
5) I heard “Moorish Castle” and thought “Ooh! The Alhambra!” Whereas the Moorish Castle of Sintra is more ruined medieval fort featuring Portugal’s most distinctive topography: endless flights of stairs. You might say the fog impacted the view, too, LOL. But their were a few stunning moments, and I have to say, after the crowded urban bustle and absence of greenery in Lisbon, this nature hike provided a sense of calm and grounding.
5a) Also the fear that John Cleese would pop up and give us a good sound taunting.
We turned left after this bit and did not ascend. The Trojan Rabbit could have been hurled at us any moment.
5b) My acrophobia kicked in crossing a battlement with Certain Death on one side and mossy crenellations on the other, so I chose to forego seeing the upper part of the castle. Fernando and I hiked through the forest to the parking lot, and Rui wound us downhill into Sintra proper.
6) Sintra is made charming through its architecture. We found a superb bonus for me in a bench topped by a medieval lion that could be a brother of Reggie, the lion at Scrivelsby. (The nickname comes from the family motto, Pro rege dimico, which means “I fight for the king.”)
7) Then the rain came down in earnest, and Fernando and I ducked in to the little local church, Saint Somebody or Other. Here, Our Lady of Sorrows in one of the side chapels nearest the altar commanded my attention. The (empty) marble font at the back had its basin divided in two with a slim marble slab. “Is that so they could have still or sparkling?” I asked. (Fernando may have countered with “Water or wine,” but I am writing this on Saturday . . . )
The bisected font.
8) We then had lunch on the large veranda of a nearby hotel. Excellent chicken and white wine for me, while Fernando had the octopus. No, not calimari, actual octopus with tentacles. I was impressed.
Made it!
9) Next stop: Cabo da Roca, the westernmost point of continental Europe. The fog probably kept a lot of people away, but there was still a clot of people eager for their photos by the marker at the point. And why were they so eager? Because a young woman was being indulged with an Instagram photo shoot with her dog. I swear we waited five minutes for her to get what she needed with the dog. I may have jumped ahead of others because a) there was no clear line, b) I knew I was not going to take more than five seconds (and we didn’t), and c) . . .
9a) . . . I also needed to use the westernmost restroom of continental Europe. Which I did, finally, after tangling with the ticket machine and the turnstile and the small group arguing with the old woman who was in some sort of authority. It reminded me of getting the handle of my tote bag stuck in the turnstile of the Madrid station restroom, and having to pay again to get it out.
In Cascais, a mural made of recycled plastic by a famous street artist, Bordalo II.
10) After a brief walkaround in Cascais — where I would be moving in a couple days, and including the Mouth of Hell (on the coast), street art, and ice cream from Santini’s — we made it back into the city. En route I asked Fernando about housing in Lisbon, and basically the market sounds just as bad as it is in Boston.
11) Realizing that my time in Lisbon would be over before I knew it — and also being surprised I didn’t feel sleepy — I headed out to act on some of Leonor’s suggestions from Monday afternoon. That included buying a couple azulejos at XVIII, enjoying a boulevardier in the upstairs bar at Palacio Chiado, and finally getting to have a proper dinner at Faz Frio. Somehow they were able to squeeze me into a table near the door, and it was great to pick up on the vibe there. I had some marvelous steak and garlic dish with a fried egg on top (but no Spam), and then the Portuguese Licor Beirão, light and complex, a good choice.
12) So . . . it was quite a day!
At the Palacio Chiado. Check out those murals!