Portugal-Algarve Coast, Lisboa, Sintra

The plan was to drive and see some of the Portugal coast, which was reportedly quite beautiful, and explore Lisbon and maybe Porto. When we crossed the border at 130 km/hour, we almost missed a vital first step. There was a “tourismo informacion” office tucked away near a truck stop. I didn’t see it until it was almost too late, and even then had to do a Rockford Files turn to avoid missing it.

At the desk, we inquired about beaches. “What’s your best beach, and where would you highly recommend going?” The female guide didn’t hesitate, “I think you should go to....” and she circled a few beaches areas on the map. In the lobby, there was a 6-foot tall picture of this amazing cliffside beach, so I asked, “what about this place.” She replied, “Si, that is Sao Rafael, and it is this place.” A circle she had already made on the map. After 10 days in various dense cities, it was Surf’s Up!!!!

We toured West along the Southern coast of Portugal, driving through numerous quaint farming towns. It was OK, but not spectacular. We had faith, but were underwhelmed. Then, we finally saw signs for Sao Rafael, and weaved our way to the coast. When we parked and got out, it was like curling up in your own bed after a long flight. The ocean breeze was warm, and wafted with a salty sweet taffy scent. We walked to the cliffs and peered down. It was one of the most beautiful beaches we have ever seen. The water was green, blue, and dark blue as it moved away from shore. The sand looked warm and inviting, and did not have a spec of trash or debris despite the pods of people. Huge boulders framed the edges of the beach, with several natural bridges for effect. Cat summed it up for us, “We need an entire beach day here.”

Our “loose” plan (we don’t really have any tight plans outside of our flight schedule, and even that is flexible on dates) was to stop for a picnic dinner, and then make our way to Lisbon for the night. But, a beach day at Sao Rafael had to be done. We had not asked about lodging, so we had to wing it…..again. The nearest town was Armacao de Pera, and we tried a few hotels and pensions, and even inquired about a bungalow in a nearby campground.

[Future note: The campground closest to the river, tributary, and beach in Armacao de Pera has family-sized bungalows for 47 euros. There is a pool, walking trails to the beach, bike trails all over the place, and they are charming and clean.]

We didn’t find anything we liked and were getting frustrated and tired of driving around aimlessly. But, aimless sometimes takes you exactly where you belong. We took a wrong turn, and drove past a old country house that had a sign up for “quartos, zimmer”. We stopped, and were greeted at the driveway gate by Maria, the sweetest of old ladies. She smiled, and pointed for me to follow her up to the room she had for travelers. She led me upstairs and down the hallway to the corner room, and opened the door on the most charming abode, complete with antique furniture, chandelier, and large balcony overlooking the small orchard and vineyard. It was perfect. We opened a bottle of wine, and toasted our good fortune. The sun was setting and glowed a soft apricot color. Maria had put a basket of fresh tangerines on our dresser, and we savored the sweet juices of unexpected joy.

Beach Day was awesome. We stopped in town for café con leche, and spent an hour on the internet. Armacao de Pena has a 2-mile long beach, so we walked it out and back for our morning exercise. Fisherman had dragged their boats up on the beach, and were cleaning out their nets. Evidently, it’s large blue squid season, because the nets were bulging with them. The morning breeze was cool, but the sand was warm, and we quickly shed our long-sleeve fleece shirts, and walked and talked the morning away.

By early afternoon, we were camped out in the sand at Sao Rafael. I dug a hole to make a reading chair, and Cat sprawled on her sarong. We took quick dips in the cold, clear Atlantic surf, and battled in card games of crazy-eights. Before we knew it, it was 5pm, and time to go. We were headed for the big city, Lisbon, and wanted to get there before dark.

We were ahead of schedule before we hit traffic at the bridge. I was cursing and full of rage. Cat was calm and determined. She had a plan. She had read about Sintra, a suburb of Lisbom where the royals and wealthy of ancient Portugal had gone to summer. It was a cross between the Hamptons, Carmel, Camp David, and Marseilles. But, I was in road-rage, and bitching about every KM we drove away from Lisbon. “Why are we staying way the hell out here when I want to see Lisbon?” Cat patiently and emphatically stood by her plan, “it’s supposed to be very cool, and we can take the train into Lisbon.” Skepticism poured from my steaming ears. She better be right.

She was. We stayed in a cute pension near the train station (parking included – bonus!!), and caught the morning train into Lisbon. The sun was shining, and Lisbon was in full bloom. The tourismo informacion was a short walk from the station, in the heart of the city, and the guide circled several key spots of interest. After a quick stop for café con leche, we made our way to the top of the city – Castillo Sao Jorge. What a magnificent view!!.....of the bridge, of Cristo Rei, of the bay, of old town, of the basilica, of, of of. We walked the central quarter and then took the bus to Belem quarter.

Cat and her little guide book. She had read about some pastry shop that had been making world-famous mini custard cream pies. Having bypassed lunch for the sake of touring the city, we were famished, and Cat was not to be denied. We were finding that damn pastelleria!!! It was near the palace, that’s what the guide book said. So, we asked a policeman near the palace. Our broken, choppy spanglish was interpreted by the Portuguese cop, and he pointed down the street. The guide book said it was on the corner, so we went to a shop on the corner. They had pastries, and Cat ordered. We split the first one. It was OK. We were both hungry, and would have eaten the ass out of a camel, so we did not complain about the pastry. Still, it was only OK. Cat ordered a couple more pastries in the hope for better results, and they were equally blasé. Well, the guide book can’t be spot-on every time, we thought.

We left the pastry shop, and headed towards another monument along the water. On the corner of the next block, I mentioned to Cat, “there’s another pastry place. Are you sure this isn’t the one we were looking for?” She replied, “It might be. It’s worth a look.” Sure as cookie dough rises, this was the famous pastry shop. Our bellies semi-full with crappy pastries, we still HAD TO have the famous custard cream pie. OMG!! Now, THAT was a dessert!!! It was slightly warm, perfectly caramelized on top, with a fluffy thin crust. It literally melts in your mouth. Yum!!

We left the shop riding a sugar high that could power Manhattan. After seeing a monument to the explorer-prince Henrique, we took the tram back to cuidad central, and into the middle of a parade. It was the 50th anniversary of Cristo Dei, and there was a huge celebration with over 500,000 people in Lisbon to mark the occasion. It wasn’t a standard marching band and motorized floats type of parade, however. This parade belonged in Burning Man, with a touch of Bay-to-Breakers playfulness. The costumes were outrageous, and mixed bestiality, religious motifs, farm tools, cow bells, and platform clogs to create a bizarre effect. At one point, a devilish creature drew photographer Cat into the procession, and surrounded her with a pack of cow-skeleton who gyrated around her until she accepted a shot of wine from the “sacred” (??) boda bag. Cat emerge laughing, red with embarrassment and smudges of satan’s make-up.

It was a random day of fun, beauty, and Portuguese culture. We took the night train back to Sintra vowing a Lisbon return visit.

Sintra is a hamlet, high atop the coastal hills overlooking the Atlantic. By day, every direction you look is a unique ancient mansion, villa, house, park or sculpture. We want to buy a B&B there someday. It is so beautiful and interesting. We had many potential day plans, but opted for the main sight of the town – Palacio Pena. The Palacio was the summer home of the royals, and it is amazing. Situated at the top of the hill, we hiked through a maze of walking trails, each with numerous little hideaway benches carved out of stone, and found lush gardens that integrated into the hillside. There were numerous monuments (the cross (cruz), the Giant, the small bird fountain, friars cave) high atop granite rock outlooks and tucked away in the landscape. Stone paths and stairways invite exploration and ooze history.

As one would suspect, the palacio was magnificent. What was particularly interesting is that the tour allowed the visitor to see the living quarters up-close and in a somewhat realistic fashion. It was not a typical museum, or at least it didn’t feel like one. We highly recommend people visit Sintra for a few day, and definitely take a full day to visit the palacio.

Our partial Portugal tour concluded with a quick stop at the pilgrimage capital of Fatima. We saw the cathedral, attended part of mass from afar, and shared an ice cream cone to mark the occasion. After Fatima, we drove out of Portugal with a vow to return – to spend more time at the Southern beaches, to soak up more of Lisbon, and to explore the Azores. Next time…….