Iberia and Morocco Trip - Part 1
Day 1 - Tuesday - 27th November 2018 – Alex – Madrid
So it’s that time again, yes it has been a while, for the McBrock family to go travelling together again. My parents have now both retired, I have just finished my undergraduate studies in chemical engineering and Beatrice has just finished her second year of medical studies. Something my parents have wanted to do for ages was buy a campervan and travel around Europe in it for some time once they have retired. They have now done this. They started in Frankfurt an der Oder at my uncle Eckart’s home and have slowly travelled down to Madrid since they left Namibia in September.
Beatrice and I left Windhoek on a Qatar Airways flight to Madrid, via Doha, on Friday the 26th of November. It was a very pleasant flight, in particular the last stretch as we each had 3 seats for ourselves. We arrived in Madrid at 7:10 at the terminal 4S as had been on our tickets. However we discovered that we, and our luggage, were to go to terminal 4, which may confuse our parents. It turned out they had been confused and had managed to ask a flight crew from Iberian Airways, who had assured them that terminal 4 was the correct one to go to. So by around 8am we were walking out and embracing the parents. We all then jumped into the campervan, which is rather fancy, and headed off to our campsite, Osuna. I wish I could say that this was a painless experience, alas no. It started with the navigation system trying to give us directions . . . . saying it was straight forward would be a lie. Things were made worse by the navigation system giving directions in left and right, to which my father is rather dyslexic. So in order to help, my mother would have to point in the direction the navigation system says, let’s say pointing right with the full arm turned many a head of the passing drivers. Then of course traffic was foul and moving through it in a big campervan was not easy. We eventually did finally make it to Osuna, to which I take my hat off to my father, I would not have enjoyed it at all.
The camp is very nice with free wifi, showers and electricity. My father showed me how the campervan works and the lay of the land, well of the camp. Next Beatrice and my father went to buy bread, while I set up my slackline and my mother had some tea. Then breakfast, shower, wifi and then off into Madrid. We walked about 2km to the nearest metro station called Canillejas, on the green line, and bought a ticket for 10 trips for 11.3€ + 2.5€ for the plastic card itself. The metro gates were slightly strange and so by the time we got through them we were unsure whether we had used 2 or 4 of the allowed swipes. The metro ride into the heart of the city, a station called Ópera, took about 30mins. The exiting of the metro station fortunately don’t require a swipe so even if we had messed up it wasn’t going to be a problem. From here we could easily walk to Plaza Mayor, where a huge metal Christmas tree had been erected and the beginnings of a Christmas market could be found. If you ever have the urge to by your wood carved nativity ornaments or roast turkey hat then this is the place for you! In short we didn’t really find anything that took our fancy (trying to be as correct as possible here). We also found the person that offers the free walking tours in Madrid. They start at the Plaza Mayor and do a loop of the western side of town, including the Palacio Real, Plaza de la Villa and Plaza de San Martin. We are aiming to do it tomorrow.
We then decided to walk to the Puerta del Sol. On the way we stopped off to buy some pork crackling to go, something my mother really wanted. There are loads of shops selling huge hams and the food to have seems to be either Paella, Tapas or a calamari sandwich. At the Puerta del Sol we found huge queues of people, we were initially flummoxed as to what this was about but eventually discovered they were all buying tickets for the lottery. When I say huge you’re probably think a queue of around 50 people . . . nope these were hundreds of people! We then walked up to Callao along a pedestrian road that was super busy for 2pm. There were loads of buskers around here as well, ranging from brilliant to ‘a work in progress’. The street was lined with all the big name shops and a stop had to be made in the North Face shop as I eventually need a new rain coat. Alas 300€ does not suit my current budget. We went into El Corte Inglés and found that from the 9th floor one can get a great view to the west of Madrid.
From here we walked back to Puerta del Sol and had a coffee, or in Beatrice’s case a hot chocolate that was almost as thick as a mousse. Onwards by foot to the Prado Museum, which is free for students under 25 and 7.5€ (half price) for people over 65 (pensioners). We saw loads, loads and then some more paintings, all of which were amazing. These included paintings by Bosch, Goya, Picasso, Velázquez and El Greco. My mother dragged us to particular paintings of interest which had to be seen in person, such as “The Garden of Earthly Delights” by Bosch and “La Maja Desnuda” by Goya, which my father likes in particular. A truly great art museum and one to definitely add to the list of things to visit in Madrid. In the process of running through the museum we did manage to lose Beatrice who was less than chuffed when we eventually realised and then found her. Bad family!
After this we were quite tired and so made our way to Chueca, metro station. On the way we passed by a Christmas market being set up in Palacio de Beunavista and stopped off in a Carrefour Express for dinner items and a selection of Spanish beer for me to try. The metro ride back to Canillejas felt super quick. We discovered rush hour had finally started on the motorways as we walked home from the station. My father then cooked a delightful meal of chicken and chorizo stew. It didn’t take us long to then set up the bed for Beatrice and me for the first time in the camper van.
It’s been a really great day! Educational and filled with walking. We are knackered and it’s time for bed.
Day 2 - Wednesday - 28th November – Cathy – Madrid
We didn’t get up as early as planned particularly when you think that we were all in bed by 9.30 last night! It was 8.30 by the time we emerged this morning and with 4 of us in the car we had to move around a bit like in one of those pocket solitaire games with captive plastic pieces that have to be slid around to reach a final arrangement. I found it quite amusing but it did make me realise that we will have to stay at campsites while there are 4 of us since shuffling around to shower would be nigh impossible and would probably test family relationships a touch too far!
Once we were all showered and breakfasted it was clear that we wouldn’t make the 11 o’clock free walking tour – maybe the 1.30?
We tried a new way to walk to the metro but it meant crossing several lanes of traffic and in spite of regular crossing points it wasn’t much fun. Beatrice has scored a metro ticket from a chap who was leaving for Portugal and so we had enough credit for all four of us to ride into Madrid and back – lucky! We rode the green line into the centre of the city getting out at Alonso Martinez. The plan was to go for a walk in the Park and then make our way across to Plaza mayor for the walking tour. First we had to stop at the Madrid Hard Rock Café for Alex’ Hard Rock pin. He has been collecting them for years from every city he has visited.
The streets were very odd this morning. Some were totally packed with traffic, others were completely empty and manned by police and army. We found that this was due to two things; one, the traffic ban on some key streets was enforced from today and two; the Chinese head of state was a guest at the palace for a few days and there had to be room for him and his entourage to move around. We found as a result that we couldn’t get anywhere near the palace when we tried later in the day. Some streets were nearly impossible to cross due to being clogged with angry and impatient drivers who occasionally expressed their frustration in waves of hooting. Other streets were utterly quiet and you could linger to take photos in the middle of the road.
We escaped from the mayhem in the Parque de el Retiro which happily was pretty well devoid of traffic. The day was chilly but sunny and we sat outside in a café near to the gate to drink coffee or in Beatrice’ case hot chocolate and got chatting to a young woman from Iceland. We told her we were from Namibia and we chatted for a while comparing average summer and winter temperatures! She took a family photo for us which was nice of her.
The park is very lovely and was full of people – on a Wednesday morning off-season!! What must it be like in the summer? We walked by the pool and monument to Alfonso XII where there were refugees, mostly African, selling handbags, hundreds of handbags all on blankets gathered around the edges with ropes that can be pulled when a policeman is on the horizon to gather the whole bundle together for a quick getaway.
We enjoyed the sunshine, the autumn colours and the fallen leaves and the crowds of relaxed people. A couple of crocodiles of nursery school kids snaked through the tourists chatting happily. In a place called the Crystal Palace, a kind of huge conservatory building, we found a fabulous art installation of fine wire sculptures of heads and hands in a thinking gesture. It was almost impossible to photograph since the works were only properly visible as one moved around them. The installation was the work of an artist called Jaume Plensa, we wondered if he had used a computer to produce them.
We left the park down a wide avenue that was a delight for cyclists and riders of skateboards and the e-scooters that are very popular here. We walked past a row of bouquinistes – I didn’t know they were here as well as in Paris, and continued briskly (and my goodness Alex, our leader, the man with the map, can really walk briskly) to the Reina Sofia art museum. I wanted the kids to get to know Guernica in the flesh so to speak and to see the work of the great modern Spaniards, Miro, Dali, Tapies and of course Picasso. The collection is comprehensive and gives a great overview of modernism, some post-modernism and Spanish art from the time of the civil war and after. We also saw two temporary art exhibitions; Dorothea Tanning, an amazing retrospective and Luis Camnitzer, a post-modernist whose work really appealed to the kids.
After that dose of culture we went first to a nearby café to recover and then walked to Plaza Mayor. The plan was firstly to visit the palace and then to look for a tapas bar to have supper but on the way out of the plaza we came across a kind of dream tapas place. It looked like a covered market – maybe it was at one stage - but inside we saw that it had dozens of different stalls selling dozens of different types of tapas and a variety of drinks, sangria, wine, beer, champagne. .. It was a phenomenal place so we shelved the palace for the time being and set about some serious tapas sampling. There was a mixture of locals and visitors in the place and we listened to conversations in numerous languages. People came and went from the long tables. We sat near to an English couple with a little boy, and an American couple spoiling for trouble later, Spanish girls chatting after work – the characters changed but the tapas kept coming and we put away Aperol, sangria, beer, wine etc. ….
Feeling satisfied we walked to the palace but due to the Chinese Head of State we couldn’t get close. We stepped into the cathedral where mass was being conducted at the altar far from us.
The Spanish seem to like queues – we came across lottery ticket queues all over the city some really long and a massive queue to get into a church where seemingly a cardinal (all in red) was taking mass. Luckily there were no queues at all for the art galleries, oh! The joy of travelling out of season! We get in free to the galleries in Spain – two pensioners plus two students, we hit the perfect time to travel!
We walked back across the centre of town through the plazas and along the streets admiring the Christmas lights and listening to the buskers, turned down into the metro at Callao and rode home. The final stretch was quite a test for me – I was pretty tired from all the walking today but what a nice day it was. Tomorrow Toledo . . . .
Day 3 - Thursday - 29th November – Beatrice –Toledo
We woke up marginally earlier than yesterday, but considering the day we had ahead and the sunlight hours given to us in winter, we were running late once again. We delegated the jobs of washing up, filling or emptying certain containers and packing up camp equally and managed to leave Madrid and a relatively civilised time of 10:30.
Daddy was the driver of the massive beast and Alex was the navigator, while Mummy and I chirped unhelpful comments from the backseat. Apart from getting the very first turn wrong the Brock men with the help of the navigation system got us smoothly and safely to Toledo.
Toledo is an ancient city about 90km south of Madrid, which back in the day was the capital of Spain. Now it is a tourist attraction for many and even was declared an UNESCO world heritage site in 1986 for its culture. Throughout its history the imperial city hosted three predominant religions: Christians, Muslims and Jews, which all left their mark on the town.
We drove over the Targus River to our camp site for the next few days: El Greco. El Greco is a lovely campsite with a terribly grand entrance; an avenue of neatly trimmed autumnal trees leading to the reception. The owners were very kind and as there were only two other campers, we had an abundance of choice as to where to camp. El Greco has very clean bathrooms, loads of greenery containing stray cats and Wi-Fi that reaches to the first row of camping places- guessing where we are staying is not hard now!
We quickly set up camp, which is not difficult with a campervan and had a quick lunch.
Then we were off to town. The bus line 72 drives once an hour from the camping place entrance to the city centre, but as it is only 3,2km we decided to walk on such a gloriously sunny day. We did not cross at the well-known St. Martin Bridge but instead crossed the river via the modern pink bridge. I would definitely recommend everyone to have done this once, even though the cars in the background are not the best background noise, this route allows one to look at the St. Martin Bridge in all its glory. Once on the other side of the river we took a small path that linked up to a gap in the impressive city wall. It is quite a climb but the view is worth it!
We walked through the town, through the Jewish quarter to the plaza Zocodover. The walk was lovely as one goes through small little alleyways with intricately fitted stones that make up the walls of the buildings. Luckily we had Alex as our trusted navigator, who did all the hard work and let us admire the streets. The streets were bursting with tourist shops and stalls, most offering the three things Toledo is most well-known for: Knives and swords, tapestries and of course marzipan. Of these many alluring offers, we had some local artisan marzipan. Unlike marzipan that I have previously come across, this marzipan seems to have been baked. Very nice of course!
Once in Plaza Zocodover we sat down in a coffee shop and watched the tourists come in waves according to the hop-on-hop-off bus schedule. Interestingly there is a high military presence, due to grand barracks in the city centre- to mummy’s great delight the soldiers wear bright red fezzes with nonchalantly placed tassels. The town is busy setting up Christmas light and decorations, but due to long upheld tradition will only light them on the first of December, by which time we will have left.
We proceeded to walk through the town to the Cathedral of St. Mary, but were quite outraged that we would have to pay 10 Euros per person to enter a place of worship! After asking around there was no way out of paying the high sum unless one attends the holy mass… but as none of us can speak Spanish or are in terrible need of a religious experience, we walked on.
We strolled back through town to the El Greco museum. Once again students and over 65 year olds enter for free! For others the fee is only 3 Euros, which I think is worth it. The museum is set within an old villa, which closely resembles the working and living area of the great artist Domenikos Theotokopoulos, more commonly called “El Greco”- the Greek. Born in 1541 in Greece he eventually moved to Toledo to become well known for his many great commissions during the era of the Spanish Renaissance. People have speculated that El Greco had a problem with his eyesight, as his portraits appear elongated and blurred, giving a very modern look. We enjoyed the gardens of the villa and for the first time saw colourful cabbages used for decorative purposes.
Slowly we made our way back to the camping site, this time using the St. Martin’s Bridge. The view too was breath taking with the slowly sinking sun. Once in the campsite we packed everything up again in order to drive into the suburbs to the supermarket.
This was indeed not as easy as it may seem. The drive was quite hairy with minimal space between the campervan and the parked cars. We couldn’t find any parking and naughtily parked in a loading bay. Leaving the hazard lights on and Mummy on lookout while the rest of us hopped into the not so super supermarket. It was small but did have enough supplies for us to stock up on the essentials. We hopped back into the van without seconds to spare as the police officer, writing parking fines left right and centre was eagerly approaching. Daddy leapt into the driver’s seat and revved up the engine. Luckily our escape despite being slow was successful. The way back continued being hairy with many one way streets and sharp turns. Nevertheless we made it back to the campsite, where Alex cooked us a delicious meal with pork chops, noodles and a great tomato and vegetable sauce.
After a long and eventful day we went to sleep with the sound of rain pattering on the roof.
Day 4 - Friday - 30th November 2018 – Christof - Toledo
Although we had made a point of getting up earlier, we did not. It was dark and rainy outside, while cosy and dry inside: hence 08h30. By the time we had all showered (in the ablution block), breakfasted and the dishes had been done it was around 10h30 and we started walking the 3,2 km towards town. Chilly but dry, with good sunny gaps between the clouds. This time we stayed on the “outer” road. Toledo is on an “island”, a big hill surrounded by the U-shape of the river Rio Tejo (Tagus in English). So we walked on the other side of the river, roughly at the same height as Toledo semi-circumnavigating it. The light was in our favour, i.e. shining onto Toledo from behind us. Cathy and I had done this quite long walk when we were here last: 17 years ago. It was as good as our memories!
After we finished the scenic part we crossed the Tejo river by bridge to the old town again and had to climb a steep 175 steps (Beatrice counted) to get to the level of streets. Here we took some cups of coffee with a beautiful view. It was then that we found out that there was a lift and also escalators, so all the exercise in vain!? We continued to amble around the ups and downs of town, but as a major treat we went into the big “Church of the Jesuits”, where we again climbed the 145 steep steps to the top with a stunning view (but no mechanised alternatives this time). After Alex had sampled some micro-brewery specials with modest free tapas, we started our long trek back to the campsite. We must have walked at least 15 km that day, with many ups and downs.
Since we did not want a repeat of the parking dilemma from the previous night, Alex and I cycled from the camp site to the same DIA supermarket. Cathy had asked us to buy some fish. There was only frozen fish which, you guessed it, was frozen hake from Pesca Nova (Namibia). Cathy cooked a scrumptious meal from it. Alex and I took a while to compose a sensitive letter to the land-lord of the house Alex had rented (and sub-let) for the past 5 years. Diaries, reading, washing up. A comfortable night in our quality beds.
Day 5 - Saturday - 1st December 2018 – Alex – Caceres
My turn again already?! Time is flying buy it’s only been 5 days yet it feels like at least double that time has passed. We’re now planning on heading to Lisbon, Portugal, but the drive is a bit far to do in one go and so we decided to take a rest. To decide where to go Google was consulted and a place called Caceres was recommended. An old town with city walls still intact similar to Toledo, with small narrow roads and old architecture.
We woke up around 8am today to a clear and beautiful sky, although quite cold outside, the usual ablutions, breakfast, washing up and packing ritual is followed. A note, however; is that the baguette for breakfast was bought from the reception, not super fresh but very nice. We then wave goodbye to Toledo and take ourselves on our merry way. It’s been fun, beautiful and I highly recommend a visit here to anyone. About 10km from the camp is a fuel station, which we used to fill up on diesel. For the first time on my parents’ trip someone did the filling up of the car for them, everywhere else one does this for oneself.
Beatrice was the navigator today and seemed to do a very good job as the amount of rowing in the front of the car was very minimal compared to the previous days. It being a Saturday the motorway was very pleasant as the traffic was minimal. There were, however; thick mist banks that we had to drive through from time to time. We stopped off briefly once to ensure my father’s door was properly closed (had been hissing), to use the facilities and for my father to come to terms with the cruise control of the vehicle, which he preceded to use for the first time ever. From here we were treated to a spectacular view of the Sierra de Gredos, which were all snow-capped. Onwards we drive, now with cruise control, the country side changes to long rolling hills, with pastures of olive trees with the occasional herd of sheep or cows. Grand villas also dot the country side, each at the heart of their own farm, usually at a point with amazing views. It’s all so green! It’s wonderful!
The on board navigator and Beatrice take us into Caceres without issue. We had been aiming for the campsite, however just as we were beginning to doubt the direction of travel as we were heading more and more in to the old town, the navigator says “you have reached your destination” . . . um damn! Turning around wasn’t an easy option and onwards would have been impossible. I was sent out to try to figure a way to do something. Fortunately our savour came in the form of a middle-aged lady in a blue Fiat van, who told us to follow her and proceeded to take us down some quite narrow roads to the local park/parking grounds. A movie might not be filmed depicting this heroic endeavour, however we will always be grateful of the lady in her blue Fiat van.
We then parked in the campervan specific parking lot with at least 7 other campervans and proceeded to have a light lunch. We then headed into town, all uphill to my mother’s chagrin, and reached the Plaza de Mayor soon after. We passed a church on the way, which unfortunately was closed. The cafés of the plaza were packed, with all the students and locals of Caceres meeting up on this fine Saturday afternoon. The time was 2pm by this time which meant that all the small shops, museums and the tourist information centre were closed until 5pm. Beatrice has already started to develop a small dislike for Spain for this reason, this seemed to exacerbate it. We decide to just meander and see where we ended up. They did warn us that the roads were narrow and they did not exaggerate! For walking this is fine but due to Taxis whizzing along these it can become quite fun. At one point it was even necessary to find a doorway to seek refuge in from a fast approaching taxi. We did manage to find the old town, indicated by passing through the old city walls. The main church again required and entry fee which upset my mother quite a bit. This, in combination, with us walking a bit faster truly annoyed my mother and she proceeded to throw a tantrum. Out of respect for her I will not go into detail about how she acted like a three year old, but it was ugly. Otherwise the old town was very pretty and well worth a visit, just bear in mind that things are closed between 2 and 5pm.
Once we felt like we’d seen enough of the old town we meandered back to the Plaza de Mayor and found a space in one of the many busy cafés. The waitress we got fortunately was able to somewhat understand our English/Spanish and processed our order with minimal trouble. We had beers, wine and Fanta (sweeter than usual European Fanta), as well as a seafood dish to share. We then decide to locate the nearest supermarket, using Google Maps, and walked the 500m there. This was a somewhat larger supermarket than we have had in a while much to the glee of my father. Beatrice had decided that she’d be making Tapas for dinner this evening and so we stocked up on the necessities here. I managed to find two interesting craft beers that we were going to taste at dinner: one made with acorns and one with Iberian ham, should be interesting.
Then back to the campervan via the Plaza de Mayor. By this time it was around 5:30pm and there was already no available space for another campervan, newcomers had to park outside the designated “campervan zone”. It was still too early to cook and so Beatrice and I set up the slackline between two trees and proceeded to entertain and amaze passers-by. I also managed to find a tree to climb which is always good. Around 7pm we headed back to the campervan, where Beatrice proceeded to make and cook the catering highlight of the trip so far. Tapas which was the equivalent to ambrosia and a soup that was fantastic. This was paired with white wine for my parents and sister and the craft beers for me. Acorns have no place in beer, full stop, just don’t do it. The Iberian ham beer however was quite pleasant, although an acquired taste. It actually used ham and so didn’t taste as artificially smoky as smoked barely beers sometimes taste in order to imitate bacon or the likes. We also listened to a CD called the Vietnam generation which played all the hits my mother liked inn her twenties. My parents are trying to figure out how to top/compete with my sister’s catering phenomenon, where as I prefer to just accept that I won’t be able to.
By this time there is not a single spare campervan space available and many others are forced to park elsewhere. Each campervan is different and it was interesting to see what the different models and technologies used were. We then headed off to bed and by 10pm all of us were asleep.
Day 6 - Sunday – 2nd December 2018 – Cathy – Lisbon
A driving day. Luckily on a Sunday so traffic could have been worse.
Beatrice, Alex and I decided not to shower this morning. The logistics in the camper van in the absence of campsite showers would be just too complicated so we stayed unwashed. Chris had his shower though and while he was in the ‘bathroom’ the rest of us dressed, put away the fold up bed and sorted out the things for breakfast.
I made scrambled eggs for Beatrice Alex and me and Chris made his egg and cabbage concoction. After breakfast we made copious coffee for Chris to drink while driving to help him to stay awake since we had a long drive today; 400 km.
We set the navigator for the big campsite in the centre of Lisbon and started off. We had asked the contraption to avoid toll roads and so we drove on the motorway until 12 km after the border with Portugal and then moved to the A roads since nearly all the out of town motorways in Portugal are toll roads.
The plus with the A roads is that you get a much nicer view of the countryside and although we drove through quite a few patches of low cloud on our journey, as the day progressed we passed some lovely long green views over olive groves, cork oak plantations, and vineyards for the most part with some fruit orchards, particularly citrus and the occasional eucalyptus copse.
As one would expect the traffic which had been very sparse began to thicken as we as approached Vila Franca where we crossed the river Tejo (the Targus that flows through Toledo) on a sturdy steel bridge and turned southwards for Lisbon. At Vila Franca we passed dockyards – we were still on the N10 although it pretended to be low-life at times. Eventually the motorway becomes a no-toll road as it enters the city and our navigator swiftly moved us up a notch in road classes so we could travel faster into Lisbon.
However, true to form the navigator did not recognise our campground and took us sailing past it when we could all see from the fast lane where we should have been. Panic ensued. We exited at the next exit and the kids started to guide us using Google Maps. The navigator pinged and protested but none of us knew how to switch her off. The kids started to argue about choices which exasperated Chris who was trying to ignore the navigator decide which person to listen to and negotiate swiftly moving and impatient traffic driving what is essentially a small house. Beatrice prevailed and managed to guide us to our campground in a large green campsite shaded by the cedar trees that we see everywhere and that lined our road in long avenues as we drove to Lisbon.
We checked in with a rather guarded receptionist. Maybe she has developed a dislike for tourists in camper vans? If so she really is in the wrong job!
Our camping place was on a very slight slope so Chris and Alex drove the car onto chocks that can raise it slightly at the downward end. We had lunch, very late – particularly since Portuguese time is one hour behind and so 2pm was really 3pm in Spain; but we ate al fresco for the first time – how nice! Warm enough in Europe in December to sit and eat outside in the sun.
We needed to visit a supermarket and although there is a minimarket at the campsite Chris and Beatrice were keen to go to a ‘nearby’ shopping centre. Camper vans don’t fit into supermarket car parks and so we walked. By car it would probably have taken 5 minutes but on foot it took closer to 40 and required us to cross many lanes of busy traffic; very nerve wracking!
The shopping centre was behind a massive Ikea store and Chris wanted to go in. It was packed with people piling flat pack furniture into massive trolleys and wheeling them into massive lifts; I was flooded with a compelling urge to escape. Eventually we did and braved another lot of heavy traffic to reach the other shopping centre which did not correspond with the Ikea store. We found a supermarket in the shopping centre which was absolutely enormous and packed with more people: on a Sunday – in a Catholic country – we were confused. It was all geared up for Christmas and Christmas presents and delicacies winked and twinkled from all sides. Even Father Christmas had moved in next to the checkout. Interesting to see what people like to eat for Christmas; large air cured legs of ham seem to be the big treat; much as in Spain. Alex checked a nearby techno shop. He is keen to buy a Go-Pro camera and is busy doing price comparison; they are all pretty expensive.
We escaped the shopping centre. By now it was dark and negotiating the rushing traffic was hairy despite the crossing points. At one stage we took a wrong route and had to turn back for a few hundred metres – uphill – groan!
Eventually we were back at the Decathlon shop, also enormous, which was near to the Ibis Hotel which was near to our camp. This kind of shop is a dream for Alex and Chris and they had to go in for a look. Alex needs a new rain-jacket so that was the pretext. Beatrice and I sat down by the do-it-yourself present wrapping table and took advantage of the free Wi-Fi.
We are both quite amazed that in a Catholic country the shops are open until 9 or 10 at night. Is this just a Christmas phenomenon or is it always like this? Our experience in Spain so far has been different but maybe the shopping malls there are also humming on a Sunday. Do shopping malls have a special dispensation? Has mammon finally won?
By the time we had ploughed through the traffic I was pretty tired. Beatrice very kindly took my bag from me or I might have just sat down and cried like a 3 year old. Chris dug out the Vinho Verde when we got back and the world started to look better.
Not a very cultural day and for me the late afternoon was not so much retail therapy as aversion therapy and the whole experience confirmed for me that modern cities are built for cars and not for people. Still the avenues of trees on our journey were pretty and the cork oaks and olives and vines; and Chris cooked a nice chicken stew and salad for supper.
Day 7 - Monday – 3rd December – Beatrice – Lisbon
Today we were especially bad at getting out of bed and daddy took this to an extreme sport by refusing to get out of bed even when we were already sitting down for our morning cup of tea.
Eventually we did get up and after a shower of the “boiling chicken variety” as mummy rightly coined the phrase, we were ready! Off we went to the centre of Lisbon on the bus 714 to Plaça da Figuiera. Key note is to make sure you are on the correct bus. This may sound silly but we had to let two busses of the correct line going in the correct direction pass because they terminate in the suburbs before the centre.
The bus ride of 1.80 Euros per person was wild. The bus is the biggest vehicle on the street and is feared by all who hold their life dear. The bus swerved and sped through the narrow streets and across busy highways. Nevertheless we were able to glimpse the beautiful yellow and terracotta painted houses or the decorative blue and white tiles on the exterior walls. The suburb called Belem, translated as Bethlehem is particularly pretty with wide open spaces on the river Tajo. On the route I did question the wonky and probably dangerous placement of Lisbon’s many electrical cables.
Once in the centre of Lisbon, we were dropped off in the Plaça da Figuiera and slowly made our way to the river via the pedestrian only roads. Once again it was a perfect sunny day - what luck! Lisbon’s streets were bustling with tourists, waiters desperately trying to get your attention, musicians and some very peculiar living statues. Lively and vibrant are terms deemed fitting to the situation.
The entire centre was already set up with Christmas lights and Mummy made us assure her that we would be staying late enough to see them in all their glory. Yet not only the decorations above us looked impressive but also the permanent ones below. The entire pavement is made up out of small black and white cobble stones to form pictures and patterns along the walkways. At times these patterns were really complicated and absolutely noteworthy.
Along we went and came out onto Plaça da Commercio, a wide open area with a massive metal Christmas tree and a central sculpture. The river Tejo looked so wide from the Plaça, that it could have been the ocean for all I knew! We feasted on the view and basked in the sunlight for a bit before hitting the easily accessible tourist information. After gathering up many pamphlets and maps we came across a sign advertising “the sexiest toilet on earth”. Suddenly both Mummy and Alex desperately needed the loo and so Daddy and I sat down in a café, intrigued at what stories they would come back with. Disappointedly they came back from their underwhelming experience of which the sexiness was based on the option of red or green toilet paper.
To lift up their mood the waiter as if by fate proclaimed that it was cocktail happy hour. Mummy indulged with a Margarita and I with a Mojito. Both Alex and Daddy stayed reasonable and drank some coffee, while flicking through the information given to us.
That is how we stumbled upon the free walking tour. Since we couldn’t quite judge the distance between the starting point and where we were now Alex shot off in a fast stride with us belting behind him. Finally we made it to Plaça Luis do Camões only to find that we were actually half an hour early. The parents sat down on a bench and Alex paced around the square. I on the other hand went to admire the amazing pastry display in the window nearby. Here I bought my first Pastel de Nata, a puff pastry case filled with a set custard filling. Pastel de Nata is truly amazing and for merely 1 Euro how could you resist? We shared the small pastry amongst us four and waited evermore for 2:30pm. When it came closer to the starting time of the tour, Mummy began approaching all people wearing anything remotely red as the pamphlet suggested this could be the tour guide. Finally two young men wearing an excessive amount of red turned up and so we huddled up around them.
We were about 20 tourists on the tour lead by a charming British Brexit refugee called Pascal. In a fun and bubbly way he led us through the centre of Lisbon explaining the rich history that lies within it.
The most significant historical moment in Lisbon’s and therefore Portugal’s history happened on the 1st of November 1755. Back then Portugal with its major colonies and extensive sea power was seen as one of the world leaders, but all that changed. The 1st of November was All Saints Day and as Portugal was a predominantly Catholic country this was celebrated in style with most people going to church and parading through the old town carrying candles. However the strongest earthquake in European history hit the city on that fateful day bearing an alarming 9.6 on the Richter scale.
The church and the old city, built on sandstone and lime, took the brunt of the earthquake. Whereas just on the other side the non-church goers stood on granite. Therefore the predominately poor, Muslims and Jews watched as the rest of Lisbon crashed in chaos.
The church roofs collapsed onto the congregation, the people who managed to flee fall into crevasses that formed out of seemingly nowhere and the candles of the procession caused Lisbon to go up in flames for 3 days. The people ran for their lives and some ran towards the river Tajo. The river bed formed a passageway as the water receded to the sides. People gathered in this dry spot believing that Moses had returned and that they were the chosen ones. Unfortunately this was the beginning stages of a tsunami that plunged into Lisbon’s centre. These were tragic days for Portugal and 2/3 of the entire Lisbon population perished.
The only place left relatively unscathed was Alfama. And so the remaining Muslims, Jews and the poor Christians painstakingly rebuilt the city in the upcoming years.
A quick devious trick we were encouraged to do by Pascal enabled us to skip the 8 Euro entry fee and nevertheless see Lisbon from the roof tops. The 8 euros per head allows the entrance to a big structure called the Santa Justa. Built by one of Eiffel’s students over the period of 10 years, this steam powered metal elevator allowed old townspeople to attend church in style - without the hassle of climbing the steep hill. We nevertheless did not use the lift but instead went onto the bridge that connects the top of the hill to the now electric powered elevator. The view from the bridge is quite spectacular and is definitely worth the trip to see all the terracotta roofs against the sparkling river.
As we walked on Pascal kept emphasising the delight of a particular sausage called Alheira. It is a deep fried sausage that is traditionally served with a fried egg and French fries so that your veins can clog up faster. No matter how good the sausage tastes the story that goes with it is even juicer. In 1506 under the rule of Afonso the first all Jews had to convert to Catholicism or suffer the consequences by execution. Many died, but those who converted to new Christianism often did not give up their faith. They cut their hair and moved their synagogues underground but never stopped their religious practices. These new Christians started selling Alheira in order to convince their catholic neighbours that they truly had given up Judaism. This sausage however unknown to the Catholics did not contain any pork.
Those same Catholic monks soon fell out of favour with the ruling party, since the church had too much power and wealth. These monks now struck into poverty started producing Ginjinha. Ginjinha is a liqueur made with sour cherries and spices brought from the colonies. It is divine as we later found out and should by no means be missed - only 1 euro per shot!
We continued walking through the town laughing and chatting along the way, when we reached the massive Plaça da Rossio. It is a huge space with a towering statue overlooking waves made out of white and black cobbled stones. These waves caused an outcry in the population as many become nauseous at the sight of the psychedelic design which combined with Ginjinha led to unhealthy gastric movements among those who ventured over the square. Luckily we came out unscathed and with many pictures to hand.
We walked down to the Plaça da Commercio, where to our surprise a massive demonstration was taking place lead by the firefighters in their uniforms. Their protest though loud was friendly and after enquiring it was about the demand that firemen’s wages should increase with inflation.
We left them peacefully demonstrating behind us and walked to the end of the Plaça to the river bank, where we said goodbye to Pascal and gave him a merry tip. We walked along the river and sat down to bask in the glorious sunshine. While we were sitting a few more herbal smells drifted our way. This once again as many interesting topics, had been explained by Pascal on our tour. In the colonies many horrible battles were fought that lead to many deaths. The soldiers that returned from the colonies had severe post-traumatic stress disorder, which lead to a whopping 1% of the Portuguese to be heroin addicts in order to overcome their past trauma. After many heated debates all drugs became decriminalised in 2001. This does not mean that selling drugs is legal but it does mean that using and carrying specific amounts of substances will not lead to a jail sentence. Through this many addicts could be helped as they were now not criminals. The overall drug use has apparently decreased and Portugal has become a particularly interesting case study for other countries with drug-related problems.
We wandered back onto the Plaça da Commercio, where we stumbled across a wine tasting shop. The shop had a very interesting system which allows you to load a card with a specific amount of money of your choice. With this card you can go to the wines displayed behind glass panels and buy a tasting portion individually. This was great because one gets to choose which wines one wants to compare or taste. We had an amusing time comparing wines but were rather unimpressed with most and splashed out on out last wine in order to clear the card of money. The last we tried was a white port that was amazing and reminded me strongly of Vin de Constance of Cape Town’s Groot Constantia vineyard.
As we had been comparing wines for quite a while the night had fallen, bringing with it the Christmas lights. The Christmas trees lit up and the roads were dazzling. Mummy started us off on a Christmas light trail, so we surely couldn’t miss any of the fairly light decorations. Some streets had red bows, others shooting starts and further ones had more modern designs of what could have been moons and lightning. We wondered through the streets in awe of the various Christmas embellishments and stumbled across a little restaurant, which Pascal had advised us to go to.
This restaurant was tiny! Approximately 2 metres wide and 10 meters deep (including the kitchen). For this reason it is often overlooked and the only other customers were a couple that had been on the same walking tour with us. The shop-owner come chef come entertainer was incredibly kind and waved us into the restaurant and explained what he had to offer. We ended up having codfish “bacalhau”, octopus and another fish to share.
For desert we had Pastel de Nata from the road side, which were still too hot to be eaten directly. I guarded them while we walked to the bus stop and on our long bus ride back to the campsite. I eventually could not help myself and when they were still very warm but just set nonetheless I ate my one. Pure delight! Do ask for the very fresh “caldo” ones if you have a moment to wait for them.
In good spirits we walked from the bus stop at our camp back to the van. Little did we know what was about to come. The trees stopped the light from illuminating the pavement and hid the holes and rough surfaces in shade. One of these holes caused Mummy to horribly trip over. In much pain Mummy managed to get up and walk. We took her watch off even before reaching the campervan as her wrist was swelling badly. We dressed the head wound and according to accident protocol checked for mental trauma, which was luckily unfounded. We put ice on the offending wrist, elevating it and leaving it to rest before putting on a compression bandage and giving Mummy some pain medications. We decided to see what tomorrow would bring as the pain seemed to be reasonable and the swelling obscured any further diagnosis. Mummy fell asleep relatively quickly and after a bit more monitoring we went to sleep, too.
Not such a great end to an otherwise very happy day.
Day 8 - Tuesday – 4th December – Chris – Lisbon
After last night’s accident we decided that it would be wise to go to a hospital to have Cathy’s wrist x-rayed. Hence we divided the tasks as follows: Beatrice to accompany Cathy to the hospital, Alex to do the laundry at the campsite and I would look for a bicycle repair shop to fix the buckled back wheel of Cathy’s bike.
Outcome: Cathy: the x-ray confirmed the suspected fracture of the wrist, plaster of Paris applied. CT scan showed no negative symptoms. Cathy was very impressed with the professional, yet warm, approach by the staff at the hospital. Alex did all our laundry perfectly. I managed to take bus into a far distant area and even, after much asking, found the shop “Bike Zone”. “We will do it before the weekend”, so I had to lay it on thick and plead with them, successfully. At 14h00 I could come back to pick it up, which I did, after loitering in the shops of the vicinity. They did warn me though that there was no warranty – although they did their best for a more than fair price of Euro 7.00.
Back at the campsite later that afternoon, we had no energy left to be adventurous for the remaining day. Alex refitted the bicycle wheel and test drove it: disaster! Worse than before. Later Beatrice and I took a taxi to the big hypermarket and indulged in some soothing retail therapy. Including some unbelievably cheap frozen pawns, of which we had some starter portions before dinner. Alex cooked a lovely meal of ham and broccoli, et al. We all went to bed reasonably early.
Day 9 - Wednesday – 5th December – Alex – Lisbon
So first night with the cast for my mother. When we woke up quite early she said it had been fine to sleep with. The hiccup came to washing and getting dressed . . . let’s leave it at: she needed some help. We followed our usual morning routine and while my father and I went to Decathlon to get a new wheel for the bicycle after yesterday’s disaster, Beatrice washed the dishes and cleaned the car! Wow, was it clean! We’ll be trying to find things for days now. She did an amazing job though!
Today we’ve decided to do a tour of Alfama, the really old part of Lisbon. It is built on granite whereas the rest is on sandstone and so when the 1755 earthquake hit Lisbon the granite held fast and minimal damage incurred. We therefore had to book the tour, we decided to go with the same company that ran the free walking tour, Sandeman’s Newlisbon. As students we paid 12€ and 14€ for adults. We received a slight discount using a code sent to us by the company so that Pascal would get a bit of commission or something like that.
We then got ready to leave and around noon we were at the bus stop to catch the 714 into town. We met a group from the camp here that said they had been waiting for 45mins, in which time 2 busses should have come but hadn’t. After another 15mins they decided to leave. By 1pm we also had not seen a single 714 bus, the 750 bus kept taunting us it seemed, and so decided enough was enough and called a taxi. Our taxi driver was not the most pleasant person in the world and was fed up that all four of us couldn’t fit into the back of the car and so would have to move his bag off the front seat. Next was that there was a big no smoking sign in the car yet the car smelt like weed and there was weed and tobacco strewn across the front of the car. We were surprised that our mother wasn’t able to identify the smell . . . having been an art student and all. By 1:30pm, however; we were dropped off at Praça de Commercio, where our tour would begin. The tour was only going to start around 2:30pm though and so we had enough time to walk up to Praça de Rosso and buy a sling for my mother’s arm. We received very prompt and excellent service here, her arm was measured up and the sling fitted her excellently.
We were then back at Praça de Commercio and waited for our tour guide. It seems I look like the kind of person that either does drugs or needs drugs as while waiting I was approached numerous times and asked whether I’d like to buy weed, coke or heroin. Beatrice was quite upset that nobody wanted to sell her drugs for some reason, yet sought comfort in knowing nobody had approached my mother either. My father had wandered off in the meantime and returned bearing croquettes of various variety: one stuffed with beef, one with vegetables and one with fish. We then met our tour guide Raquel, a local woman who would be taking us four and three others on the Alfama walking tour.
Our first stop was a church that had quite the impressive archway. Raquel indicated that there is a large crack in the archway, this was from the earthquake of course. The next thing shared with us was to look at the figure of Lady Justice within the archway, the figure wears a kippah, the Jewish hat. This is because part of the deal Ferdinand made with Alfonso, count of Lisbon, which required all the Jews of Lisbon to be thrown out or eradicated. Alfonso however didn’t want this as they were some of the smartest of the city and so made them all “convert” to Christianity, thus becoming the “new Christians”. Synagogues were not allowed and so they were demolished. The church we were at was built on top of an old synagogue. In building the church Alfonso sought the aid of the city’s best architects and engineers, who were “new Christians”. These then added the kippah to the statue as a symbol of who they were and that justice one day would be brought to the Jewish people. The inside of the church was nice but nothing spectacular.
Our next stop was not far off and is a building that was built for the spoilt son of one of the previous counts, who wished for a house that looked like it was constructed from diamonds, after having visited many parts of Europe a design was chosen. The Portuguese, however; did not see the “diamond” aspect of it and so it ended up being called the “house of spikes”. It is now the home of the José Sarmago foundation, the first Portuguese person to receive a Noble prize for literature and 2nd person to receive one overall. The first one went to the person who developed the lobotomy . . . nice. The Portuguese like to talk about the second winner more.
Then finally in to the proper Alfama district through one of the old town gates. The streets narrow considerably, more houses are covered in tiles and the traffic decreases to zero. This is the birthplace of Fado, an iconic genre of singing, which as Raquel puts it will make you want to slit your wrists . . . it is a bit sad and depressing. We walk past loads and loads of tiled houses, which we are told is from the Moorish influence and were put up after the earthquake. The patron Saint of Lisbon is Saint Vincent, he however is not who the people of Lisbon actually want. That honour befalls Saint Anthony, and his presence is definitely felt, every second house has a set of tiles depicting him and the iconic child he carries. St. Anthony’s day is the 13th of June, for which there is a big celebration not only on the day but for the entire month of June. They have something similar to a carnival then and dress up their neighbourhoods to the nines, there is of course a competition for this which Alfame wins almost every year. Some decorations were still up now, as why bother removing them when you’ll need them again next year.
Raquel showed us a small restaurant called “Amigo Antonio” which is the only bar that runs under an operational church. There is even an emergency exit from the church straight in to the bar . . . We approved of this. While meandering through the narrow streets we are nearly dowsed in washing water from above. The state of sanitation in Alfama isn’t great and so these are common occurrences is the district. We then come across a window on which we knocked and a man then offered us Ginjinha in either chocolate or normal shot glasses for either 2 or 1€. This is definitely not legal but we were told that it was also a stop off for the local police officers. Ginjinha is seen as a kind of medicine for the older generation of Lisbon and can cure ailments ranging from toothache to stomach-ache to probably cancer, it treats it all. We wind our way up and down small staircases and finally reach a lookout point with a wonderful view over the rooftops of Alfama. We could see the new cruise ship port from here with a big German cruise ship, a stark contrast between rich and poor as well as old and modern. We were informed that these cruises cause many people to flood into the district, but they sleep and eat on the ship and so not much money is generated by this for the district. Further issues arise because of AirBnB that has caused a few people to be evicted from their houses as more can be earned from that by the landlord than with a constant tenant.
A note to the big attractions in Alfama is that there are pickpockets, we had no problem but it is something to remember! Up here on the hill is also a tiled depiction of how the crusaders managed to conquer Lisbon from the Moors. The story is mixed with legend but is similar to that of the Game of Thrones episode – “Hold the Door”. What is interesting is in how high regard the crusaders are held, they weren’t very nice people after all. We went up to the Castelo Sao Jorge, however didn’t go in as we were told that visiting Castello dos Mouros, in Sintra, was a better bet. The castle was all but destroyed in the earthquake and later rebuilt. At some point it was even used as a place to reform prisoners. Another view point followed and then we walked down to Sé de Lisboa (cathedral), which was built on top of a mosque after the Lisbon invasion by the crusaders. Crusader crosses can therefore be found within the cathedral. Additionally there are many tunnels under the building that are said to link up to the castle as well as other parts of the city. It is also said that the Holy Grail was hidden in the passages by the crusaders and that a person with a sense of adventure and who is pure of heart will be able to find it. I probably therefore would have been able to find it, unfortunately though the municipality has prohibited going into the tunnels . . . they must desperately be trying to find it, the excuse of instability and tunnel collapse just sounds too easy. On the steps of the Sé de Lisboa, we also talked about the church of St. Anthony, which is currently undergoing a face lift. It was the first church to be rebuilt after the 1755 earthquake. The tram 28 is also discussed, it is very popular because for 1€ you used to be able to do a kind of city tour with it. It is very overcrowded now however and it was recommended by Raquel that one rather use the tram 12, in Belem, if you want a similar experience. We also ended our tour here having had loads of fun and found it very interesting, I would highly recommend it to anyone.
We then stopped off to have a coffee and pastry and to plan the next few days. Then we walked to the nearby FNAC, where I decided to buy myself the latest GoPro Hero 7 Black, as I’ve always wanted one and it was considerably cheaper here than in Namibia. I still then wanted to head to the Hard Rock Café of Lisbon to buy my pin, which I collect. On the way we stopped off at a Christmas market to have sangria as well as Glühwein. The Hard Rock Café is easy to reach and in no time we were heading back to catch the 714 bus back to the camp. I’ve ended up losing count just how many times I was offered drugs to buy and yet Beatrice and my mother not a single time. Should I be worried? We were lucky that there was a bus waiting for us and not many people were on it. The ride home, therefore was quick and painless. We made extra sure that my mother didn’t do herself another injury today and were rewarded with an injury free arrival at our campervan. Beatrice then cooked a lovely pork mince bolognaise dish, during which she stole my rosemary that I had been drying out since Toldeo (I had picked it there), it’s probably why the meal was so good! Beatrice and I then still did some wifi-ing and then shortly after that we were all in bed.
Day 10- Thursday – 6th December – Cathy – Sintra
Today we left Lisbon and drove to Sintra, which is about 27km away to the northwest. We got up fairly early and Beatrice decided that I should try to have a proper shower with a plastic bag over my plaster cast. It went fairly well but of course Beatrice was there to help me, I’m not sure how it will go once she leaves for Germany but not to worry yet. After breakfast we set off to Sintra having hopefully programmed a good parking space into the navigator.
The drive out from Lisbon was quick and quite easy and in a short while we could see the castle and the Pena the hills. The castle and ramparts are very old dating far back to at least the 9th century but with several later additions. The Pena palace is of more questionable vintage.
True to form our navigator went to pieces over the parking. We were beginning to drive up to the castle and were fearful of finding ourselves in the same tangle as Caceres but without the helpful woman in a blue Fiat car. We spotted the tourist office and a good space to park. The woman in the office advised us to turn back to the good car park that we had seen as we drove into Sintra. The good place to park gave us enough wriggle room to turn round in the narrow road. We did both and turned back to the big car park that we had spotted as we drove into Sintra. All sorted.
Our next challenge was to find a route to take us up to the castle. Preferably not on the road. Alex found us a good option and we set off up some pretty steep steps and paths. We past an Italian couple and the wife was worried if I’d make it, the husband said “pocino a pocino”, which sounded okay to me.
We did find out however, that there were workmen repaving the route and so in some places the steps had been covered with sand to make a ramp for their machine to drive down. This did indeed make the going more difficult and I had to hold Chris or one of the kid’s hands at times to steady myself. But the walk up to the castle was very beautiful with lovely views framed by the tall trees. There are many elaborate villas to see in the hills and the outskirts of Lisbon are also visible. Eventually we reached the entrance to the castle and then paid for the Pena palace- 77 Euros for all of us- a hefty sum but entirely worth it. We decided that would probably be enough.
The Castello dos Mouros is really only a keep and ramparts guarding an enclosed space in which at some point there must have been houses. One can climb up to the keep and to a high tower along the ramparts which slope upwards quite steeply and have no wall on the inner side which drops quite sheerly to the ground and crenellations on the outer side whose lower portion was well below the adult centre of balance. It was a bit alarming and would have been a punishment for anyone with vertigo but the view from the tower was quite splendid. On this clear sunny day you really could see for miles and miles and miles.
The castle is very old and dates back to at least the 1100s having been built on the foundations of an earlier Moorish fort. It has been added to over the years but has retained its old sense of purpose and menace enhanced by the dark stone from which it is made. There are excavations taking place to explore not only the Moorish foundations but also earlier roman remains so the history of fortifications on this spot is very ancient. There were quite a few tourists visiting Sintra and so crossing over and passing each other on the ramparts was a challenge but it was a very interesting visit.
From the old fortress we walked across to the Palace of Pena for which the word ‘extraordinary’ could have been coined. Chris and I took a short bus ride to the gates of the palace and the kids walked. They arrived very shortly after we did.
The palace has a chequered history. It began as a Moorish castle (possibly linked to the castle we had just visited?) it was then converted to a monastery until the Portuguese king decided to use it as a summer palace. At that point its seriousness of purpose gave way and the building became a kind of summer playground for the royal family. The exterior of the summer palace of Pena is a Moorish fantasy of turrets, domes, battlements and arches. There is hardly a surface without embellishment and the exterior walls are painted in a selection of colours; red, yellow, peach and white for the most part with touches of slate blue and areas of multi-coloured tiles. We clambered around the various walkways and looked out from the balconies. We took pictures through the Moorish arches and had a great time feeling as if we were in a Disney film.
The interior is if anything even more fantastic than the exterior. It was of the ‘no expense spared’ school of decoration. The rooms in the old part of the palace, the ex-monastery, were small, after all they had been monks’ cells but each room leading to the next had been decorated in a different style some hectically elaborate. The hitherto plain ribbed ceilings of the monastery have been embellished with plasterwork, gold leaf, fresco and the walls likewise. Pictures in elaborate frames, heavy dark wood furniture and gleaming silver and glassware. The first bathrooms in Portugal were tiled with patterned floor to ceiling tiles, it was quite overwhelming, nowhere for the eye to rest.
The rooms in the new part of the palace were much larger and included a mirrored banqueting hall with carved wooden moors holding the lamp stands and a circular dining room called the “stag room” decorated with ceramic stag’s head glazed black; a floor patterned to emphasise the shape of the room and a table shaped to curve around the room with its central pillar (the table is in store since the table and the tourists would not fit into the room at the same time). Elaborate stained glass was planned for the windows but did not progress beyond the planning stage. The large kitchen on the ground floor connects directly to the circular banqueting room and to the mirrored banqueting room so that dishes could be zipped upstairs quickly. At least the kitchen probably remained unembellished and looked well-equipped for mass catering in the 1800s.
Of all the spaces that I enjoyed in the Pena the prettiest was a small inner court yard tiled on all walls and as deep as the palace to act as a light well for the inner rooms and also to assist ventilation. The most over-the-top in a palace that was entirely over-the-top was a carving of Neptune that formed the base of a bay window protruding from the first floor of the palace above an arched entrance, kitsch is the only word.
After that amount of wild decoration and a coffee or cool drink with crisps to recover, we decided to seek relief in the palace gardens. At least nature does its on embellishment in a less OTT fashion. Human agency was within the gardens in the form of a number of follies; a statue of a knight in armour on a hill, a small roman style rotundum and at the bottom of the garden, which slopes downhill via a number of terraces, a series of small lakes with special duck houses by them. The ducks looked very happy floating around with some gees and a couple of swans but we couldn’t see if they were using the duck houses.
The afternoon was drawing in towards evening by then but Alex was keen to visit the Quinta da Regaliera, another fantasy created by a collaboration between a wealthy man and an architect come theatre designer. The owner was called Montero, a Brazilian coffee tycoon and the designer was Luigi Manini. Their collective hallucination looks like something out of Lord of the Rings.
It was quite a long walk from the bottom of the Pena gardens to the Quinta da Regaliera but it was all downhill and through thickly forested land with the occasional mansion, some that we had already seen from the lookout places in the castle.
The mansion at the Quinta was a gothic fantasy and cost 20 Euros for all four of us. There were pinnacles, towers, pointy windows, elaborate carvings and another fantasy garden. We had seen the house from above and wondered at its design, seeing it close to was even more amazing. Alex’ main goal for the visit was to go the “well of initiation”, which turned out to be a kind of step well but one with no water at the bottom. Instead there were a number of tunnels that one could explore to take one behind a small waterfall, under another pretend well and passed various lookout places within the garden. Alex was very excited to see all that he could and went off without Beatrice. Chris and I stayed above ground and were unaware that this had happened until Alex arrived without her. When Beatrice finally arrived she was not happy.
We continued our walk around the gardens, by now lit by guiding lights to help us round. The house was closed but through the windows we could see rooms similar to those in the Pena palace with garlands of carved plaster and other embellishments. Chris had made his way to the exit and after a while Alex and I followed but Beatrice did not appear. We hung around by the exit for 10 minutes but still she did not come. I asked Alex to find her and in due course he returned with his sister, who had moved on several stages from angry and thought we had abandoned her- oh dear.
We continued in what could be described as a “pregnant silence”. I compounded the problem since I had not factored in that the walk from the Quinta back to the car would be around 2 km and most of it uphill. My youthful joie de vivre had departed and the spring in my step had sprung. Alex and Chris were arguing about our way, Beatrice was still cross and I was totally tired. The last two kilometres really could have been more pleasant. Not a lot of jolly walking songs were sung. The sight of the car as we walked down the final hill was so beautiful!
A few other campervans joined us in our carpark for the night; campervan herding instinct. Chris put together a very nice meal from the stuff we had in the fridge and in tins in our store. I wrote to the insurance company about claiming for my broken arm and started to write my diary but we were all very tired. At least by that time we were all back on good terms.
Day 11 - Friday – 7th December – Beatrice – Sagres
We woke up in Sintra with a cloud around us. Deep fog surrounded the parking lot and soon after breakfast and the oh so sacred cup of tea we were ready for off. Today I was navigator and Daddy unsurprisingly was the driver. We decided to drive until Sines with the toll route, because avoiding it would be too much of a hassle and would only lead to complication.
In no time we drove back into Lisbon and took the smaller version of the golden gate bridge past the statue of Jesus onto the highway. The highway was clear and with cruise control we could zip to Sines in no time. The other lane was not so lucky as an accident caused a massive tailback of unhappy divers stuck in their cars. We were still driving in fog for a long while, where at some points we could only see 10 meters ahead, but close to Sines the sun broke through the clouds and we successfully evaded the bad weather.
In Sines we readjusted the navigation system to now evade all further toll gates as they can become very expensive on longer stretches. After following a sign claiming there was a supermarket nearby, which unfortunately was an utter fib, we left Sines behind us and now were on a green also known as scenic route over Odemira to Sagres.
The route was beautiful but due to excessive curves in the road while going up and down hills, this route was not anything close to fast. We enjoyed the sunshine making the trees and bushes shine gloriously and occasionally had to wait while firemen efficiently cut trees and cleared them with professional speed off the road again.
Eventually we reached Odemira, where we finally did find a supermarket. Though small it stocked enough supplies to get us through the day. From here our navigation system went into a tizz and sent us off into a very odd direction. We noticed quickly and decided it might be better to follow the map than the navigation lady. She got a bit angry with us but with time conceded that our way might not be so bad after all.
Later rather than sooner we made it to Sagres, where we checked into the Orbitur camp, a big foresty property with a 2 large ablution blocks and a wifi room next to the reception. We chose a campsite and went for a drive.
Sagres is a sunny windswept surfer town- rather empty off season - it has lovely cliffs giving one an amazing view of the clear water below. We looked at the spot where Daddy had camped many moons ago and Alex got terribly frustrated that he hadn’t packed his wetsuit or diving mask to explore the caves in the rocks below. We then went to the beach, here the water was as calm as a pond and Alex and I had difficulty imagining how one would be able to surf here. Mummy stayed in the car and Alex and I paddled in the water. For people used to the cold Benguela current of Swakopmund this water was mild in comparison. We decided to have a drink in the beach café and Daddy and Alex appropriately ordered Sagres beer. We walked back up to the van while it was beginning to darken and so the Christmas lights were on. Unlike the delicate fairy light designs of Lisbon, Sagres had a massive Christmas tree made out of flobins (1 cubic metre plastic containers used to transport chemical solutions) that changed colour every few seconds. This was the last aspect Alex needed to fall in love with this little town.
With the wind now howling we drove back to camp and Alex made a delicious supper of pork chops and a veggie stew. We decided to open the white port which we had bought is Lisbon, but to our disappointment but not surprise it did not taste as good as the 4 times more expensive version we had tasted in the wine shop.
We had a jolly evening besides the quick but frantic search for Mummy’s drawing books that had actually not been misplaced. All happy and full we went off to bed.
Day 12 - Saturday – 8th December – Christof – Sagres
We had a wonderful lie-in until about 08h30. Then lovely hot showers (in the ablution block) and home-made breakfast. All very relaxed. First day for shorts and flip-flops for the men again, but the chill factor from the wind asks for warm uppers. Very much weather like Swakopmund with a good south-west wind blowing. Also the near-desert vegetation (wind-swept shrubs) adds to the ambience. For me it’s going down some 36 years of memory lane, and very vividly for that. Of course, the town has grown tremendously, but finding the place along the cliffs where we used to camp and fully recognising the beautiful body-surfing beach (waves very small right now) no problem. Alex is very annoyed that he did not bring along his diving gear with wetsuit as the water is crystal clear and you can see the fish in the water even from the 30m cliffs. At the sandy beach Alex & Beatrice put their feet into the water and estimate it to be around 16 or 17°C. Also not far off from Swakop…
A relaxed morning by the beach-bar with coffees, white and red sangria and beer (for Alex). Later we drive to one of the supermarkets. Amongst the normal groceries we also bought some Portuguese pasties, croquettes and samosas which we snacked in the wind-free zone of the womo overlooking the sea.
In the afternoon we went to the huge fortress on the most south-west peninsular of Portugal, first built in the 15 hundreds, but replaced and renovated many times since. It used to house the navigational school in the hey-day of Portuguese global exploration.
Sundowners in our own beach bar inside the womo (real sunset but no cold wind), then back to the camp-site for cooking, writing, wifi-ing, etc.
Day 13 - Sunday – 9th December – Alex – Tavira
Last night my father told me that he wanted to stay another night in the Algarve and so I should read up on where to stay. The two options really were Faro, a bigger and touristier place or Tavira a smaller town further along the coast, it has a small castle and small winding roads. I decided we should go with Tavira.
We woke up at a leisurely time of 8:30am and spent the next few hours packing up and following our usual routine. The weather was once again near perfect and there was no wind! Unheard of in Sagres. We then waved good bye to our campsite and made our made towards Tavira. Today it was my turn to navigate and we decided that we would pay the toll should we be required to. The roughly 180km trip was mostly on a toll road (A22), yet we didn’t come across a single toll gate, just a system of cameras. We thought that they were recording us and would nobble us at the border tomorrow. The trip went painlessly and by around noon we were in Tavira. We parked under a railway bridge almost at the town centre as this was an ideal location and Park4Night recommended it. They did say it would be quiet, which is questionable as every hour a train passes – quite noisy!
We then left my mother in the car, she wanted to finish off some sketches and her diary writing, while the rest of us went into town to try and locate a tourist information centre. It was quite easy to do as we used Google Maps on my father’s phone and just had to walk along the river. The river is tidal and at the beginning of our walk was very low – by the end of the walk it was already a considerable depth. The lady at the information centre was very kind and polite, but did question our thinking as it was a Sunday and surely we know that everything is closed on a Sunday! 
She said to us that the two attractions we could actually do today were the beach, which is reached with a ferry, or the castle. Doing the maths we figured that we’d only be able to do one of the two. The beach was chosen as it was such a great day and we really did want to finally get into the ocean. We were done so fast that we couldn’t possibly return to the car so quickly, my mother probably had only just started her sketches, it would be unfair to disturb her. The only thing to really do in that case was to find a café and drink a beer or sangria in Beatrice’s case. Our beer was lovely, whereas the sangria was way too sweet! We then walked back to the campervan, all jumped in and drove off to the ferry dock, only taking a wrong turn once. We paid 1.3€ per person for a return journey and 10mins later were standing on the island. The water is so clear that one can see the fish swimming in the water, unreal!
The island is definitely a summer place as we practically had the beach for ourselves and only one of the many, many cafes and restaurants was open. We had however packed the ingredients for sandwiches and therefore found a spot on the empty beach for our lunch. Beatrice and I immediately changed into our swimming costumes and went for a swim. A bit cold but nothing near Cape Town waters. We played around in the very tiny waves and the parents went for a walk. This was the modus operandi until around 3:30pm, when we decided to have a coffee at the lone café. At 4:20pm we then caught the ferry back to the mainland, with a group of very drunk people. Once back on land we headed back to the spot under the bridge. Having slept in the same house as my father has trained us all to sleep through nearly everything and so the sound of the trains passing shouldn’t affect our sleep too much. My father then started cooking: a fried prawn starter and seafood soup as mains. It did require me to run to the nearby Lidl to by onions and milk. The meal however was really lovely. The evening was then pleasantly spent in each other’s company and by 11pm all were in bed.
Tavira was a lovely little stop off and I highly recommend it to fellow travellers.
Day 14 - Monday – 10th December – Cathy – Seville
Luckily the trains on the railway bridge under which we were parked last night in Tavira did not run right through the night and we had a fairly restful sleep. As with all wild camping nights though I woke up quite a few times and we all got up quite early. The weather forecast was very good for the region, 23 degrees predicted for Seville- wonderful!
We set off for Seville having allowed our navigator to take us on toll roads but we were a bit confused about the Portuguese toll system. We saw no toll gates; apparently the whole system has gone “virtual” but we left Portugal no wiser about anything we might owe in tolls. Maybe at some point Chris will see a miraculous deduction on his credit card? Or maybe Eckart will!
Our navigator stuck to the motorways despite an interlude where we instructed her to avoid toll routes, so we will see what happens! True to form she got us to the right part of Seville with no problem but went to pieces when it came to finding the campsite. We really must learn to program in the name of the campsite for minimum hassles. Fortunately Beatrice used her common sense combined with map-reading skills and managed, despite unhelpful comments from the rest of us including the navigation system, to guide us to the Villsom campsite (the only one in Seville).
We asked the manager is she “abla inglès?” and luckily she did a bit; enough to book us in, give us the wifi code, show us where to camp and tell us which bus to take us to town (M132). We found a nice spot not far from the ablution block, I must just remember not to trip over the root near to the door of the van! It was so balmy and sunny that Alex and Chris set out the table and chairs for us to eat an alfresco lunch one hour later than we would be eating it in Portugal. Oh time changes, what fun!
After lunch we decided to make our first foray into Seville and walked to the bus stop, which is only a couple of hundred meters away. The bus was due on the half hour, it wasn’t exactly on time but it wasn’t exactly late either. It took us through a small industrial area and then along a long avenue lined with orange trees. I remember this from our last trip, so pretty, the dark green leaves and the brilliant oranges.
We arrived in Seville in about 20 minutes at a cost of 1.70 Euro per head, not too bad. The bus deposited us at its end stop which was kindly confirmed by a young woman travelling with us, in avenue Portugal which is near to the Parque de Maria Luisa. We walked into the park and very soon came upon the Plaza de España, which was built in 1930 or so for a big exhibition. It’s certainly pretty spectacular and we really enjoyed its columns and waterways with bridges and its towers and fountains; a real wow of an introduction to Seville. The park was full of horse-drawn carriages waiting for tourists and multi-bikes and there were even Segway tours going on. Hibiscus was blooming in the park, in Europe, in December, I like this!
From the park we walked towards the centre of town slowly making our way to the cathedral and the Alcãzar. We were a little late to go into the Alcãzar, since it closes at 5pm but we had plenty of time to go into the truly enormous cathedral, which apparently is one of the largest Christian churches in the world. It certainly is extraordinary! We could only glimpse the altar screen since there was a service taking place but it is a truly impressive gilded, carved, wooden masterpiece and the rest of the place was pretty amazing; not particularly ornate but huge! Deciding to come back to the Alcãzar another day, we walked through some of the small backstreets of Seville off the Avenida la Construcion. All were bedecked with Christmas lights, so we must come back after dark!
We passed various large groups walking around town today. Two groups of school kids around 11 or 12 years old with teachers who barely looked older than they did. One large group of teenagers being herded by a couple of older, world-weary teachers and a mystery group of about 30 middle aged women striding with resolve behind a leader. Who? Why? We spent a little time fruitlessly speculating while we relaxed over a cup of coffee in a side street.
We found a little church in a square full of some Christmas lights extravaganza, which had not one but two nativity scenes to be viewed. Beatrice and I were swept up by a queue and found ourselves viewing a nativity scene like it or not. Actually it was quite touching and obviously a bigger deal to the others in the queue than it was to us.
We walked back towards the river to complete a circuit down to the Reyes Catlicos, and near to the Ponte Triana Isabel II we found a tapas place like the one in Madrid. It had a lovely open area next to the river to sit with one’s food. It was a bit too early though, so we moved on. We noticed that a couple of bars over the road were absolutely packed. Obviously they had something that the other place lacked (Alex said hubblies).
We walked on the side of the road closest to the river, so we could have some pretty river views. We passed the bullring, not a place that I am in a hurry to visit, and the Giralda, a tower near to the water’s edge. There was lots of activity around the river, joggers and cyclists on the river walk, people boating and rowing on the river, the nice weather had brought out the citizens of Seville. The many riverside bars were well frequented and so we thought “why not?” and sat at a bar to have a beer. Chris went to order and found they were out of beer - how? How can that happen in a bar? We walked on.
By this time Alex was a bit frustrated because I was slow. The plaster is heavy and drags on my neck and shoulders via the sling. In the end I support the plastered arm with my right arm, which slows me further. We had a number of roads to cross and I seemed to keep catching the red light while Alex whizzed through the green.
Luckily we had plenty of time before the bus was due at 6:45pm. We walked back through the park and Plaza de España, which does not look quite so pretty with floodlights although the group that we saw earlier singing and dancing flamenco under the arches in a great natural acoustic was really enjoyable.
The sellers of tourist trinkets; fans, kiddies’ flamenco dresses, cheap Spanish hats, postcards etc., were packing up their stalls, balancing on ladders to bring down all of the things that they had painstakingly displayed in the morning.
Our bus arrived shortly after we did, which was very good of it, and after a 20 minute ride through darkness deposited Chris and Beatrice at the Carrefour supermarket and one stop later, Alex and me at the campsite. Beatrice checked on Google Maps to be sure of the stops.
Between them Alex and Beatrice are excellent guides. Alex reads the street maps and gets us round town really well. Sometimes we are not entirely sure where we are going but we always end up somewhere nice. Today the map-reading fairy lead him by pure chance to the Seville Hard Rock Café, where he bought another pin and got chatted up by the sales assistant - all in all very satisfactory.
Chris and Beatrice came back from the supermarket laden with shopping to be put away and shortly after Alex started to make supper. His chicken stew was as tasty as we have all come to expect from the boy. Tomorrow I must go to the hospital (there is one very close to the camp) to have my arm checked, I do hope all is okay. (Thank you very much to Beatrice for helping me to type up my diary – one handed would be very much slower!)
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