Lisbon, Portugal
About 45 minutes outside Lisbon lies the beautiful hilltop village of Sintra, the former summer residence of Portugese royalty and now a UNESCO World Heritage sight, described by Lord Byron as "in every aspect the most delightful village in Europe". It's the perfect day trip according to the guidebook so with two days in Lisbon still to enjoy, we take a train from the grand station at Rossio and venture out of the city confines to explore.
Byron wasn't wrong, it is exquisitely pretty. As we walk from the station to the heart of the village stunning views lay before us, while the pavement is lined with statues. Their modernist nature means the old Romantic pre-dated them by a good couple of centuries but he'd probably have appreciated some of the naked ladies on display.
What he wouldn't have appreciated is the grumpy old bastard in the queue for the sightseeing bus ahead of us. The no.434 does a loop taking tourists from the village square up to Quinto da Regaleira, a nobleman's elaborate estate, then on to a Moorish castle perched overlooking the village before reaching Palacio da Pena, the royal summer palace. Unfortunately its frequency seems to be far less often than advertised so by the time it arrives there's an unseemly scramble to get on.
Who knew that old men had such unpleasantly sharp elbows or could use them with such force? The codger to the side of me tries to fight his way forward, battering everyone as he goes, but to no avail. There's still no room on the over-stuffed bus. Huffing and puffing, he and various other tourists complain at being left behind while Coman and I do the sensible thing and just hail a cab instead.
Up the ridiculously steep wooded hillsides we go, roaring around death-defying hairpin bends, passing the crenellated ramparts of the Moorish castle and overtaking the lumbering coach weighed down by its seat-busting cargo. And whaddya know, we're at the front of the queue for tickets and on the little tram to take us up to the Palace of Pena before most of the other tourists have squeezed off their cattle truck. Grandad is still swearing blue murder in the village below.
The palace is quite something, an OTT vision sitting proudly on a hilltop, painted walls and twisted turrets jutting upwards like some Disney castle come to life. Built in the 1840s to the specifications of Ferdinand of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, husband of Queen Maria II, with the help of German architect Baron Eschwege, it passed into public ownership in 1910 after the assassination of Carlos I and the establishment of the Portugese republic. Its exterior is breathtaking and we traipse around it taking photos as we go.
Ahead of us are six French guys. It seems Lisbon attracts a large collection of tourists from France as we hear the language spoken all over the place but these six are hilarious, loving themselves and posing for photos like there's no tomorrow, pouts and hair flicks a-go-go. So very French, so very gay!
They ooh and and aah over the interior of the Palace which is fabulously decorated, darling, and preserved with all the original furniture of the royal family, but get admonished sternly by one of the attendants.
"No photos!'" he yells pointing to the CCTV. "We have cameras to spy on you. Like Big Brother, yes?!" The pouts turn distinctly sullen.
It takes a good couple of hours to wander around and then another long wait before the sightseeing bus appears to pick us all up. With the heat of the day touching baking down and our feet killing us we decide we've done enough sightseeing and opt for a cooling drink in the village square instead.
I'm served a ridiculously tall beer while Coman opts for a vino verde, and we absent-mindedly gaze at the parade of life for a very pleasant half hour before the thundering clamour of the church bell ringing half-past four reminds us we have a train to catch.
Back in Lisbon we walk from the train station back up Avenue Do Liberdade to Parque Eduardo VII and decide to head for its uppermost point from where we get a fantastic view of the city. With so many hills and natural vantage points Lisbon spoils its visitors with panoramic landscapes that cameras can never do justice to. But we try, snapping more photos and marvelling at just how pretty the city is.
A quick freshen up at the hotel before dinner and then out we go again to Barrio Alto, wondering if Monday will prove livelier than Sunday. There's definitely a few more places open but nothing really catches our eye as we wander round. Eventually, with stomachs rumbling, we settle upon Cocheira Alentejana. What a find!
Starters of the runniest cheese and delicious cured meats are brought to the table, with a beautiful tawny port to wash it all down. This is glorious! We excitedly peruse the menu and lips salivating I order the steak in coffee sauce and Coman goes for beef in madeira. We can't wait.
The restaurant is very quirkily decorated with stuffed boar heads on the walls, farm equipment hanging from the beams, decorated plates, huge cartwheels and assorted bric a brac adorning every available space. The kitchens can be viewed through two arches in the far wall where a regiment of chefs are at work and front of house is populated by a troupe of waiters who bustle around as the place fills up.
Our main course arrives. My face drops. I don't know quite what I was expecting but my steak in coffee sauce seems to be a piece of leather swimming in a bed of cream, topped with a vat of salt. Coman fares little better being presented with a huge pile of beef and garlic that's so chewy he can hardly manage it. As he says "They knew we were coming, they've been cooking my dinner since half past two."
Being a) hungry and b) far too polite, we munch away, our arteries groaning, and look around the restaurant at our fellow diners. The table next to us has a couple with their adult son sat in silence. He spends the entire meal texting his friends while his poor parents sit there in silence. Every so often he looks up and tells then what they should be eating and then goes back to his phone, obviously far too important to actually make conversation with his progenitors.
Suddenly we notice coming through the door in a flurry of hair spray and ooh-la-la's the posse of Frenchmen from earlier. It seems nous sommes being stalked. But more intriguingly, at our
neighbouring table the young man finally perks up upon seeing the new arrivals, his interest in the phone suddenly replaced by an interest in them. A-ha, the penny drops. Mama and papa look a touch confused.
Once we finish dinner we decide to wander through the Barrio Alto to see what the bars have to offer, dodging the persistent whispers of shady fellows offering various drugs for sale. To be honest, it being a Monday night, none of the bars are exactly bustling with excitement so few hold any appeal. We choose one randomly and head inside.
It's kinda cute with sleeves of Motown vinyl framed on the wall, chillout jazz on the stereo and run by an ageing hipster who dyes both his hair and his goatee. He also makes the most outrageous mojitos, served in a pint glass, half of which is rum and topped up with so much sugar it sets my teeth on edge. They're lethal.
Coman and I sit there letting the evening wash over us and listening to two English couples in the corner discuss their absent friend's weight problem. Thank God the poor cow can't hear what they're saying, she'd be diving straight into her secret chocolate stash in misery if she could!
Tired, full and a little drunk we stagger into the warm night in search of a taxi and our bed. It's our last day tomorrow and we're determined to make the most of it.
So a good night's sleep later we check out of the hotel and take a cab over to the huge castle that sits proudly above Lisbon, gazing protectively over the river and the city. The taxi driver is impatient in the extreme and as he roars up the windy, confusing back streets that lead up towards Castel de Sao Jorge blowing his horn with ever-increasing, but utterly pointless, urgency.
The castle is worth the white-knuckle ride though, a splendid and sprawling edifice that houses grand walls, imposing towers, magnificent cannons, cool courtyards and beautiful flowers. It also provides yet more vistas from which to appreciate the beauty of the city.
Our walk down from the Castle takes us past the no.28 tram route and on through the cute little backstreets of the Alfalma district, festooned with tinsel and lights for a party to come later in the week.
It seems everything is on offer in the maze of Lisbon's streets as a man approaches us with a fistful of hash, trying to force it upon us, while over at the next street corner a rent boy lounges provocatively, stubbing out a cigarette before picking up a punter and accompanying him to a nearby bar. We pick up a pretty little painting instead which for just 12 Euros will make a charming souvenir of our visit.
On we meander towards the Se, Lisbon's cathedral, a building which sits claustrophobically close to its neighbours, lacking the grand plazas usually afforded such places of worship. It's also strangely unadorned on the inside, lacking the lavish decoration so usual in great Catholic houses.
By now we're back in the Baixa district we explored on Sunday afternoon and it's time for lunch. All along the Rue Augusta are open air restaurants and we stop at a few to check out their offerings, but they're all either serving typical tourist nonsense of hamburgers and fries, illustrated on multi-lingual menus, or so ridiculously over-priced that we refuse to part with our cash.
Finally just by the Rossio we stumble upon the best restaurant of our visit. The tiled and cooling
environs of Leao d'Ouro restaurant, which has been serving since 1842, are a refined and beautiful place for us to spend an hour out of the intense afternoon heat. It also serves a wonderful lunch special of just 8 Euros a head for fish so we tuck into fabulous salmon and sea bass, washed down with a fabulous vino verdhe all for 25 quid. Bargain.
Our last hour is spent drinking coffee and just a little more vino at an al fresco cafe on the Rossio itself, idly watching the promenade of tourists and locals passing by, reflecting on how much we've enjoyed Lisbon. It's been the perfect end to a marathon three week expedition for me, and after this little interlude with Coman I feel refreshed and raring to get back to normality.
We raise a glass to good fortune and the next big adventure whatever that will be...
