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Published: July 14th 2006
Port Barges
Boats that used to be used to take the Port down riverPhotos still to come...
Porto - it´s not like we wanted to be charitable after the football
Given that Spain to Portugal is an international journey, we checked at least three times whether we needed to reserve our seats. We were reassured on all those occasions that it really wasn´t necessary. Once we were on the train I could see why. A three carriage local service and about as basic as it gets.
Luckily the views more than made up for it. We hugged the coast for long sections of the trip, and the difference between La Coruña´s ugliness and the pretty low scale development in the north of Portugal was immediately apparent. Lovely little white houses dotted the coast, with not a single multi-story block in sight. I´d always assumed that Portugal was Spain´s poor cousin, but I was rapidly having to reassess that opinion…
Once we´d arrived in Porto, we decided life would be much nicer if we caught a cab to our Pensáo. And it was at that point, that we suddenly both realized, that for the first time, we were in a country where we knew none of the lingo, and couldn´t
rely on the fact that most of the population would speak perfect English (ie Netherlands). This fear seemed borne out once we´d arrived at our Pensáo, where the woman on the desk spoke no English, and we ended up in a room the size of a shoebox, four flights up, without a lift, and with a bed that Daren´s feet hung half a foot off the end of. But the promise of port and vinho verde somehow helped get us out amongst it.
Neither of us quite knew what to expect of Porto. As it turned out, we are going to struggle not to gush. It´s hard to put a finger on what we liked so much. Porto is so picturesque, hugging the steep sides of the River Douro and the hills that climb up beyond it. The river frontage has been designated a World Heritage Area, and the elegant but ramshackle and well worn buildings, covered in washing and Portugal flags certainly justify this. Many of the buildings are entirely covered in beautiful tiles. Some of the churches and other important buildings have entire walls covered in tile murals. The steep winding alleys between the buildings promise adventure
and surprises. And frequently deliver. The steepness of the town offers loads of opportunities for views, which make the red roof tiles such a real feature.
Maybe we liked Porto because we managed to fit three Port Lodge tours (Offley, Sandeman and Ferreira) and tastings into a single afternoon. And we discovered Porto Branco - white port - which may end up removing dessert wine from its very high spot in our affections.
In fact, we took our interest in all things Port to the extent that we took a train journey down the Douro river to the area where the grapes used for Port are grown. This was a serious miscalculation. It was hot in Porto - let´s call it 25 - 30º. The journey took two hours. The airconditioning consisted of open windows, which only served to move the hot air around. We had plastic seats. It was a very basic train. For the last half and hour or so, we hugged the edge of the river and got wonderful views of the percariously located vineyards. Then we arrived in Regua which was fully 10º hotter than Porto. We had two hours to kill before the
Dom Luis I bridge, Porto
Almost every building behnd the bridge is a Port lodge next train back. And it was too hot to do anything. And there wasn´t anything to do anyway! So we drank white port. Obviously.
In fact, given our focus on food to date, we shouldn´t be as fond of Porto as we are. We had pretty average food experiences. And we had one BAD food experience. Francesinha. Now please bear with us on this, but we have to warn you about particular local speciality. Because it must be some kind of joke perpetrated on tourists. Either that or it was invented by a very lazy 17 year old who had just left home and never learnt to cook and who then managed to con an entire town into liking it.
Having spent considerable time reverse engineering the meal we think the recipe must go like this:
Take one piece of white bread. Toast it. Then put lots of ham on it. Now put some cheese on that and melt it. Put this in the bottom of a round dish (one of those rustic brown tapas dishes for preference). On top of the cheese place a large handful of sliced chorizo sausage. Set this aside for a moment,
and quickly sear a piece of steak. Once cooked this should be placed on top of the chorizo. Take a second slice of white bread and some cheese. Toast these. Put this on top of the steak. Sprinkle liberally with pre cooked prawns. Now for the piece de resistance. Pour hot tomato soup over the whole lot. And serve with a fried egg on top.
We kid you not. We can't talk about it without feeling sick.
Lisbon - Familiarity in an unfamiliar place
We caught the alfa pendular train from Porto to Lisbon. Even though we had to pay, it was worth it. Very plush indeed. The onboard display showing speed and temperature had us rivetted as we watched it move towards and then blast through 200km/hr.
We'd arranged to meet Abbie's parents for a few days in Lisbon. And feeling confident in our now well developed travelling skills, we'd booked a Pensao that we thought would be up to the job for all of us. But when it came to finding it, we got completely lost. We were over an hour late, and only found it because we bumped into Pat
Porto
We just loved this place and Ian in the street. Still, we blame our Lonely Planet guidebook. The map was wrong. We swear...
After dropping off bags and freshening up, we headed out for lunch, then the rather light on information opentop bus tour. But it did have the benefit of taking us to Belem, which is famous for its custard tarts (Pasteis negra??). At last, food that ranked up there with the best French or Spanish cuisine. Yum, warm, oozing custard in slightly salty flaky pastry... We had to have a little rest afterwards to get over how good they were.
Dinner, by chance, was at a bar that was showing the race for third place in the Football World Cup. Watching Football in another country while their team is playing is a slightly odd experience. You feel you should be supporting the locals, but when they get beaten by the Germans 3-1 its tough to feel sorry for them. And they have Ronaldo. Still, the rather enjoyable tapas made things easier (oops, that's Spanish food, isn't it?) and lots of vinho verde to accompany it.
The following day we took the train (and the kids - sorry Pat and Ian)
Us, 6 glasses into our tasting...
I don't know why we're so orange, and why does Daren look so camp? to Sintra, a small hilltown overlooked by fabulous mansions and fairytale castles. Lots of uphill walking but a few degrees cooler than Lisbon. We ohhhed and aaahed over all the prettyness, had a lunch break, and then headed up to the rather bizarre and eccentric Quinta del Regalia. This is a large mansion house and huge gardens, built about 100 years ago by a rather wealthy capitalist (I think that translates to businessman). It's an amazing place, with the house decorated by an architect still firmly stuck in the renaissance. The whole house was full of twizzels, and pretty bits and details and general fluff. Highly decorated - that's what we mean! Then gardens are huge and heavily landscaped with follies, faux grotto, a chapel, a theatre etc. But the best bit was the leaflet that we were handed on entry. It explained how the gardens had been designed with various famous philsophies in mind and that as we moved up the garden we would feel 'the ascent of our minds to higher and greater planes of reality'. Or something like that. I'll make sure I have it with me next time we write so I can quote you some
more because it was truly hilarious.
The parentals were slowly melting so they headed back to base, but we were determined to visit the 1,000 year old moorish castle that had been brooding over us on the hilltop all day. A brisk 40 minute uphill walk along a wooded (and very rocky) path took us to the huge toothy walls. And then inside onto the ramparts and the most incredible views. The Atlantic Ocean on two sides and Lisbon away on the horizon too (though it was hard to make out through the haze, or should I say, smog). We could see lovely Sintra nestled down below us, and all the posh mansions hidden away behind large screens of trees were ours for the perving.
So bye bye to Lisbon, and goodbye to Pat and Ian who were off to go canal boating in Belgium.
Tavira - Uh oh - this is the Algarve!
Our final destination in Portugal is Tavira, hyped by the guidebook as being on the Algarve, having a good beach, but not being too touristy. Sounded like our thing, and we were getting desperate to find somewhere cool (ie the
View from the train, Douro Valley
This is where the good stuff grows ocean) to escape the heat. We also had loads of admin (washing, internet etc) to do, and we needed somewhere without too much sightseeing demanded of us.
And we got exactly that. We had a really lovely day on the beach. White sand. Lots of beautiful people with perfect tans. Not too many people (though quite a lot by any kiwi girl's standards), clear blue green water.
Seville - we do know it's not in Portugal
From Tavira we bussed to Seville (in Spain). Because we only figured out once we got to Tavira that there wasn't a train to Seville. Not our most brilliant strategic move...
It's going to be hard to be nice about Seville. It was about 40 degrees in the shade, Daren got a tummy bug, our room was like a sauna and the noisiest place we have stayed yet. So you'll understand if we don't enthuse.
We visited Cordoba from there, and really enjoyed visiting the Mezquita. This is a building that was originally a visigothic Cathedral. Then when the Moors took over the Iberian peninsula they bought the site for a Mosque, and built the most breathtaking, awe
Our Train info
Especially for the spotters out there... inspiring building with 1200 plus columns holding up red and white striped arches. Then after the Reconquest (the Christians getting everything back) it was used as a Cathedral and Cathedral (the Coro) bits were built in it and on it. As a result it's a bit of a weird place with obvious Muslim architecture and Christian art. But the effect of all those wonderful columns and arches is impossible to really diminish. Learning about the Mezquita was a real insight into the sometimes violent battles for domination of what is now Spain by Islam and Christianity.
Back in Seville, we visited the Alcazar, which is basically the royal palaces. It's a hodge podge of styles, what with various royals having to leave their mark, but the most beautiful parts are those built in the Mudejar style (Moors under Christian rule). Delicate, colourful carvings, with keyhole shaped doorways. The decorative style is very different to what we get in the West because Islam doesn't allow the depiction of humans or animals, so you get a lot of script and geometric patterns. Hopefully we'll have some good photos so you get an idea of what we are talking about.
Ab
- I went off to visit the huge Cathedral of Seville on my own because Daren has had enough of churches and still had a dodgy belly. It is huge. Arguably bigger than St Pauls or St Peters in cubic size. Another site adopted from what was a Mosque. What makes it special is its height and the huge columns used to hold up the very distant roof. Also Christopher Columbus's remains are here. It's bell tower, the Giralda, was built by the Moors for the call to prayer. It's also huge and had very good views over the city.
Sorry Seville - we wanted to like you, and you had lots of pretty bits, but it was just too hot. So we're going to go off to Morrocco now (today is the 14th July) which will surely be cooler(?). Our target is Marrakech, via the overnight train. A few days there (if we can suffer the heat and the hassle), then another couple in possibly Fez or Casablanca. Then back to Europe and the south coast of Spain, our aim is Granada.
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