The sun was shining brightly when we woke up, but the air was brisk. It was fresh though... Until we opened the bathroom door. The "poop smell", as the ever-mature Alisa calls it, was definitely coming from in there.
Breakfast was a delicious spread of some typical foods (runny scrambled eggs, bacon), some interesting foods (spicy sausage, slices of ham and cheese), and some delicious foods (spread of bread, Nutella, homemade jams and sauces).
The view out to the Atlantic wasn't too shabby either. We went out on the balcony to take it all in, but it was too brisk to eat out there.
The weather helped us decide - to Bathalya!
This second monastery in our UNESCO World Heritage site trio was here. The Monastery of Saint María was a Gothic monolith in the middle of a small town. The bright sun threw the intricate lacy stonework into deep contrast. We entered through the side of the church, which Rick thought was gloomier than the last.
We disagree. The stained glass windows surrounding a warmer church with a lot more people and a sunnier day definitely could have been the difference for us though.
Off to the side in the rear of the church was the Founders' Chapel. King João I and Philippa were lying side by side in the center of the octagonal stone room. Their story is much nicer than that of Pedro and Inês (his father and mother). João had conquered the Spanish with help from the English, so he was told to marry Philippa. He tried to dodge it by using his vow of celibacy since we was a Grand Master of the Order of the Cross. Taking refuge in a monastery didn't work (or maybe it was the mistress that he brought with him), and he ended up marrying the already twice-royally rejected Philippa. (Two other kings had already turned her down.)
She is my new hero though. And those kings are stupid. Educated by Chaucer and John Wycliffe, but also compassionate as she raised his mistress' children, she encouraged Henry the Navigator (her son) to do his thing. It was the early 1400s and the Golden Age of Portugal had arrived.
Besides the king and queen on center stage, there were also a few of their kids around the perimeter. Henry the Navigator, then another prince that was captured and died when the ransom of a city wasn't paid, and a regent for the next king, Alfonso.
This monastery was a bit different from the others with its military significance. Their Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is guarded by the ministry. While we were in there, a group of offers were pacing off steps for something. I was amused by the ceiling; its star center was so difficult to construct, only prisoners sentenced to death would be tasked to work on it after it collapsed twice. However, it made it through the 1755 earthquake!
A museum of military objects was nearby, but the sunny, green cloister was much more engrossing. This one's fountain had goldfish in it - probably a recent development.
We circled around the exterior to get to the unfinished chapel. The round room has Duarte (Philippa and João's son) and his wife laying in a cubby around the edge. He died young, before completing the chapel, and his future family decided to make the door prettier instead of putting a roof on it.
I love the open air idea. It had a very different feel than the covered and finished chapel for Philippa et al.
We set up a group picture in the front of the ornate entrance to the church (while an old, ragged guy in a bike was confused as to what was happening and nicely waited for the minute of running back and forth). With a bit of money left in the parking meter, we went shopping.
We've been seeing rooster ornamentation in all the shops, but this was the first to finally tell us a story about a man incorrectly accused of murder and sentenced to die. He said "as surely as I'm innocent will that cock crow" as he pointed to a roasted rooster on the magistrate's table.
And sure 'nough, it crowed, and he was cut down and saved.
There's also been a lot of tile and cork. Portugal uses tile to keep itself cool in the summer. It transitioned from an interior necessity to an interior and exterior art form. "Carpet tiles" are a tiled pattern that repeats across a whole wall or area; others just have large scenes painted across many tiles. The colors are primarily blue and yellow, with some red. I think they are beautiful.
Portugal is the world's biggest cork producer, and they milk that in the tourist shops. Things we've seen made of cork: shoes, bags, hats, ties, earrings, necklaces, bracelets, pencils, magnets...it's impressive.
With the day starting to grow warmer, we turned around and made our way back to Nazaré. We drove along the beachfront before heading straight up hill for parking. We grabbed all of our beach gear (swimsuits, books, sunscreen) and stopped by Mr. Pizza on the way to grab a beach "picnic."
Along with our yummy vegetariana pizza (one of the easier things to find as vegetarian), we got some sort of pink bubbly wine. While we were waiting, there were two pastelerias next door, so I went searching for some pastel de feijão. The first one didn't have the white bean pastry, so I bought some natas. The second one did have some, so I bought the "fay-zhou".
We walked the two blocks to the beach, found a raised stage, and spent the next few hours eating pizza, drinking our wine, eating our pastries, reading, blogging, and napping. It was a balmy 75, and perfect for sunning yourself.
Some construction workers came up to the stage and started taking off the back boards, and we continued to lay there and watch them for a while before determining it was time to get some sand between our toes.
We packed up again, and headed the next 50 yards to the actual surf (maybe it was low tide, or maybe it's just a wide beach). Some local teens were jumping around in the waves, but after hot warm it was in the sun, the water was way to cold to even sustain wading in.
We were playing our usual game of "pose in front of the pretty background" (there's a reason Alisa's camera has over two thousand pictures on it), and I asked a gentleman to take a group picture for us. There was some French being tossed around, but we finally determined he was German, and I got made fun of again for finding another German man to talk to.
It had been a while since the bottle of wine was finished, and walking on the sand was a workout, so we hiked back to some hole-in-the-wall to use the bathrooms... And grab a glass of vinho verde, a young white sparkling wine from the very north of Portugal.
As the sun was past its prime, it was an easy decision to put our beach gear back in the car and head up to Sítio, the section of the city up a funicular from beachfront Nazaré.
The fun train-up-a-hill started in a building in some random back streets, then continued up and through a tunnel and into a tiled, cobbled-stoned neighborhood.
The city square had a church that we popped in. A painting near the entrance told to story of Mary appearing to a man that was so engulfed in his deer hunt he nearly followed his deer over the edge of a cliff. The deer did not get the same life-saving treatment.
The church had a black Mary statue that was hidden in the rocks nearby while the Islamic Moors had control of this area. Some beggars and some tile work and this church was cute and similar to many others.
We headed down to the arm of Nazaré-Sítio that holds the lighthouse. It is a wall of cliffs on the Nazaré side; the north side is a bit more of a gentle slope down to the undeveloped north beach.
The cliffs were gorgeous from the Nazaré beach, but now they were gorgeous and exciting!
Alex was less than thrilled with the decisions Alisa and I made to climb around on them, but the most annoying part was a RV full of Germans started telling her how stupid we were for going out on a ledge.
Both of us were aggravated that they were making Alex uncomfortable and painting her as an accomplice when she was just letting us make our own choices - which had nothing to do with what those Germans thought was smart or safe.
We hiked downhill to the lighthouse, then walked down some stairs on the outside to reach nearly the point of the outcropping.
Another couple was sitting and enjoying the fresh air near us, and I volunteered to take a picture. In their limited English, they said their phones were dead, so they didn't get any pictures of the gorgeous beaches and ocean.
I didn't want to accept that, so we took a picture, got their email, and Alisa sent it to them later that night. We were memory enablers.
We had a bit of a discussion with them. The woman was from Porto, and she didn't think that the Douro Valley was very pretty. I was a bit concerned, but figured it would be a good next stop regardless.
We hiked up the steep street back to Sítio. In the square were about three or four carts of dried fruit, nuts, and seeds and an old, plump, traditionally dressed lady selling them and beating off the seagulls with a long stick. Each cart we passed handed us free samples of cashews or a dried piece of fruit, but we weren't going to buy and continued walking to the pedestrian street behind the houses along the cliffside.
Sadly, it isn't barnacle season, so we couldn't try those tasty treats.
We found a pretty view, but there was a man taking some pictures where we wanted to pose. We stood for a while, waiting, while he maybe attempted a million pictures of the seagulls that were cruising on the currents by the cliffs? Regardless, we had almost given up by the time he left, but got our shot. Which I'm sure will actually just blend in with our hundreds of other pictures of us and different seaside backgrounds.
We continued the pedestrian path until the funicular, then headed down for sunset.
Yesterday's was up in the hills behind Nazaré. Now we were near the beach.
As sunset was finishing, I wanted to stop by some restaurants to see if they had any vegetarian options before hopefully getting some time to chill at the hotel.
Well, with some GPS and address complications, it took a while to get to the two places (which didn't have anything posted, so we assumed nothing vegetarian.) We went back to the hotel, where I found a hotel restaurant that looked good. By that point, it was nearly 10, so there wasn't much of a break (no one got to shower) and we were still a bit frazzled from the previous driving experience. And while I wasn't hungry yet, Alisa and Alex were ready.
So we drove down to Hotel Maré. And then accidentally drove past it and found Hotel La Mar and assumed it was the same thing.
They pointed us in the right direction. We circled and saw it, then circled again to find parking.
When we got to the front desk, I got the news that threw my whole plan out of whack. They were closed.
I was so angry, frustrated, disappointed - I was trying so hard to find a place that we all could have a good dinner, and I was being thwarted at every f-ing turn. I got if-Alisa's-camera-wasn't-in-my-purse-I-would-have-thrown-it mad. I kicked a concrete pole. I hate having to make Alex uncomfortable with fish, or essentially making all of us have to settle because the place serves Western or tourist food.
Alisa and Alex handled my meltdown well. And we had fish (mine was sea bass) and wine and a pineapple soaked in port for dessert. And chocolate mousse. It was a double-dessert kind of night.
And you know what? It worked just fine.
And just because I still had my swimsuit on (and Alisa suggested it), I jumped in the freezing ocean.
(Less cold now that there wasn't a difference between the hot sun and the surf? Or the adrenaline and the 100 yard dash to the water over sand.)
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