Steep roads - April 8, Nazaré, Tomar, Coimbra, Aveiro, and the Douro

 We had a lot to fit in: our final UNESCO monastery, the university town, and maybe the Venice of Portugal before arriving at the estate we were staying at. 

We were at breakfast right around when it opened. Nazaré's breakfast buffet was a great spread, so one (maybe two) croissants with Nutella later, we were sufficiently buzzed to check out and get to Tomar on the hill. 

The receptionist was not the best this time around. I had here call to try to get us a tour of Quinta de la Rosa the next day, but she kept asking when and for how many and how many nights we were staying there... It ultimately never went through, which I suspected. Also, the computer was starting up very slowly, so a room I had already paid for (and really should've just left the key for) took ten minutes of waiting. Though the signs above the reception desk were hilarious to try to decipher. The pictographs in Portugal have been overall excellent. 

We packed up our VW and drove to Tomar. It was a green town in small dip in the foothill, with a winding route up to outside the monastery walls. 

Tomar housed the Knights Templar, so all of the pop culture that increased their mystique recently increased our tendency to explore.

First we circled the gardens, then up the wall to some of the turrets.

 By the time we got back to the front door, a group of Chinese tourists had arrived as well. Selfie sticks galore!

There were three different cloisters, with halls between each, then a monk dormitory on the top floor. There were at least four floors, and we needed to walk every step of all of them. 

The monastery had come together in some pieces, with the most odd being the Manueline (the king who rebuilt after the earthquake, I think) window. A couple floors had been cut off to make space for it, so the cloister just had this outjutting with a giant window in it. 

There was also a chapter room (housing) that was roofless. They ran out of desire to finish it, so when they did a royal ceremony in there once, they put sails over it as a temporary roof. 

There were rooms for bedrooms, rooms for studying, rooms for eating, rooms for guests to stay in. It's really hard to imagine the cold stone walls actually holding life. 

After we paced back and forth, slowly circling down, I had cold feet (literally) and we stopped for a coffee, tea, and hot chocolate break for Alisa, Alex, and I respectively. 

We popped back in the car as more trickles started, and found our way to Coimbra. We pulled in to what Rick Steves said was a free lot, but this guy directed us to a spot and waited while we finished parking. We asked how much and he kinda shrugged. Then we figured out he was just a guy looking for tip. The euro we gave him was really just insurance that he didn't break into our car.

Finding restaurants where Alex can eat well has been hard, so we did some research for Coimbra. As I said, if the biggest university town in Portugal doesn't have a vegetarian restaurant, then there's no hope for the country. 

We followed the odd directions to a very cold, sterile mini-mall that will soon be in a wonderful location as Coimbra builds up their waterfront a bit more. 

We went up one floor, then, remembering the translation ("second floor" means "second floor after the ground floor"), went up again to find a small cafeteria with trays of wonderful smelling entrees. 

We were given the grand tour of the menu by a very enthusiastic server, pointing out the ingredients, bringing an asparagus out to show us when he didn't know the name, and telling us how it is all vegan as well. 

That lunch was freaking delicious. Warm, homestyle food piled high, with a lemon thyme tea and a bean soup. 

With that nourishment, we were off to walk up the pedestrian central of the old part of town. An annoying light drizzle had begun, so we didn't dally getting to the church at the end of the  street. 

I think this church was one of the most moving moments of the trip. We walked in and walked right into a group standing around the church singing haunting old hymns. 

The majesty of the church, the rumbling bass of the male voices that were nearer to us and the heavenly echoes of the entire choir - it was breathtaking. Overall, not a remarkable church, but a remarkable experience.

The rain was still falling as we walked up and passed through the market building on the way to their elevator/funicular combo.

A glass elevator took us up halfway, then a tram finished up the trip. 

The windy street up to the university center had students all over - really, all of Coimbra had students all over. We saw our first black cape - instead of just being the quirky thing it is in the US, the capes were actually proudly worn by the freshmen at a welcoming ceremony and continued to be worn after. It was a sort of uniform that means that the students' background isn't revealed - an equalizer. 

Also along the way was a fraternity house with a skull and crossbones, as well as many graffitied political statements. These "pirates" are one of the many collectives where a groups of students live together and share meals. Like our frats back home, different houses have different reputations. 

We reached the Iron Gate, but it was covered for remodeling. Our ticket had a specific time we could enter the library, so we looked at the church first. 

It was smaller - still had plenty of ornamentation, including some great tiles and a renaissance altarpiece. You can only get married in it if you are an alum though!

We walked through the drips to the library. The door stays closed so as to decrease the amount of humid air let in. There was a sign with the next entrance (ours) and a group gathering around it.

The massive doors opened right at 4:40, and we walked into a trio of high ceilinged rooms with the knowledge of world as of the 1800s. It was two stories of shelves, ornate wood tables with inlaid mother of pearl, and tiles and painted ceilings of the Renaissance style. 

I surreptitiously took some pictures. No flash so I didn't hurt the books, but not exactly allowed...

Really, it was like an ancient version of the dream room in Beauty and the Beast. Actually, quite a bit of this trip has been seeking out fairytale locations. Castles, stone walls, little villages.

But back to the university. The books can be used for their original purpose, but by scholars with some previous permission. It wasn't quite the student hangout that the library was at CMU though. Also, no nap pod. 

We exited downstairs to a jail of some kind that was never fully described. Following signs labeled "Academic Prison" was amusing though. Gave the easy one-liner of "my college career was an academic prison."

We next went to the Grand Hall. The academic ceremonies all take place here, and it had a viewing balcony that we got very wet while walking (balancing) along.

With the rain still coming, but the pedestrian street not far away, we decided to brave the steep slopes and slippery cobbled streets to get down there. 

We passed a church that had some importance. I have no idea now why, and we didn't go inside. Instead, we got some - you may have guessed - pastries and coffee. 

Of course, the second we sit down inside, the rain stops. It was some good people-watching as we dried off a bit. Trendy students, other tourists, and a few randoms inbetween.

We finished up by the pedestrian main street after walking down a now staircase path called the road of ribs, because that's what it was originally made of. 

I didn't think that the quinta (estate) we were staying at in the Douro Valley had breakfast, so Alex and Alisa grabbed some pastries while I set the GPS to Quinta de Marrocos. 

Well, not entirely. We didn't have to be there until 11, and there was "the Venice of Portugal" that was only slightly off the path. So we swung by there.

It wasn't really worth it. We saw a canal with parked gondolas, then drove to a park in the middle of a residential area because it looked like it could be interesting (and wasn't).

I got stuck up a super skinny street, so did a super K turn (it was like a K turn if K had another line coming out of it). Then, after our unsuccessful meandering, there was a Telepizza and a parallel parking spot right near it. Bingo - dinner time. 

The parking spot was pretty long, but on an uphill curve. I started great - rear wheel by their bumper, full turn of the wheel, back, wheel the other way, continue back...

Somewhere in the process, I might have hopped the curb. And I was perfectly parallel to the car in front of me?

It was a good belly laugh before a pretty good dinner. Camembert bites were yum!

And back on the road. It was dark and windy, and a little drizzly. We were pretty alone on the road. There was a grocery store on the way that we attempted to stop at, but it was closed. And I drove through a tube to try to get back to the highway... And drove back through it when Alisa got (rightfully) sketched out by the next road that Garmin wanted us to take. 

We found the sign, then turned up a really high, sharp driveway. (This was the beginning of a trend for the next two days.) We knocked on the door of the house at the top as a giant dog greeted us - and happy, talkative Caesar answered the door!

He let us into our suite of rooms, which was a separate little house across the tiled patio. It was old fashioned eclectic - yarn rugs over the wood floor, a weird porcelain basin in the front hall, metal bed frames, and a comfy couch facing a oddly furry trunk. 

We strolled down to his little shop to grab a bottle of wine before bed. It was both a great and a very time-consuming decision. Caesar had a captive audience, so he told story after story. All of them centered around marrying rich and moving to Portugal. His crazy neighbor was the center of one of them - married into a rich American family, started the cruises along the Douro, got a divorce, but is still close because they have a son that will inherit it all. Then one about a trio of friends that were all in school together, then all got rich and married and spent their thirtieth anniversary of meeting drinking through the Douro. I know there was at least one more story, but I walked toward the door at one point, and he said "Oh, you must want to go to bed", then regaled us with more stories. 

It was awfully endearing. When we finally tore ourselves away, We just hung out in our little house, drinking and talking until the wee hours. 

Stone and sand - April 7, Bathalya and Nazaré

We have been waking up to alarms every morning, which is fine. We've packed in a lot (and will continue to do so!) which means that there is just enough sleep to keep us awake for the interesting stuff (and the three-person car situation means that there can be a napper in the back).

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.)