I have just spent the last 10 days touring with friends. I’ve been fine tuning my itinerary and my “camp mother” tips…
10 days is not enough! You will not be able to see the whole country without wasting large amounts of time travelling. And this is my Tour Golden Rule #1: spend as little time in the car (or other transport) as possible. You should commit yourself to either the north (north of Porto), the south (south of Lisbon) or central Portugal. This is the central Portugal tour. Well, more or less, because I include Braga, because it´s worth the exception.
Tour Golden Rule #2 is to spend lots of time relaxing and eating. Even with your dearest friends or family it can be hard to gauge just how many churches/museums/goats they want to see… but exhaustion is rarely on anyone´s wish list. Don´t rush them, they are trying to chill out.
Keeping visitors well fed and watered is essential, and Portugal makes this task easy provided you keep an eye on the time. Try to start lunch between 1pm-2pm and dinner between 8-9pm. Getting fed during these hours is guaranteed anywhere, outside these hours you can´t make assumptions. Fortunately tostas mistas, pastéis de nata and café are generally available at all times in an emergency. These disciplined meal times allow you space for morning and afternoon tea as pastries and coffee are a cultural obligation.
We start in Porto and finish in Lisbon. Arranging your flights and transport this way conforms with Rule #1. But whether you start with Porto or Lisbon is up to you.
Day One : Porto
I´ve been sworn to secrecy about the best hotel bargain in all of Portugal, suffice to say you can live royally in Porto and blow away your guests with extravagance, for a mere €83 (triple). After this, unfortunately, nothing else compares. Start hunting now… “Castelo” is your keyword.
Porto has too much to do in just one day… but here´s a bunch of the best: Ribeira district, Bolhão market, Palaçio da Bolsa, São Bento train station and Igreja do Carmo for azulejos, Café Majestic and Leitaria Quinta do Paço for refreshment, Porto Paixão for shopping. The top museum is the Museu do Arte Contemporânea, in a modern Alvaro Siza building and surrounded by gardens. And of course, there is port tasting.
For dining, head to the Ribeira district. The many restaurants range from rustic to fine dining. Take a wander and find your own.
Day Two: Braga
My favourite hotel and restaurant in all of Portugal are in Braga. Hotel Francfort is on the main square. I go there for the furniture, not the plumbing, and for €15 a head no one complains.
The restaurant is Taverna Felix and I recommend you book ahead. They are full every night because their food is fantastic. Leave room for dessert.
In Braga you shouldn´t miss Café Brasileira, the cobbled old town, or a glimpse of the cathedral, the oldest in Portugal. But really you come to Braga to see the Bom Jesus do Monte, a crazy baroque staircase located 5 mins out of town. Take the funicular.
Day Three: Coimbra with a stop at the Palaçio do Busaco
A visit to the Palaçio has been a nice diversion in the past but I don´t think I´ll bother again. It´s a stunning piece of architecture, nestled in a national park, but the €5 entry fee to the park and the bad attitude of the hotel staff when we wanted to have afternoon tea has turned me off. I suppose the time has come when the hotel is sick of tourists, and if they can genuinely afford to turn punters away, then good luck to them.
Coimbra´s personality is dominated by the university, one of the oldest in Europe. A walk around the steep maze of streets in the old centre is a must and it´s best at night. It´s dotted with cool bars where you can mix it with the young people until the wee hours. The Baixa area is full of inexpensive restaurants and hotels. The outstanding sight in Coimbra is the Biblioteca Joanina, don´t miss it. Café Santa Cruz is an excellent place for people watching and for free fado on a Friday or Saturday night.
Day Four and Five we spent at my house… so here are some other suggestions because I can´t put you all up. You could stay in Coimbra two nights and visit the roman ruins at Conimbriga. There´s an excellent restaurant at the ruins too, with more spectacular desserts, mark my words. Suggestion two is Tomar, or Santarem. If the people like Batalha (see next) then you could also take them to Alcobaça, and Leiria is also good for a feed, or a shop or another castle. If you need a nature fix, go to Lousã, where you can stay at the excellent youth hostel or the adorable palaçio, or a least eat at A Condessa. From Lousã you can walk in the mountains and visit the Aldeias do Xisto. Only two days to fill, and too many suggestions.
Day Six: Nazaré with a stop in Batalha
“A Giant Hairy Spider” is how I describe the UNESCO-listed monastery known as Batalha. There is nothing else to do here, but with a monument this awesome, you need no distractions. The best café is located perpendicular to the cathedral towards the man on the horse.
The best part of Nazaré, apart from the beach, is O Sitio. Hang around near the cliff walk and you´ll be approached to rent rooms, hopefully by Dona Berta, as we were. One knockout bargain two bed apartment (€70) with views, thank you very much. For unforgettable garlic prawns head for Vista A Mar, the first restaurant on the way to the lighthouse (Farol).
Still in O Sitio, visit the tiny chapel called Hermida da Memoria, and then take the funicular down to the beach. Past the restaurant strip at right angles to the sea there are impressive pastelarias. The beach has very photogenic tents in the summer and a large fish drying camp, with some very tolerant local oldies waiting.
We were loving Nazaré, with our enviable apartment and gorgeous weather, so we stayed another night and on the second day did a day trip to Obidos. Obidos is more touristy than most places in Portugal, but it is very cute nonetheless. Get off the main path and you can avoid the bus tour groups. Up on the miradouro is a quiet, leafy and groovy bar.
Day Eight: Caldas da Rainha.
I love Caldas, where the daily main-square market, the park, the Bordalo Pinheiro museum and factory shop are on the agenda. In Caldas I love the Residencial Central and Café Central.
Day Nine: Lisboa to stay, with stops in Sintra and Mafra
The Palaçio Naçional de Mafra showcases the obscene spending of Dom João V. It´s a massive place with some lovely baroque living quarters, an interesting hospital and kitchen for the monks and a stunning royal library. But don´t miss the town of Mafra itself. There are more than a few quality pastelarias and good restaurants.
Then it´s onto Sintra which has a choice of castles to visit. My number one here is the Palaçio de Pena, a mockery of a royal palace designed by the royals themselves who clearly had a sense of humour. It´s camp, disney and delightful but I hope the €12 entry fee doesn´t turn you off. It´s doubled in price in 3 years. I´m all for a tourism-led-economic-recovery but… eek.
Day Ten: Lisboa
Again, it´s difficult to fit this great city into just a day. Three days might start to do it justice. Time to make the visitors commit to a return visit…
Driving around Lisbon will make you swear. Dump the car asap if you have one. Stay in a hotel that has a deal with a carpark.
For an impressive bargain hotel you need to book at least a week ahead. Try the Lisbon Lounge Hostel or look at others in Alfama, the Baixa or Bairro Alto so you´ll have atmosphere at your doorstep.
Things I call must dos: Confeitaria Naçional: coffee and pastries are the priority, naturally. Tram 28 is in all the guide books, but note that the good bit is between Estrela and Alfama. As it doesn´t pass through Praça Figueira anymore then perhaps the short round trip of the 12E is more convenient.
The 15E tram from Praça Figueira will conveniently take you to Belem, where you can have a famous pastel, see Jerónimos for free, visit the Berardo Modern Art Museum and check out the Torre de Belem.
While still on transport, I´ve always wanted to take the ferry from Cais do Sodré to Cacilhas. A relaxing 20 minutes each way and great views of Lisbon. And for more transport-for-fun, take one of the four elevadores in Lisbon and the Santa Justa lift.
I think the Gulbenkian Museum has one of best collections in the world: Calouste Gulbenkian was a fascinating person, the collection is varied, not too big and ends with a stunning Lalique jewellery collection. Or if there are 8 yr olds to impress, go to the Museu dos Coches, (coaches, as in cinderella) which, they say, is the most visited museum in Portugal.
In Lisbon you have a chance to show off some amazing interiors over dinner. We went to Casa do Alentejo and Galeto, which in my mind is the grooviest restaurant in the world. Bairro Alto is the perfect place to window shop for restaurants and bars. Alfama too is dotted with tiny authentic places, and you can’t really go too wrong.
Yeah I know, it´s all over too soon. A month next time. A year. Or the rest of your life…
Visitors are invariably impressed that every morning a little van comes by to sell us fresh bread and cakes. I guess it reminds them of the milkman who delivered daily in our childhoods. It’s a sweet, old fashioned service that trumps the idea that things were better in the old days.
We also have a frozen-things truck that comes on Fridays and a fish truck that comes on Wednesdays. Some villages have more – maybe also a veggie truck. Where I was houseminding the fish truck came three times a week, which really meant you never had to leave the house. And that’s of course why they exist. With the villages of Portugal mostly populated by old people, many of whom don’t drive, these deliveries are more like a necessity. Sure, many of them are also living out of their gardens and chicken coops, but who has sardines in their fish ponds?
It’s one of things my dad would have liked about Portugal had he been alive long enough to visit. My dad loved fish. And while he also liked to make that special, private trip to the fish shop on a Friday evening, I’m sure he would’ve been tickled pink at the sound of the truck’s horn right at his door.
I am, in any case. I love it most when I’ve forgotten it’s Wednesday, and then suddenly there are all these choices for dinner. Will it be sardines, fish soup or grilled salmon? Fish and chips? Vietnamese salt and pepper squid? Fish is so great, my dad reckoned, because you can get away with so few other ingredients. Lemon, butter, salt and pepper, bit of parsley… anything else might be superfluous for a nice piece of fish. I’m sure the Portuguese are of the same school. My neighbours almost always only buy sardines, and they are always just grilled with some garlic, salt and olive oil. They don’t even bother scaling, gutting or chopping off the head! Rustic as hell, and honestly, the way they taste straight off the coals, I wonder why I go to all the fuss I that I do.
Still, I like the versatility of fish. I like making it Asian or Italian or even Cajun. And even though the squid is only about €6 kilo, and the sardines about €3 kilo, it always feels like a bit of mid-week luxury. And the pets love it too. Once while preparing dinner, Mao and I scoffed down a whole steak of salmon, sashimi style, before it could make it into the pan. The neighbours were in shock when I told them – Raw fish?!? Vais morrer! Even The Wookie gets in on the fish guts and heads, provided I’ve fried them up with a bit of garlic and oil, bien sur.
Stuffed Squid
The inspiration for this comes from a great little Italian restaurant called La Locanda, in Clovelly in Sydney. It’s the kind of place everyone would like at the end of their street, a not-too-up-itself but good & authentic Italian bistro.
In winter (and I’m sure this is some culinary faux pas, but I don’t care, it works both ways) I swap the white wine for red, which stains the squid in a nice way when it’s cooking.
2 or 3 squid tubes per person, but it really depends on the size of them…
stuffing:
half cup rice, cooked
an onion
garlic
a carrot, finely diced
lemon zest
red capsicum, finely diced
sauce:
half tin tomatoes
cup white wine
some parsley and lemon to serve.
To clean the squid, remove the tentacles and bits from inside the body and peel off the fine skin. Cut off the head at the beak, remove the beak, being careful not to disturb the ink sac, and rinse well in cold water, but don’t leave the squid in the water or they’ll soak it up like a sponge. Chop up the tentacles and mix with all the stuffing ingredients.
I have a trick for stuffing both squid and cannelloni tubes, and it goes like this. Stick the end of a funnel into the tube, put the stuffing in the funnel and poke it through with a chopstick. Be careful when filling squid not to fill them much more than half way, as the tubes shrink as they are cooking and they’ll squeeze out their filling like they’ve vomited into the cooking pan. Not a good look.
Plop the filled tubes and any leftover stuffing into a frypan or a small oven dish and throw on the tomatoes and wine and some salt and pepper. The idea with squid (and their friends octopus and cuttlefish) is to either cook them very fast or very slowly. So, on high on the cooktop for 10 minutes, or on low in the oven (or fireplace as I do) for about 40 minutes to an hour. I prefer the slow method for the flavour.
You could serve it with a salad, but I usually have it as is. Yum.
Pan fried sardines with parmesan crust.
Tia Maria once asked me how I’d cooked my sardines the night before. Once I’d shared this slightly fiddly recipe, she just shook her head in wonder. Sardines and cheese?
First I gently scale the little fish with a steak knife, then chop off their heads and gut them. Then I flatten them out on a chopping board, sometimes removing the spine, sometimes not, depending on how big they are and how chunky the bones. Then I wash them and leave them on a tea towel to drain. I make a 50/50 mix of toasted breadcrumbs and grated parmesan (actually the powdery fine stuff is good for this because it’s dry). I rub in a crushed garlic or two, some parsley, and season it well. Then I dunk the fillets in milk or egg, or if they are still damp, nothing at all, and then dredge them in the breadcrumbs mixture. Then you pan fry them in about a centimetre of hot olive oil (or a mix of olive and vegetable oil to get the oil hot enough for a cleaner, faster fry) and serve them with a salad and lemon wedges.
If they are small sardines, they’d be great for finger food at a party as all the little bones are perfectly edible and very good for you. They are also excellent the next day in a fresh crusty roll from the bread truck.
Apparently my fish soup is all right. I like it for it’s simplicity: just a steamy bowl of broth and some clean fresh fish. This is another recipe in the Saudades for Yens category; when I´m missing the food of a great Vietnamese restaurant in Sydney. So this fish soup, while not a true Phở, has been Vietnam-ised.
for the stock:
2 leeks
a big onion
garlic a carrot and/or stick of celery, finely diced
whole black peppercorns
chopped parsley
half cup white wine or sherry (or jerupiga)
A mix of filleted fish – as in a calderada sold by the fishmonger. A mix of pink and white fleshed fish is good, and even better if there are some bones and skin still attached to the pieces.
for finishing the soup:
half an onion, finely sliced in half rounds
150g per person of rice noodles
bean sprouts
a big handful of Vietnamese mint or Thai basil, if you can get it, or instead I use a mix of coriander & mint
cut limes
a shot of fish sauce or nuoc nam
Fry up the onion, sliced leek and garlic. Throw in the rinsed fish, the carrot and peppercorns and a litre of water. Let the stock simmer gently for a hour or so. Drain off the solids, rescuing the fish pieces. Separate the flesh from the bones and return these to the pot with the drained stock and the sliced onion. Cover the noodles in boiling water and then stack the bowls with hot noodles and sprouts. Pour on the stock and fish, and serve with the lime quarter, nuoc nam and a pile of the herb greens. Yum.
This is the first in a series of Day Trips; brief reviews of some worthwhile places to visit…
What’s not to like about Tomar? It’s not too big, but has plenty to keep you busy at least for a day. Tomar is a gentle, medium sized town. It’s not glamorous but it is certainly charming. Tomar has a little bit of kitsch, a little bit of retro, a smidge of fun.
Let’s start with the gob-smacker, bound-to-bowl-you-over UNESCO World Heritage Listed Convento Do Cristo. It was the headquarters of the Knights Templar, aka the Iberian Crusaders. The knights were a religious order, but this place has a certain macho robustness that helps you remember that it was also a serious military base. Built in the 12th Century, the convento is a complex complex of courtyards, chapels and living facilities and there isn’t a single corner that’s not photogenic. My favourite bits are the stone spiral staircases of the Santa Barbara cloister leading to the terrace (where there is a top view of the gaudy and carbuncular pièce de résistance Manueline window) and the refectory; a vast dining room that would make the ultimate location for a debaucherous medieval feast-party, convent and piety notwithstanding. If you can’t get a bit of joy out of this joint then you have no imagination.
Time for a coffee, so we’ll go straight down to the corredore, the cobbled and pedestrianised thoroughfare in the old town. Café Paraiso is a classic, where the story goes that the local ladies had a seating system according to social ranking. Windows, most preferred. Toilets, least preferred. Don’t sit in Mrs Wapnobbles place or you´ll get a pastel in the face…. that sort of thing.
Also in the corredore is one of my favourite hotels in Portugal the Residencial União. It is the type of intimate, family run, character laden place that I want all guest houses to be like. Prim and proper like an English hotel but also cosy like staying at nanna’s. The dining room is so cute that I expect to see Poirot or Miss Marple reading in a corner. And it’s all genuine. They are not trying to be quaint or boutique, it’s just the authentic and stopped-in-time nature of the place. I can’t fault it. And it’s a ridiculous bargain to boot. The last I looked at their rates they hadn’t put them up in 3 years.
And now I’m going to rave about the museu dos fósforos. I would never have gone to a matchbox museum in a pink fit if it wasn’t for two funny Australians who directed me to the breasts in the chapel at Busaco (another sublime little secret of Portugal for another time) and on the strength of this tip, I listened well when they urged me not to miss this museum. And there you are: you might never imagine that the largest matchbox collection in the southern hemisphere could be so fascinating, or hilarious. The collection, belonging to the fabulously named Aquiles Da Mota Lima, is ridiculously vast, a superb snapshot of 20th century graphic arts. It is severely kitsch, and big fun.
What really lights my fire is that it’s the inverse of most museum collections. Your regular art collector wants their good taste, their wealth and their cultured intelligence to be admired through their collections. It can be all rather vulgar and pretentious sometimes. On display here is a plebeian obsession taken to the extreme. It is curious maximus. The first room is cute, the second interesting but after the third room and 20,000 matchboxes, you get the picture. This guy is nutty. The madness of it becomes slightly overwhelming – when there are still another 20,000 matchboxes to go – and the humanity so palpable that you can almost hear Mrs Da Mota Lima nagging Aquiles to get these damn bloody matches out of the house. So, don´t miss it. It’s (unbelievably) free and only open in the afternoons.
The best towns always have more than one historic café and my other hang is Estrelas do Tomar. I rate a place that does its specialities in a specially printed box and at Estrelas you can take home `kiss me quick´- Beija me depressa – little gooey custardy globs that look yummy, but frankly I just want the box. The rest of their pastries are just too darn tempting anyway, and the green tiles and matching dark tables and chairs are totally up my street. AND, very unusually for Portugal, they have a wicked tea selection, like they saw me coming.
Just as well god created the day with morning and afternoon tea. And just as well there’s lunch and dinner too because there is a lot of good food to be had in Tomar. I’m always on the look out for the side alley, small but personality-filled bistro, and the Tomar baixa is full of such treasures. My current favourite is Restaurant Piri-Piri which is a slight cut-above the usual, possible owing to its success with the house made sauce, and a very good wine list. The hosts are even more hospitable than your typical Portuguese restaurateurs. More great hosts and buckets of atmosphere can be found at Casa das Ratas and her sister-across-the-laneway Casa Matreno. They have the same short menu of tasty and satisfying fare with an interesting seasonal special or two, so you’ll just have to choose between the taverna style of the Ratas or the pink and green diner tiles of the Matreno.
Finally, when in Tomar, I never miss a visit to The Princesa. If the time is right and the weather is mild, she may just make herself available. However, The Princesa only conducts visits from her first floor window where she can look down on the people as they crane their necks adoringly. Is she not the most beautiful cat in all of Portugal?
are you talking to me?
Restaurant Piri Piri Rua Moinhos 54 T:249 313 494
Residencial União Rua Serpa Pinto 94 T:249 323 161
Pastelaria Estrelas do Tomar Rua Serpa Pinto 12/Rua Alex Cruz 13B T: 249 313 275
Café Paraiso Rua Serpa Pinto T: 249 312 997
Casa Matreno / Casa Das Ratas Rua Doutor Joaquim Jacinto 7 T: 249 315 882
Museu Dos Fosforos Av General Bernardo Faria, near the train station.
I was going to apologise for the lameness of the subject but I’ve just seen ‘primavera’ as the title for Miguel Esteves Cardoso’s column in Público today. Now I have to apologise for being so unoriginal.
But the thing is, the arrival of spring is indeed worth noting. As Sr Cardoso points out, the season of spring in Portugal is a true season, not just summer light. The charm of spring is that it definitively marks the end of the winter. OK that’s obvious, but its psychological effect is really significant. Quite suddenly this year, the sun has come out, I’m not wearing a coat and insects are everywhere. And the flowers! Spring has sprung!
That the malady named SAD (seasonal affective disorder) actually has been given a name (and what a dumb name) seems ridiculous to me. Of course winter makes you unhappy. Winter is miserable. Winter is bad for you. It’s cold, wet and dark. Winter should be renamed depressing. I concede that some things about winter can be nice, like a roaring fire, woollen scarves and hot chocolate or a warming whisky. And I do like snow, for an hour. But the rest of it totally sucks. I could tolerate winter in Sydney, because it’s not really winter, just summer again, watered down. We don’t need beanies or gloves, for instance. I hate beanies. If there are laws against wearing headscarves I think there should be laws against wearing beanies too. To me beanies represent something dangerous, oppressive and separatist. Beanies are a political statement.
And this winter has been the worst winter ever, according to my neighbours. Tia Maria says she has never seen a winter as long and cold and despicable as this one. You know it’s a bad winter when matches won’t light. This year the firelighters won’t light either. The vet told me we have had five days of sunshine since October. And not just a bad winter in Portugal either. Even the Swedes were complaining about the snow, still falling in April (just for me and the film crew). And Swedes are pretty tough.
So thank god that some buds have appeared on the bare trees at last, confirming what we were all quietly suspecting, that it’s not quite so cold as the week before. Like the trees, I’m relieved to have survived the hibernation. I’ve run out of firewood, because it’s been longer and more fierce than expected, but now I don’t have to run around after twigs like my life depended on it. The panic of basic survival is over. And that’s what the little flowers are saying: it’s not something twee or quaint or puerile: it’s time to get on living, which is not what I’ve been doing this winter.
I look around the still soggy, green-with-moss-house, and my ruin looks more ruined than ever. It seems years since I did any building work. I have watched while others continued to point and pour in the hours between showers, but up here in the mountains I just can’t see building in winter as a feasible proposition. During the multiple trips back and forth from the Tomar plains I calculated there must be five degrees difference in temperature, and if it’s cloudy down there, it’s raining up here. And it never seems to be just raining here; it’s either gusty & rainy or bucketing. Or it is just that I’ve lost my nerve? A financial beating is psychologically crushing as anyone knows: it’s an dark and omnipresent worry. Being sick is humiliating and boring, and both of these things are tangible obstacles to building work. But the winter has smothered me, like my eyes are still full of dirt from the burrow and my mind is foggy from the deep sleep of internment. My stores of incentive are as empty as my garden.
And I confess: I can see the projection that some weaker wills judge me to be. A dreamer. A procrastinator. An ingenue. HEY! STOP RIGHT THERE CAPTAIN! I only have to write those words to see how wrong there are. Moi, ingenue? Given the choice between the crotchety, tired and disappointed old woman of the winter, and a blithe virgin-of-life: I’ll take the wrinkles thanks. Young I was once, but naive I’ve never been.
If there’s SAD for winter, is there a diagnosis for spring? Is it contagious?
Goodbye winter. Good riddance. Shower me with spring rain, let me walk in compost and estrume and adubo and the sun:- shine, warm and colour me… and watch me grow a house with my hands.
