The other night I was standing outside at half past two in the morning waiting for a sick Wookie to finish tearing up the grass, stop vomiting and come inside. It was a clear, still night, cooler than usual but not yet cold. The sky was bright with the moonlight and there was complete silence except for The Wookie chewing his cud.
And there it was, from across the valley came the unmistakable call of the veado, the deer that roam the Serra da Lousã.
The One had said he’d been hearing them calling a few nights before, but I didn’t believe him – September is too early for the mating season and anyway, I had never heard them in Cú de Judas, where deer and silence were plentiful.
But sure enough, there it was again: a mooing that was not entirely sad but full of longing. A longing for deer love, I’ve no doubt.
So the following night we grabbed the cameras (The One’s new mobile phone actually, and the remaining camera of mine not destroyed by the freak wave in last week’s post) and we headed for the hills. Dusk, as all hunters know, is the best time to catch deer, and sure enough as soon as we reached the top of the Serra da Lousã the boys were braying away enough to make me sceptical once more that the sound was perhaps actually the gearing down of the wind turbines. I mean, it just couldn’t be that they could be so close, or so many of them, all calling at once.
We dropped the car and set out on foot and almost immediately I saw what could have been a Y-shaped stump of a tree. Except it was a female deer, standing very still…watching me. As I moved closer, still deerly disbelieving, I saw the male’s enormous antlers twist around and they both made a move camera left. And then they were gone. Before I’d even drawn my mju to take a shot.
certainly not a shot taken by me, no, but this is the dude I´m talking about
Well that just whet our appetites for more venison really: we spent the next hour and a half tiptoeing around the pine forest after horny mooing wildebeest, who were relentlessly just over the next ridge. Finally, in the pitch dark, without the moonlight able to penetrate the forest and the mountain’s chilling temperature dulling the spirit, I gave up. There was no way my little camera could handle the low light anyway and using the flash would be way too slow for these sprightly antelope.
Anyone who’s done a bit of wildlife pursuit will know how compelling it is. Bird watching is all very well, but there’s something very special about the presence of big animals. You feel humbled. I feel a profound respect for them. Perhaps it’s partly because I’m Australian and deer of any kind seem very exotic, but the veado of the Serra da Lousã are awesome animals. Firstly they are big, as fit and statuesque as a horse. Add two square metres of antler and you have a beast as spectacular and mesmerizing as a sighting of Pegasus.
That anyone would want to shoot the things, well, make no mistake on where I stand on hunting. In Australia, the rabbit and the fox are introduced species and destructive vermin, decimating native and engangered wildlife. Kangaroos too require culling by the million each year, and make a lovely purse or carpaccio. Hunters, and furriers of the world come on down, but leave the gratuitous slaughter of nice animals elsewhere to killer whales. Who doesn’t laugh when a hunter gets shot?
this was taken by me, and yes it is a sleeping bullwinkle in sweden
On our return home, we saw another deer crossing the road in front of us – the usual way to have a deer experience in the Serra da Lousã. They are so robust and proud an animal that, like a kangaroo, they are likely just to stand there and stare you down rather than get out the way of an oncoming vehicle. But this spotty dude, possibly a roe deer or a young red, knew we had cameras and didn’t care for posing. So he sauntered off while we mere mortals fumbled with our instruments and swore.
Still twinkling with the thrill of having just been in their presence, The One then discovered while surfing the subject that our local pub the Palácio da Lousã is running a photo competition on the very subject!!! It’s not just us who are turned on by the mating season – they are even offering tours! I doubt they’ll be giving me a sneak preview of the pictures entered so far, but maybe after the 15th November I might get access to some of the pics for the facebook page. Naturally we are now determined to win – given the prizes are accommodation and dinner at what I think is a very lovely hotel (and I already have plenty of photos to prove it).
Okay now I guess it’s time to fess up – I have moved to the other side of the mountain. Don´t panic, punters, Emma’s House in Portugal is still there, it’s not being sold or even abandoned in any permanent way. It’s just that I’ve had an offer of a flushing toilet and plumbing in the kitchen and a handsome lump in the bed… did I say lump, sorry I meant love. And who can resist a flushing toilet?
For those that remember that this is a blog about building, thank you. The absence of mortar in my hands does burn at my heart. But the Great Financial Crisis will not be told and euros have not started falling from the sky as I have wished, so therefore dramatic erections of the scaffolding kind have not materialised at Cú de Judas. Actually that’s a lie. While I’ve been waiting for sufficient funds, the neighbours have built one house, one al-fresco kitchen and dining room with views, one garage, one adega, one storage shed and some ugly furniture cut with a chainsaw from an ancient chestnut tree. While the men at my scaffolding hire place are forgetting my name, their upcoming summer holidays are being fully funded by my neighbours. Maybe I am being melodramatic about the palace next door, and maybe there is a hint of jealousy finding its way out through my ramblings. Let’s remember they have very little cash too – but these people just get on with it, really rather putting me to shame with my permissions and engineers design talk.
But don’t give up on me yet, there is a plan. I have to pick up my building licence before the end of the year or that will be the end of it. The council have been very patient but the ruin waits for no woman. One more winter of being rained upon and it will turn to soup. So a roof, at least, she will have. The dream is yet alive. Building action, albeit on a modest scale, will be resuming shortly, and I just can’t wait to get dirty again.
mao's new step-pet
And although Wookie and Mao have integrated themselves happily and I am a ga-ga with amor, I do miss my little hell hole. I liked cooking over an open fire and shopping in the garden for a meal. I miss my weirdo neighbours and their good humour and generosity. I miss my cafés and the fish truck and my routines. I miss my solitude.
On the other hand, the grass really does look greener on this side of the mountain. I’m in a stunning little village with a new cast of crazy neighbours. There’s the concelho of Lousã to show you, castles, palacetes, outdoorsy adventure and hidden local treasures to explore. It’s a whole new angle to the adventure. Stay tuned.
We learn as we go. We learn as we grow. A woman is not an island, I’ve discovered. And there’s something very grown about allowing yourself to be loved.
My life is a house
You crawl through the window
slip across the floor and into the reception room.
You enter the place
Of endless persuasion
like a knock on the door when there’s ten or more things to do
who is that calling
you, my companion
Run to the water
On a burning beach
and it brings relief
it brings relief
- ‘Nails in my Feet’, Neil Finn, Crowded House
Very exciting to have brother Nick coming for a visit but he only had 4 days – and wanted to fit in a surf or two. Crikey, mate. Actually I’m very happy as living in the mountains means I’m just a bit too far from the sea to get a regular fix, and it was about time my soul and her natural habitat were reunited.
No time to waste. Let’s get started. He arrives in Lisbon in the evening. We, of course, head directly for Confeitaria Nacional.
We have scored a bargain rate at a new 4-maybe-5 star hotel opposite Rossio Station called the Altis Avenida. Room wasn’t ready but the bar is so groovy that we forgive them, and plus the bed measures 190×200 instead of the 140×140 that apparently old Portuguese bed makers think is adequate for humans. We are totally stoked about this, so happy in fact that we don’t even get cross about the complicated parking arrangements synonymous with any trip to Lisbon.
It was a real treat for us, I will be sure to keep an eye out for a similar luxury hotel deal for future trips. By the by, I read online that they are one of the few pooch-friendly posh hotels in Lisbon. I suppose these days people like to take their pets everywhere with them. Portugal is rather pet-friendly I believe, but nothing compared to what I have heard about in North America where someone even flew with their hermit crab.
Off to dinner then. Barely 50 metres away is one of my favs, the Casa do Alentejo. Adeptly described by my friend Lawrence as a place one goes to for the tiles, not the food, the Alentejo nonetheless serves up reasonably good grub with expert service. And the surroundings are superb, whether you take the baroque ballroom, the pastoral Alentejana scenic tiles or the classic blue & white salons. Also has an antique English urinal in the Mens, worth seeing, so I’m told.
Por certo, fresh-off-the-plane brother wants fun now, so off we waddle to the Elevador do Gloria and up to Bairro Alto. As a vague memory of an outdoor rooftop bar in Bairro Alto fails to re-materialise, we momentarily find ourselves embarrassingly un-local and at a loss. But lo! Like a genie from a bottle came another memory and we huddle together ringing the bell of the Pavilhão Chinês.
Here’s what we like about Portugal, indeed about Lisboa. Anywhere else in the western world this out-of-this-world-wacky and unique über cool bar-of-the-bizarre would have been run by a 23 year old heir to a fortune coke head with supermodel sidekick and turned into the most pretentious and expensive place to swill a cider. It would have a 45-page cocktail list with distracting art nouveau girly pictures… oh actually this one really does. However, the waiters are mature and serious about their red waistcoat and bow-tie attire. The barman is from a Woody Allen film. Somehow the decor is beyond description. It has come from the terrifying mind of Luis Pinto Coelho, a collector of bric-a-brac, antiques and ephemera. Discovering that the place has been designed is a bit disappointing actually: it looks like the rooms of a person of wonderful obsession who has lived a long and varied life. Take your Dad if you have one handy.
The morning comes after what is described by The One (a new character in my life who will be introduced in due course) as the best night’s sleep of his whole entire life. Just as well because we have some serious touristing to do after breakfast. Bit of a whip-round Rossio, a gawk at the Santa Justa, the inevitable Tram 28 ride up to Castelo São Jorge and a coffee back at the Confeitaria. Top 5 essential-first-time-in-Lisbon stuff that was all mission accomplished before lunch.
But even still before lunch we made my first ever visit to the Museu Nacional Do Azulejo, just the thing to blow the unsuspecting visitor’s mind, as it turns out. Tiles you say? Not just the world’s most extraordinary collection of tiles but a history of tiles themselves from those who created and mastered the art – the Portuguese. In a 16th Century convent. An exceptionally exquisite 16th Century convent, devoted to Our Lady of Pleasures (!) with glamour, serenity and architectural majesty. And quite a nice cafe too. Where we had lunch.
We then had surfing to do so we piled into the car and shot out of town towards Ericeira. The Coxos Beach Lodge in Ribamar, Mafra was our destination. At first I thought it slightly presumptuous of the lovely Sofia to suggest that we would like the place because other Australians had liked it too. But not only was Sofia a spunk, she was right. The Lodge was just our cup of tea entirely. Smashing views of the sea, highly practical and slightly funky accommodation… it kinda reminded me of the south coast of NSW. So totally cool was the basket of bits for the morning, to which we would add our fresh bread from the fresh bread box, and thus have breakfast. Way cool.
Brother Nick hired a board downtown and while he surfed we played a little too hard at Praia do São Sebastião. Here’s the final shot taken with my trusty Panasonic Lumix camera before it was wiped out forever by a large slice of Atlantic Ocean. Donations are welcome (Support button to the right above and down below, thanksverymuch).
That night, we all had the prawn, which is only natural after a day of sunny & salty physical activity. Of course the Coxos people anticipated our every desire by providing a large marisqueira restaurant next to our house. We ate a lot of seafood and drank a lot of vinho verde, surely Portugal’s greatest invention. Another perfect day.
After the second best night’s sleep of The One‘s life we packed off to Mafra (that place with King João V´s outrageous palace). We satisfied our nutritional needs before moving up north to Peniche for more surf.
Baleal is a fine spot, without doubt. Reliable waves, crystal clear water and a well turned out surfing infrastructure for hiring or how-to. I was a bit daunted by the local’s steamers, but the water temp turned out to be just fine, and Nick survived in a spring suit for over an hour.
Souls well washed, we then headed for the woods of the beira litoral (that´s central Portugal to you, newbie) stopping in Leiria for nourishment Martin & Thomas style. We finally checked in at My House in Portugal with just enough light in the sky to shock the shit out of my poor brother who was left wondering the whole night how I could have bought such a monster… er, ruin.
Next day was a hotty so we headed over the Serra da Lousã for a swim, a nature hit and some castleage. Boys like castles don’t they? I think it makes them go all Errol Flynn.
Had to show off my newly found sneaky swim spot and we showed the locals how to do the Australian crawl. In the nuddy.
More castle followed, at Montemor-o-Velho. And then onto Tentúgal for, Pasteis de Tentúgal of course, but also for the Casa Armenio, a stupendous restaurant that does the meanest roast duck this side of Beijing. Another bottle or two of snappy Portuguese tinto and it’s time for another big sleep.
Thus the trip ends, as they always do, with a rush down the A1 to the airport and then with a woosh, my brother and his waves were gone. :´(
Now that the kids have gone back to school and the temperature has dropped a few degrees (enough to feel like actually braving the outdoors), I thought I’d grab a towel and do the rounds of the local river beaches. The whole “river beach” concept is somewhat foreign to Australian ears. We have the beach which is located on the coast and contains water from the sea. Anything else may be called a dam, a river, a creek or a pond. But on the whole we don’t make a day of swimming in them as us Australians try to live within a sensible distance of the seaside. Anywhere else is too damn hot, anyway.
I’ve just thought of an exception and it is the billabong. Secluded, perfectly natural, still clear water warmed by the sun. Stunningly beautiful. Full of crocodiles.
Except that this one is somewhere in Central Portugal and is our favourite-by-far swimming place. It shall remain secret. And silent.
This kind of natural setting for bathing led me to think there would be a more relaxed attitude to swimwear than there is at the real beach. Hardly. In three years I’ve never seen a nudie, nor even a bare breast. On the other hand neither is the river beach luxury swimwear central, the Portuguese are a conservative bunch in terms of covering up. Certainly there are plenty of bikinis about, most indeed of the skimpy brazilian-style derrière (somewhat unsuitable for the european female of any age), but waterwear generally is very modest and non-alternative. So what that all means is – you can’t just wear your undies, Australians!
fragas de são simão
My second favourite place I call “Little Australia”. Fragas de São Simão is shaded by old eucalypts and is in a deep valley, so on an exceptionally hot summer’s day it is several degrees cooler than anywhere else. There are lots of nooks you can tuck yourself into for privacy, but there’s also one flat open area for the big family BBQ and kicking balls around. Gorgeous. Note – no cafe (actually they say there is one but I’ve never seen it open), and the parking is a bit hairy. For lunch or dinner you can heave yourself up to Casal São Simão (a very nice Aldeia do Xisto) to their charming new restaurant, which I havent been to yet, but should. You’ll have to check ahead for opening times.
fragas de são simão
I have been to the restaurant at Louçainha’s river beach. I can’t recall the food but this beautiful location makes me want to go there again anyway. Nice river beach, Louçainha. Two decent sized pools with clear sweet water, one for swimming the other for water toys. The sunbaking areas are a bit lacking but the parking is excellent and there’s a cafe.
louçainha
While we’re on Praias Fluviais with good restaurants, I still haven’t been to the Lagar at Mosteiro. Exceptional river beach, large grassy flat areas, some shade, deep and clean water and pretty as all hell.
poço corga
Castaneira de Pêra’s Poço Corga also has a restaurant worth going to. This is a really nice river beach, with lots of lounging areas, two large pools and one shady area on one side of the bridge where they allow wookies! Good cafe, not bad parking and crystal clear water.
poço corga
All of these beaches are connected to the River Alge, or they come down from the southern side of the Serra da Lousã. On the northern side there’s the praia fluvial of Lousã, in the shadow of the castle. Again, a great restaurant, but the parking is tricky and the water is usually very cold, as it’s very deep in the valley and doesn’t see a lot of sun. Bogueira, hidden away in the village of Casal do Ermio just outside of Lousã has lots of sun, covering a large flat grassed area. Very patchy parking but a very attractive cafe with view of children trying to drown each other.
Further north of the River Alva, we started with Secarias, which has a nice wide strip of straight calm river and cafes on either side. There’s not a lot of sunbaking space, but those needing a hit for goggle-flipper-earplugs and vai e volta – doing laps – then this is a good spot. Same goes for Serpins’ river beach. Not much chop for a picnic but a good wide straight run of deep water.
secarias
For a proper day of sun slacking and even a little coffee-and-cake idling, I have two recommendations. Coja is a stunning little town, and its river beach does justice to the word beach. There are lounge chairs, sandy stuff, a nice waterfall-ish, a 4-metre diving tower which looks potentially quadriplegic, and both paddling areas and deep water. Most fun is the swim up river against the current. Cafes on either side of the river and plenty more in the cutsie and curious town centre.
coja
Avô would have to be charming as well. “Grandpa” has a huge grassy area, a nice looking cafe, a couple of charming bridges and more than a splash of Tuscan gorgeousness to it. Check out the stone verandah on the pink house. Yes, please.
ilha do picoto, avô
Up river (or further east anyway) there are many more, but the further we went the muckier the water got. Maybe that’s just this year. Of course, there are bucketloads more south-central Portugal, following the river Zezere south as far down as the Barragem do Bode, where lies the beautiful Aldeia do Mato, so nice it´s worth a weekend away. 
fragas de são simão
All beaches are marked on ‘post map’ page with this icon 
