My brother-in-law suggested that this week I wax lyrical about the sensuousness of Autumn. The crisp, clear mornings, the changing light and the beautiful colours of this season that gently segues into the hell pit horror doom and evil of winter.
Yeah, he’s European. I’m not. I detest winter. Autumn is like an air raid siren warning that a million Messerschmidts are about to drop a billion big freezing bombs of depressingly dank dark wetness and torture upon us.
Frankly put me to bed now and don’t get me up until May. Was a grizzly bear in past life. Goes without saying.
So, if you’re not feeling the cold yet, here are some tips from my house that indicate winter is definitely well on its hideous way.
1. The cat sits on your lap while you are on the toilet.
2. Cat-Dog-Cat have settled their differences with the objective of sharing front row seats at the fireplace.
3. Mao howls incessantly about when we are going back to Australia.
4. Getting the electric blanket on in advance of bedtime merits a fridge reminder note.
5. Who left the door open turns into WW3.
6. Suddenly soup has become an acceptable meal option.
7. The ‘scalding’ hot water setting in the shower now feels quite nice.
8. Pyjamas. Quel horreur. Never forsake fashion, my friend Tessa once warned. Pyjamas. Oh the shame.
9. Pine cone collecting has reached obsessive levels.
10. Being in bed by 9pm doesn’t seem extravagant.
The real tragedy is, this is Portugal, where their only ski field is appropriate for toddlers. Well, ok, it’s a sweet little ski field but it will not challenge anyone Nordic. What I mean is, this is Europe-winter-light. Dear god, please bring me central heating and an entire wardrobe of Icebreaker. Thank you.
Hey here’s a little message for HGTV House Hunter’s International viewers who have found my blog! And for any others that have stumbled in accidentally just at this moment: I have just appeared (10:30pm New York Thursday Night Time) on a cable TV show about my search for a house in Portugal. Congratulations to you all and thanks for googling.
I suppose you’re wondering if I am still alive and whether I have built a house yet? Yes and no. But there’s far more to the story than that and every gory detail can be found right here on the blog. In fact, you can start on the epic true story of before I bought the house at the beginning.
Let’s backtrack a little. Bought a house in 2007. I scrapped around for a year applying for building permission, digging holes, planting things to eat, accumulating pets and looking for a builder. Then, come around November 2008, the globalfinancialcrisis tornado hit and over the next 4 months blew away almost half of my money. There was no clicking my heels and wishing I was back in Kansas, or Oz.
The plan then was to sit tight, work hard on the writing and pray for a financial miracle.
I worked hard on the blog, and the blog grew and grew and then grew some more! People became insanely passionate: finding at last a safe place to share their pasteis de nata desires!
But, alas. So far, sharing-the-love of Portugal has not made me rich, nor therefore built me a house. I’ve extended my building licence twice, fortunately because the council people do understand that no one has any money anymore, least of all us foreigners. Portugal was hit very hard by the crisis and will take a long time to recover. But on the other hand, the Portuguese are so familiar with tough times that this is a really nice place to be poorer. A part of this story is how I’ve learned to live on less and how this translates into living a greener, friendlier and healthier life. Caring about the environment might be a by-product of having less money, or it might come from living in the countryside in a less stressed, self-obsessed existence. Whatever the reasons, the alternative life to wanting, consuming and polluting is viable growing here in Portugal, in a strong way driven by the expat community and by switched-on local authorities. Without a cent in the bank, we still feel like we will survive. Hope makes you rich.
But enough about money, love and hope, let’s talk about me. Instead of building I have been adventuring, checking out secret corners of this sunny country and digging below the surface of the big towns. If you're planning on doing the same, it really pays to shop around for car and/or camper rental, as finding the hidden nooks and beauties of rural Portugal is really better done by private vehicle. Campervan holidays are hugely popular here. As my Portuguese has improved I’ve been able to understand more about the Portuguese psyche, and what makes this country tick. Along the way I´ve been eating, drinking and watching football (that’s soccer just between you and me).
As with any journey, it’s not all roses. Portugal is a bureaucratic country, frustrating to do business in and make an honest buck. Portuguese businesses are way behind when it comes to service, the internet and marketing. And this is the conundrum. We love this place because work does not come first. We love this place because the people aren’t mad with stress and rage. We love this place because it has creativity and originality. It has pride and passion. Like a ruined house, it has beautiful potential.
On the personal front, I’ve had health dramas which I am now almost completely recovered from. My pets, Mao and Wookie, also no strangers to bumps in the road, are also happy, fun and as cuddly as ever. I have fallen madly in love and moved house (and now luxuriate in the sound of a flushing toilet and the hot water that gushes from the kitchen sink). There are rumours of roof building, of annexe finishing and even of surprise weddings…
What more would you like to hear? What piques your curiosity? Why not start in the archive or the category section to read more? Or cruise the gorgeous gallery of photos. Would you like to contribute or get involved somehow? You might be interested in being a sponsor. You can advertise on my blog, and reach thousands of loyal Porty-philes. You can make a donation to keep the wheels oiled and the pets fed, and at the very least you can make comments and share your stories. I’d love to hear from you.
For a speed read of the blog, I recommend:
the most commented on:
• an australian in portugal (48 comments)
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the most viewed:
• emma gallery
the author’s favourite:
• the day wookie vomited eyes
for more about me in the media:
• emma in the media
and something for you:
• a delicious desktop!
Recent trip to Porto reminded me of all the things I like about it. First stop, as usual,
1. Bolos de Berlim at Leitaria Da Quinta do Paço
These are so terrifyingly good that it makes me shake like a junkie just looking at the pictures.
2. Rua Da Galeria de Paris
While in Vitória make a detour for this street full of art nouveau charm and the restaurante/bar Galeria de Paris. Also some cool shops and Made in Portugal.
3. Alvaro Siza’s Serralves Foundation Museum Contemporary Art
Great art gallery in stunning Siza building, surrounded by a sculpture studded gardens and the Casa de Serralves, another museum with a Jaques Tati air.
4. Palácio da Bolsa
A truly remarkable bit of neo-classical mish-mash architecture, take the tour so you don’t miss the Salão Arabe. I also adore the bar of the Telegrafo restaurant, with its gorgeous purple/blue velvet furniture against blue tiling. Luscious. Great for a dessert and a glass of expensive port.
5. Les Cafes Grandes
The Majestic (although ever so touristy) and the Brasileira are gems and will fix you up with a decent coffee too.
Our favourite restaurant in Porto. Classic, yum.
7. Estadio do Parque do Palácio do Cristal.
Just love the space ship. No idea if it´s still a functioning stadium. Please advise.
8. While on funky modern architecture, I love the airport.
9. São Bento train station.
Knockout tiles, suitably old fashioned layout. The way all train stations should be.
10. Espinho.
No, not in Porto, but your first stop south. The thunderous roar of the Atlantic and the restaurant BaiaSol (on the seafront) which has twice saved my life with its prawn omelete. Oh yeah.
Oh yes there’s plenty more to like about Porto. The Eiffel Bridge. Casa da Musica. Ikea. Let me know your favourites.
If you´re looking for something in Porto, check out this cool blog. Very cool. http://oportocool.wordpress.com/
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 
I don’t know why some of us are fascinated with archaeology, but I feel the urge on a biological level. I’ve gone well out of my way for every old bit of rock strewn from here to Syria and from Hadrian’s to Hannibal’s. So that’s basically the whole Roman empire… if we are not quibbling over bits of Persia which came and went between battles. I´ll get there one day if they let women drive cars, the taliban all die and the foreigners in fatigues go home. Rant over.
ancient looking landscape, tick
I don’t think it’s the same as a genealogist´s quest, but I sense these ancient peoples as though we are related. I think my curiosity has something to do with discovering the essence of lifestyle (pretentious little name for a quest, n’est-ce pas quoi?), taking notes from a time when ideas of democracy and philosophy were new and shiny, and the first time people were leisurely enough to lie under a shady olive and contemplate beauty. Just look at Roman house design (excellent examples at Conimbriga) and you get a clear shot that the Romans new how to live and had a taste for beauty. (Look at Portuguese houses by comparison – rooms without windows? Hello, are we dead yet?)
ornately tiled rooms centred on a leafy, watery, light filled centre - Romans had style
And although the class divides were enormous and lives were most often cruel and short, these great empires still set an example. Could we ever again build monuments so awesome as the Temple of Luxor or even the Parthenon, staring down on Athens as a constant reminder to how far civilisation has fallen?
Anyway, the Sepulturas of Midões are today’s subject and they are medieval graves, certainly not of Greek or Roman origin. But nonetheless intriguing and mysterious if only on a more personal scale.
brown sepulturas sign gets you to this chapel. follow the path at the far right of this pic
One of the nice things foreigners bring with them to a new country is their curiosity. And I suppose, their perspective. I was tickled when a gaggle of forum punters started gabbing about a tiny medieval site hidden away in some local scrub. It’s not in the guide books, it’s not on the internet. The local council don’t promote it. There’s just one brown sign pointing vaguely in the general vicinity and all it says is “graves”.
you´re on this path, take a left when the path divides
But you know, for us people drawn to bits of old rock, this is enough. Someone raises the question and in an instant, a team of Indiana Jones´ are on the case. I just get the feeling that archaeology, history, and grave robbing is built into human DNA. Or as Jose Franco at Remax Viana once wisely told me: the stones speak to us.
and you´ve discovered something spooky!
The Sepulturas of Midões are interesting, not just because they are old (maybe as old as 8th century or perhaps as young as 12th Century) but because they are individual and isolated. They are obviously graves, but they are not in a graveyard, and they are not adjacent to any site of worship, Christian, pre-Christian, pagan or Muslim. While variously referred to academically as Roman, after the 3rd Century AD you have to concede that the Romans had little or no influence in Portugal, and Coimbra having been controlled by Islamic Moors from the 9th Century, the idea that Christianity was holding sway, even in the countryside, is unlikely. And these graves support this idea. These appear to be private burials with no particularly religious aspect. Small family groups, or village groups, close to farms and houses. Also close to fontes, or basins and small tanks: in the midst of things, to be visited frequently.
dont miss the groovy cacti growing behind the chapel
There are a few other sites around the River Mondego of similar age where people have appeared to have been buried privately, in groups of twos or threes or fours, outside of cemeteries and away from places of worship. Somewhat uncharacteristic of Christian burials, or Islamic burials (although the Moors also built graves by carving out the rock). It seems the country folk, despite regular interruptions by marauding hordes of Vikings, Normans and Whosits were essentially left to their own devices. Bless their atheist socks. The other interesting thing is the graves’ design which is uncommon and typical only to this area; the holes have heads and shoulder spaces carved into them. The peoples of the Mondego were travelling between villages and sharing their burial rituals. And this suggests community. Independence. Cooperation. Peace.
anthropomorphic - dead people shaped
And so we wander away in search of cake to discover the very interesting modern history-mystery of Midões. This tiny town /big village has not really any shops to speak of, a couple of cafes, no banks. But there’s a whopping cathedral-like church and a collection of Palacetes. Signs of serious wealth! Yet the public squares, while pretty, are not on the same scale, so it’s not the town that appears to have had the money, but a few individuals. A brief chat with some locals and a quick look around and one could conclude it’s the usual olive oil and wine money. But unlike say, Castaneira de Pêra with its many big fat country houses – these are actual palaces, with statuary, parapets and overt decoration – which makes them way-more-curiouser, dude.
and it´s for sale
Did I mention yet the pastelaria yet? Of course, it’s way above standard and will provide satisfaction in large helpings with cheery hospitality, even on an especially hot and still Sunday afternoon. This Midões place sounds just like a day trip.
Local Big Richard has invited me to an afternoon of boring local history tête-à-tête. And I say, put the kettle on Dick, I’ll bring the cake.
And of course, if you have an uninteresting brown sign near you, or even a rumour of history about your place, please cough up. We should all be eternal travellers, and the bigger our world gets the more curious it becomes.
For a little more, in Portuguese, and to credit my sources:
http://www.igespar.pt/media/uploads/trabalhosdearqueologia/50/9.pdf
http://www.j-f-midoes.web.pt/historia.htm
where it all started, and thanks to Sophie
http://expatsportugal.com/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?t=7520&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start=0&sid=27f34e59d7846aac2148addd9f5714f2
another of Midões´ fontes
If you only have one day in Portugal, let it be in Braga. It’s my favourite town. Actually I plan to live there one day and make a lifetime of this day-tripping thing.
Let me show you around.
Your day begins, naturally, with a coffee. Since you’re in Portugal you will also being eating one of the finest freshly baked pastries on the planet. The Brasileira know their business so the pastries, or even toast, will be as impeccable as the service. Anyway, you will be too busy watching all the stylish Bracarense walking by on their way to work… poor gorgeous things, off they go.
A quick walk around the pedestrianised old centre follows, window shopping at the variety of little boutiques running the gamut from lingerie to liturgical. There are local dress designers, tiny art galleries and antique collectables to seduce the spender, all tucked in together on the cobbled network of the compact town centre.
The oldest cathedral in Portugal (1070) is also here in the old town. It’s an important arquitectural monument, part brutal medieval, part golden rennaisance. There’s also a very nice fountain in the main square, a fortress-like episcopal palace and numerous intriguing old mansions to check out.
After this effort you’ll be needing a cup of tea and another pastry, if not lunch. This time we are at the glassy art deco Salão da Chã Lusitana. If the Salão isn’t romantic enough, you’ll have a view of the lovely Jardim de Santa Bárbara where you are guaranteed to see young couples smooching.
Five minutes outside town lies the Bom Jesus de Monte, a serious place for pilgrims at certain times of the year, a fun place to take photos the rest of the time. The curiosity of the Bom Jesus is a marvellous baroque staircase, with a lovely church at the top. Along the way there are spookily life-like scenes of the stations of the cross, but what you can’t miss are the Five Senses wall fountains. They are famous and funny. Otherwise known by the names my friends Jem and Kate gave them: Tears, Snot, Ear Wax and Vomit. Beware, it’s quite a walk up, (watch the Bracarense exercising! A rare sight in Portugal!) but those of us not here for devout agony can ride on the antique water-driven funicular.
And don’t miss the ceiling of the church, if it’s open. One of the prettiest in Portugal.
Now that the funicular has put us in a vintage mood, we are off the see the Confiança soap factory, which has been producing elegant luxury soaps since 1894. It’s not just soap: it’s about Portuguese design and tradition and pride. And it might be about buying a special souvenir for your mother.
Tired? Time to check into the hotel and have a little lie down? I’ve booked the best room at the Hotel Francfort which is right on the main square with views of the fountain. It’s my favourite hotel in Portugal (of the hotels I’ve actually stayed in, that is). Our hostess is Dona Eugenia and she is at least 70, so you’ll be taking your own luggage up the stairs. She’s been running this hotel for 45 years and I suspect she hasn’t changed a thing in all that time. It’s just the way a hotel should be. Big rooms, springy beds and a full complement of matching furniture. And at €15/head who can argue? The Francfort is a perfect example of what is lacking in modern hotels. Charm, character, and a hostess like Dona Eugenia.
At last, it’s time for dinner. Taberna Felix is the best restaurant in Portugal so I’ve made a booking. Although they have recently expanded, it’s still an intimate restaurant with a short menu to match. The owners and their staff are so nice and take care of you like old friends. The taberna is tucked away on an atmospheric small square with a couple of other small restaurants alongside and lots of tables outside, and only a couple of other foreigners which make you feel like you’re in on a local secret. I don’t have to tell you that the food is superb. The desserts are even better. Felix, if mispronounced because you´ve indulged in a few local ports, means Happy. Time to waddle back to the hotel…
But wait! What’s that on the path between you and the hotel? It’s an open air bar! It’s music and caipirinha! Braga is also a university town, full of bright young people who require evening entertainment. Therefore Braga has a whole new personality which comes out after dark. Plenty of opportunity to rub up against those fit and stylish Bracarense.
But I’m going to bed, because tomorrow there’s the market at Barcelos… so much to do, so many more pastries to eat…
Real estate is a bitch. Earlier this year I thought it might be good to have a swing at this business and make my hobby of house-perving into a money earner. House perving is an art. I have a friend who has drawn up architectural plans and with full landscaping designs based on what he would do if his random-house-favourite in Bondi happened to fall into his hands one day. No doubt the neighbours think he´s been sizing up the place for a robbery, for the last four years, or perhaps they have concluded, correctly, that he is simply a house pervert.
Anyway, back when I was looking for a house in 2007 I would meet lots of other people looking for a house … in cafés, at the markets, at the pousada juventude in Lousã… Central Portugal was teeming with foreigners on holiday-house-perves. Now I meet none. This is not the only reason my brief foray into real estate has not been a success. Firstly, I broke the golden rule of being a pseudo estate agent: I became emotionally involved with the clients. They became my friends. I liked their houses, I liked their dogs, I liked them. And we all know that a normal real estate person doesn´t do any gratuitous caring because in order to actually sell houses one must devote 110% of one´s soul to selling.
So back to being a fully-committed-builder-blogger it is for me…
But if you happen to thinking of following me in this crazy pastry-filled lazy life, and buying a house in Portugal, then I would like to share with you these three little house-gems I found. Three different ideas, three different concelhos, three different prices but with one thing in common. Three very nice honest owners who just want to move on.
Let´s start with this little beauty in Mosteiro, Pedrogão Grande. I discovered the cutsey little village of Mosteiro when I first moved here during my rampant Sunday drives. It´s tucked away in the middle of a quiet little forest, a short detour from the best bread kept secret of Vila Facaia. It´s a picturesque medium sized village with two cafés and and rather decent restaurant located at a flat grassed river beach with a charming bridge and plenty of shade. This village even has a bandstand (my dad just loved bandstands), and I strongly suspect it has recycling bins (which, believe-you-me is a clear sign of civilisation. I envy people who live in villages with recycling bins).
The house is for sale for €43k. For this price I can´t quite work out how Sergio is making any money out of it because it is a recently renovated stone cottage. OK maybe he inherited it and spent €39,000 doing it up. But let´s not look a gift horse in the mouth.´Tis indeed a charm-packed little two storey one bedder, with renovated bathroom and kitchen, heating in the ground floor kitchen, small walled patio for the barbie, pushbike, plants and winter woodpile. In other words, a low maintenance, with all the facilities, nothing more to spend, weekender and summer holiday house… about two minutes walk from the river pool with café, icecream and rather tempting looking restaurant.
The owner, Sergio, is a local schoolteacher and antiques collector. We met at the Figueiró Vinhos Velharias fair. So the house is filled with really nice furniture and interesting bits. This makes the place even more special, because it´s unusual for Portuguese who most often like their things new and shiny. The antiques work so nicely with the stone interior… well if it were me I´d be negotiating a price with contents included. Too easy.
The next one is the paradise I really wanted when I was looking but didn´t have the money for. It´s €55k, a 120m2 ruin on one hectare (10,000 m2 or almost 2 and a half acres, thank you sophie 
), and if you can´t imagine that, well it´s about a 20 minute walk around the circumference and pretty much what you see in the pic above minus the background mountains). It´s located in a gobsmackingly beautiful valley about 5 minutes outside of Figueiró Dos Vinhos. Your nearest neighbours, about 1km away, would be the rather groovy dutch couple who run Quinta da Fonte, a nice eco-holiday type arrangement, which might give you some ideas about what to do with your place. One hectare of land has potential. You could plant more olives (there are already about 50), more fruit, or plants trees for timber. You could have sheep, horses (although the terrain is quite steep in places) or 5000 chickens. With no neighbours, you could do what you liked. The ruin itself begs for a spacious, passive solar, low impact, simple stone design. The water supply is ridiculously good, with a small river running through the property, two wells and about another 4 tanks. The last time I visited, Figueiró council were running “company” water along the road anyway. The electricity is about a 25m connection.
So peaceful, so beautiful… I think it´s a very precious little spot. You´d want to have at least another €70k to get the house done … but after that, it would be Gins and Tonic on the balcony overlooking the garden in perfect serenity for ever.
Option number three is actually three and four because there are two of them. They´re in Castaneira de Pêra, which is a little disneyland town created by the Mayor of Big Things. Castaneira is home to a Big Fake Grass Rat, Four Big Ugly Things on Roundabouts (on the bright side there are several Nice Big Old Mansions one Megalith Pink Magnolia) and one Very Big Pool. My very cool niece, when visiting, named the pool succintly: ”Mega Pool”.
Mega Pool, aka Praia das Rocas attracts hordes of sweaty punters from all about who are perfectly happy to queue for an hour before opening time in order to secure their resort style deckchair and table by the “beach” for the day. By “beach” I mean graduated sandy-coloured painted concrete and a wave machine – ´the biggest waves inland of the sea´, would you believe? The thousands come prepared with buckets & spades, lilos, eskies, hats & blow up crocodiles and they make a day of it. Actually they make a whole summer of it, as Castaneira´s cafés heave with the aprés-pool crowd.
But where the hell do they all stay? There are some tiny cabanas at the pool, so that sorts out about 16 people, there is one nice old house which sleeps about 10, two small but nice hotels and a medium sized camping ground. The masses I speak of come literally in their thousands… and here´s where Joe´s houses come into the picture.
A few years ago Joe, a civil engineer, built these two houses with his family´s future in mind. With one son a chef and Joe and his wife Mariza heading towards early retirement, he had the idea that at least someone in the family would fancy having a B&B, and Joe having seen the development of Castaneira since Praia das Rocas, saw the potential in it. He built two houses, both with two attic bedrooms with ensuite plus three more middle-floor bedrooms plus a ground floor apartment. The lounge, kitchen, dining and garages are all big and they have massive backyards with room for a pool. Both houses have been ducted for central heating, the living rooms already have closed fireplaces and the kitchens have chimneys. Natural light pours into the houses from all sides, there is double glazing and security shutters. The front door has a intercom system accessible on each level of the house. The houses are fully wired for all manner of telecoms, there is an outdoor dining area off the kitchen, plus the ground level barbecue area, smashing town views from most rooms, at least one bathroom on each level, landscaped gardens and, and, and… Gee it looks like the only thing Joe didn´t think of when building these places was to make them wheelchair accessible because as soon as they were 95% complete some jerk crashed his car into Joe´s and landed Joe in a wheelchair. Permanently. Paraplegic-Like. So now he can´t even get through the front door of his own houses, much less down the stairs. Shit and a half, I say to that.
Então, slight change of plans for the Ramos family then.
The 95% finished bit is a good thing. It´s just the interiors that are unfinished. There are no kitchens (plumbing of course is there, but you´d choose the look and arrangement) Ditto for the attic en-suites – plumbing, no fixtures. One house has floating timber floors and the other has unfinished concrete. The final final job will be yours. The ground floor apartment space in not enclosed. All the wiring and plumbing, and a bathroom, is in, but right now they look like outdoor entertainment/basement spaces. So hence, these are new-builds that leave room for your taste, and I like that. New places are all very convenient and clean but I inevitably want to rip out their ugly pine kitchens and start again. Just thanks that Joe has taste in bathroom appliances, because those I rather like: a bit luxy but not pretentious.
So let´s talk business here. One house is €175k and the other is €210k. Say you spend another €5k making them ready for business. During the summer you could have at least a monthly income of €1200 (based on a modest guess of 5 nights out of 7 of the two attic rooms @ €30ea /night). OK so the summer is only 2 months – but then there´s the apartment downstairs which can be rented out full time or you live in the apartment and rent out the 5 bedroom house upstairs. What I´m talking about is the potential of immediate income. I haven´t done all the research but what I see are full cafés and thousands of people and not thousands of places to stay. I would also say again loud and clear that you should not attempt doing business in Portugal without speaking the language. Your main clientele will still be Portuguese, not English-speaking foreigners. My gut tells me this is a goer, and let me tell you Mr Joe is no idiot either.
Fontainha and Mosteiro are listed with Chavetejo Imobiliaria LDA who are based in Tomar. The office number is + 351 249 32 77 00 but you know, every time I call it I get the answering machine and that really pisses me off. So what I suggest is that you call the mobiles of Derek +351 918 479 978 or Nicky +351 918 484 547. The best time to catch them is at 7:30am, after their two hour yoga session and just before 8am mass in Tomar.
Still not 100% but after a week my hangover has subsided sufficiently enough to attempt stringing a few words together.
Sorry to say however, customers, that I was too busy enjoying the great white wines of Portugal under 3 euros to actually take any worthwhile photos of them. I have several pictures of other people´s breasts, several of one particularly handsome gentleman and all the other shots are out of focus. Thank god for Marta who not only has exceptional hair but has steady hands and a sharp eye. Phew, the post is saved.
The first thing one can say is that inexpensive Portuguese white wines are a great deal of fun. The post party emails keep streaming in with the same hilarity of the night. Ilya´s comment that such evenings should be banned by the Organizacão Mundial Da Saude had me weeping with laughter before breakfast this morning.
We tested 11 wines in all, with one wine, rather cheekily, being included twice, just to prove beyond doubt, according to the results, that we were a bunch of people having a good time rather than engaging in a rigorous scientific study.
The double agent came by the classical name Fratelli Coglione, or Irmãos Colhões, meaning Balls Brothers. The name is a devotion to the illustrious Italian rennaissance military commander Bartolomeo Colleoni, who indisputably had courage, and balls, as is pictorially represented on the Colleoni coat of arms. A coat of arms is nothing without a motto, as Judge João says, and to this fine wine he has attributed that of the “Order of the Garter” which is of course “Honi soit qui mal y pense” which in googlish can be roughly translated “shame on you for thinking there’s some dirty mockery in all of this”.
While no one but me rated wine number one in the manner of “give me one baby oh god I needed that”, this wine did receive a great deal more praise when listed again as wine number 6. Judge Wonky, of Lousã, for example, described wine number one as “Cold and Mildly Fruity”, with a unremarkable score of 32/50, but as wine number 6 felt that it was “Unbe-fuckin-leivable” and gave it the perfect score 50/50. Judge Fiona of Condeixa started with “bem” at number one and rose to “fixe” at number 6.
In general terms the commentary given to each wine began conscientiously and legibly. Judge Bitateiro, of Infesto, who could initially be relied upon for credible descriptions such as “young and fruity, silky nose with a long finish”, but who, by wine number 7, offers meekly “really can’t tell anymore”.
Wines listed later in the evening solicited passionate and even profane comments from the judges, ranging from simply “wine of love” given by Judge Purdey, a policewoman from Povoa to Judge Chef Fiona comparing wine 11 to a “Beijinho”. Judge Trotsky of Tomar, whose hobbies include Tap dancing and Toad Treating describes wine number 10 as “Bang Bang Bang”, the undelying meaning of which I think is clear to all of us.
Oddly, the harshest criticism was aimed at the winning wine, number 5. Judge Trotsky’s description of this wine as “cat’s wee” went against the general trend of high scores and superlatives. Variously described as full, acidic, dry, good with sardines and piri piri, orgasmic, automatic, cincomatic and just plain good. This wine was the clear winner of the evening. So what was it? Drumroll…. maestro….
It is the
Esporão Alandra
(thunderous round of applause sound effect insert here)
Significantly this beautiful wine’s usual retail price is €1.99. Read that and weep. Or just move to Portugal.
The other wines tested were
Loios
Adega da Borba
Porta da Ravessa
J P Azeitão
Dão Grão Vasco
Pegões
Colares
and special mention to runner up wine number 1 & 6
Quinta do Cardal Branco 2009
That’s right, smartypants, there are only 9. We lost number 10, and no one can remember where we put it.
As promised in a compromised state of inebriation, here are a couple of recipes of the night.
Vietnamese Rice Paper Rolls
- Rice Paper wrappers – my sister brought them from australia. Good luck getting them here.
- One pork febra or small steak, tenderised and pan fried in garlic and a bit of soy sauce
- some prawns, say two or three per roll, schoolies if you can get them, for the flavour, steamed, or just boil them for a minute with a pinch of salt
- vermicelli rice noodles – softened in boiling water just for a minute or two – can’t say how much but I always overestimate by ten times the amount required
- strips of cucumber without seeds
- spring onion or shallots – long green stems with white at the base – they are undeveloped onions, slice them lengthwise and cut into 10 cm lengths
- Mint, Vietnamese mint preferably, or maybe a little asian basil if you can get it
other optional stuff
– a bit of shredded lettuce, bean sprouts, or a single toothpick of carrot
You’re making a little parcel about 10cm long and 3cm wide, cylindrical. After softening the paper just collect the ingredients in little long pile and fold up the roll like a parcel. It’s not brain surgery. You’ll get the hang of it.
Dipping Sauce:
Hoi Sin Sauce
Fish Sauce
Peanuts
Splash of Lime or lemon juice
splash of piri piri or whatever chilli sauce
soy to season
Garlic Prawns as inspired by the ones in Nazaré
Prawns – green, frozen on the ship “ultracongelado” I repeat GREEN
Lemon
Garlic
Olive oil
Salt & Pepper
Handful of parsley or go all Portuguese and use coriander ooo yummy
Peel your prawns down to the tail, (or the lot of you prefer), rinse them well in water and slip them into a ceramic bowl with the juice of a lemon, an enormous quantity of sliced garlic (not crushed, not finely chopped, I’m talking a wackload of big bits) cover it in olive oil and keep it in the fridge, overnight at best but at least for an hour or two. Heat the oven at the highest temperature, put them in for 5 or 10 minutes, give them one stir and another 5 minutes and then serve them up with a bunch of chunky strong bread. And then sit back and wait for the marriage proposals to roll in.
Stay tuned for the Prova dos Vinhos: Verdes, and further, we could even trial Rosés… perhaps even saving the worldwidely famous Mateus from the doldrums of jokedom.
Super special thanks to Emma (the other emma in portugal) and Lawrence for being the hosts with the most, thanks to a really brutal bunch of Portuguese friends who make me love this country all the more and who are as generous as they are fun, and to Wonky (and Marta, sorry you´ll have to be quicker next time) for the marriage proposal, and more thanks to Tiny for having to eat all four rice paper rolls from Yen´s in Regent St Sydney so that she could take that accurately luscious photo above.
