Tuesday, September 10, 2002

Portugal, September 2002

Portugal!

Amazingly enough it is time for yet another Intrepid Travel Tale from Darryn! Yes, as much as last year was my Festival year, this year seems to have developed into Holiday Year.

I must admit that the only reason I decided to go to Portugal at all was to attend Hugo and Jeanine’s wedding. It was never very high on my list of places to visit, but, what with being forced into a decision to head Lisbon-wards, I decided it wasn’t a bad option at all. (By the way, from now on I insist that all weddings I am invited to be OUTSIDE the country I am currently domiciled in, with enough notice to save for the trip. As my friends I am sure you will all oblige this whim.)

Anyways. It turned into a most fabstastic holiday of great holiday proportions. It even managed to feel longer than a week (highly unusual in the world of holidays). Starting with a gorgeous flight – 2PM departure, so head feeling not too bad after previous night’s work/party. Although one still has to get up at 9am to make a 2pm flight. When they gonna sort that bit out? Anyway, my new British Passport (YES, THAT’S ‘MY NEW BRITISH PASSPORT’) clutched in hot hand (you don’t get stamps in the EU, so you have to get your passport all bent and battered to prove you have travelled) I breeze into a lovely window seat, plane almost empty, and get the best view ever. Broad, cloudless daylight, flying parallel to the coast of Portugal, me seated on the right hand side of the plane with a perfect view of the coastline. Such a good view, in fact, I could identify the rivers as we flew over. I love flying by day!

Landing with MY NEW BRITISH PASSPORT was even better than I could have imagined. Yes, they really do let you through without nasty suspicious questioning, lengthy sighs and a begrudged stamp. In fact, they merely glance at the page with your photo, glance up at you, SMILE (!!!!!) and let you through. And, the best is, the queue. Er… What queue? There is none!!!!! What a relief after all these years of fearing Mr Immigration Man. Thanks, Steve!

From the airport I found my way quite easily by Public Transport to Sintra, where the wedding was to be held, and where I had decided to stay for three days. Pleasant room in pleasant boarding house, and a lengthy explore on foot. Lush and green (‘verdant valley’ springs to mind), this area is all hills and vales with slopes sloping steeply upwards and downwards. Ingenious building methods have been used to keep the insides of homes level, while the land they are built on is most definitely not. And those blue Portuguese tiles! All over the place, houses that last saw a coat of paint at least 20 years ago, but those pretty blue tiles in perfect condition. Even street names are done in tiles. Some just small depictions of saints or a small pattern, while other buildings are covered floor to roof. So beautiful (and don’t you dare snigger, Michael! Tiles ARE pretty! You local snob, you…)

Next day I went to see the nearby National Palace, one of two in the area, which was quite cool – very different to other palaces I have seen – extremely beautiful but not quite as sophisticated as some. Think I prefer this type, actually. And then I met up with Michael Pacheco, old Alchemea friend. SOOOOOOOOO good to see him! True host that he is, he’d scored a car for the day and we went straight to a massive prawn-only lunch and did some good catching up over a beer or two. Yum. Yum. Yum. I love Portuguese cooking! I think I ate more fish last week than I have over the last year. Yum.

Cabo do Roca next, the western-most point of continental Europe. Absolutely fabulous cliffs (those easy-to-fall-off kind of cliffs). What a stunning view, we sat up there for ages. I was even welcomed in my new status AS BRITISH PASSPORT HOLDER with the strains of a bagpipe. Luckily for him, the player had sensibly positioned himself well away from the edge of the cliff, or I might have described them as ‘easy-to-throw-bagpipe-players-off’ kind of cliffs. Why, I ask, would anyone want to listen to the bagpipes while standing on the western-most point of the continent???????

Then off to see the Convento du Capulcho (very special Franciscan Monastery), via a random dirt rack that we noticed going off the main road. Having decided to take the high-road at the inevitable fork, we left the gorgeous forest we were in (complete with sun-rays breaking through the trees in that sun-ray way) and drove onto the mostly barren top of the hill. Here we found a deserted possible old monastery (too small)/house (too big)/chapel (wrong architecture) and explored a bit. By the time we were back in the car, we’d put in a pool, a Euphonix (don’t worry about what this is if you are not an audio engineer) and converted it into the most spectacular of recording studios. What a view! Oh, to win the lottery…

Eventually we found the convento we were looking for and had the most interesting tour of the place. It was a monastery for an extreme order of Franciscan Monks – only ever 8 at a time – that functioned for several hundred years. Everything about the place is hugely mystical and symbolic, and built in perfect harmony with nature. Also very very tiny, and the cells they slept in had doors so small I struggled to crawl through. The tour guide was also an historian who researches the place, so it was an extremely interesting couple of hours (you are no doubt aware of my obsession with history…)

By this time it was time to: eat fish again! Yippee yum yum. One big Dourada later, we stumbled around, stuffed to the gills (pun intended) in an area on the outskirts of Lisbon called Cascais, which is on the beach. We even had a firework display further along the coast before settling into a bar for many a beer. Eventually we left at about 4am (licensing laws? What licensing laws?) and Mike drove me back to Sintra where we stopped in the most romantic of places for a smoke. In a town where you can overlook beautifully lit palaces at night, we stopped next to the dustbins outside a railway station. Never let it be said Mike doesn’t know how to look after a girl! (only teasing, Mike, it was the bestest day ever!)

Next day was the wedding. Set in the garden of a beautiful old house at the bottom of the valley, looking up to the Pena (Feather) Palace (a bizarre and gorgeous building that I didn’t manage to see) and the ruins of a Moorish castle (9th century, which I did manage to see) that are lit at night, both sitting very close to each other on the very top of one of the hill-mountains (too big for a hill, but not quite big enough for a mountain. Or maybe it would be a mountain if I’d ever had to walk the whole way up!) What a lovely service (their own vows) and we all ended up bawling our eyes out – the bride, the groom, both sets of parents and at least half the congregation… Then a magnificent meal in a lovely bridal stylee marquee, and a free bar. The London crew were all on one table, the rest of the guests were pretty much family. Our table was (suitably, I thought) closest to the bar, furthest from grandparents. Needless to say we had a great evening, stumbling into cabs at about midnight. I was very glad to be staying in Sintra as the others all had to get back to Lisbon still.

One hangover later, I decide to visit the Palacio Pena. ‘Cannot be missed!’ I am told. Trekking all the way up the hill-mountain (fortunately my head prevented any foolhardy walking up. I got the bus), I flounce out at the appropriate bus stop, all ready to see this great delight. Suddenly I am overcome by a great feeling of deja-vu. The Palace is closed. In Istanbul they close the palaces on Thursdays, in Sintra, they close the palaces on Mondays. Hmpf.

Palaces being open when I want to see them: Istanbul 0, Portugal 0

So I settle for the Moorish Castle, which is a huge ruin on whose battlements you can walk and overlook the invading ships from the south. Sadly there was very little information available about the place, so I just let my imagination go riot. Very cool and breezy up there, in the ruin of a 9th century palace, surrounded by a forest. Top view, too!

Giving up on culture I went off to met the rest of the London posse who were sensibly nursing their hangovers on a beach in Estoril, also on the outskirts of Lisbon, where I finally had some sardines for dinner (Yum again. Why can’t the English cook fish? It’s an island for god’s sake, you’re supposed to eat fish on an island!). Then train into Lisbon to check in to my Lisbon accommodation.

Now bearing in mind it is now 11pm and I am expecting grotsville, we all traipse through the front entrance and our mouths fall open. Lovely marble stairs, relief ceiling (a bit Italian in style) and cage lift. Cool. Then I get my room key, and (still expecting the room itself to be grotsvilla) we all troop up to my fourth-floor-in-a-building-on-top-of-a-hill, romantically decorated room with proper wood furniture (no veneer in sight). With wooden shutters on BOTH floor-to-ceiling windows. Not only do I have two windows, but the room is on the corner of the building, so when the shutters are dramatically thrown open, I have not one but TWO views. One of these views incorporates three (nicely lit) landmarks. The giant statue of Jesus across the river, the suspension bridge that crosses the river, and the cathedral of St Jeronimo this side of the river. And I am looking at all this from the highest point in the area. And this is from MY hotel room! What a pleasure! (the rest were all jealous ‘cos they were staying in boring old holiday inn!). Remember the scene in Room With a View when Maggie Smith and Helena Bonham-Carter get given the room with a view over Florence, and they throw the shutters open? That’s exactly how I felt, except I was looking at Lisbon, not Florence. But Lisbon is not so different from on high: red tiled roofs, church domes, a large river. So, so lovely.

The area the hotel was in is called Bairro Alto, where all the bars are. Tiny streets, many tiny bars, fab area to go out in. A beer or so and a street-score later, we’re back in my room admiring the view once more, with the help of some pretty decent grass. And then they all had to leave, while I could just snuggle into my lovely bed, shutters closed for coziness and maximum effect upon opening in the morning. Perfect!

View from place I was staying: Istanbul 1, Lisbon 1.

Tuesday I spent my day getting lost in the dinky little streets, then meeting up with farewell lunch for the Londoners. Ended up in nastily touristy area, but food good (seafood rice, same same but different to Paella) somewhat spoiled by the endless stream of scuzzy people trying to sell us a variety of stolen goods and hash. I missed my local guide a lot!

After they left, I went to see the studio where Michael works (non-engineers skip to next paragraph). Three studios: Post room with Protools pro control, small pre-production studio with an analogue Mackie 8 bus, and then, the lovely, the gorgeous, the spectacular, in-all-it’s-glory, the Euphonix CS3000. First time I have seen one out of Alchemea, and it looked so at home, so comfortable. I just had to give it a hug. Michael gave me a blast of the vocals he’d been recording the day (lucky bastard!) and I realised (not for the first time) that I shouldn’t be working with beer-sodden cables. So good to see one of the crew actually landing a Euphonix!

More dinner next – not fish but a Brazilian style steak sliced into small pieces that you cook yourself on a hot-rock. Very delicious. Then more drinks in Bairro Alto.

Mike managed to get Wednesday off work (YAY!) so we did some sightseeing together. First, the perfect cup of milky coffee with the perfect custard tart, made in a place famous for them – lovely place too – all blue and white (and more blue tiles). Then the cathedral, naval museum (Portugal was once king of the seas, remember) and my favourite bit: a drive over BOTH bridges. First over the suspension bridge to the foot of Jesus (looks very like the two bridges in Istanbul, but red), then a long drive on that side to get back to the other bridge, which is VERY special. It is the longest bridge in Europe (12 km!!!!!) and snakes across the river. There’s a raised hump bit for ships to pass under (looks like a brontosaurus with it’s head down), as well as a suspension bit at the far end. Exquisite feat of engineering!

Cool Bridges: Istanbul 1, Lisbon 11/2 (sorry Nihal! The 12km bridge has to win this one!)

Stop off for more snacks (I think trying out local food is one of the best things about being in new countries) and a short cable car ride, then we met up with Mike’s friends Inez and Miguel and went out for MORE dinner. Clams to start (you have no idea) and then an Algarvian fish stew. Too good to be true. Late night chats and then home once again to my Room With a View, and sad goodbye to Mike.

Checking out next morning, I realised I had a whole day and a bag to carry, so decided to do only one thing where I could hopefully not have to carry my (lightly packed, but nevertheless) bag all the time. Funnily enough I decided to go for another hill, on which is perched a rather lovely castle. Getting an old-fashioned tram up most of the way, I didn’t realise the steepest bit was still to come, with no public transport to haul you up. Glad I didn’t bring that other, heavy, pair of shoes! But was it worth it! It was a perfect summer’s day, not a cloud in the sky, and I found myself a spot of breezy shade and polished off the last of the hash. Then I just sat and stared and stared and stared. What an amazing view yet again. Breathtaking!

After about an hour of sitting and staring I decided to walk down the hill and eat a pastry at every shop I passed. Bad munchie-decision happens again! As it turned out, the pastries were far too sweet, so I had to give up on that idea half way through the third one, and then I was off the tram-route. So I eventually walk all the way back to the central station, from which I know I can get a bus to the airport, only to find I could have caught the same bus from many a point I had just walked past. Goddamnit!

Perfect holiday, and getting back to Heathrow was only made bearable by not having to face Mr Immigration Man on the way in, and I made it from Airplane to Tube in less than 5 minutes. Hand-luggage only rocks! (So do British passports.)

Great holiday with perfect host (ess): Istanbul 1, Portugal 1

So here I am, back in London, broke and back at work already, thinking only of getting to SA in November.