I'm in the mountains of Sintra where the nobility of Portugal built their palaces and villas to escape the heat of summer, as you do. My hotel is a beautiful 1800's weatherboard. There's a slight mist across the valley that I have a view of. There are tiny mouse paintings around the skirting boards. The village itself is beautiful, staircases up to artisan shops, ceramics, linen, retro sardine tin shops and lots of rooster items as it's national symbol of Portugal. They are usually made of metal and come in all sizes and are brightly painted. I end up buying a tiny keyring that's easy to pack. I lunch on a stew of beans, cabbage, pork belly and chorizo. Wholesome and hearty.
Fortified I climb the winding hill to Quinta da Regaleira. Extraordinary! It's gothic splendour and beyond, built in 1904 by an eccentric man incorporating symbols of different ideologies. Intricately carved grottoes, follies, bridges, towers as viewing platforms and incredible gardens with the famous Initiation Well which took me ages to find. It resembles an underground tower lined with stairs, 27 metres of them. Evidently the spacing of the landings combined with the number of steps are linked to the Tarot. I look down to see the staircase swirling like an ammonite down to a mosaic star pattern. Underground caverns and tunnels lead you to other parts of the gardens and lakes. The imagination of the designer is endless. I'm exhausted after experiencing this place and head back down for a ginga in a chocolate cup.
The hotel has a lovely shabby chic cafe where breakfast is served and it's huge! Croissant, Portuguese tart, a roll, yogurt and fruit, ham, prosciutto, cheese , tomatoes, egg and coffee. I make a sandwich to take with me up to see the Palacio das Monastero.
This villa is glorious, a mix of Arabic, Indian and gothic design. The elaborate stone and plasterwork within the hallways and in the dome is stunning. I wander out into the gardens and as I do , the perfume of port wine magnolia and roses are activated by the arrival of the sun. On my return to the old town, I see the swallows, swooping and sliding back up into the blue air and I find some ceramic ones in a shop, and buy a set of three.
The next day I arrive early at the famous Instagram location of Palacio da Pena. The sun is out, there’s a slight breeze up in the mountains where the castle sits, it’s bright sunlight colours emblazoning the site with saffron yellow, vermilion and bright orange. It’s history dates back to the Middle ages with a chapel built after an apparition of the Virgin Mary. In the 15th century it became a monastery of 18 monks. It was damaged badly by lightning in the 18th century and then the Lisbon earthquake of 1755 reduced most of it to ruins except for the chapel. It lay untouched for decades until Prince Ferdinand, in 1838, turned it into a summer palace, using medieval and Islamic elements. It is beyond anything I’ve ever seen.
I fall in love with it’s whimsy. I tour the outside first before the hordes of tourists waiting in line start being allowed in. I am first in as I bought tickets online. I go to the main terrace and the view is stupendous, my eye drifts over the woodlands out over the azure blue sea. This is all framed by columns supporting arches of cadmium yellow with circles punched out; blue with the sky beyond. The colours remind me of Morocco. It’s a fantasy . After his death, the palace was inherited by his second wife, a classical singer with whom he fell in love with 16 years after the death of his first wife; the Countess of Edla.
The palace is beautifully decorated, courtyards and fountains and state rooms, bedrooms and sewing rooms. A glimpse back in time. The rooms are as they were from 1910, when the Queen at that time had to flee to Brazil after the Republican Revolution. After seeing the interior, I walk around the rim of the castle, dizzying heights down to the forests below and views from every side.
After, I walk up through the winding road through the forest and then hop onto a small bus that takes us up to the chalet that was built for the Countess of Edla in the grounds of the forest surrounding the castle. It's Alpine style but with the use of cork as a decorative moulding and set in another lot of gardens filled with species that her and her husband had sent here from all over the world.
I walk back down, the forest on either side of me, cooling the heat of the spring sunshine and further down towards the castle, there are rhododendrons hugging the hillside, the last of their colourful pink and red flowers colouring the woods.
I returned in a tuk tuk, the breeze cooling me. The woman driver drops me at the top of the village and I find the best tapas bar in town. I lunch on thick tendrils of garlic octopus, field mushrooms with goats cheese and prosciutto washed down with a sangria that tasted of roses and cinnamon. It's so good, I book for dinner.
I visit the National Palace, rooms of glorious tiles in rich and varied hues of emerald, malachite, jade. It’s the best preserved medieval palace in Portugal, inhabited continuously from the 15th -19th century. There’s a room with paintings of ships, swan and magpie rooms. The tiled scenes are so beautiful. The kitchens have an enormous pair of conical chimneys that taper skywards and can be seen throughout the town.
I am in awe of the tile work here and everywhere I turn in Portugal. I head back up the hill to my favourite restaurant with it’s little green chequered clothed tables outside in the warm fading sun. There’s a little enamel tin with pencil and a paper placemat that you tick off your order. I order codfish patties with olive tapenade, a salad that arrives in a rectangular ceramic plant container, accompanied by a little glass jar with a pale green olive oil dressing. I have Vinho Verde (green wine) ,that is famous in Portugal, it's light and fruity. Dessert is a recommended pumpkin cake that oozes in the middle with a caramel like filling with a curd gelato and walnuts. It’s amazing.
The waiter remembers me from lunch, he also chats to an American female solo traveller who sits alone with a large bottle of wine. She is perfectly groomed, hair sleek, a little black dress set off by a string of largish pearls, large diamond earrings glint in the setting light. I admire her, she has dressed for herself, alone. I sit for a while longer as the setting of the sun begins to occur and then we smile at each other as I leave. I walk back along the sculpture walk, past the bus shelter with its intricate carved walls and beautiful tiles, past the forests full of the sound of late afternoon bird calls. It's a town of romanticism, gothic extravaganzas and architects who've possibly found a source of magic mushrooms in the hills. My last night in Sintra. Tomorrow I leave on the early train to Porto.
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