Portugal, Part 1
Greetings All,
As the birds begin to chirp and the trees blossom in Beijing, the cold and dark months of January and February are inching towards a distant memory. We had forgotten what winter was all about, having lived the last four years in Dhaka; while we did not have to endure the snow and ice that mark a Minnesota winter, we got close enough to the experience to remember the joys of spring.
During Chinese New Year (at the end of January) we escaped to Portugal, specifically the cities of Lisbon and Porto. While Europe may not be a traditional winter destination, we were quite eager to experience our first excursion together into the continent. While it was warm compared to Beijing and the rest of Europe, we certainly were not roaming about in shorts and flip flops; instead, we strolled through the rolling, tiled streets of these ancient cities as the crisp autumn-like air would compel us to duck inside every so often for a delicious pastry and hot drink. The definition of a relaxing vacation could not be better captured than the week we spent between Portugal's two largest cities; in fact, we found it to be almost too relaxing-adjusting back to the daily grind was as difficult as we can ever recall coming off of a vacation.
Lisbon
Almost exactly one year prior I experienced a taste of Lisbon, having attended a conference that allowed for a day of exploring the city before departing. My appetite whetted, it was an easy sell to Marianella when I broached Lisbon as our CNY destination.
Lisbon's main square:
We arrived late on Friday night and when we entered our hotel room and wanted nothing more than to sleep away our tiredness, the allure of a documentary about Hitler and the Nazis kept us awake well past when our bodies wanted. Fortunately, Lisbon is a city that does not demand strict adherence to a schedule (or at least not the way we experienced it), so our Saturday morning unfurled quite leisurely. The capitol of Portugal, Lisbon is the oldest city in Western Europe, but its modern representation was forced by the reconstruction of the city following the devastating earthquake of 1755. Thousands were killed and the city was levelled, causing a rebuild from scratch. One of the effects of the tragic event was that the King of Portugal, who had escaped the devastation due to being out of the city, developed a claustrophobia about being inside enclosed walls, so for the rest of his life he lived in a massive complex of tents.
Jeronimos Monastery in Belem:
Sunday Flea Market outside of the monastery:
As we walked the winding, cobblestone alleys and gazed upon the buildings, you could see the imprint of its rebirth in 1755. Lisbon is fascinatingly old. If you've followed this blog for awhile, you'll notice photos of young children accompanying nearly all the places we've visited; not so with Lisbon and Porto. This could have been because of the somewhat raw weather and that we were visiting while schools were in session, but the fabric of these cities were made up of their adults. The elderly were offset by a diverse migrant population, most noticeable for us with the Bangladeshi waiters and clerks who were quite happy to engage with us, particularly after telling them we had lived in Dhaka.
The Alfama District:
From the department of incredible moments-Estuardo and Marianella worked together at Markham School in Lima, having last seen one another about five years ago. In that time span, he moved to Paris and unbeknownst to Marianella he was in Lisbon for the weekend while we were visiting. On his free day, he just happened to be walking on the same sidewalk at the same time as us. It truly is a small world:
Despite the absence of children in public view, the city possessed a vibrancy that was irresistible. Even in the midst of winter (albeit, quite mild) the public squares and cafes were populated with residents. Our explorations were frequently accompanied by live music (which I'll share a bit of in a follow-up post) and with the exception of one territorial duck, the locals were unfailingly polite.
So about this duck-we were minding our own business, sitting on a bench in a park when this fowl with an attitude came waddling over with trouble in its eyes; even though he deserved a well placed kick, I chose to avoid confrontation, since I didn't want to try to explain my side to the authorities:
Porto
Have you ever experienced history stepping forward and slapping you in the face? Marinella and I felt that when we visited San Francisco Church in Porto. As we were reading the various plaques within this spectacular church (unfortunately, photos weren't allowed), one particular sentence leapt out at us-back when Napoleon was rampaging through Europe in the early 19th century, he requisitioned this church for his horses while settled in Porto. Talk about history coming alive-imagining the diminutive dictator turning this holy place into a common horse stables created quite an image.
San Francisco Church:
The Porto Train Station:
Porto is a three hour train ride north of Lisbon and while the capitol felt old, Porto was downright gothic-stepping out of the train station, a gaze to the left showcased the medieval cathedral encircled by large seagulls whose constant cries echoed throughout the city during our entire visit. Reputedly the birthplace of the country and undoubtedly the progenitor of port wine, we first marvelled at the tight confines of this fine old city, which was followed by the continual clicking of our cameras as we captured something historic, striking, or quirky while winding our way through the narrow lanes. It was an ideal companion alongside Lisbon, with the occasional raindrops encouraging us to linger within the various cafes, museums, restaurants, and bookstores.
Wandering about Porto:
When JK Rowling lived and taught in Porto, she was a regular at the Lello bookstore, which supposedly became the inspiration for the bookstore in the Harry Potter series:
These fellas were spending their lunch hour scratching off lottery tickets:
Porto's traditional sandwich, the Francesinha-steak, sausage, ham, cheese, egg between two slices of bread with the secret beer-tomato sauce poured over the top-it was good that we didn't stay in Porto any longer, these were delicious and decadent:
The feeling is mutual Porto:
Sintra
The closest we came to having a day washed out on our trip was when we visited this mountain-side destination a mere half-hour train ride from Lisbon. Traditionally a summer escape for Lisbon's elite, in the winter the climate can turn rather harsh, which was what we experienced as he stepped off the train, rain whipping sideways as we simultaneously realized that we had left our umbrellas back in the hotel room. The jewel of Sintra is the Pena Palace, but as you will see in the photo, this was not the optimal day to experience this castle originally constructed as a convent in the 16th century and converted to a royal palace in the 19th century. On this day, as the winds howled and the buildings were shrouded in fog, it resembled the spooky structures where Scooby Doo and the gang would solve mysteries. The highlight for us was the lesser known Quinta da Regaleira, which also featured a grand palace, but most interestingly, a series of caves, grottos, and gardens that were developed by its rich proprietor at the turn of the 20th century.
This jaunty sentry served as a lamplighter in the dining hall:
Pena Palace's kitchen:
This gargoyle contributed to the spooky feeling at Pena Palace:
At Quinta da Regaleira:
I didn't fall in!:
As is fairly commonplace with this blog, I find myself playing catch-up, which actually leads to some good news-as I type this up at the end of spring break, our most recent travels remain fresh in my mind so I anticipate providing you with more reading material soon. Not sure if that's good news or not, but you can't say you haven't been forewarned! Until next time. . .
Our last dinner in Lisbon, at a tiny restaurant with five tables and old magazine pages as the wallpaper-do I need to tell you that it was delicious?:
As the birds begin to chirp and the trees blossom in Beijing, the cold and dark months of January and February are inching towards a distant memory. We had forgotten what winter was all about, having lived the last four years in Dhaka; while we did not have to endure the snow and ice that mark a Minnesota winter, we got close enough to the experience to remember the joys of spring.
During Chinese New Year (at the end of January) we escaped to Portugal, specifically the cities of Lisbon and Porto. While Europe may not be a traditional winter destination, we were quite eager to experience our first excursion together into the continent. While it was warm compared to Beijing and the rest of Europe, we certainly were not roaming about in shorts and flip flops; instead, we strolled through the rolling, tiled streets of these ancient cities as the crisp autumn-like air would compel us to duck inside every so often for a delicious pastry and hot drink. The definition of a relaxing vacation could not be better captured than the week we spent between Portugal's two largest cities; in fact, we found it to be almost too relaxing-adjusting back to the daily grind was as difficult as we can ever recall coming off of a vacation.
Lisbon
Almost exactly one year prior I experienced a taste of Lisbon, having attended a conference that allowed for a day of exploring the city before departing. My appetite whetted, it was an easy sell to Marianella when I broached Lisbon as our CNY destination.
Lisbon's main square:
We arrived late on Friday night and when we entered our hotel room and wanted nothing more than to sleep away our tiredness, the allure of a documentary about Hitler and the Nazis kept us awake well past when our bodies wanted. Fortunately, Lisbon is a city that does not demand strict adherence to a schedule (or at least not the way we experienced it), so our Saturday morning unfurled quite leisurely. The capitol of Portugal, Lisbon is the oldest city in Western Europe, but its modern representation was forced by the reconstruction of the city following the devastating earthquake of 1755. Thousands were killed and the city was levelled, causing a rebuild from scratch. One of the effects of the tragic event was that the King of Portugal, who had escaped the devastation due to being out of the city, developed a claustrophobia about being inside enclosed walls, so for the rest of his life he lived in a massive complex of tents.
Jeronimos Monastery in Belem:
Sunday Flea Market outside of the monastery:
As we walked the winding, cobblestone alleys and gazed upon the buildings, you could see the imprint of its rebirth in 1755. Lisbon is fascinatingly old. If you've followed this blog for awhile, you'll notice photos of young children accompanying nearly all the places we've visited; not so with Lisbon and Porto. This could have been because of the somewhat raw weather and that we were visiting while schools were in session, but the fabric of these cities were made up of their adults. The elderly were offset by a diverse migrant population, most noticeable for us with the Bangladeshi waiters and clerks who were quite happy to engage with us, particularly after telling them we had lived in Dhaka.
The Alfama District:
From the department of incredible moments-Estuardo and Marianella worked together at Markham School in Lima, having last seen one another about five years ago. In that time span, he moved to Paris and unbeknownst to Marianella he was in Lisbon for the weekend while we were visiting. On his free day, he just happened to be walking on the same sidewalk at the same time as us. It truly is a small world:
Despite the absence of children in public view, the city possessed a vibrancy that was irresistible. Even in the midst of winter (albeit, quite mild) the public squares and cafes were populated with residents. Our explorations were frequently accompanied by live music (which I'll share a bit of in a follow-up post) and with the exception of one territorial duck, the locals were unfailingly polite.
So about this duck-we were minding our own business, sitting on a bench in a park when this fowl with an attitude came waddling over with trouble in its eyes; even though he deserved a well placed kick, I chose to avoid confrontation, since I didn't want to try to explain my side to the authorities:
Porto
Have you ever experienced history stepping forward and slapping you in the face? Marinella and I felt that when we visited San Francisco Church in Porto. As we were reading the various plaques within this spectacular church (unfortunately, photos weren't allowed), one particular sentence leapt out at us-back when Napoleon was rampaging through Europe in the early 19th century, he requisitioned this church for his horses while settled in Porto. Talk about history coming alive-imagining the diminutive dictator turning this holy place into a common horse stables created quite an image.
San Francisco Church:
The Porto Train Station:
Porto is a three hour train ride north of Lisbon and while the capitol felt old, Porto was downright gothic-stepping out of the train station, a gaze to the left showcased the medieval cathedral encircled by large seagulls whose constant cries echoed throughout the city during our entire visit. Reputedly the birthplace of the country and undoubtedly the progenitor of port wine, we first marvelled at the tight confines of this fine old city, which was followed by the continual clicking of our cameras as we captured something historic, striking, or quirky while winding our way through the narrow lanes. It was an ideal companion alongside Lisbon, with the occasional raindrops encouraging us to linger within the various cafes, museums, restaurants, and bookstores.
Wandering about Porto:
When JK Rowling lived and taught in Porto, she was a regular at the Lello bookstore, which supposedly became the inspiration for the bookstore in the Harry Potter series:
These fellas were spending their lunch hour scratching off lottery tickets:
Porto's traditional sandwich, the Francesinha-steak, sausage, ham, cheese, egg between two slices of bread with the secret beer-tomato sauce poured over the top-it was good that we didn't stay in Porto any longer, these were delicious and decadent:
The feeling is mutual Porto:
Sintra
The closest we came to having a day washed out on our trip was when we visited this mountain-side destination a mere half-hour train ride from Lisbon. Traditionally a summer escape for Lisbon's elite, in the winter the climate can turn rather harsh, which was what we experienced as he stepped off the train, rain whipping sideways as we simultaneously realized that we had left our umbrellas back in the hotel room. The jewel of Sintra is the Pena Palace, but as you will see in the photo, this was not the optimal day to experience this castle originally constructed as a convent in the 16th century and converted to a royal palace in the 19th century. On this day, as the winds howled and the buildings were shrouded in fog, it resembled the spooky structures where Scooby Doo and the gang would solve mysteries. The highlight for us was the lesser known Quinta da Regaleira, which also featured a grand palace, but most interestingly, a series of caves, grottos, and gardens that were developed by its rich proprietor at the turn of the 20th century.
This jaunty sentry served as a lamplighter in the dining hall:
Pena Palace's kitchen:
This gargoyle contributed to the spooky feeling at Pena Palace:
At Quinta da Regaleira:
I didn't fall in!:
As is fairly commonplace with this blog, I find myself playing catch-up, which actually leads to some good news-as I type this up at the end of spring break, our most recent travels remain fresh in my mind so I anticipate providing you with more reading material soon. Not sure if that's good news or not, but you can't say you haven't been forewarned! Until next time. . .
Our last dinner in Lisbon, at a tiny restaurant with five tables and old magazine pages as the wallpaper-do I need to tell you that it was delicious?:
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