Pretty Villages

Tenerife Part 4: Pico del Teide, La Orotava, Puerto de la Cruz & Beyond

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The silhouette of the ancient volcano mesmerized us. Even in the dark blues and blacks of the night the volcano’s majestic silhouette loomed large above Icod de Vinos. Later the moon rose and contributed a magical otherworldliness to our vista. During the winter when its 12,000 ft summit is snow covered and there is a full moon, it’s said to shine like the beacon of a lighthouse that can be seen from the coast of Morocco. The aboriginal Guanches believed Pico del Teide held up the sky and placed offerings on the volcano’s slopes to appease Guayota, an evil deity they believed responsible for its volcanic eruptions. We made our own photographic pilgrimage to Teide as we drove to the Hotel Alhambra in La Orotava, our base for the remainder of our vacation. Though not the most direct route from Icod de los Vino to La Orotava via Pico del Teide it was, I can assure you, the most interesting.

Teide is still considered an active volcano and while its cone hasn’t erupted in the last 850 years, side vents on its slopes have spewed destructive massive lava flows across its slopes in 1492, which Columbus noted in his logbook as he sailed on his maiden voyage of discovery, 1704,1705, 1706, 1798 and 1909. Our route on TF-5 cut across the lava field left from the 1909 El Chinyero vent eruption. Now over one-hundred years later new growth pines are just beginning to emerge from this carnage. Their verdant green needles, a refreshing sign of life in an otherwise barren landscape. Crossing the ridge of the mountains we descended into Santiago del Teide. The main road was lined with several inviting spots to stop for café! (We didn’t realize at the time, but this was also our last chance for lunch, as many places normally open in high season are closed or only open on the weekends in the shoulder seasons.)

After coffee we visited the town’s church, Parroquia de San Fernando Rey. It’s a small, whitewashed structure constructed in the late 1600s and has an interesting collection of religious art. Across the street stands a life-size statue called “the brave Guanche,” dedicated to Alonso Diaz, a goatherd, who in 1509 stood up for his rights and successfully petitioned Spain’s King Fernando the Catholic for justice, after 200 goats were stolen from him by a Spanish conquistador. By royal decree the goats were returned.

Venturing into the foothills, our drive continued along TF-38 and traversed an ever-changing, diverse bio-system as we left the arid shrub-covered lowlands behind and climbed into hillsides covered with pine forests. It was a well paved but narrow serpentine road, without any shoulder, that required constant vigilance. The mouths of ancient lava tunnels were visible from the road, but there was no room to pull over and stop for photos until we reached the Mirador de los Poleos. Here the raw beauty in these charcoal-colored landscapes flourished beneath the Chinyero Volcano, and we had a chance to walk across the lunar-like terrain, part of the immense lava field from its 1909 eruption. Dotted with huge boulders, it was difficult to comprehend the ferocious forces required to expel these massive rocks from their subterranean origin.

Continuing on, we had encountered what we thought was fog until, to our surprise, we emerged above the clouds at Mirador de Samara.

This area is also very popular for hiking, with many very obvious trails crisscrossing through a young forest emerging from the volcanic soil left from Pico Viejo’s last, 92 days long, eruption in 1798.

Approaching noon, we turned toward Vilaflor, the highest village, at 4600ft, on Pico del Teide’s southern slope and surrounded by vineyards. The surrounding wineries produce some of Tenerife’s best wines from Listán Negro, Malvasia, Negramoll, and Listán Blanco grapes. And are embodied with a distinctive terroir from the warm climate and fertile volcanic soil. The weather had suddenly turned gray and dreary. More frustrating though, the wineries we had planned to visit were closed mid-week during the shoulder season. Fortunately, we happened upon Mar de Nubes, a craft store and café run by a friendly young married couple from Tenerife and the States. The shop features only handicrafts made by Canarians and local wines and artisanal beers. Of course, we shopped.

Beautiful, inhospitable, Death Valley-esque, lunar or Martian, however you choose to describe the varied topography that surrounds Pico del Teide’s, it’s enthralling and fascinating. So much so that filmmakers have used the location for scenes in several block buster films: One Million Years B.C. – 1966, Planet of the Apes – 1968, Clash of the Titans – 2010 and its 2012 sequel Wrath of the Titans, and in 2023 the Last Triala, a Star Wars fan film.  TV episodes of Doctor Who, The Dark Along the Ways and season 2 of The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power have incorporated Tiede’s environs into their productions.

Driving back up the mountain we continued on to view the large sculptural outcroppings at the Mirador de La Ruleta and the desert-like dunes of the Siete Cañadas hiking area, before following the long downward grade of the road to La Orotava. We speculated that if you dropped a soccer ball at the top of the slope, it would bounce downhill continually until it splashed into the ocean at Puerto de la Cruz, roughly 23 miles away. Our route along TF-21 cut through forests ravaged by the wildfires of 2023. The blackened trees were the only scars in the otherwise pristine wilderness of the Tiede’s northern slope in Parque Natural Corona Forestal.

Late in the day we coasted into our parking space in front of Hotel Alhambra. Parking on the streets in La Orotava is free, but it’s a competitive sport. We chose to stay at this hotel for its distinctive architecture and location in the historic center. While the exterior of the 500-year-old dwelling is quietly classical, the interior walls of its Canarian-style courtyard were beautifully transformed in 1925 with intricate floral and geometric Nasrid art designs, created with gebs plasterwork and enclosed under a high glass roof. An eclectic decorating theme is highlighted with frescos by Maestro Antonio Otazzo, a local self-described painter, sculptor, musician, philosopher, and poet. As if being followed by a friendly giant, Pico del Teide was in our line of sight when we opened the shutters on our room’s window.

La Orotava was rather easy to walk around if we were walking across the slope, but after several days our hamstrings and calves were sore, though our butts were firmer. “Walk a little then café,” as we say was the perfect approach to exploring this wonderful town.

Along with San Cristóbal de La Laguna, it’s considered to be one of the prettiest towns on Tenerife.

Getting to the higher points in town we asked the hotel to call for a cab, for a quick ride to the Jardines del Marquesado de la Quinta Roja. Once part of an estate, it’s named after the noble interred in the park’s marble mausoleum; as a member of the Masonic Temple his family was not allowed to bury him in the town’s catholic cemetery. Constructed in 1883, the garden is a beautiful French-style, terraced, formal garden with a view over the town and the distant sea. A smaller but older (1788) sister park next to it, the Hijuela del Botánico, features a towering dragon tree and other plantings of specimen trees collected from Spain’s former colonies.  And if you are in awe of dragon trees, as we are, the Villa de La Orotava Dragon Tree Tour might be for you.

From the gardens we wandered downhill along cobbled lanes, past wonderful examples of colorful Canarian architecture, into the historic old town, which is centered around the Nuestra Señora de la Concepción. Started in 1516, it is the town’s oldest and largest church, with its colorful dome giving the town its iconic skyline.

But La Orotava’s history starts early in 1496 with the final defeat of Tenerife’s aboriginal Guanches at the battle of Aguere, after which their leader committed suicide by jumping off a cliff in nearby Tigaiga. “To the victor go the spoils,” and the fertile lands of the Guanche kingdom of Taoro were awarded to the nobles, conquistadors and financiers who participated in the Spanish victory.

The rich soil of the hillside was perfect for the cultivation of sugarcane and the steep streams from the mountain were soon harnessed to run sugar and lumber mills. Prosperity followed. Ice from Mt. Tiede chilled the drinks of the town’s wealthy.

Landowners and merchants built large family mansions in a style which would become known as Canarian, which feature interior courtyards and distinctive facades with decorative wooden balconies and the family’s Coat of Arms prominently facing the street. Convents housed the daughters from families that didn’t want to diminish their wealth by paying the dowry for the girls’ wedding, as was the custom of the time. 

Vines and wine replaced sugar cane and ruled the town’s economy in the 17th century. In the mid-1800s, the textile mills of Europe were searching for different dyes, and mealybugs or cochineal were bred in cactus around La Orotava and harvested to obtain a crimson dye, produced from an acid that the bug makes to fight off predators. Since the late 1800s, vast banana plantations thriving on Tenerife’s mineral-rich volcanic soil continue to bring prosperity to the island and La Orotava, enabling the community to restore its historic buildings.

Not wanting to miss anything on Tenerife, we planned day trips from La Orotava around visiting coastal miradors and following any whims along the way. The Mirador Punta Del Hidalgo was not our favorite photographic destination, but we did enjoy stopping at the crescent shaped, black sand beach at Playa del Arenal in Bajamar, and a farmer’s market, Mercadillo del Agricultor in Tacoronte. Here we purchased some pastries for a snack and some Tuno Indio juice made from the purple fruit of the Canarian Red Prickly Pear. The cactus was brought to the Canary Islands from the Americas centuries ago and has been used in Canarian folk medicine to lower blood sugar and treat other ailments. It also has antiviral, anti-inflammatory, antioxidant, and anti-ulcerogenic properties. It tastes pretty good.

Afterwards we headed to the Mirador La Garañona in El Sauzal. Set dramatically atop a 1000ft sheer cliff, there’s a tremendous view of the coast below. And the park’s shaded paths led to a delightful small café perched at the cliff edge. We lingered and soaked in the view.

On the way to the mirador, we whizzed passed a small neighborhood restaurant set by itself on a corner, and decided to try it on our return trip. But first we had one last stop to make on the way at the Iglesia de Santa Catalina. It’s a classic, white-washed church from the early 1500s and picture perfect with its magnificent dragon tree in front.

Lunch at Restaurante el Calvario was delightful, with excellent house wine and menu featuring traditional Canarian dishes. A young friendly staff, tolerant of our poor Spanish, contributed to a very enjoyable afternoon.

Puerto de la Cruz, just down the hill from La Orotava, was the destination for our last day trip. Originally a small fishing village, the town grew in importance after the main harbor on the north coast of Tenerife in Garachico was filled with lava from a 1706 volcanic eruption. Close to La Orotava, it also benefited from that town’s thriving economy, with the export of sugar, wine and bananas from its port. It has been a popular vacation spot since the Victorian era. Now it attracts visitors and expats from across Europe, drawn to its cosmopolitan vibe, wide beaches, quaint historic center, numerous parks, and vast array of restaurants.

Giant three-hundred-year-old fig trees, planted when the park first opened in the 18th century, are king here. Shaded pathways thread through a cornucopia of verdant jungle, flowers, and water garden. We enviously wished that we could grow everything in our garden at home.

In the historic center we had coffee across from the majestic Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la Peña de Francia and afterwards were able to catch a glimpse of a bride and groom taking their vows. Their antique wedding car waiting under gently swaying palm trees on the plaza in front of the church.

The waterfront in Puerto de la Cruz is beautiful and there are numerous beaches and tidal pools along the coast where you can swim. We strolled along the promenade above the black sand beaches at Playa Maria Jiménez, and Playa Chica to El Castillo San Felipe, a small block fortress built in the 1600s to prevent pirates or the British from landing on the beach here. We lunched along the boardwalk under umbrellas just yards from the surf.

Stopping at the Mirador Roger Piedra Gorda and Mirador Roque Grande rounded out the afternoon. Though parking was a challenge at both spots, we think the effort was worth it for the dramatic seacapes we viewed.

That evening we drove up into the hills above La Orotava and enjoyed a great meal at Bodegón Casa Matías. It’s a rustic establishment, decorated with wine barrels and antique farming tools to acknowledge the history of the region. The chefs and owners, a vivacious husband and wife team, are part of Tenerife’s farm to table movement, sourcing only local meats, including rabbit and goat, fish, cheeses, and seasonal vegetables for their traditional Canarian recipes.

For our last full day on Tenerife, we headed to El Médano to be nearer the airport for a flight the following morning. Arriving late in the afternoon to Playa del Médano we entertained ourselves watching wind and kite surfers speed across the whitecaps. The more experienced kiters crested the waves and performed aerobatics before splashing back into the sea.

Closer to town, families favored the gentler waves, wider beach, and a view of Montaña Roja volcano on the horizon. Tables at eateries along the boardwalk were quickly filling as the golden hour approached.

A crescent beach, gentle waves, good wine and delicious seafood – is there a better way to end the day? We’ll miss Tenerife.

Till next time, Craig & Donna

Tenerife Part 2: Icod de los Vinos or Colonial Charm, Dragon Trees, and Miradors

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Departing Santa Crux de Tenerife, we drove along the TF-5 towards Icod de los Vinos, our base for the next several days as we explored the lower part of the north side of the island. A compass orientation doesn’t accurately describe how Tenerife is split into north and south regions, but Pico del Teide and its rugged highlands roughly divide the island into the dryer South, which faces Africa and catches the westerly blowing Sharqī, a hot wind from the Sahara, while the North of the island is shielded by Pico del Teide from the hot winds blowing west from Morocco, is wetter from Atlantic Ocean storms.

We are not really resort and beach people; there’s that getting sandy issue that deters us. We do enjoy a close proximity to the ocean and beautiful seascapes, both of which were easily attainable on the north side of Tenerife. We figured that the best way to do this was to chase miradors. And there wasn’t any shortage of them on the island. We figured enroute to them we’d pass other wonderful discoveries that would spur us to detour and investigate, rounding out what we saw of the island.

Set on a steep hill, the restaurant La Barada, just a short distance off the highway, was our first stop. Though technically it’s not a mirador, it is a popular place due to its glass pier that is cantilevered dramatically out over the countryside from the restaurant. It offers an amazing bird’s eye view of the coast with Pico del Teide in the distance. The food was also very good and the terrace was alive with boisterous activity the afternoon we stopped. 

We arrived late in the afternoon to our lodging at Hotel Emblemático San Marcos in iIcod de los Vinos. Located on a steep narrow street, it was a challenge to park close to the buildings on the driver’s side and still have enough room to get out of the car, but the parking was free and right in front of our hotel. Built in the early 1700s as a private mansion, it exemplified typical Canarian architecture of the period with its courtyard and meticulously crafted interior, rich with polished wood. The view from our room over the red tiled roofs of Icod extended to the sea.

Still early in the evening, we headed uphill to explore the historic center of the town and to our delight happened across an outdoor concert in the festively decorated plaza next to the Iglesia Mayor de San Marcos. The performances were part of the town’s September’s month-long Christ of Calvary celebrations. Legend says that when the conquistadors first landed on the beach here in the late 1400s they discovered a statue of San Marcos awaiting them. A fortuitous omen that promptly required a church be built. A century later the church was beautifully expanded to what it is today.

As the evening was darkening, we caught our first glimpse of El Drago Milenario. Believed to be 1000-years-old, it is the largest dragon tree on Tenerife. With over 300 branches, and a circumference of 66 feet, it’s a lofty 70 feet tall.

Beloved by the folks of Icod de los Vinos, the tree’s image is included on the town’s coat-of-arms along with Mount Tiede which also towers over municipality.

In centuries past trees harvested from the mountain’s slopes were sledded down the steep ancient roads of the old town, all the way to the harbor, where prosperous shipbuilders used them in the construction of naval vessels that participated in the ill-fated Spanish Armada of 1588. This unique sledding tradition is still kept alive every November with the La Fiesta de las Tablas, when younger folks speed down Plano Street on tablas, polished planks of wood, that often become airborne with their riders when they hit bumps in the road. Unfortunately, we did not witness this fiesta, but the video clips on YouTube are amazing. The cleared slopes around the town now host orchards, vineyards and banana plantations.

That evening we watched the climax of the festival – a spectacular fireworks display – from the balcony of our room. Throughout the night church bells continued to ring out loudly at odd times with seemingly random numbers of chimes. A curious oddity at the end of a wonderful day.

The weather was brilliant and the next morning we set out to visit the Mariposario del Drago, a large glassed enclosed tropical greenhouse that has a butterfly breeding program. Being gardens we find butterflies very entertaining. The experience here was delightful, and elicited smiles from everyone when a butterfly landed on them.

Across the street from the Mariposario, the El Drago Milenario stands behind a high walled and gated fence. The small admission fee to the park is well worth it to support the town’s effort in keeping this goliath of a tree alive. But, if you’d rather skip the expense and put it towards coffee or lunch, there’s an enticing café named Casa del Drago, with a good view, right next door. Farther uphill along Calle San Antonio there is Drago junior, a magnificent younger dragon tree that, according to legend, the town seized from its owner when he tried to cut it down in a fit of rage.

Fortunately, this part of the historic town center is relatively flat and the walking was easy as we headed back to admire the plaza around the Iglesia Mayor de San Marcos in the daylight and the church’s 16th, 17th, and 18th  century religious art.

Afterwards we strolled along the town’s old lanes until we reached city hall and the Iglesia de San Agustin, both of which are dramatically set on a small plaza at the top of a set of ancient stairs. The church dates from the late 1500s and was originally part of the first convent built in the town by the order of Los Augustinos.

The road to Playa de San Marcos in the harbor of Icod is spectacular with views of the coast. It was here, in this sheltered bay, one the few natural harbors on Tenerife’s north coast, that the Saint’s venerated statue was discovered in a cave along the cove.

We found it best to just find a place to park and then walk to the vantage point that interested us. During the September shoulder season when we visited, tourists were scarce and finding parking was relatively easy.

Early the next morning we headed towards Puerto de Santiago on a route that took us to the mountain ridge above Icod. The final destination of the day would be the isolated village of Masca. A serpentine drive from Icod led to a hairpin turn that fed us into Vieja a la Vega, a very narrow steep lane, but really more like an alley lined with homes. This was one of the steepest roads we’ve ever encountered, requiring us to downshift to second gear for the long and seemingly endless ascent to the main road at the top. Fortunately, we didn’t encounter any cars coming downhill, as there was literally no room to pass. At the top we intersected the TF-5 and followed it through an old growth forest covered with stately pine trees. Continuing on, the road traversed a Martian like landscape. A huge lava field that was the result of Volcano Chinyero‘s last eruption in 1909. The terrain became noticeable drier as we crossed the mountain and descended into Santiago del Teide.

The roads to Pico del Tiede, Masca, and Puerto de Santiago converge here, making it the perfect spot for a café break before continuing down to the Mirador Archipenque to view Los Gigantes, a stretch of tall cliff face that dramatically rises straight up from the sea.

From here you can also see two of the other Canary Islands, La Gomera, and La Palma on the horizon.  For centuries Santiago was a quaint fishing village, but it has embraced tourism and now draws folks enchanted by its natural beauty and striking location along the coast. Its harbor from November to February is also a popular hub for whale watching excursions to depart from.

Backtracking through Santiago del Teide we turned into the mountains and followed a long stretch of twisting and turning road to the Mirador de Cherfe. Sitting atop a mountain pass, it has expansive views to the sea. It was also one of the busiest miradors, with vendors selling lava trinkets, and many tourists stopping on the way to or from Masca, like us. Oh, the thrills of driving in the mountains of Tenerife were just beginning!

The isolated hamlet of Masca seems to be a mecca for folks wanting to get into the more remote parts of Tenerife. With limited parking options, we had to wait for a space to become available only to realize after we walked into the hamlet that all the restaurants were closed on Monday. Yikes!

With growling stomachs, we continued on. Starvation was thwarted in El Palmar at the Restaurante El Rincón La Abu, a wonderful establishment where we were the only customers late in the afternoon. The house wine and our meals, pork cheeks in sauce and chicken breast stuffed with serrano ham and spinach, were excellent. We appreciated that we never felt rushed to finish, but we did notice when we were getting into our car that they were locking up for the afternoon. When home our routine finds us having lunch late in the afternoon, but this wasn’t always possible on Tenerife where many of the restaurants close at 2 or 3pm and then reopen later.

It took us awhile to adjust to this earlier lunch schedule. Continuing on we stopped to observe the Montaña Zahorra, an ancient lava dome from which its fertile soil was quarried in the 1960s, 70s and 80s. The distinctive pie shapes of the excavations represented the individual owners’ mineral rights.  

Exuberant like rally drivers, we felt victorious from a day well spent and headed back to Icod de los Vinos to enjoy a glass of local wine on the balcony of our room and watch the moon rise over the foothills above the town.

Till next time, 

Craig & Donna

Road Tripping Through Andalucia: The Pueblos Blancos of Ubrique, Villaluenga del Rosario and Arcos de la Frontera

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Just below the northern horizon, a white brushstroke highlighted the verdant canvas before us as we savored the view from the top of the castillo in Castellar de Frontera one last time. That swath of white slowly changed into Jimena de la Frontera as we drove closer. One of Andalucia’s famed Pueblos Blancos, the village is set on the hillside below the ruins of its ancient castle which once protected it.

In ancient times the homes in villages featured roughhewn stone masonry. Lime paint was a luxury, until its use was greatly expanded during the mid-1300’s when a bubonic plague pandemic swept through the Mediterranean countries. Residents of villages were required yearly to cover the outside and the interiors of their homes and churches with a limewash, known for its natural anti-bacterial and insecticidal properties, in an effort to reduce the spread of disease. Community inspections were done, and folks were fined for noncompliance. This mandated conformity was eventually appreciated as an aesthetically pleasing look and a symbol of meticulous tidiness. Fortunately, the custom stayed and has become an iconic signature of southern Andalusia.

Villaluenga del Rosario was our ultimate destination for the day, but before that we would be driving through the expansive forests of Parque Natural Sierra de Grazalema and stopping along the way in Ubrique, and Benaocaz. All pueblos blancos, though all different in size, setting and atmosphere. According to our maps app the trip would take 2 hours. But it was a glorious 58-mile sinuous route through the mountains, and with several stops it took us most of the day.

The vast 130,000-acre Parque Natural Sierra de Grazalema, with peaks reaching 5400 feet, is one of the wettest areas in Spain, receiving almost 80 inches of rain a year. This is surprising, considering that many areas in Andalucia are often used to replicate the American southwest for European filmmakers. These wet conditions over many millennia have created a dramatic karstic landscape of shear mountains, lush valleys and caves, especially Pileta Cave with its 30,000 year old prehistoric paintings. The park’s lower elevations feature forests of cork oak, carob, hawthorn, and mastic. Higher slopes transition to a landscape of gall oaks and Spanish fir, a tree species that survived the last Ice Age. This ecosystem supports a diverse fauna that contains 136 species of birds, most notably a large population of griffon vultures, and 42 mammal species, that include foxes, badgers, roe deer, otters, and Spanish ibex. And in ancient times it was the refuge of wild, now extinct, aurochs, the ancestor of the famous Spanish Fighting Bulls, toro bravo. The park has been a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve since 1977.

Farmers still harvest cork and olives amidst the rocky terrain and graze cattle, sheep, and goats within the park. This practice made for an interesting encounter when we rounded a curve and faced a VERY LARGE BULL standing in the middle of the road, adjacent to some pasture. We stopped, looked around for his farmer, but there was no one in sight. It was obvious he was the king of this domain, with no intention of moving aside until he felt like it. Slowly we inched forward and watched him eye us until he decided to saunter across the road and let us pass.

Ubrique is a large thriving town with 17,000 inhabitants set in a valley surrounded by tall peaks and steep scree slopes, its homes built above and around boulders too large to move. The town’s prosperity comes from its fine leather workshops, which account for 60% of the townspeople being employed directly or indirectly in the creation of leather products. It started simply enough with leather cases and pouches to carry tobacco and the Precise, a heavy-duty strap that allowed workers to safely carry silex stones and iron bricks.

By the mid-1700s their fine leather products and artisanal craftsmanship was recognized across Europe which fueled an export industry. The good fortunes of the town continued to grow until the mid-2000 when clients seeking higher profit margins moved their leather goods production to China and other Asian countries. Fortunately, their exodus did not last long, and they returned to Ubrique when they realized that the excellent craftsmanship in this small Andalucian town could not be rivaled by cheap labor. Today Ubrique is considered the “artisanal leather capital, “ for high-end fashion brands like Chloe, Gucci, Hermes and Louis Vuitton. “So many stores, so little time.” Of course, we shopped! The decision-making process was painful, but Donna managed to select one single beautiful purse to take home.

In March the twisting roads, higher into the mountains, were nearly void of traffic. Occasionally a campervan passed. Reaching Benaocaz, we parked and strolled through a nearly empty town square in search of coffee. It was a quiet weekend afternoon in the shoulder season, and few people were about, but luckily, we happened to come across Restaurante Nazari, a rustic restaurant with outside tables that had a view of the valley below the town.

Villaluenga del Rosario was only a little farther, and higher into the mountains. The village is dramatically set along one side of a narrow green valley at the base of a sheer mountain massif. The lane to our inn, the Tugasa La Posada, looked too narrow to drive down, and I was concerned about getting to a point that required backing up. A difficult task in an alley barely wider than our rental car, and there was plenty of parking above the village.  La Posada wonderfully reflects the typical inn of centuries past, with a large tavern, featuring regional recipes, on the ground level and a handful of rooms above.

Several things are unique to this pueblo: Snowy winters are common in the Sierra de Grazalema Natural Park’s highest village, situated at an elevation of 2800ft. It is also the smallest village in the Province of Cadiz, with only 438 residents. And the village has a unique octagon shaped bullring, built around a natural rock formation, that is the oldest in Cadiz Province, dating from the mid-1700s. The exact year of construction for the bullring isn’t known, as the town’s archives were lost in a 1936 fire. Located on an important cattle trading route through the mountains, the bullring was also used as a corral during livestock festivals.

But before domestic cattle were raised in the area, prehistoric people used to pursue auroch, a wild bull that lived in the Sierra de Grazalema until it was hunted to extinction in the Middle Ages. Nearby in Cueva de la Pileta, primitive cave paintings of bulls have been dated to the Paleolithic era 27,000 years ago. The famous fighting bulls of Spain, Toro Bravo, descend from this primal auroch lineage that once roamed wild. Ancient pagan festivals often conducted a running of the wild bulls, tethered to a group of men by a long rope, through their villages before a ritual sacrifice.  “Toro de Cuerda'”(Bull on Rope) festivals, are thought to be the foundation of the modern Spanish Bull Fight, and are still held in Villaluenga del Rosario, Grazalema, and Benamahoma. With the advent of Christianity some of these pagan elements were incorporated into church celebrations of a pueblo’s patron Saint. In Grazalema the early church Christianized the practice and includes the Feast of the Bull in celebrations to the Virgen del Carmen every July. Benamahoma’s “Toro de Cuerda” is held in August during their festival to honor the town’s patron saint, Anthony of Padua.

This tranquil village has gone through some turbulent times in its past. Villaluenga del Rosario, known for its woolen textiles in the 17th century, did not escape Napoleon’s destruction as his troops retreated across the mountains after they abandoned their siege of Cadiz in 1812. French troops sacked the village and torched the old Church of El Salvador. Now only the walls and roof arches remain, open to the sky. The sanctuary is now used as a cemetery.  The economy declined throughout the region in the 1800s and early 1900s, and the mountains were beset with bandits. Notoriously, José María El Tempranillo and Pasos Largos, the most infamous of the Sierra’s outlaws, would frequent the village and hideout in the surrounding caves. They are celebrated as Robin Hood bandoleros, robbing the wealthy and redistributing their stolen goods to help the poverty-stricken locals – Andalucia’s mountain justice. These same caves in the 1930s would shelter Republican resistance fighters escaping Fascist troops during the Spanish Civil War. A hiking trail, Los Llanos del Republicano, from the village to caves is named after them.

The rural population continued to emigrate, contributing to further economic deterioration until the villages’ employment prospects improved with the opening of a cheese factory, Queso Payoyo, in 1997. The Payoyo goat is an ancient breed from the Sierra de Grazalema and considered endangered. Since Queso Payoyo opened 25 years ago, its goat and sheep cheeses have received 175 national and international awards. Thirty-five farms now supply Payoyo goat and Merina grazalemeña sheep milk to the cheesemaker. Their shop just across the road from the village seems to be a Mecca for cheese aficionados. Open seven days a week, we were surprised to find it packed with customers early on a Sunday morning, when we stopped to buy some cheese before we headed to Benamahoma.

It was a beautiful crisp spring day, and we enjoyed a slow walk uphill into the village. Next to the Plaza de las Huertas the façade of the Ermita/mezquita de San Antonio, a church/mosque, visually represents Benamahoma’s complex cultural identity, with Moorish horseshoe-shaped arches and three golden spheres topped by with a gold crescent, typically seen on minarets, atop its tower.

This region in Spain has a very complicated history, beginning with Alfonso X’s Reconquista which started in the mid-1200s, paused, then continued for the next 400 years with his successors. Benamahoma was the last Moorish village in the mountains to have its inhabitants expelled from the region in 1609, eighteen years after Grazalema’s Muslim villagers were forced out, though the hamlets are only nine miles apart. Their reprieve was caused by the fact that although Alfonso X and later Kings achieved military victories, they did not have enough troops to garrison each village, nor sufficient numbers of willing Christian settlers from Northern Spain to repopulate the conquered towns. Consequently, to keep the economy of the area going and subjects to collect taxes from, Moors were allowed to stay as long as their local Princes swore allegiance to a Christian King and declared themselves loyal vassals.  This did not always go smoothly and there were rebellions. Most famously the Mudéjar Revolt in 1264, when the towns of Jerez, Lebrija, Arcos, and Medina-Sidonia were recaptured and occupied by Moors for several years before Christian armies secured the towns once again. 

Benamahoma’s historic, pragmatic tolerance is celebrated the first weekend every August with a Moros y Cristianos Festival. Carrying swords, shields and blunderbusses, historical reenactors dressed in period clothing parade through the village to the bullring, where they then engage in mock hand-to-hand combat. The battles are won with the capture of an image of San Antonio de Padua by the Moors on Saturday and then won by Christians on Sunday with the rescue of his image. Many of the positions in the opposing armies are hereditary, the tradition being passed down from father to son, through the generations. Benamahoma is the only village in western Andalucia which celebrates this festival.

This village’s remoteness in the Sierra de Grazalema did not protect it from the atrocities committed during the Spanish Civil War. Near the bullring, in the Parque de Memoria Historica, silhouettes stand where villagers once stood against a wall before they were massacred by Fascists. Sadly, this memorial is also near the village’s second church, the Iglesia de San Antonio de Padua.

Backtracking as we headed to Arcos de la Frontera, we stopped at a radio station above El Bosque. A trail behind its tall antenna offered the perfect vantage point to capture a photo of the village below. We did not stop in El Bosque, but after catching glimpses of the village as we drove through, in hindsight we wished we had.  But there was a time constraint, we wanted to spend the afternoon exploring Arcos de la Frontera, before flying on to Barcelona the next morning. 

The A-372 between El Bosque and Arcos de la Frontera has to be one of the prettiest stretches of highway anywhere. With the reflection of the Sierra de Grazalema in our rearview mirrors, we wished we could have lingered longer.

I’ve always loved maps for researching routes, finding obscure sites, and figuring out the best vantage point to capture a landscape from. This brought us to our first two stops at the Molino de Angorrill, an old mill, and the Mirador Los Cabezuelos, before we entered the hilltop citadel. Both places along Guadalete River had wonderful views of the ancient city.

After this our map app failed us when it suggested we head the wrong way down a one-way calle into the village. We eventually found an underground parking garage at Parque El Paseo and towed our suitcases uphill to the Parador de Arcos de la Frontera.

It was LONG walk, but of course we stopped frequently to take photos. Located next to the 500-foot-high Mirador Plaza del Cabildo and adjacent to the Basílica de Santa María de la Asunción and the Castillo de los Duques de Arcos, the hotel was a perfect base for a one-night stay. Formerly the Casa del Corregidov was an Andulcian palace before it was acquired by the government and renovated to be a parador in 1966.

Arcos has always been a favored spot, appreciated for its access to abundant water sources and its easily defensible position atop a cliff face. It has hosted settlements since the Neolithic period, Bronze Age, Tartessians, Phoenicians and Romans periods.

The village continued to grow under the Moors and while the facades and interior of buildings in this ancient town have changed over the centuries the original Arab footprint of the village, with its exceedingly narrow lanes has remained the same.

The view from the mirador and the hotel’s patio were phenomenal during the golden hour. As the sun was setting, a large flock of storks appeared over the bell tower of the Basilica and circled for about fifteen minutes before flying away. It was a magical experience that nicely capped our short time in Arcos.

The next morning, we watched the sun rise over the Sierra de Grazalema and the village’s church steeples from our hotel room, before wandering through the village’s ancient lanes one last time.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

Madeira: Pirates, Wine & Flowers or Everywhere There’s a Miradouro!

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“Could you recommend any restaurants for lunch?” The young car rental agent seemed surprised, at first, that we asking her opinion. “Where are you staying. What do you like?” “In the center of Funchal. Meat, fish, we enjoy everything,” I replied. “Hah, most places in Funchal will be closed for the mid-afternoon break by the time you reach town, but nearby, though it’s in the opposite direction, there is Restaurante Snack-bar Frente Ao, one of my favorite places.” And so, our Madeira adventure began with a delicious lunch in a no-frills local place. Tasty grilled limpets in a buttery garlic sauce started our meal. A traditional Polvo a Lagareio, baked octopus with potatoes, and scabbardfish served with fried bananas followed. It was scrumptious, heavenly, you get my point, it was really GOOD!  Outside, planes flew close to the water on their final approach to FNC, across a panorama of the coast that stretched all the way to the headland of Ponta de São Lourenço.

Our first short drive to the restaurant revealed a verdant, lush tropical island bursting with flowering plants, and mountainous with steep ravines that descended into the ocean, like the radial arms of a spider’s web, from a central ridge that runs the length of the island. Colorfully painted homes with red tiled roofs dotted the countryside like swathes of pigment in an impressionist painting. There are few direct, only circuitous routes, where even the bridges and tunnels, some almost 2 miles long, curve to follow the contour of the land. Banana groves large and small dotted every plot of land between the homes that covered the hillsides. Three vintage cars zoomed by.

Portuguese sailors blown 300 miles off course by a violent storm as they explored the west coast of Africa in 1418 discovered a small uninhabited island, with a sheltered anchorage, where they rode out the storm. In thanks they christened the island Porto Santo, Holy Harbor. They noted in a ship’s log that on the western horizon a “dark monstrous shape loomed.” A year later they returned. Wood, madeira, from its virgin forests was the island’s first exports. The trees were so tall and straight that they allowed the Portuguese to design larger, sturdier ships, which Vasco da Gama’s fleet used to sail to India in 1497.

Felling trees for export opened the hillsides for extensive terracing of the lower slopes in the mid-1500s, when sugar cane became the prized export. Later grapes were introduced, and Madeira wine was born. Both crops thrived with irrigation provided by an extensive series of arduously cut, narrow channels called levadas, which traverse the rugged terrain and divert water from mountain streams to the agricultural terraces across the island. Their water was also used to turn the waterwheels of the first mills on the island. Close to five-hundred miles of levadas cover this mountainous island that is roughly thirty-four miles long and fourteen miles wide.

With Madeira wine came the English, who believed that fortified wines improved with age on long ocean voyages. Sailing to their various colonies in the Americas, English naval and merchant ships would sail south from England to catch the trade winds blowing west off Morocco. Fortuitously, Madeira was a well-placed port of call to resupply. With full sails and barrels of Madeira wine in the ship’s hold, they’d reach the Caribbean in a month’s time. Farther on, in their New England colonies, members of the Continental Congress toasted the signing of the Declaration of Independence in 1776 with Madeira wine. While being notoriously at odds with Spain for centuries, the Brits and the Portuguese have the world’s oldest alliance which stems from the Treaty of Windsor in 1386 and was fortified, port glasses raised, with the marriage of King John I of Portugal to a daughter of John of Gaunt, Philippa of Lancaster. This treaty of mutual support has lasted over 630 years. Cheers!

Captain Cook and Charles Darwin both visited at the beginning of their explorations. Napoleon in 1815 stopped for a final supply of Madeira wine while enroute to his permanent exile on St Helena. With the advent of steamships, Madeira became a destination for the well to do of Europe. Before the quay was constructed, historical photos show merchants rowing long boats laden with supplies out to ships anchored in the harbor, and returning with visitors to disembark on Funchal’s rocky beach. Doctors recommended its good fresh air for patients convalescing from tuberculosis. Winston Churchill visited in 1950, painted seascapes and stayed at Reid’s Palace, a Madeira institution since 1891 that still serves afternoon high tea.  He left the island with a reputation that it was for stogey old folks, that remained for decades.

But with Portugal joining the European Union in 1986, it enabled a massive investment in infrastructure that united all parts of the island that were previously inaccessible by overland routes. The small island now has over 100 tunnels and bridges, along with seven cable car routes scattered around the island. Across from the cruise terminal at the base of Santa Catarina Park, there is a relief statue set into a granite embankment that commemorates the men who toiled to build the island’s tunnels and terraces.

Flat land is a rarity on Madeira, as is landfill, the lack of which required the airport runway extension in 2000 to be uniquely expanded over the ocean on 180 concrete columns, each of which are 230-foot-tall, for a total length of 9,000 feet. It felt like we were going to land on an aircraft carrier. Fifty-eight cities in twenty-one countries now have direct flights to the island. Cruises to the island continue to be popular and in 2022 Madeira was voted by the World Cruise Awards the Best Cruise Destination in Europe. Madeira has now reinvented itself into a destination packed with outdoor activities that include sailing, whale watching, surfing, paragliding, scuba diving, and mountain hikes for all levels of fitness.

Our hotel, São Francisco Accommodation, was a modest three-star hotel centrally located in Funchal’s historic old town. The big pluses for us were its elevator, underground parking lot across the street, and its location. The most interesting parts of Madeira’s capital city were within walking distance of our lodging. We were set for the week!  We chose to stay in Funchal because it is the island’s largest city, with enough things to do locally so we wouldn’t feel the need to go elsewhere. The car was for day trips to explore the rest of the island.

One afternoon we were drawn down the street by the sound of classical music flowing from the park around the corner from the hotel. Folks casually filled a small amphitheater in the midst of a manicured garden. Next to the bandstand a small kiosk offered a table.  We ordered drinks and enjoyed the afternoon entertainment. At the bottom of the park people mingled around a line of classic cars parked along the street.

Delightfully, Madeirans out of necessity have inadvertently created a sub-culture of serious vintage car enthusiasts. Importing cars to the island has always been very expensive. Consequently, automobiles have become family heirlooms. Many of them are passionately maintained or restored and passed down through the generations. So common is the practice that over 800 vintage cars are registered on this small island. Their enthusiasm is celebrated each year with the Madeira Classic Car Revival, a three day event that culminates with a race along the Praça do Povo waterfront every May.

Several mornings we were up before dawn to walk along the waterfront in search of the ultimate sunrise shots with the unpopulated islands Selvagens and Desertas silhouetted on the horizon. We were not disappointed.

There were numerous interesting photo opportunities from the marina to Forte de São Tiago, which was built in the early 1600s in response to two brutal attacks by pirates. French pirate Bertrand de Montluc assaulted the town in 1566 with three ships. Mayhem ensued as his cut-throats   rampaged and plundered the streets for fifteen days. Then Barbary pirates with eight ships ransacked Funchal in 1617 and took 1200 people back to Algiers as slaves. Now, under the ramparts of the fort, pensioners enjoyed ritualistic morning swims along a peaceful, pebbly Praia de São Tiago.

Around the corner from the fortress at the Miradouro do Socorro, a pretty arbor frames the view of the sea and the Complexo Balnear da Barreirinha, a waterfront day resort where you can rent a lounger and swim in their pool or the sea. Across the street the Igreja de Santa Maria Maior, a small parish church, serenely graces the neighborhood.

Heading back into town we walked along the Rua de Santa Maria, a narrow alley known for the uniquely painted doors on homes, galleries and restaurants that line the street.  To see many of the doors you have to visit the street early before the shops open them for the business day.

In front of the Mercado dos Lavradores, the town’s old central market, there is a bronze statue depicting a merchant driving a team of oxen pulling a flat wooden pallet loaded with barrels of wine. Versions of these toboggans fitted with wicker chairs were called Carro de Cesto. Until roads were introduced in 1904 to accommodate the first cars brought to the island, this was the preferred downhill method of public transport, as a wheeled cart might run away uncontrollably if there was a mishap.

Today, at the steps before the Nossa Senhora do Monte Church, toboggans filled with tourists are pushed downhill by two men, Carreiros, donning wicker hats and traditional white outfits. Hold on, the steep serpentine course is over a mile long and the sleds can go almost 25 miles an hour! There are no brakes, only the special, rubber-soled shoes the carreiros wear, and stopping is accomplished by dragging their feet along the road to slow the toboggan. It’s a popular activity easily combined with a cable car ride from the Funchal waterfront to the Monte Palace Tropical Garden.

Though when we visited we chose to use our car instead of taking the cable car to Monte. We didn’t realize when we started but the google map route we followed to the garden was up one of Funchal’s steepest streets. The Caminho de Ferro takes its name from the old funicular train tracks upon which the road was paved. It runs for two miles straight up a hill with a twenty-five-degree slope and gains nearly 2000ft in altitude. I was doing fine driving uphill in second gear until we encountered a semi-blind cross street that did not have a stop sign, only a large traffic mirror. This was something I hadn’t encountered before, so I came to a complete stop. The incline of the road was very steep at this point, and I had difficulty getting the car moving again without rolling back too far. Ultimately after several frustrating minutes I rolled the car back perpendicularly to the road, got the car in gear and powered slowly through the intersection. Fortunately, there is very little car traffic on the side roads in Funchal and we lucked out in finding a parking space near the garden. The return route into the city center, down streets so narrow it required pulling the mirrors in, was equally challenging.

In the 1700s the hillside that the garden covers was a private estate with a small chateau. Later it functioned as a grand luxury hotel. In 1987 the entrepreneur Jose Manuel Rodrigues Berardo acquired it and transformed it into a serene Japanese themed botanical garden and opened it to the public. It’s a beautiful tranquil landscape, but it’s best to arrive early or late to avoid a crowd. There is also collection of contemporary Zimbabwean stone sculptures from the 1960s and a cave created to display a spectacular mineral collection gathered from around the world.

Slightly smaller and lower on the slope the Jardim Botânico da Madeira is also worth a visit to experience its stunning formal garden with a view of the Funchal coastline, and paths that weave through various plantings. There is also a nice cafe with a terrace that has one of the best views of Funchal.

However, if you enjoy orchids the place to head is the Quinta da Boa Vista. It’s a quirky plant nursery that has been operated by several generations of the Garton family and has hundreds of different orchids. As we entered the first greenhouse, an eager attendant waved us over and encouraged us to smell a delicate plant she was holding. An Oncidium Sharry Baby, it had a delicate chocolate aroma. It was delightful. With two stunning botanical gardens in Funchal and smaller ones seeded around the island, Madeira justly earns its nickname as “The Floating Garden of the Atlantic.”

Earlier we had spotted the hulking edifice of the Fortaleza de São João Baptista do Pico. A 17th century stronghold, it was built high on a hill, 350 feet above Funchal’s waterfront to deter pirate attacks. It’s a wonderful destination within town, with a nice children’s playground and café outside the fortress battlements. The view out over the city and ocean was spectacular.

Other mornings we explored closer to home heading to the Igreja de São João Evangelista, on Funchal’s central plaza. Built by Jesuits in 1629, it is known for the fusion of its Mannerist exterior with a lavish Baroque interior.

We climbed to the church’s roof for an exceptional view of the old town. Funchal’s City Hall is adjacent to the church and has a stately courtyard centered around a unique fountain depicting Leda and the Swan. An odd choice we thought for decorating a municipal building.

But Funchal is very supportive of public art and we passed many interesting sculptures along our walks. The historic old town with its cobbled lanes lined with centuries old buildings and churches was a delight to explore.

One morning we photographed small boats leaving the port at sunrise from Parque de Santa Catarina, which commands a bluff across from the cruise terminal.

From the park we walked along Rua Carvalho Araujo up into São Martinho, an upscale area anchored by Reid’s Palace. Occasionally we popped into the hotels that faced the water to check out their views.

But there is more to this island than just Funchal, so we hopped in the car for farther explorations west along the coast. Our first day trip was on a Saturday afternoon to Câmara de Lobos, famous as a favorite spot for Winston Churchill to paint. A newly married couple was taking wedding photos amid the colorful small boats pulled ashore as young children splashed and played with their dog in the shallow surf  that splashed against the boat ramp.

Parallel parking on a steep incline was challenging, but it’s a skill that’s required on Madeira, and came in handy when we reached the Cabo Girão Skywalk, one of the highest cliffs in Europe. Relatively close to Funchal, this is a popular destination and there was actually a traffic jam as cars and buses creatively parked. This glass bottomed miradouro seems to hover miraculously over fertile fields that grow grapes and tomatoes nineteen-hundred feet below. Nearby the Cabo Girão cable car, originally built to help farmers bring their crops up from the fields, can whisk you down to a secluded beach. We have a healthy fear of heights and instead continued on.

I wasn’t fast enough with my camera to grab a photo of a paraglider swooping low over our car as he landed along the stoney beach at Cais da Fajã do Mar. High above us a group of paragliders swirled on warm thermals and we waited for them to descend, but they kept floating back over the ridge.

We meandered farther west to the beach and harbor, dramatically wedged between ocean and mountain, in Estreito da Calheta.  This is a largely human-altered section of the coast with a breakwater protecting Praia da Calheta, created with imported sand, and harbor next to it. We ate lunch on the promenade across from the marina.

Heading back to Funchal later that afternoon we made a final stop in Ponta do Sol, and were able to find sanctioned parking in one of Madeira’s older, now decommissioned traffic tunnels. Walking out to a small headland we had late afternoon refreshments on a terrace with a brilliant view of the coastal village.

“Roll up your window.” “Wait, you’re not going to…” Yee haw! I yelled and we laughed while a thunderous cascade of water splashed off the roof of our car as we drove under the Cascade of Angels waterfall.

Till next time, Craig & Donna

Portugal Road Trip Part 6: South Along Portugal’s Frontier Castles to Evora

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Let’s face it, sometimes the weather just sucks! It was so abysmal we were tempted to stay wrapped in our blankets and sip coffee, but our travel plans dictated otherwise.  We try to avoid really long drives, but sometimes you just have to. Today was one of those days. Six hours of driving from Santa Maria de Feira across the country, west to east, to the Portuguese frontier. Stopping at Castelo Mendo then heading south to Sortelha Castle before reaching Castelo de Vide, where we would spend the next two nights. We had visited this region bordering Spain several years earlier, exploring Marvão, Monsanto and Castelo Branco, and found the quiet walled villages and hilltop castles intriguing and full of fascinating history.

Normally we like to use Google Maps’ “avoid tolls” filter, because tolls along with gasoline are excessively expensive in Europe. We’ve followed its suggested routes to some off-the-beaten-path discoveries; however, this time it doubled the length of the journey. So, we kept to the highways. In Lisbon we had asked the car rental agent about paying tolls which eventually boiled down to: you need to stop at any CTT Post Office, give the agent your car registration number and pay the tolls only for the dates you have rented the car. It was actually an easy and inexpensive process.

The intermittent rain had stopped, but a moody gray sky still hung over Castelo Mendo as we walked through the Portas da Vila, the ancient gate, guarded by two towers and two now well-eroded zoomorphic sculptures of wild boar, which are believed to date from an early Iron Age settlement. Solid two-story homes lined the way. The first floors, now shops closed for the off-season, were once used as barns for animals, while the upper levels were used as living space for the families. Our footsteps echoed down the hard stone alleys as we made our way to the hill where the castle once stood, we passed the communal oven, the pillory, and the portal to a foundling wheel (a turnstile where unwanted babies were anonymously placed. It was used until 1867.)

On the ruins of earlier Bronze Age and Roman fortresses a large castle, with six city gates and two rings of defensive walls and towers, was ordered built in 1229 by D. Sancho II. It must have been a sight to behold as the village was granted a charter to host an eight-day-long triannual fair. This was the first fair to be held on a regular basis in Portugal. The castle’s strategic importance was soon forgotten after the permanent border with Spain was established in 1297 with the Treaty of Alcanizes, and over time the immense walls were dismantled. The stones were carted away to build homes in the expanding and prosperous village. Now on the crest of the hill only the ruins of the citadel’s church remain standing.

We were navigating a switchback curve off of N324 which we had followed south from Castelo Mendo when we spotted the Castle of Sabugal high on knoll above the Coa River. Looking very impressive from a distance, we noted the castle for future travels. The weather too inclement to stop on the shoulder of the road to take a photo.

The storm had steadily worsened all afternoon. By the time we reached the Castelo de Sortelha it was raining “estava chovendo cães e gatos.” Fortunately, it was mid-week and every sane person was inside with their feet by the fire enjoying a glass of port. Except for this “madman,” which is how my loving wife occasionally refers to me.

I’ve always enjoyed weather and spent three years before retirement, as a mailman delivering mail in all sorts of weather. “Neither snow nor rain…” I was unfazed. Donna sat out this lunacy. But you never know if you’ll get a chance to come back! Tucking my camera deep under my coat, I ventured forth. I returned soaked. Really it was just an excuse for a double ration of Port that evening. To say the least, the photos are moody.

Fortunately, the door was quickly opened at A Burguesa Guesthouse and a friendly voice welcomed us with “Please come in, let me take your bags,” as we were ushered inside out of the rain. We know we’re getting older when the young receptionist at the guesthouse whisked our bags up the stairs two steps at a time. “Maybe I should start dying my grey?” “You might need to shave a few years off while you’re at it,” Donna replied jokingly with a smile. A few moments later the hostess returned with an umbrella and directions for parking our car which was blocking the narrow, deserted lane in front of the guesthouse.

“Follow the lane, anywhere around the plaza, the parking is free.” One of the things we’ve come to appreciate while driving through Portugal is that parking, outside of the larger cities, is relatively easy and free. Unlike Italy where you practically need to have a separate budget just to park the car. When I returned our hostess kindly offered to dry our coats for us, which we greatly appreciated. Originally a large family residence with a workspace on the lower level, A Burguesa was lovingly restored into a spacious inn featuring eight guest rooms, pool, terrace and views of the village’s castle.

Castelo Vide first came to our attention several years ago, when we were driving north from Marvao to Castelo Branco. Its red roofed, white stuccoed buildings and prominent castle covering a hillside looked so appealing we hoped to return. We did detour at the time to the Ermida de Nossa Senhora da Penha, a small chapel in a cork forest. Located high on a ridge opposite the village, it offered an outstanding view. If the weather is nice, it’s definitely worth a visit. Farther along there is still visible on this lane a section of old Roman road that crossed this region 2000 years ago.

Vide, as it was known before its castle was built, has been an important town since the Romans settled the area in 44 BC, when it was a vital stop on the trade route between Merida, Spain and the Atlantic coast. Eventually the Moors ruled the area from the 7th until 12th century. It wasn’t until 150 years after the Reconquista in 1310 that King Dom Dinis ordered a new castle built, and the growing town became Castelo Vide.

This castle is where King Dinis negotiated his marriage to his future queen, Isabel of Aragon. The castle still commands the hilltop today, though now the medieval fortress has been renovated into a museum and civic center. At the time we visited it showcased an interesting exhibit about Portugal’s Carnation Revolution in 1974, which ended a forty-year military dictatorship.

Seven hundred years ago the homes of the walled enclave that surrounded the castle keep represented a medieval who’s who of wealthy merchants influential enough to secure shelter behind the fortress walls. The intimate narrow passageways and ancient archways of this still inhabited enclave were intriguing to wander through.

On the slope below the castle, steep alleys spiderweb down the hillside. While it was a vigorous trek to the top, the descent was equally challenging, with the concern that if we lost our balance on the wet cobblestones, we would bounce downhill like soccer balls. I exaggerate only slightly. The ambiance of this neighborhood was equally interesting – flowers seemed to grow from solid rock in the crevasses between street and homes. On homes in this neighborhood, Gothic style granite casings still survived and framed many doors and windows. Some homes left doors ajar for family pets to wander in and out, or to share their parakeets’ songs with the neighbors.

We followed a lane across the slope to Sinagoga de Castelo de Vide, a residence before its use as a modest Jewish temple. It’s thought to be one of the oldest existing pre-expulsion synagogues in Portugal, that dates from the 13th century. It’s now a museum that chronicles Jewish life in the region. Vide’s Jewish Quarter expanded significantly after Spain expelled its Jewish citizens in 1492. While Portugal was more tolerant of their religion, they were still required to live apart and encouraged to convert to Christianity.

At the bottom of the Jewish Quarter, the Fonte da Vila, a marble sixteenth century Renaissance fountain, centers the village’s old market square. The mineral water flowing from it was renowned for allegedly curing a variety of ailments from diabetes to high blood pressure.

The narrow lanes of the old town eventually funnel into the Praça Dom Pedro V, a stately plaza featuring the town hall and Igreja Matriz Santa Maria da Devesa. These “newer” historic buildings and the homes on the surrounding wider streets date from the town’s prosperous 17th and 18th centuries.

While the interior of the town’s church is very modest, the old choir loft, balconies and bell towers have been converted into a simple museum displaying a wealth of ancient religious art and sculpture. If you have ever wondered what happens to the contents of all the small, abandoned parish churches you’ve driven past, here’s your answer. Well, hopefully they end up in a splendid museum like this one that has become the religious art repository for the region. A gem of a discovery and the perfect way to spend a wet afternoon for only 1€.

The next morning a favorable weather report promising sun encouraged us as we continued south to Evora. Only a few miles out from Castelo Vide we detoured for a quick stop at the Ponte Romana da Portagem. A modest four-arched stone bridge, built in the 1400s over an earlier Roman crossing, its tranquil location spanning the Sever River obscures a turbulent past. It was here that King John II of Portugal built a tower with a tollgate in front of the bridge to collect a tax from the Jewish people expelled from Spain. A small refugee camp grew along the riverbank for those who couldn’t afford the tax. It’s believed 15,000 Jewish refugees eventually crossed the bridge.

The high arches of an ancient aqueduct, the Aqueduto da Água de Prata, spanned our route into Evora. This was a critical infrastructure project in the 1500s when King John III ordered it built to relieve the near constant drought conditions of the city that was quickly becoming a center of commerce and education in the Alentejo region, with the establishment of the Colégio del Espiritú Santo, University of Evora, in 1557. Of Lisbon’s Tower of Belém fame, military architect Francisco de Arruda was chosen to design the aqueduct. The mammoth project stretched a formidable 11 miles from the Divor River through a series of tunnels and over elevated arches, some 85 feet tall, spanning valleys and plains, before bubbling forth in the public fountains across Evora. Seems “location, location, location,” has been a housing mantra for centuries and as available land within the walled city disappeared, homes and stores were built under the aqueduct’s arches.

We knew when we planned this trip that parking in Evora would be an issue, but we were fortunate to find The Noble House which had a limited number of parking spaces available for 10€ a day. It wasn’t going to break our budget and it was well worth the convenience for two nights. The 24-room boutique hotel, as its name suggests, was in the 1400s an aristocrat’s family home. The hotel has been meticulously renovated to a historical standard that kept many of the building’s original stone arches, azulejos tiles and vaulted brick ceilings in place. For the level of comfort provided, and the convenient location, it was a tremendous value. During the shoulder season rooms are often available for under 100€ per night, breakfast included.

Wandering through the ancient city, we were charmed by its ambience, and the way in which archaic architectural styles harmoniously blended. At the city’s center, Roman first century ruins of the Temple of Diana share the acropolis with the 14th century gothic Catedral de Évora, the largest medieval church in Portugal.

We climbed to the cathedral’s roof, the highest point in Evora, for brilliant panoramas of the city.

The cloister attached to the cathedral now houses a museum exhibiting the church’s ecclesiastical treasures, displayed in spaces that were once monks’ cells.

The Miradouro do Jardim Diana at the other end of the acropolis was a fine spot for a café break and also people watching.

Wine tastings featuring Alentejo vintages produced in the region surrounding Evora are a popular activity within the city. It’s not really our thing, but on the spur of the moment we stopped in the Ervideira Wine Shop, made a reservation, and returned later for a private wine tasting. Our knowledgeable host walked us through a tasting of five delightful Ervideira vintages. It was a very enjoyable experience and we purchased two bottles to accompany us to the Algarve.

Luckily, we were strolling along the arcade covered sidewalk that parallels Praça do Giraldo when the sky burst open with a sudden downpour. The timing was perfect as we had stopped in front of the Cafe Arcada, which was packed with locals eager to take part in its sumptuous lunch buffet. It’s definitely worth checking out and very budget friendly.

Walk a little then café is the philosophy we follow when exploring a city. With that in mind we continued the next morning to wander our way slowly towards the museum of the Igreja e Mosteiro de São Francisco and next to it – cue creepy music – the Capela dos Ossos, Evora’s Chapel of Bones.

“Nos ossos que aqui estamos pelos vossos esperamos.” It’s hoped this odd welcoming inscription, translated as “We bones that are here, for your bones we wait,” above the entrance to the ossuary will lead visitors to contemplate the ephemeral nature of life. Attached to the Mosteiro de São Francisco, the bones chapel was built by three Franciscan monks in the late 1400s as a way to respectfully reintern 5000 dead that were being exhumed from Evora’s overflowing cemeteries to make room for the newly departed. A wedding service was in progress at the Iglesia de São Francisco when we exited. Something old, something new. Life goes on.

Afterwards, we crossed to the municipal market and browsed amongst the vendors for some fruit, cheese, sausage and of course irresistible Portuguese olives for a picnic lunch in the Jardim Público de Évora, only a short walk away.

Heading back into the center of the historic district we passed the Igreja da Graça. This 16th century church has a unique façade that features four, very large-muscled Atlas figures sitting on the corners of the roof. We assumed the interior would be equally as interesting, but it’s not open to visits as it is currently used as a chapel for the Portuguese Armed Forces.

Back at the acropolis, we toured the Museum Frei Manuel do Cenáculo, named for the 18th century monk/archeologist who later became archbishop of Evora. It’s an eclectic collection featuring Roman and Visgoth antiquities gathered by Cenáculo, period furniture, and four centuries of ecclesiastical art from extinct churches of the region. It was a fascinating exhibit.

The weather was finally improving. We were ready to work on our tans. Tomorrow the Algarve.

Till next time, Craig & Donna

This website, The Historical Villages of the Portuguese Frontier might whet your curiosity to explore the region.

Portugal Road Trip – Part 5: Braga, Vila do Conde & Santa Maria de Feira

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My wife and I occasionally discuss the destinations we’ve enjoyed the most and which we’d enthusiastically like to return to. We can truly say we’ve enjoyed every place we’ve chosen so far, but aside from Italy, the land of Donna’s people, being a must, Portugal and Guatemala top the list. They are both wonderfully interesting destinations with fascinating locations and cultural events to experience. With budgeting an important consideration for our travels, both Portugal and Guatemala are pocket friendly destinations. But, with the Euro currently at a favorable exchange rate, Portugal is a tremendous bargain. Throw in the fact that the weather, cities, beaches, and countryside are beautiful, along with a welcoming environment, great food and wine, well we should really emigrate there.  Alas, we’ve never really wanted to be fulltime expats. We’ve opted instead for a return visit to this splendidly diverse country when an airfare deal appeared on our travel alerts.

The city of Braga first popped onto our radar while we chatted with a PSP officer at a Tourism Police Station in Lisbon several years ago as we filed a stolen a passport and wallet report. Conversing as he speedily typed away, asking how we were enjoying Portugal. “What are your plans after Lisbon?” “Drive north to Porto for several days,” we responded. “Ah! Nobody goes above Porto. It’s as if the country stops there. The Minho region of northern Portugal is beautiful with mountains and trees, very different than south of the country and the food is better,” he joked and smiled. “You should visit Braga.” The idea stuck. Later suggestions gleaned from the blog Beyond Lisbon, written by Cátia, who espouses the lesser-known destinations, traditions and delightful quirkiness of her country, helped inspire our route through northern Portugal. Armarante, Guimaraes, Braga then farther north to Lindoso, a stone’s throw from the border with Spain, before returning to the coast above Porto. Two days later our friendly policeman emailed to notified us that the passport and wallet had been recovered. Minus the cash, of course, but we were relieved.

The rain had finally stopped, and the sun was beginning to break through by the time we reached Braga, encouraging us to make a short foray into the centro histórico before ending the day at Bom Jesus do Monte. Braga’s main garden, the Jardim de Santa Bárbara, was surprisingly only added to historic city’s landscape in the 1950’s. A relatively modern intervention, it benefits from its location adjacent to the crenellated walls of Archiepiscopal Palace of Braga, that dates from the 14th century.  Four stone arches are the only reminders of a larger structure with a library containing many historical documents that was lost in an 1866 fire.

Important since its founding in 16 BC, as Bracara Augusta, where five Roman roads converged, Braga today is Portugal’s fourth largest city and a vital metropolis for commerce and education. The city has had a complex relationship with country since 1112 when Count D. Henrique and Countess D. Teresa donated the city to the Catholic Church, creating an ecclesiastical fiefdom that lasted until the 1700s. 

In 1128 the city/church was given the privilege to mint its own coinage as reward for supporting D. Afonso Henriques’ revolution against his mother, the Countess D. Teresa, for Portugal’s independence from Spain. Local wars occasionally erupted between Dukes and various Archbishops over the following centuries.

Count D. Henrique’s and Countess D. Teresa’s tombs are in the Braga Cathedral. The first cathedral built in Portugal, it was consecrated in 1089, inspiring the Portuguese expression “older than the Sé de Braga.” A courtyard scattered with centuries old architectural remnants funneled us into the Cloister of Santo Amaro, which now serves as a museum that displays the church’s vast treasury. The church’s Romanesque and Baroque styles coexist seamlessly after centuries of renovation. The interior is very transfixing with Baroque gilding and mirrored twin organs that seem to float above the central nave. 

It was approaching sunset when we arrived at Bom Jesus do Monte. The neoclassical church with its famous baroque staircase has become an iconic symbol of Braca, since its completion in 1811. Some pilgrims call it the sacred way, others the stairway to heaven. The devout will climb its 573 stairs to the sanctuary at the top on their knees. Each landing features a fountain and allegorical sculptures.

Our timing was perfect. Parking was easily available at the summit, the bus tours all gone for the day. Only a handful of folks remained, enjoying the beauty and tranquility as the sun set.

A north south transition day for us, we set off early to our first stop, the coastal town of Vila do Conde, on the Atlantic Ocean, just above Porto. As if by magic a tall stone aqueduct suddenly appeared before us, and it paralleled our route for quite a distance into Vila do Conde. We mistakenly assumed it was of Roman construction. We learned later that the 999 arches were built in the 16th and early 17th centuries to supply water to the Santa Clara monastery from a hilltop spring in Terroso, three miles away. Though the aqueduct could have benefitted from some Roman engineering after the first section was abandoned because the water flowed the wrong way. Later 46 arches collapsed during a storm.

One of the largest and wealthiest convents in Portugal, the Santa Clara monastery housed 100 nuns. It was founded in 1318 by Afonso Sanches, son of King Dinis and brother to King Afonso IV the Brave. The convent still commands a prominent hill above the city and is undergoing extensive restoration to become a Lince Hotel & Spa.

We were delighted to see the ocean again. Portugal’s lovely and easily accessible coastline is one of the reasons we enjoy the country so much. The town is graced with two beaches, Praia Azul and Praia da Senhora da Guia. Both are only a twenty-minute walk from the center of the town. But it was too cold and windy to enjoy the beach, so we walked along a riverfront park towards the old town. An ocean port city, Vila do Conde’s prosperity came from its shipbuilding industries during the Age of Discoveries.

Farther along we rested at a café across from the Praça da Republica, a beautiful park with brilliant flowers still blooming in October. Following the streets inland we explored the narrow lanes around the Igreja Matriz de São João Baptista which centers a plaza atop a small knoll in the middle of the historic district.

It’s a popular resting spot for pilgrims trekking the coastal camino route from Porto or Lisbon to Santiago de Compostela, Spain. From here we spotted the final length of aqueduct that terminated at the convent. We decided to investigate. 

The aqueduct towers over homes in this neighborhood located on the slope before the convent. Beyond them the crenelated walls of the convent’s Gothic church reflect the time it was built in the 1300s when Viking raids were a recent memory and Spanish invasion was a constant threat. The view of the red roofed city and riverfront from the miradouro next to the convent was spectacular.

Years ago we used to keep magazine and newspaper articles filed away as research for future travels. That slowly evolved to email folders with links to stories and computer bookmarks for favorite travel websites. Now Google Maps and Instagram feeds spark interest for places to visit.  That’s how the Igreja Matriz de Santa Maria de Válega with its colorful tiled exterior wall came to our attention. The church’s unique beauty earning it the nickname “the Sistine Chapel of Portugal.” A half-hour south of Porto, the church is located at the crossroads of Válega, a small rural farming community.

The church was not always this stately. Its history starts in 1150, when a wealthy family built a small private chapel above the ruins of an earlier temple. From 1288 to 1583 it was part of the Monastery of São Pedro de Ferreira.  In 1756, the Diocese of Porto started renovations and building expansions that would last over 100 years. Surprisingly, the tile façade and interior were relatively modern alterations that were installed in 1959, along with a ceiling crafted from exotic Brazilian woods. The exquisite larger-than-life tiles depict stories from the life of the Virgin Mary and other biblical scenes. They were crafted by the Aleluia Cerâmicas of Aveiro, a local company that still creates unique tiles for customers around the world. 

Although it’s an off the beaten path destination, it’s worth the effort to see this truly unique church. If it helps to influence your decision, Flor De Valega is a mouthwatering pastry shop a short walk away. You won’t be disappointed!

Our last stop of the day would be the Castle of Santa Maria de Feira, only twenty minutes away, before spending the night in the town below it. We arrived forty-five minutes before closing. How disappointing, because the castle looked intriguing and it was beginning to rain harder. A shortened visit would have to do. The line at the ticket counter wasn’t advancing as the lone ticket agent was busy selling souvenirs to a tour group that was just finishing a visit. Kindly, a security guard waved us along and we agreed to return in a certain amount of time and pay on the way out. The castle was fascinating.

The castle sits on the apex of a now wooded hill, in a beautiful park, though back in the Middle Ages the hillside was devoid of trees, giving the soldiers in the fort a better view of any approaching enemy.  This was the frontier, a war zone between Christian Spain, later Christian Portugal and the Moors. Twice in 1100 the castle was sacked by the Moors and then liberated by Portuguese forces. This borderland saw continual conflict until the Arabs were driven decisively from Coimbra, only sixty miles away, in 1139.  Large medieval trade fairs held next to the castle earned the village the distinction of being named Santa Maria de Feira. In 1448, King D. Afonso V gave the battle-worn castle to Fernão Pereira on condition that he repair the fortifications. “Hey Fernão, do I have a deal for you.” His modifications of thickened walls, a barbican, spired towers and a large keep with fireplaces and terrace still stand, and are what visitors to the castle see today. After a fire in 1722 the castle was abandoned and left to ruin. In 1839 it was bought by a private citizen at public auction. Serious rebuilding began in the early 1900s and it was reopened to the public in 1950.

To our surprise, the gate of the barbican was locked with a heavy chain when we tried to leave. Our hearts skipped for a moment when we thought we’d be sleeping overnight on the cold stone floor of the castle’s keep. The anxiety was relieved a few moments later when the guard returned from making his final inspection to ensure nobody gets locked in. Reminding him we still had to pay he smiled and waved us away, happy to end his day a little early and get out of the rain. Every August the town and castle host a ten-day Renaissance festival called Viagem Medieval that is regarded as one of the best reenactment events in Europe.

We hadn’t stayed in a hostel in years, but our private and modern room with ensuite bath at the boutique Hostel da Praça, in the historic center, was a bargain at €50. Parking was free at the municipal lot a short walk away.  As we walked across town to dinner that rainy night, the reflections from the old streetlights onto the cobblestones was evocative of the Middle Ages when the town’s nightwatchman lit torches hanging from sconces along the street.

Till next time, Craig & Donna

Portugal Road Trip – Part 4: North to Amarante (They’re Obsessed), Guimares & Soajo

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Cresting the ridgeline that overlooks Mesão Frio, we left the vineyard-covered slopes of the Douro Valley behind us and headed to Armarante on roads lined with forests and fields. Crossing the bridge over the Tâmega River we viewed a beautiful scene reminiscent of a Romanesque cityscape painted by a 16th century Dutch master, uniquely different from the other Portuguese towns we had visited so far, the ambiance and architecture more northern European than Iberian. Surprisingly for Portugal, this historic town, one of the oldest in the north of the country was never centered around a castle, even though the site has been continually inhabited since its founding in the 4th century BC.

Colorful, whimsical pedal boats were beached on the riverbank, waiting for customers, as we walked along the path that followed the river into town. It ended in a parking lot full of craft vendors, at the foot of a grand triple-arched stone bridge that spanned the river. Here in 1809 the brave citizenry barricaded the bridge and repelled Napoleon’s Army for fourteen days during the Peninsular War, before their village was looted and razed. With a bag of freshly roasted chestnuts in hand, we strolled through the craft fair and came upon a grandmotherly woman with a table full of doces fálicos (literally “phallic sweets”) for sale. Bolos de São Gonçalo, Saint Gonçalo cakes were created and named after a beloved 13th century hermit, and the town’s patron saint, who slept in a forest cave for many years. Yep, boldly-sized penis-shaped baked goods! Best to just allow your imagination to run wild here and you’ll visualize them perfectly. It’s thought that this tradition originated from a pagan fertility ritual and was syncretized by the church to encourage more folks to follow Christianity. It’s nice to think some early church leaders had a good sense of humor.

I digress here, but it’s my blog and I’m occasionally irreverent. What’s the back story for such cherished tradition? While he bathed in a stream, was he happened upon by a group of women foraging for firewood? His manhood was suddenly legendary, the talk of the village. “I hear the hermit has a pretty good package.” “Yes, I saw him. He’s hung like a horse.” “Someone else said it hung to his knees!” And so, legends begin and grow. Did mothers, aunts and neighbors make idols of his manhood to encourage young newlyweds who couldn’t conceive quickly? Perhaps some women made a pilgrimage to his cave in the middle of the night in the face of their husbands’ inadequacy, thus ensuring the birth of an heir. What tales do mothers tell their daughters as they stand at their kitchen tables kneading the balls of dough? Could Amarante have been the inspiration for Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales?

At the foot of the bridge stands the grand Igreja de São Gonçalo. Yes, as if naming a pastry after him wasn’t enough, he’s also celebrated on January 10th, plus there’s a June festival in his honor. Will the sacrilege ever stop, we wondered with a smile.  Unfortunately, a military dictatorship came to rule Portugal in 1926. Not nearly as liberal as the early church leaders in Amarante, and definitely insecure in their masculinity, they outlawed the pastries and festival as “obscene and against public morals.” Like resistance fighters, the practice went underground and Bolos de São Gonçalo were made and exchanged behind bolted doors, in order to hide from the dreaded pastry police! Wait, I just make that up! The tradition was allowed again after the last dictatorship fell during the Carnation Revolution in 1974, which eventually led to Portugal becoming a democracy again. The June São Gonçalo Festival is now one of the most popular events in Portugal.

Dating from the mid-1500s, the interior of the church is known for its gilded pulpits and baroque altar. It also features an amazing organ held aloft by sculptures of fish-tailed giants. São Gonçalo’s tomb stands in a side chapel. His stone features have been rubbed smooth over the centuries by folks hopeful for love and marriage. The cloisters attached to the church have been renovated into the Museu Municipal Amadeo de Souza-Cardoso, which is dedicated to the works of many famous artists and writers born in Amarante.

Included amidst the artworks on exhibit are the “The Devils of Amarante,” two near life size, carved wooden statues of he and she devils, with exaggerated sexual features. They are thought to be of Nubian or Far East origin and gifted to the monks of the convent by a sailor or merchant returning from a Portuguese colony sometime in the 1600s. These beloved mafarricos, tricksters, were used by the monks to frighten their congregation before confession. To the horror of the monks, French soldiers dressed the devils in religious vestments and paraded them through the streets before putting the statues and the town to the torch in 1809.  The distraught friars quickly tasked a local craftsman to replace them. This troubled pair was then later ordered expelled from the walls of such a sacred institution by King D. Pedro V, The Hopeful, when he visited sometime in the mid-1800s. They were hidden away until 1870, when the Archbishop of Braga, José Joaquim de Moura, who thoroughly lacked a sense of humor, ordered them burned again! The Prior of the Convent didn’t have the heart to destroy this cherished pair, but ordered the male statue be castrated. A local wood sculptor was tasked with reshaping the she-devil to be less offensive. Somehow Alberto Sandeman, of port wine fame, discovered them and shipped them to London to promote his business. Outraged that their mafarricos were sold and their culture misappropriated, the citizens of Amarante waged a decades long campaign to have them returned. Finally, after much public anguish and through the intercession of the Portuguese Minister of Foreign Affairs, their return was celebrated with a parade through the streets and the crowd singing “Aí vem os Diabos!”, “Here come the Devils!” They are still celebrated every August 24th.

Crossing the narrow bridge, we were surprised that cars are still allowed to use it. We were in search of a café with tables overlooking the river. The cobbled lane seemed to be lined with every other shop window displaying various sizes of doces fálicos. Cocks, dicks, peckers, peters, schlongs, willies and weinies, from three feet long to bags of full of thumb sized ones for wedding shower gifts, and every size in between were proudly displayed, front and center. Does size really matter? Seems this quaint village is possessed and has been wrestling with this archaic question for centuries. Why is this religious monk associated with having a big one? Really, there must be something in the drinking water.

After our adventurous morning in Amarante, the afternoon in Guimarães seemed tame by comparison. The day was still mild, but the sky had greyed by the time we reached the Castelo de Guimarães. An impressive shield-shaped castle with eight towers and a massive keep at its center, it crowns a small hill. It was built in the mid-900s on the orders of Countess D. Mumadona Dias to protect the nearby town and monastery from Viking raids, which did torment northern Portugal in the 10th century, and Moors who were contesting the area. In 1095, when Portugal was still part of Spain, the King of León and Castile gave his daughter D. Teresa in marriage to the French nobleman, Henry of Burgundy, as a reward for his heroic efforts to drive the Moors from Northern Spain. The castle and lands extending to Porto were part of her wedding dowry. It is believed Teresa gave birth to Afonso Henriques in the castle. An advocate for Portuguese independence, he would later crown himself the first King of Portugal in 1139, establishing Guimarães as Portugal’s first capital, after defeating his mother who allied herself with the King of León and Castile, her father.

The Igreja de São Miguel do Castelo is set a short walk down the hill from the castle’s entrance. A rather austere medieval church, its floor is created of gravestones of ancient nobility. Their carved stone features have slowly been worn away over centuries by the feet of the faithful. It is also believed that Afonso Henriques was baptized here.

Farther down the hill stands the 15th century Paço dos Duques, Ducal Palace, with an exquisitely crafted cathedral ship’s hull ceiling. The former royal residence is full of exquisite renaissance era artworks, castle furnishings, and priceless items from the Far East. Large Flemish tapestries celebrating military victories hang on the walls. The collection represents the vast wealth flowing into the country from its far-flung colonies during the age of exploration. Portugal was at the time a superpower.

The Trovador City Guest House was our home for the next two nights. Set on a small square across from the historic district, it occupies three historic buildings which have been keenly modernized. For €43 a night in October it was a tremendous value, and we were able to use one of the hotel’s parking spaces on the square for free.

After dropping our bags in the room, we walked along cobbled lanes that twisted about through the old town. Narrow centuries-old buildings, many three or four stories tall with colorful Azulejo tile facades and shallow wrought iron balconies, lined our way. Our destination was the Padrão do Salado, a 14th century monument, then on to Largo da Oliveira in the Centro Histórico. It commemorates the Battle of Salado in 1340, when combined Spanish and Portuguese armies defeated a larger Muslim force in southern Spain. It’s an arched rectangular structure open on four sides. A stone roof shelters a tall cross with the Portuguese Coat of Arms at the base. 

Adjacent to it stands the Igreja de Nossa Senhora da Oliveira. In 949, the church was built as part of a Benedictine monastery financed by Mumadona Dias, the same Countess responsible for Guimarães Castle. She’s an interesting character in her own right. Refusing to remarry after her husband Count Hermenegildo González died, she ruled alone an area from the Minho River to Coimbra, which would eventually become the foundation of Portugal. Suddenly the square erupted into a cacophony of music, when a group of folk singers joined a group of accordion players and burst forth with song. We grabbed an open table on the plaza, ordered beers, and tapped along.

The next morning, we headed to see the espigueiros, stone granaries, of Soajo and Lindoso. These really are off the beaten track destinations in the far north of Portugal near the border with Spain. It’s a remote mountainous region that includes the Parque Nacional Peneda-Gerês, an area where wolves still roam. The sunny days we had at the start of our trip slowly evolved into rain showers, and then downpours. I hesitate to say unfortunately because we’ve been quite lucky over the years concerning adverse weather. It did slow us down a bit, and I do prefer blue skies in my photos, but moody works too. Oh, and there was that funky windshield wiper on our rent-a-wreck!

The vineyards that we became so accustomed to earlier in our trip disappeared in this corner of the Minho region. Thick forests that grew to the road’s edge were occasionally interrupted by verdant pasture lands. Turning off the N203 we followed the sign for Soajo down a narrow road that crossed the Limia River. Three loose horses grazed along the road’s edge, oblivious to our passing, their pasture and owner out of sight. Farther along, a large bull eyed us from his enclosure. Signs for hiking trails to two still-standing, ancient stone bridges, the Ponte Medieval de Ermelo and Ponte Romana, attest to the long history of the area. We parked in the municipal lot.

The unique stone granaries are perched dramatically atop a rocky outcrop behind the village’s school. From a distance the twenty-four stately stone structures, elevated several feet off the ground, could be confused for ancient sarcophagi of long dead Kings and Queens. The unique structures, now textured with lichen, were built to keep vermin away from farmers’ harvested crops. Evidently effective, several were still being used. Though they appear much older, the espigueiros were constructed in the 18th and 19th centuries.

The rain came down harder as we sought warmth and hot coffee at Seara Nova, the only café open mid-week during the slow season. “Ah, he’d like an Americano,” my request broadcast across the café with a smile to her pal stationed at the espresso machine. “As much as I try to convince him otherwise, he always does,” my wife apologized as she ordered a cappuccino. It’s not that I don’t enjoy an espresso, all the coffees in Portugal have been great, but they just don’t have enough liquid in them to satisfy my java cravings. And like the Brits with a proper cup of tea, I’m inspiring the uninitiated in how to serve a good cup of joe. Just top that cup of espresso off with hot water to the rim of the cup and its perfect. Smiles all around. I was not disappointed. Our two cafes and pastries came to less than €4. 

Warm again and relieved that the rain had stopped, we drove to Lindoso to see their espigueiros and adjacent castle. Here, about fifty granaries sit on a gentle slope that leads to the town’s castle. The castle’s proximity was an added bonus and we quickly scampered up the hill to investigate. It was built in the 13th century during the reign of Afonso III to defend Portugal’s northern frontier from Spanish invasion.

The border in fact is just a catapult shot away. It was renovated in the 1600s to include an outer star-shaped bastion defensive wall, with a moat and drawbridge, along with watchtowers and machicolations for pouring hot oil on any besiegers. Despite all those impressive defensive features, Spaniards captured it for a brief time. From its walls we watched a moody mist begin to fill the valley below.

We heard Braga calling.

Till next time, Craig & Donna

Portugal Road Trip – Part 3: Everywhere a Miradouro – Into the Douro River Valley

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Portugal is blessed with wonderfully diverse landscapes, making it a challenge for photographers like us to actually make any forward progress in a timely manner toward our ultimate destination. As we were constantly tempted to divert and explore a photo opportunity.  Fortunately, after a time the backroads from Ucanha narrowed. Only teasing us with vistas quickly glimpsed, as if shuffling a deck of cards, between houses hugging the road that snaked down into the Douro River Valley.  Whetting our enthusiasm for the days ahead. To our surprise we occasionally passed snowflake signs warning of wintry conditions that sometimes encompass the region. Something we had difficulty reconciling with our sunny view of Portugal, especially since we were experiencing a splendidly warm stretch of fine October weather.

The gate to Casa Vale do Douro slowly swung open to reveal a steep long driveway, which abruptly ended atop the edge of a high retaining wall. It could have been used by Portugal’s Ski Jumping team for practice, if they had one. The view was glorious. Maneul, the charming owner, helped us with the bags to our room. Within minutes we were ensconced in chairs on our balcony. Savoring our glasses of wine and the view. One of the things we appreciate about vacationing in Portugal, during the shoulder seasons, is that it’s still possible to find marvelous accommodations for under €100 a night, that include breakfast. We’d be calling Casa Vale do Douro home for the next three nights.

Incredible scenery attracted us to the Douro region, and we were not dissappointed, especially with the views from our room which faced due east. Brilliant sunrises transitioned to the river valley slowly being filled with fog.

Each morning we watched mesmerized as this ghostly blanket slowly engulfed buildings, vineyards and eventually us as we stood on the balcony. By ten o’clock it had usually burnt off.

The small village of Mesão Frio was a short walk from our guesthouse and as luck would have it, market day. Being mid-October, it was a smaller affair than what we imagined takes place during the high season, but it was still interesting enough, with cheese, meat and vegetable purveyors, along with hardware tents and garden suppliers selling seedlings for fall planting. With a round of Portuguese cheese and jamon secured for a picnic lunch later it was time to enjoy our, “walk a little then café,” break. Afterwards we wandered from one end of the village to the other, along the village’s main lane bordered on one side with a wide plaza and lined with shade trees. At the far end stood the Church of São Nicolau.

Tradition believes that the church was ordered built by Queen d. Mafalda, wife of d. Afonso Henriques in the 12th century, but the thickness of the church’s walls hint that it was constructed in the 14th century. Eighteenth century remodeling left the Baroque and Rococo character that’s visible today.  Several ancient stone sarcophagi, trapezoidal in shape, dating from the Medieval era stood under a side portico.

Heading back through the village we entered the Igreja de Santa Cristina, its interior now modestly decorated after it was looted and destroyed by Napoleon’s army during the Peninsula War of the early 1800s. Leaving only one bell tower that still stands today. It’s attached cloister, dating from 1724, was originally dedicated to Franciscan friars until 1834 when all male religious orders were banned from Portugal and their properties confiscated by the state.

Leaving many original stone details in place the building has been wonderfully repurposed as municipal offices. The most interesting detail a “janelas de vinho” or wine window from which wine used to be sold. The Regional Tourism Board located in the cloister has produced a very comprehensive 54-page Douro Tourism Guide that is a great resource and available to download for free. Listing an astonishing 120 major viewpoints, along with wineries, festivals, lodging, restaurants, and activities throughout the valley. There’s enough wonderful information in guide to encourage multiple vacations into the area.

After coffee, we drove leisurely along the north side of the river, stopping frequently to take photos. Driving through Peso da Régua to Covelinhas, where we followed the sinuous road high up into the mountains.

Occasionally passing olive groves and fruit orchards, their novelty highlighted by being oddities in a sea of grapes, until we reached the Miradouro São Leonardo de Galafura. At an elevation of 2100 feet it’s one of the highest viewpoints overlooking the valley.

Hawks circled on the thermal updrafts below us. As far as we could see, waves of undulating vineyards covered the hillsides, their pattern like a stone thrown into a pond. The unbroken views from the miradouro seemed if we were flying.  

Highly recommended by our host we dined each evening in Mesão Frio alternately at Tasca do Zéquinha an intimate rustic eatery with a silhouette of a wine cask hanging above the front door. Inside was a small bar packed with regulars. With a smile one pointed us upstairs when he saw our dismay that it was standing room only on the street level. Upstairs we were pleasantly greeted in a small dining room of eight tables. We enjoyed lamb chops, a rare and outrageously expensive menu item in the states, but well priced here and delicious. Fully sated, we were pleasantly pleased with how inexpensive appetizers, a house wine, dinner, dessert, and coffee were. In the Douro Valley the wine choices are infinite, or fathomless and as much as we enjoy wine, we are not knowledgeable oenophiles and are content with most restaurant’s house wines. Which in our experiences have found to be very good. 

The next night we ate at Convívio. Honestly, I can’t remember what we ordered, but we thoroughly relished the meal and the house wine. Here the house wine was a bottle of Serro d Asno, which featured a humorous illustration of a donkey’s ass. I’m not sure if the waiter was secretly a radical protesting the invasion of tourists into the Douro Valley or expressing his discontent with something I did not say, ha ha, my mind wanders. The wine was very good. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to find it here in the states. For a change of pace we had dessert and coffee at Café Avenida, which features a tantalizing display case full of their divine homemade pastries. Staying open to 12AM, this quiet place is the ultimate experience for nightlife in Mesão Frio.

The waters of the Douro River rise in the mountains of central Spain, north of Madrid and flow of west for 557 miles before meeting the pounding waves of the Atlantic Ocean on the Portuguese coast at Porto. The famous region known for its production of Port, a fortified wine, encompasses 615,000 acres along 75 miles of river valley from the Spanish border to Mesão Frio.  

In September 1756 a Portuguese royal charter acknowledged the Douro River Valley as the exclusive region for the production of Port wine. Becoming the world’s first wine region to have a formal demarcation or DOC (Denominação de Origem Controlada).

Though renowned for its Port wines, today production is evenly divided with Douro table wines, which are gaining international recognition. Eighty different grape varietals, many native to Portugal, are cultivated in the region, but by far the most popular red grape varieties are Touriga Franca, Tinta Roriz, Tinta Barroca, Touriga Nacio, nal, Tinta Cao, and Tinta Amarela. While Rabigato, Viosinho, Malvasia Fina, Donzelinho, Gouveio, and Codega are the favored white varieties. Used alone to make full-bodied reds or delicate white wines they are also blended to create the beloved Port wines of the region.  Interestingly grapes growns for Port wine are planted on rocky schist areas while grapes grown for table wines favor a looser soil. The steep terrain of the narrow-terraced hills along the valley are no match for modern harvesting equipment, dictating that every September into early October the grapes are harvested by hand.

Small hamlets with parish churches of all different sizes are speckled across the landscape of the Douro Region. Picking one out on the map we headed to Cidadelhe for the Igreja de São Vicente. Built in the 1700s the stately baroque-style church is showing its age, with its textured graceful patina along with faded and peeling wood.

The backroads through the Douro Valley offered endless vistas of rolling hills and vineyards beginning to display their fall colors around every bend of the road. Fortunately, in October there were few cars or caravans on the roads and we able to stop often. With 119 official viewpoints in the region there’s and infinite number of photography worthy panoramas available just by pulling over onto the shoulder. The landscapes were endless. The fog intriguing.

We really didn’t have any solid plans for our time in the region. No must to this or that. Instead we chose, often remote miradouros on the map for our morning and afternoon destinations. The journey to reach them an integral part of the adventure.

We just brushed the surface of this alluring Douro Valley region. Hopefully, one day we’ll get a chance to return.

Till next time, Craig & Donna

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Portugal Road Trip – Part 2: For the Love of Guardrails

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To misquote RWE, “It’s the journey, but an interesting destination helps.” We left Tomar, destined for Piodão, one of the 27 Aldeias do Xisto, Schist villages, in the mountainous central part of Portugal. Only two and a half hours from Tomar, we rarely passed another car as we drove. Our route quickly transitioned to serpentine roads traversing rolling hills covered in eucalyptus and pine forest. Then the higher above the tree line we drove, an expansive vista of shrublands fielding heather, broom, carqueja and rosemary were revealed. Hair raising, twisting and turning roads would truthfully be a better description, made all the more unsettling because there seemed to have been a transportation department budget crisis, as in, they forgot to install guardrails on most of those mountainous roads! My wife’s knuckles were white from tightly grasping the “Oh Jesus” handle above her door. With all the gorgeous panoramas, they could have planned more miradouros for folks to safely enjoy the views from.

We are not novice mountain drivers, having taken many switchback roads to remote places on several continents, which has reinforced or belief in and appreciation for a nice sturdy guardrail when we see one.

This was also the day our moody rent-a-wreck of a car went psychotic, every warning light on the dashboard blinking violently in Portuguese, requiring us to pull over to check the vehicle. Reluctant to turn off the engine in such a remote area, we listened closely for any sounds of motor distress. The car sounded fine. We drove on. With a quick, blind left turn and an “Oh God!” we descended a steep single lane road on the far side of the village that eventually led us across terraced slopes to Casa da Padaria for the night.

With warm greetings and help with our bags Gorete, the innkeeper, showed us to our room. For many years, decades before its renovation, the inn served as the town’s bakery run by Gorete’s father in-law. She and her husband returned to the village and remodeled the original building into a small four-bedroom guesthouse. The bakery’s large brick oven still takes up one whole wall of the breakfast room, which also displays a huge dough trough and long wooden bread peels used to take the loaves out of the wood fired oven.

Schist, schist, schist, everywhere schist! Walls, roofs, cobbled lanes, terraces, everything in the village is built with this durable brown and grayish stone, from a distance giving it the appearance that it has grown organically from the earth of the box canyon that shelters cradles it.  Everyone’s blue doors and window frames are not the result of superstition to ward off demons or to bring good fortune, but a shop keeper buying many years’ worth of paint in only one color. It became tradition.  

Channeled narrow rivulets of cold mountain water run quickly between homes, under doorsteps and along the edges of walkways before cascading downhill into irrigation trenches for the terraced crops below the village.  Small fountains throughout the hamlet offer spring water for drinking and washing for some of the older homes that still might not have plumbing.   

Slowly exploring the village, we made our way to its central plaza for dinner at O Solar dos Pachecos and enjoyed delicious bowls of Moelas Guisadas a Portuguesa, stewed chicken gizzards. This dish might not be for everyone, but it is truly one of Portugal’s culinary treasures. The owner enthusiastically shared tidbits of information and pointed across the way to the only mailbox in this unique village for the 120 full-time residents left here. Pity the poor postman otherwise trying to figure out the twist, turns and stairways of the hamlet’s ancient lanes. Surely everyone gets to know one another this way with the mailbox strapped to a tree on the main square in front of the village’s only white-washed building, the church.  Before leaving he suggested we enjoy some of the hiking trails the area is known for with a short trek through the valley to Praia Fluvial de Foz d’Égua, a scenic spot with a suspension bridge over a stream that widens into a natural swimming hole. Later for coffee and dessert we watched part of a soccer game on the TV above the bar at O Fontinha.

Piodão owes its unadulterated charm to the fact that it was pretty much forgotten and slowly abandoned until the 1970’s when the donkey and horse trails leading to the village were replaced with roads carved into the isolating mountains of the Serra do Açor that surround it. It is located not far from Parque Natural da Serra da Estrela and continental Portugal’s highest peak, Torre at 6,539ft. Difficult terrain lured fugitives, seeking to escape justice, to the isolated villages of the area. Allegedly one of the assassins of D. Inês de Castro, the mistress of Pedro l, sought refuge here in the late 1300s. Other than that interesting historical footnote and mention in a 1529 census, folks got by on a subsistence economy of farming, grazing sheep and goats, along with wood and stone cutting for centuries.

Its rediscovery and revitalization in the 1980’s brought the isolated village built with the abundant local schist stone recognition as one of the “most Portuguese villages of Portugal,” with a Galo de Prata “silver rooster” award.  

Waking during the night to close the window against the mountain chill, I observed a full moon illuminating a single arched stone bridge over a babbling brook at the bottom of the valley. The mountain songbirds were loud enough to encourage an early wakening as the sun rose over the ridge behind the village. The next morning Gorete’s homemade jams, pastries and a neighbor’s artisanal cheese nourished us before we explored the village and moved on.

The drive to Praia Fluvial de Foz d’Égua was through forest thick with oak, chestnut and laurel cherry and arbutus trees. Arriving, we understood immediately why this beautiful area is such an out of the way tourist magnet. Traveling during the fall shoulder season, we were fortunate to experience the tranquility of this serene spot in solitude.

Continuing the next day, we headed north to Ucanha for its old Roman bridge with fortified tower that spans the Rio Varosa. In the off-season not as many restaurants are open, but we were fortunate to find Casa da Eira near the bridge still welcoming folks for a splendid meal.

The walk to it was down a lane bounded with high walls draped with bunches of grapes dangling beneath, the vines sporting brilliant fall foliage. Just before reaching the restaurant, we peeked through the broken shutters of a long-abandoned church, its wedding cake altar and walls stripped of any religious embellishments.

After lunch we strolled across the bridge and under its tower which served as a toll booth for travelers crossing the river and gateway to the vast land holdings of the Mosteiro de Santa Maria de Salzedas in the 1400s, and further on to the Portuguese frontier.  

The bridge we crossed is thought to have replaced an earlier Roman structure from the first century AD. Through the tower’s archway we followed the lane up to the village’s parish church, Igreja de S. João Evangelist, that dates from 17th century.

It was surprising to learn about the ancient Roman presence here in central Portugal, but we had already noticed signs for the old Roman route as we drove through the area and tried to find two ancient bridges nearby, the Ponte Românica de Vila Pouca de Salzedas and Ponte Romana without any success while on our way to Salzedas. In searching for them, we did however thoroughly enjoy an afternoon ride through tiny hamlets, vineyards, olive groves, and apple orchards, where the tastiest apples were plucked from a tree within reach of our car window.

Reaching Salzedas we parked and walked towards the monastery across a small bridge over a dry riverbed. Stopping across from the monastery to take a photo, we spotted the most unusual statue along the watercourse’s retaining wall: a carved stone sculpture of a naked man sitting with a huge serpent-head phallus bursting forth from between his legs. Its location across from the monastery was all the more bewildering, but we had to laugh. Odd, just really odd, some of the things you discover when you travel.

Shorter opening hours are one of the disadvantages of travel during the shoulder season as by the time we were done exploring the Mosteiro de Santa Maria de Salzedas the small cathedral next to it was closed. Having paid fully for our entry tickets, we were startled by the guard’s request request for coins. “Do you have any foreign coins? I don’t travel, it’s my hobby and I ask all the foreign visitors if they don’t mind sharing.”  Having collected foreign money ourselves we could relate to this desire to touch something of the outside world. “We have some somewhere in our suitcase. I’ll check before we go,” I replied. The attendant replied with a subtly disappointed, “okay.” We were sure he thought we were just giving an excuse as we climbed the stairs to the exhibition.

From its placement in 1155 near the Torno River, in keeping with the sect’s requirements that its buildings be near watercourses, this was one of the largest and wealthiest Cistercian monasteries in Portugal, having been gifted extensive land holdings, by a royal patron, with the express duty of exploiting the land for profit. A century later it was consecrated after the monastic complex was finished. Over the centuries it continued to be financed by various members of succeeding royal dynasties, perhaps seeking divine intervention or to influence the politics of the almighty Catholic church. Like all things old, it underwent several significant renovations during the 16th and 17th centuries. The addition of a second larger cloister in the 18th century left the façade of the monastery we saw today.

“Enough is enough, we’ve had enough,” could have been the chant of the Liberal government after their victory over the Absolutists at the end of the Portuguese Civil War, 1828 -1834, a war fought for basic human rights and to reverse centuries of disenfranchisement from autocratic monarchies and their allies, namely the Catholic church. Reforms started by the enlightened Marquês de Pombal in the mid-1700s to restrict the powers of old aristocratic families and the church with the expulsion of the Jesuits from the Portuguese Empire had stalled. In 1834 the new minister of justice, Joaquim António de Aguiar, enacted a law, The Extinction of the Religious Orders, requiring the dissolution of “all monasteries, convents, colleges, hospices and any other houses of the regular religious orders.” Their properties and moveable assets were to be nationalized and sold, the profits to be entered into the National Exchequer. Convents were allowed to stay open until the last nun died. Joaquim António de Aguiar earned the nickname, O Mata-Frades, “The Friar-Killer,” because of the anti-ecclesiastical spirit of this law. Over 500 monasteries were closed. Urban buildings were easily sold and repurposed, but many monasteries and convents in the rural areas were abandoned. Their religious art and iconography was redistributed to local parish churches, sold into private collections or “lost.” The Santa Maria de Salezadas Monastery sat abandoned and left to ruin for over 160 years until renovation work started in 2002 and culminated in the reopening of the cloisters in 2011 as a museum with displays of the monastery’s medieval and renaissance religious art and treasures recollected from afar.

With a wave and “thank you,” we left the monastery and headed to our car. “Wait, I’ve got to find those coins for you to take him.” Returning to the car with a smile on her face, Donna relayed that he was delighted that we remembered. A small connection.

It’s the journey. We headed to the Douro Valley. 

Till next time, Craig & Donna