Category Archives: posted by Florian

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Day 47 – National stereotypes

I guess we were well set to defy ours, the German part at least. We got up late, ate some and at some point gave our camp that vagrant look again. Which means we did the washing and then tried to hang it with far too little pegs or clothes’ line (should really have upgraded from the tiny spool we carried on the bike). It looks … very un-German, i.e. untidy. We like it that way 😉

The rest of the morning was filled with looking after Number 3 making new friends. He set out to befriend a Spanish girl from three lots over to varied levels of success. It was sure not for lack of trying by her dad, who tried to pull all the stops while looking after her alone (mom was apparently away on some errand). Sharing the balls did not quite work out, nor the scooter. But sharing a kiddie pool was just bearable for the three year old.

Perfect (after a pot of boiling water went in)!

The dad was super kind and welcoming, but for the first time the language barrier struck hard. Not a word of English, so all we had was my barebones Spanish, gestures and Google. It worked out, the kids had fun!

The main event for the day was planned for the afternoon: Going to town (or at least the part with all the Bodegas) and taste some nice Rioja wines! Nina had scouted some of the options for me, out of the 15 in town. We went almost straight for the first one, maybe at 4 pm. Given that they close around 6 pm, we thought we might see two today. Well, before the first glass that was …

We found the tasting room of Bodega C.V.N.E. rather delightful. It turned out to be stocked with equally delightful company to boot. So as we tried our way through a white and two reds (Reserva and Gran Reserva, respectively), we got talking with first a British-American and then an Australian couple at the other tables. Good wine and good company go together nicely and as we nibbled on our snacks and sipped our wine, time flew by. Number 3 got a lot of compliments for his skills and even more so for his charm; social butterfly that he is.

In the end, we never made it out of this first tasting before the sommelier called last rounds. The two reds were from different vineyards but the Vila Real Gran Reserva had impressed both of us the most. Still, 24 € for a bottle of table wine seemed a bit too steep, so we trusted the others and went for the Reserva from the same brand.

Back at the camp, I even managed to master the art of cooking reasonable well for my post-tasting condition. Things really seemed just right – Number 3 went to bed without much fuss. We were just about to hit our bed early when things took a turn south. A veritable invasion of the most stereotypical Frenchmen hit us hard. Out of easily 20 empty emplacements, they chose the two right next to us to set up their … party, I guess? They hit all the marks: Rude, loud and chain-smoking (baby in arm, of course), it took them all of 10 minutes to wake Number 3. Bloody French … (I am of cour zcxse aware that their nationality has little to do with the fact that they annoyed me. It was probably more to be attributed to our socio-economic based cultural differences. Not a thought for 9:30 pm with a crying baby on the arm. Annoy me then and you will be remembered as “those bloody Frenchmen”).

Maybe sharing works better with 2 balls?
Nope, to each their own
Careful testing …
Perfect (after a pot of boiling water went in)!
Oh … this will be good …
hmm, it is!
Helpful guidance
That was the point where he had everyone in the room …

Day 45 – Bilbao Taster

We were torn – no two ways about it. The Picos de Europa caught our attention, big time. On the other hand, with ¾ of our trip done, we just could not muster the energy for a full day hiking day. Plus, ever since one of my friends came back from a weekend romp to Bilbao raving about it, it was placed pretty high on my list. We are city people, after all.

And so we waved good bye to the impressive peaks and valleys of the Picos and headed back for the coastal highway. I snuck in a brief detour via a particularly recommended beach in Eastern Asturia – but when we got there, pretty much everyone except myself was already sound asleep. Bilbao it is, then.

I don’t even know where – there were many beautiful estuaries up here

After a minor challenge finding a parking garage (google does not differentiate between the public and resident only garages) we were smack down in the old town ready to explore. Briefly, at least – as we were quite knackered and the camping situation for tonight was not fully resolved.

Lunch then: Here came the great hour of a local food culture institution. One that quickly won me over, second to only maybe Warung Makan in Indonesia. Pintxos (pronounced peen-chos) are two bite extravaganzas similar to tapas, but smaller and more elaborate. They are pretty much a standard in any bar or café in town. So we did as the locals, picked two bars we liked and had two or three pintxos in each. The Café Bar Bilbao (while sporting an excellent carnivore selection) had no vegetarian option on offer, but were quick to whip up deep fried vege for Nina. Not as good, but A for effort. The location was great, though, giving us flashbacks to Barcelona almost a month ago.

The second spot was chosen for the vegetarian option. Nina enjoyed her chance to join in the fun. The place, Irrintzi was more our vibe as well – a bit artsy, a bit alternative. After two bars, we were actually full enough for lunch time. Just great – a drink, some food, 14€ for two and off to the next bar. I can totally see doing 3-4 in a night and avoiding both a bit of the hangover and a late night food frenzy stop at the golden arches. I want this at home!

this time, with veggie options (burglar still afoot).

We wandered through the old town a bit more, enjoying the architecture as well was the vibe. But it was time. The next campsite was half an hour out of town, which sort of made the decision for us on how to tackle tomorrow. That was a bit too far for public transport, so we would camp for the night, come back into town to park here and move on towards the Rioja valley once we had our fill.

[Flo forgot the most important food selection of the day. I managed to talk him into going to Opila, a patisserie pretty much next to our parking garage and i.n.d.u.l.g.e.d. while Flo planned the route for the next couple of days.]

The camp was one of those we would always rather avoid – expensive, tiny parcels without shade and not quite in a nice location. It was the closes one, though, and given that it was almost empty and the facilities were freshly renovated, it was kind of ok. We did get a chance to see the sunset – at the cost of almost freezing our toes off (in 10° C).

We got some good views …
… even on our way out
could be ad shots, if not the manufacture of both the car and the rooftent recommend against the combination …
I don’t even know where – there were many beautiful estuaries up here
as I said, we were in the zone … no idea, still pretty
farewell, this was our last glimpse of the high mountains
pretty … but the lure of the city had us ensared
we really liked these windowed balconies
first round, meat monster pintxos (see the burglar?)
nice enough to wip something up
off to the next bar
this square reminded us a lot of Barcelona, hawkers and all
this time, with veggie options (burglar still afoot).
we both quite like turn of the century to ’20 architecture
the burglar has made it to the vault …
… he had help!
I think he got away with it!
sunset always takes longer than expected
time to finish with some blogging
geometrically, the sun had already disappeared by that point …
lit ships anchoring at dusk

Day 43 – By popular demand

Days feel like they are getting longer again. 36 hours after waking up, I can hardly remember all that has happened yesterday. That’s why we take thousands of pictures, I guess 😉

The night was calm, even though not quiet in the literal sense. I don’t know if the waterfalls steady roar helped, but we slept well. Not too cold and most importantly undiscovered and undisturbed. Breakfast was as lovely in this place as was dinner last night – although Nina might make an exception for the mozzies that came out in force while it was a bit overcast.

Number 3 dutifully obliged us on our drive to Santiago de Compostella with sleep. With the awkwardness of this being a place known primarily for being the foremost Christian pilgrimage destination looming over us, we decided to treat this as we would any other city. Sights, good food and a bit of walking to get the feel.

We did. The first thing we noticed was how much more familiar the old town felt. Heavy stone buildings that befit the Galician climate much better than would the more iconic Mediterranean and Andalusian styles of Spain and Portugal. It frankly looked a lot like home, or at least France. We decided very early on not to go into the Cathedral – we had seen our share and many more recently. The outside was … well, the usual. I guess the majesty of it all comes more to the forth after 60 or so days of pain to get here.

“The Camino” (spoken mostly in an obnoxious American accent) and general pilgrimage kitsch was omnipresent, even though not too many pilgrims arrived before lunch. On the main plaza, there were maybe 50 who just now had arrived, mixed in with a lot more tourists and people recovering. For some reason, and I will not muse too much about it out of respect for our friends who have walked the Camino themselves, I felt strong rejection welling up in me about this whole pilgrimage thing. Even though I know it is by far not purely religious (better, Catholic) thing anymore. Read up on it and make up your own mind, I guess.

We turned our attention to more relevant things for us: Food! There was a hip recommendation next to the city market halls. We headed there after a brief stroll over the market. We sat down with drinks, looking forward to some exceptional tapas but were disappointed soon after. Not a single vegetarian offering – fish, seafood or meat. I was OK to call it there, but Nina urged me to at least try some. So I went with cockles and the fish of the day offers. The portions were really no more than appetizers, but the quality was exceptional. The best clams I ever had were good enough that Number 3 helped me out quite a bit – to the surprised eyes of any onlooker. The seared fish filet was absolutely spot on as well.

After that brief delay, I was ready to go with whatever Nina would decide on. We stuck with our other choice, the one we had discarded earlier due to their late lunch hours. We only had to kill 20 more minutes, but then were the first in for lunch once more. The place was definitively more our vibe. Nina had homemade ravioli while I went with the waiter’s recommendation of pork in Galician cheese sauce without bothering with the menu. Actual lunch was good, too. We rounded the whole thing off with a sampling of the local pastry of choice (Santiago Almond tart) and the best coffee I’ve had in a while.

All that was left now was to make a bit of distance north, to end up in striking distance of our next goal, the highest cliffs of Europe. We reached our chosen camp by 4 and decided to push on a bit further and to stay on the coast for one more time. This time, everything worked out.

Packing up the camp site in the morning
Number 3 enjoyed our private waterfall
Everything needs to be packed
Goodbye campsite
Detail of a railing or fence of the cathedral in Santiago
Top of one of the towers
Gate of Santiago
A cool sign in an alley around the corner from the cathedral
Number 3 testing his strength again a small chain
We enjoyed the European flag flying next to the cathedral
He invented a game for himself: Pick daisies…
…run over to the fountain and put them up there
Urban explorer
Why does it have to be so hilly? I need a break!
A taste of great seafood
Must have been good. Baby ate six of them
Number 3 planning our next moves out of the carrier backpack
He pulled himself up on the bench
Footpath inscription
Hippie lunch place
Back at the ocean
A bit of a sunset
How we camped

Day 41 – Onward to the beginning

We did not find out the particular reason why this beautiful campsite was quite so abandoned. The flow of people confuses us. The price was ok – 22 € with power, so in line with other rustiek sites. Maybe it is our lack of preparation, so that we don’t quite now “where to be” and what to skip. I think we like it better that way – good things are better when they are a surprise.

There are a few more city destinations in this very northwest corner of Portugal that we can tick off, with the first one probably the highest on our list. The plan is to go to up to three of them in order and turn off east to a national park bordering Spain when it gets time to find a place to sleep.

With that, we set our sights on Guimarães – the first capital of Portugal. The way this works is pretty straight forward – Reconquista went north to south, so every 50 years or so the Don de Jour would move his seat of power a bit further down. But this is it – this is where the independent Kingdom of Portugal was sort of born. We liked it right away. In perfect weather, the medieval old town and 15^th century ducal palace were a delight. From afar as in close quarters.

We started with an overview, quite literally this time: There is another one of these steep granite hills just south of the city, with a cable lift and a road to the very top. From here, armed with ice cream, we had a great view of the city and the hills around. We took aim, both for the ducal palace and for a lunch place once we got a handle on Guimarães.

The lunch place was a revelation, maybe the coolest and most child friendly location in Portugal so far. That says something. And it was a vegetarian place to boot! Cor de Tangerine was set in a big beautiful merchant house dominated by granite features and creaky wooden floors right next to the ducal palace. The terrace had a view out over the palace and a park. The food was great, but the whole atmosphere of the location and friendly staff nudged it over the top. Number 3 got a blanket and some books draped under one of the trees on the terrace, in good view. After lunch, he even got a private tour of the kitchen!

The after lunch stroll through the old town was just the thing to round it off. The subtle difference in architecture made for an interesting change, especially with the dominance of the ageless grey granite on many buildings. After a round back to the car park (again, why would I not use them: 1.20€ for a safe and shady spot right in town) we were good to head to our next destination.

Braga, Portugal’s third largest city, had a very different vibe going, modern and lively. We timed it right for once and fell into an inner city set up for the Braga Romana festival: all the girls and some of the ladies were wearing flower circlets on their heads. Many wandering around in more or mostly less authentic roman drab. We, given that it was our tea time stop, were headed for another ice cream shop. A Lonely Planet recommendation, the ice cream was good and Nina did not complain about her chocolate cupcake either. We enjoyed the hustle and bustle around us for a bit, with more (Portuguese) kids than we had seen anywhere else so far around us.

We were good after that, decided to skip city number 3 and head for the hills. A good day was had with the drive towards a campsite at the Cavado river (which is actually a lake, due to the dam built further downstream) not disappointing either.

Things only started to turn weird when I decided to improvise at the last second. Instead of following the GPS to the campground I had picked from google, we turned into the first one at our destination. It had lake views, so why not? Well, it should have ticked us off that no one was at the reception, but rather the team doing some modernisation indicating us to “set right up, register later”. Well, we did, double checking the indicated spot with them: The site was 100 % full with permanent campers, but had a bit of space in front of a rather abandoned looking one. Yes, here … OK. I mean, the spot was nice and all, just weirdly right in front of this old caravan. Then the team started up again, dragging old caravans off their lots to a half-done area. Call for registration never came. Oh well, we’ll pay and leave in the morning then.

About 10 minutes after we went to bed, we heard what I thought to be the trash collectors. Odd, after 8 pm. Well …

And as we were about to drift to sleep, we heard cheerful voices of young men. Closing in. They started to laugh, somewhat disbelieving. Not us. Why would they? Now, they were very close, I had the feeling they were right next to us. But sound is deceiving in a tent. They might be one up, I think I saw people there earlier. Right about then, their cackling and chatting woke up Number 3, who let go a primal scream of fright. Things quieted down after that, but Nina and I were left a bit disconcerted after that. The night had just started, though …

What a lovely view to wake up to
Guess I have had my front seat stolen….
It was way steeper than it now looks
Guimaraes hilltop view
Number 3 wasn’t in picture mood
Cor de Tangerine
Cor de Tangerine menu
Number 3 was catered to…next level hospitality
The vegetarian food was good as well
Number 3 making friends
He just hung out there on the second level balcony
Life goes on in Guimaraes even if tourists take pictures
What a cute looking little house!
Guimaraes square
Guimaraes alleyway
Braga garden
This Braga dragon was just watching the crowds of “Romans” pass by
Music for the festival
Braga Romana
I’ve only ever been to medieval markets
Its all about moderation …
… but he is all his mom
see, surgar does not make them more active 😉
chill, relax … what could possibly …
… WOA … catch … ok, too late …. he was fine. bounced right up …
the “river”
why not add to the weirdness?
Mom teaching Number 3 how to use a swing. His first time on a big one

Day 39 – Watching the green grapes grow

To think that one minute earlier or later, we would have driven off again for another campsite. What were we thinking? A proper, do (almost) nothing rest day was the least we could do to appreciate the spectacular site.

This time we were armed with at least a little foresight and had restocked our pantry with fresh goods. Therefore lunch was an old summertime favourite: Potatoes with Tzatziki. I made it from memory, but I must have nailed it the way the rest of my family devoured it 😉

With that much time, there were, of course, some chores, but only the washing was much bother. We even had convenient washing lines already set up in the form of the supports for the vines all around us. We also got back up to date with the blog.

The day just flowed – with perfect temperatures and our prime spot on our terrace shaded by the huge awning for our Skycamp. If there were highlights, it would be the set of lovely encounters we had in the afternoon. We went up for drinks (and to sample the vino verde from this very vineyard) and as is sort of custom on these Dutch run sites had a good chat with first the owner and later with other guests. Number 3 got a good amount of dog training in with Moos and Monte, the two excellently trained dogs of the house. We learned a bit about the “green wine”, which is made from unripe or green grapes and reminded me a lot of Weißweinschorle. A dry white with a bit of sparkle. Just that here the carbon dioxide came not from sparkling water added but from natural fermentation – a bit like flat bubbly.

We also got to talk a bit to Tom – probably one of the top 5 nicest Australian I have met so far (dear Tom, be in a good mood when you read some of our Australia blogs). Since I still had a good half bottle of vino verde to finish, I invited him and his German partner back to our tent after Number 3 was put to bed. They came down, his partner Celine joining Tom. We had a good long chat, only slightly marred by Number 3 waking up around 10 pm and insisting on hanging out with us until we came to bed. He was pretty good when he was out, so we gave it a try. If he is anything like me, there will come the day when it will be pointless trying to put him to bed when company is around anyway.

Late and tired, but with some satisfaction we went to bed that night, wishing both Celine and Tom farewell (we were all leaving the next morning). Encounters like this, meeting what feels like good people (including the lovely owners) is right at the heart of why I travel. This is how we met so many of those we now call friends. First and foremost Peter and Leonie. We are really looking forward to those two in two weeks’ time as well.

Great light early in the morning
reason enough to open the window …
… and enjoy the view from bed
mist lay in the vally below us
I mentioned we did not a lot … oh, and Number 3 has a chair now
Flowers and Ants were the objects of todays study
.. oh, and dogs
not just the camps dogs …
… also the neighbours when they came over …
… to help out work the vinyard (and get distracted)
number 3 trying his skills

Day 37 – A fine vintage

Sleep was good – I think. Given our itinerary for today, I shall be excused if I get some of the details wrong. I had the presence of mind to make a reservation for our port wine lodge of choice last night, and the confirmation arrived this morning: 4:15 pm at Graham’s Lodge, English guided tour and tasting. We will get to that …

We got off for a really late start – first some catching up on the blog. Then, we had to wait 20 minutes for the bus (going every 15 minute …). At least it was really quick getting into town. Our starting point was right behind the train station. We figured we could use this to explore further out and up, away from the river, compared to our downward stroll of yesterday.

But first, pastries! We passed a set of the cutest shops, one with great mini versions of some of our favourite pastries. Nina went with mini-pastel de nata and mini-éclair de chocolat. Oh, and given the late start we decided to go straight from here to lunch! The stroll was once again pretty captivating – coming from the Sé (cathedral) down through the narrow winding lanes of Ribeira. There is a lot of construction, mostly renovations, going on all around. But decay is still a dominate feature of this part of town. Empty, half torn down houses and dwellings that evoke Cuba and other former colonial subjects. Ten or twenty years ago, this kind of neighbourhood would probably have been considered a slum. The pressure of money is palpable, but so is the spirit of an active neighbourhood resisting. For now it seems that a balance is struck, resisting total Disney- and gentrification.

Which leads nicely into our lunch spot: A super hip vegan buffet restaurant where the plate & drink combo costs roughly as much as the weekly rent of one of the places two streets over. Sue us, it was still pretty good and super kid friendly to boot. We appreciate a good vegetarian / vegan meal. If there was something to nag on then it would be the slightly too preachy vibe that too often comes with vegan food (the word cleansing was mentioned in the menu).

After lunch, we headed for a triple combo of hipster-geek-history charm. Ticket number 2 on the Lonely Planet for Porto is this neo-gothic bookshop in a very hip part of town. Ever since its rise to next level fame by inspiring J. K. Rowling with its eye-catching twisting staircase and taking some inspiration for the Harry Potter books while working as an English teacher between ‘91 and ’93. Nowadays, it is mostly a tourist attraction, although the 5€ entrance fee are still a valid voucher for any purchase from the solid inventory. We almost did not go due to the line, but once again were singled out with a triple insurance of “baby first” and strict instructions to skip the line. We even met our power-bank helpers from the campground and were able to pass that secret handshake on to them (i.e. use baby to skip line).

Finding a coffee and pastry stop before the tour proved to be a bit more of an obstacle, afterwards. We did however find a hipster enough place to finally get me that haircut that was overdue since probably a month before we left. It was the real deal, complete with other twisted-mustachioed patrons and two guys collapsing in to clean up after walking the whole camino. We also, kind of last minute, find a place where Nina could replenish on much needed sugar and black tea.

It almost got stressful then when we took the bus to get over to the port lodge, with the bus sitting in traffic for a long time. We started early enough though, and made it with 3 minutes to spare. In that excitement, picking the selection for the tasting was done pretty much shooting from the hip. Since I already tried my way all the way up to 30 year old tawny from Graham’s, I felt a change of pace was in order and went with the super premium vintage collection – and Nina with the considerably cheaper premium vintage collection. 60 € for six “shots” – this better be good.

Graham’s was recommended by the Lonely Planet and we noticed why. The whole Lodge was done up recently and just had the perfect feel to it. It was interesting and somewhat strange in a nice kind of way. It looked almost staged, but this was the place where Graham’s branded port is stored to age. 7 million litres of it, actually. I could touch a 100 year old barrel with 30 year old port in it. We were led through the vault, with the oldest bottle in there being from 1864! The guide was great as well. Our worries for going with the brand we knew best were quickly forgotten – and it turned out that most port brands are owned by the same family anyway.

We even managed to not get shamed into feeling too impostery by the well-dressed American tourists occasionally sneering at our hobo-with-baby look. Well, my bills are as green as yours, it turned out and we left half of them behind in the tasting room for the plebs. See, the choice of tasting menu decides the venue. We bought ourselves into the vintage room, sporting as the website says a “feel of a fine private club”. Not even Number 3 had the potential to bring that down all the way. I don’t care – we had an absolute blast, with a detailed introduction of each of or tastings. With the rest of our group sitting with us, we had almost all the offerings on the table. Ultimately, we were really happy with our selection. We would never have bought a bottle of one of these, but being able to sample them was great. The vintage ports are much more like rubys in their character. They are not aged in oak barrels like tawnys and thus retain a lot of their freshness. Yet one could clearly make out the effect of aging in the bottle between the lot we had (I had vintages from 1983, 2000 and 2016, Nina had an LBV, crusted and a vintage 2005). Maybe someday we will go for the ultimate decadence of vintage tawnys (single year oak barrel aged).

We had to buy at least one bottle then – given the extra 10% discount we got from our Porto card to boot. I went with a straight table wine from one of the owners’ vineyards while Nina struck a bargain with a 1982 vintage bottled last year. See, Graham’s is official supplier for the Queen and whenever there is a merry occasion they get a request to bottle some certain vintage. So the 1982 was bottled in 2018 in celebration of Prince Harry’s marriage. What a bloody weird thing to come from simple Portuguese grapes on bad soil.

Is anything after this really still relevant? We had a blast … (ok, one more thing – took the wrong bus and we had to walk off some of our buzz for 2 km to get back to camp).

View onto Ponte De Dom Luis I
Front view of the cathgedral
Seagull on a high perch
Top of a memorial column
Small plaza we stumbled upon
More cool street art
Cool little alleys, lots of decay
Flo really liked this building
What an amazing stair case!
And many people taking pictures
Looking at books to purchase
Glass-stained ceiling in the bookstore
Flo and Number 3 on the staircase
Graham’s lodge
In the wine cellar
Giant casks
Stacked barrels
Close-up barrels
Ledger in the cellar
The oldest bottle is from 1864!
Port wine tasting
Number 3 was very interested in the glasses but…NOPE
Ruby port
The oldest bottle on sale…for 8600€ or 600€ a glass
View from Graham’s lodge
Close up of the Ponte de Dom Luis I
View onto the South side of the river Douro

Day 35 – Blurring

Maybe it also has to do with the Dresden Files audio books we are listening to, maybe there is some bleeding effect going on. Or sleep deprivation. Or just travel flow. Whatever it is – things start to, well, blur into each other. Only a day later, it is getting harder to remember the details. Where did we camp again?

Right, the moderately rustiek camp site. It was ok, but with all of them having been exceptionally good, we have gotten a bit spoiled, I guess. Route wise, the choice was between Viseu and Coimbra. There would just not have been a good way to loop in all of it, at least for us. We chose Coimbra, with another stop in between.

Both hands in. Luckily, it was high enough up so that he couldn’t fall in. It’s not for lack of trying.

Well, Piódāo looked like it was along the way. What the bird’s eye view could not show was that we would add about 3 high altitude passes and 1.5 hours to our 180 km journey. It was worth it regardless. Super cute Piódāo sits almost at the end of a very tight, surprisingly wet and fertile valley. The whole valley is dotted with these shale buildings sticking to the steep valley slopes like swift nests. But here, they assemble into this crescendo of quaint out of time-ness. Access to here was limited to donkey trails until the 1970s. Yet, somehow, it caught someone’s eye at the right time and has been restored to be quite the sight. Little rivulets flow next to the steep shale cobblestone streets, fed from many natural wells dotted around. Everything is neatly and tastefully restored.

We could have run into a bit of an issue coming here on a weekend, since it turned out to be quite the weekend trip destination for a lot of Portuguese as well. But once again, our “be first” policy regarding lunch paid off. Number 3 was absolutely delighted to be placed next to a couple of guys on a 6 seater table in the equally quaint and tiny restaurant we picked. He had a bit of everything, scrounging food from everyone at the table and ate like never before. I had excellent goat stew and veges and even Nina got a real lovely lunch after the shock about her vegetarianism wore off, and the lady of the house took over from the little old waiter.

Our resolute “no souvenirs” stance has also started to get kinks in the armour when the village charmed us into a bottle of chestnut liqueur. We are technically on our way back now.

All of this happened and still only half the day was gone. The drive to Piódāo and out towards Coimbra was an attraction in its own right, once again. Nina was less pleased with the great views offered by the no-crash-barrier mountain roads and decided to give sleep a try as well.

We reached Coimbra by teatime and therefore aimed for a café recommendation first. Everybody fell out of the car a bit knackered and we were really looking forward to the coffee. Unfortunately for us, the age of our lonely planet hit us again: The café of the Science Museum has been closed by the authorities almost two years ago. A bit of frustration and steam venting and most importantly map checking later, we decided to try our luck on foot from here.

It turned out to have been a rather good decision. The University is located on a flat hill, based in the former royal palace and then spread out from here. I loved the entire ensemble, including the 20^th century stuff. I guess this is one thing I got from growing up in Frankfurt. Modernism, Bauhaus and the like catch my eye as much as a 17^th century palace, maybe even more so. Some students’ (still in formal robes at this very old university) behaviours puzzled us, but we were too tired to endeavour more. We did find a café in the end, although the pastel were at best tourist quality.

In the end, we even got enough energy back to hop into the old cathedral as the last guests admitted and stroll back to the car while taking in a bit more of the town. Maybe it would deserve more of our focus, be we had not much more to give tonight.

At the campground in town (nothing special really) we got lured by the offer of served breakfast for the next morning coming in at 6 € a head. Our minds wandered off, imagining the time we would be saving and the luxury of being catered for breakfast and ordered it for the two of us.

Later on, we also met only the second pair of overland motorcyclists we had seen so far. I just had to talk to them, given the huge Kiwi sticker next to their Australian licence plate. Turned out they were expat Kiwis and seasonal travellers. We had a good conversation after dinner – unfortunately marred by poor Nina having to tend to Number 3, who had maybe his worst time falling asleep of the entire trip.

Big chunks of vegetation on the hills have burnt down not that long ago
Piodao…
…sits up on a hillside…
Lush valley
Doggy in the village
Number 3 and the flowing water
Both hands in. Luckily, it was high enough up so that he couldn’t fall in. It’s not for lack of trying.
Number 3 was fed by everyone.
Exploring Piodao
Up and up
Even further?
And down again
View onto the village from above
Church Piodao
Looking back
Hard to see but it’s Piodao in the background
Road ahead
Nina really disliked these bends with a drop and no barrier
Coimbra, part of the university
Don Joao
View over Coimbra
Roof of the cathedral
Finally coffee!
Inside the church Coimbra
The adjecent monastery
Number 3 on the loose
By a Flemish master
Coimbra city camp

Day 33 – Cherry on top

Today was one of those days that we are craving for on our trips. It started a bit low – even though our camp was very nice. But Number 3’s newest software upgrade is a bit labour intense. Him running away without thought or fear made for a rather slapstick packing time. He felt perfectly comfortable walking alone all the way to reception some 100m and 20 stairs up and then be escorted back by the owners when he fell. Somehow, we still managed to cram in a shower for both of us.

The route for today was another matter: There is a recommendation far east which would add at least a day before going to Porto. We are already on our final 10 days in Portugal, based on our rough outline. Will it be worth it? Weather was supposed to get a bit worse again. At the very last minute, I made the call to go east.

Our day improved steadily from there. After crossing over the reservoir lake near Tomar, we drove for about two hours along mostly windy backcountry roads. Good choice to avoid toll roads once more. The weather got better and the landscape wider and dryer the higher we got. We re-upped at a supermarket along the way. That allowed us to have a picnic lunch somewhere off the highway down a lovely track through a pasture.

The sight we’re aiming for was a fortress and village named Monsanto. In my mind, the last 50 km drive through Beira Beixa were a sight of their own already. Gently rolling hills strewn with granite boulders and fieldstones of all sizes. Very rural, with lots of open spaces dotted with eucalyptus, olive, orange and cork trees. There was a campground in the area, but if something would come up – this would probably be the best area for wild camping on our trip so far.

the touching bolders from above, and another granite hill in the back

As the steep hill with Monsanto flowing over its side came into view, we got really excited. We could drive almost all the way up, got a good parking spot and were ready to explore soon. Our goal was to find a nice café and chill with a coffee and pastries and take in the village atmosphere.

It did not work out like that in the best way possible. We started exploring along the excellent signposts and felt like up first would be a good plan. Signs with “touching boulders” and “castle” started to show up. We climbed through the village build organically into the hill and the huge granite boulders strewn about when we sort of popped out on top. From here, it became a little hike through a magnificent granite boulder field. We continued on all the way to the very top. Ruins of previous settlement and the “creative restauration” of a Templar castle waited for us there. The view from the highest point were splendid. This granite hill stands out in an otherwise rather flat landscape. One can see other peaks like this in the distance – used back in the day to build up a defensive chain of fortifications against first Moorish, then Spanish intrusion.

It was getting right time for coffee by the time we were back in the village. We popped into the first place we found inviting and were lead out to one of the coolest terraces we have ever been on. The restaurant was built into a boulder, and the terrace was on the side of another one. Only about 10 seats here, but we got the best spot (in our opinion) overlooking the village and down into the surrounding lands. But the positive surprises did not end here: We ordered our usual, but got interrupted after “pastel” … when they arrived, it turned out that the local speciality is a pastry similar to pastel de nata, but filled with a cherry flavoured custard instead! There were ripe growing cherries right next to our seats as well. It was magnificent!

With spirits soaring, we got back to our car and made our way to the campground nearby. It was a municipal camp, but almost deserted at the moment. We enjoyed the stiff spiel from the civil servant at the reception and were positively surprised one final time when the price came in at 8.90€ – the cheapest stay yet. That made not wild camping go down a bit better for me. We even managed to get a load of washing done before bed time (and before running out of critical … bits).

5 minutes off the road
weird things happen
great way to bring the mood up
there it was – castle and village
all embedded in rolling farmland
out of the car, excercise!
Boulders were integrated into the village all over
already great views, half way up
the high mountains in the bach are our goal for tomorrow
those two came down from 100m above
big and small, strewn all around
the touching bolders from above, and another granite hill in the back
only a little bit up to the castle
chapel for the dead, at one point
no handrail, not for Nina
All the way up, showing Number 3 the world
from the upper yard, views peek over the wall
towards … pastries!
pastries found!
yea, this is cool. Now feed me more pastries!
We do everything but sleeping outside – so there is alway a bit of a gipsy vibe going in our camp

Day 31 – Like pulling teeth

It is upon us! The rest day is here! So what event to write about a day with the sole purpose of relaxing and refuelling? Well, I will try to keep it brief. It was a lovely day. Of course, with a kid, there might never be such a thing as a perfect day.

The hair in today’s soup was a familiar one: Molar number four (for Number 3)! Sleep was a bit rough and he is just that bit less relaxed and more complain-y. After seeing how wolfishly jagged the other three turned out to be, it is hard to blame him for it. Still … the bipolar alternating between crying and joy takes a bit of the chill out of relaxation.

Don’t get me wrong, there was plenty of that for all of us. Number 3 walked up and down maybe 100 stairs or more, while Nina and I did some light research, blogging and a lot of generally not very much. Oh, yes, and a lot of chook chasing for Number 3. The three resident hens turned out to be of great entertainment value.

Lunch was silky smooth scrambled eggs with caramelized onions. One way I found to prepare eggs even to my liking. We felt we had a good reason to use up all our eggs in storage, since we could restock for 10ct a piece straight from the coop 20m from here.

Oh, we gave the pool another shot with Number 3 – still too cool for him. He was still quite the trooper though, taking shock to the nether regions with only very little screaming. After that, we called it a night with some ice cream and a drink at the bar. Another Portuguese Liqueur called Beirāo. Again, sweet enough that Nina liked it a bit.

Wait, what is going …
CHICKEN!!!!
Wheeee!!!
… gonna get you!! …
… *gack* noooo *gack* …
Ready for the fun!
… “this is … AHHHHHH …”
… “mommy .. toooo cooold” …
gonna fetch you

Day 29 – last reserve

I don’t even … I mean … soooo tired! Or better just drained. Normally, we would take it slow, but we had decided already to go to another of the lovely rustic campgrounds near Tomar. So this is a travel day. We decided super last minute what we would do and got going later than expected.

By the time we reached Peniche, it was already pretty warm. And reasonably late. Well, at least late enough that we could go for the earliest possible lunch. Once again, we sat down as the first patrons at the Restaurante a Sardinha. An old fishermen’s tavern turned restaurant still known for good grilled seafood. But since it has gone through a good bit of touristification, it also catered a vegetarian dish for Nina. This lunch was a bit of a consolation prise for the reportedly excellent seafood we missed at Ericeira last night. It was good and the rugged old waiter (who looked like he would have never dreamed of catering well off tourists in this place) melting to Number 3’s charms was a sight to behold.

I strong armed exhausted Nina into a bit of a detour around the peninsular. The jagged limestone cliffs and views out to the islands off to the west were worth it. Even so, still a little more fuel out of the tank.

The town is primarily known for its surfer beaches. We decided to give Number 3 one more round in the sand before heading inland for a good while. It was nice but brutal out in the midday sun. Next time, we will have to see to get some kind of shelter packed so that the little one can enjoy the sand for a little while longer.

Knackered we gave it a final push for the day and strolled a bit through the inland town of Óbidos. We managed to sneak in to the medieval old town just before the biggest wave of tourists arrived. That made our little stroll a lot more bearable. Well, actually, we did kind of like it. It was definitively touristy, very much like Carcassonne. The three same things in all shops: Booze (the local version of Ginjiha made from sour cherries), books and chocolate. That’s the things mentioned in the guidebook, that is what you get 😉

In the end, we chose a camp close to the sea – we thought we might get one more shot at this west coast sunset. Turned out it was not close enough, but we were glad nonetheless. Warm showers, cheap and a shady spot for us. Time to rest once more.