Greenwich

Today we had a relaxed start to the day, made all the better thanks to a call from home. Lovely to hear news and to talk with our wonderful offspring.

Once we got going, we walked down past the Cutty Sark and into the Old Royal Naval College, which is now the tourist information centre for Greenwich and which has some good displays of artifacts dug up on the site. A good place to get an idea of the layers of occupation of the site.

We tagged along on a free tour of the area, admired the breathtaking view of Chistopher Wren's neoclassical symmetry, gazed mournfully at the gate where Anne Bolyen departed on her last trip down the river to the tower, and paid our respects to the memorial to Admiral Thomas Masterman Hardy in the splendid Chapel of St Peter and St Paul. There is a family tradition, to which my dad subscribed, that our branch of the Hardy's is somehow connected to the Admiral's.  Hardy is a certainly a big name in Greenwich, as we passed Hardy's Sweet Shop, and the Admiral Hardy Hotel.

After lunch we headed over to the National Maritime Museum. Wonderful collection but somehow​ we struggled with it - the presentation seemed geared more for a younger school kid audience, lots of amazing facts and artifacts, but not strung in any coherent narrative that we could discern. But I am glad to have seen it, and the staff go out of their way to be helpful.

We then met up with a friend from the Camino. John and I walked across the Meseta together, and a more congenial companion for the challenges of that stretch would be hard to find. It was a treat to see him again, and, gentleman that he is, he has offered to drive us next week to a couple of destinations that are hard to get to by public transport.

We pottered home in the sunshine of a lovely afternoon, passing through Greenwich market and circumnavigating the church of St Alfege, "dedicated to Alege, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was martyred by Vikings on this site in 1012", according to my Greenwich Guide.

Tomorrow we collect our two day London passes, and Anne has been planning carefully so we can make the most of them.
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Goodbye Fado, futebol and Fatima, hullo London

Last night we went back to A Despensera where we had a great meal the night before. They were very pleased to see us back, and gave us free desserts, plus Anne got a hug and a kiss as we left from the beautiful young woman who seems to run the place. We strolled home feeling very fortunate to have come to such a wonderful warm place.

There was a mighty deluge in Porto over night, and our room sprung a leak, via the sprinkler fitting right above the bed, on Anne's side lucky for me. I managed to fitfully sleep through most of it, but Anne had to stack towels where the water was dripping. Not all that conducive to sound sleep. But we were up packed and at reception just as the taxi appeared, and we got out to the airport for the friendliest, nicest bag drop ever. The Porto easyJet staff were a continuation of the Porto hospitality.

We managed to buy Oyster cards and navigate the London public transport system, thanks to assistance from Google maps. 

London looked fairly grey and gritty, and we were wondering what we had done leaving lovely Portugal to come here, but I think we were a bit tired and hungry. After settling into our aparthotel - Anne wrangled us much nicer space than the little box we were given first - we had a meal in nearby Turkish restaurant, then a sleep. When we woke up, the sun was shining and Greenwich looked like a much nicer place. Still a bit grey and grotty though.

We found our way down to the supermarket, got some provisions, then back home for a quiet night planning the first installment of our raid on London.

Porto #3

Today our weather luck well and truly ran out. Light rain was falling when we set off after breakfast, and got steadily heavier as we walked on down the hill. We visited Sao Francisco, as much to escape the rain as from a deep interest in gothic church's or baroque decoration. Ok, more to escape the rain.  I visited the crypt, all suitably macabre and sombre, down to the grill in the floor opening into a large chamber piled with scattered human bones. Momento Mori indeed. The interior of the church is right over the top gold and carving, with some altars  very reminiscent of dioramas showing Fransiscans being gruesomely martyred. Just the thing to cheer you up on a gloomy rainy day after a visit to the crypt.

It was raining heavily when we left. We headed down to the river, thinking we might get one of the river cruises, but the people huddled under cover on the boats going past looked pretty miserable and the rain was sheeting down, so we sought refuge in a bar looking over the river with a great view of Eiffel's splendid bridge, and we settled in for lunch. A few hours later, the rain seemed to be getting heavier, so we sloshed off up the road back to the hotel, which had turned into a brisk stream by this point.

Of course, about a half an hour after we got back, soaked with sodden shoes, the sky cleared and​ the rain stopped.
Still, a good opportunity to get organized for heading off to London tomorrow.

Porto #2

We realized we have been on the road a week today, and this morning we were pretty slow getting going. Maybe a little tired, maybe the vihno Verde last night.

We had arranged to switch rooms today to one with a view, so after breakfast we packed our bags, handed over the key and set out, to discover that it was a distinctly cold, drizzley day, we had dressed for the bright summer weather we have come to expect, and that our warm clothes were inaccessible. Nothing to be done about it so we walked briskly up the hill to generate some body heat, then headed across to the Mercado do Bolhao, Porto's version of a produce market. We saw plenty of nice things in the shops on the way there and in the stalls at the market, but perhaps fortunately we have very limited capacity to carry stuff.

To thaw out and revive, we stopped off at the Majestic Cafe, opened 1923, all mirrors, plate glass, carved wood and nice China. A writer at the time observed that "up till now the Cafes in Portugal have been exclusively the hot bed of revolutionaries ... or places where the obstinate aged listlessly​ passed the time." He obviously hoped the Majestic would usher in something different, but there seemed to be quite a few of the obstinate aged listlessly passing the time in there today. Me included.

Warmed and revitalized we headed on over to the Cathedral, then down the steep steps into the narrow streets below. I was pleased to see the yellow arrows of the Camino Portuguese marking the way. Anne was less pleased with the number and the steepness of the stairs.

We had lunch in a little restaurant round the corner from the hotel, with a lovely waitress singing along happily to a random selection of hits from the sixties and seventies as she worked.

When we got back to the hotel we had a new room with a view across to the Cathedral, a bit noisier but much nicer than our last. So we can now loll about taking in the fine Vista of the historic centre of the city, a designated World Heritage Site.

After lying low for a couple of hours, we headed out for dinner in a lovely Italian restaurant nearby, A Despensa. It was best meal so far, highly recommend. It seemed a little disloyal to resort to another cuisine, bit I am afraid that the traditional dishes of Porto, which consist of either tripe or bacalhau​, dried salted cod with a pervasive,pungent odour, don't really get too far up the list of our favourite foods.

On the way over we threaded our way through the student parade, Cortejo da Queirma, an annual letting off of steam for the University students of Porto. The streets have been thronged with young people in different coloured top hats, capes, and superwomen outfits. When we were coming home the party was really starting to heat up, with lots of chanting, hooting and hollering, and general high spirited carrying on. All very good humoured and non threatening.

I read that Porto has been designated Europe's Best Destination 2015 and 2017 by none other than the Best European Destinations Agency. I can understand why.

Google photos has been making little slide shows of a selection of the photos I upload each day. Here is today's:

https://goo.gl/photos/oTTePbDWJrcpFXDw7

Porto #1

After my abysmal performance negotiating Lisbon public transport we organized for a car to take us to the train station, which is located on the edge of Lisbon, Senhor Antonio, the same gentleman who drove us from the airport, was waiting for us. A lovely man, and a nice end to our stay in Lisbon. He dropped us in good time at the very fancy Oriente station, lots of concrete arches and steel - an architect's dream.

The trip to Porto takes under three hours, and the train belts along at up to 220 kilometers per hour. Why can't Australia manage high speed rail? Looking out the window at the landscape whizzing by, you could almost think you were in Australia, given the ubiquitous gum trees. But not many farm animals. I counted one burro, eight sheep, and about ten horses the whole way.

Train is a nice way to arrive in any new city, but Porto's Sao Bento station - with it's splendid tiled walls telling the history of Portugal plus lovely observation of normal human life - takes that to a whole new level.

Our hotel is a few minutes walk down the hill. We had plenty of time to get settled and explore, starting with a walk down to Ribiera and the splendid old houses overlooking a lively waterfront packed with bars and restaurants. After a refreshing cerveja watching the river and the people flow by, we walked back up the hill, and enjoyed dinner, eventually, as the restaurants don't start serving till after 7. Lots of entertainment, from the buskers, a guy playing saxophone who sounded pretty good to us, a huge gull trying to raid tables, standoffs between pushy tourists and the phlegmatic waiting staff, a little girl about 3 dancing to the music completely unselfconsciously. All good fun, capped off with a walk back through steep narrow streets.

I think we are going to really like Porto.

Lisbon​ #5

Woke up at 5.30 and after admiring another splendid sunrise I headed off for a walk through the Barrio Alto district, but soon wished I had chosen a different destination, as the littered graffitied streets seemed particularly squalid this morning. It is like a different country to Baixa and Chiado only a few blocks away. Needs a darn good clean up I reckon.

We struggled with another blockbuster breakfast - maybe we have reached our pastry quota for now. But filled with breakfast, optimism and plans we set off little knowing that Lisbon's first surprise of the day was waiting for me round the corner in the form of a pigeon with an upset digestion who bombed me from head to foot with precision accuracy. Having seen what the pigeons were eating off the pavement in the Barrio Alto, I am not surprised it was not feeling well.

After a quick scrub and clothes change, we tried again, and made it down to Praca Figura in time to catch the number 12 tram which runs through the steeply sloping Alafama district. The tram is similar to the old green Melbourne trams, but painted bright yellow - this is Portugal after all, no dull green trams here - and about one third the length, so that the tram can get around the sharp bends in the narrow streets. The tram runs in loop and for Euro1.40 has to be one of the best value touristy thing around. Though it has plenty of local passengers as well, mostly older ladies heading up or down the hill to do some shopping.

After this we found what we thought was the stop for the bus to our next destination. After about 15 minutes wait. Bus came along,  right number, but heading in the wrong direction, but after another 15 minutes wait over the opposite side of the square we caught the right one, heading towards the National Azulejos Museum. 

Located in the Madre de Deus convent, which was built in the C15th, flattened in the 1755 earthquake, and restored in the C17th. The gardens are simple but striking, some keen eye behind it I think. 

The museum itself houses tiles from the C15th up to contemporary work. Anne  likes the Moorish, geometric interlocking pattern tiles, I like the more figurative ones.

When our energies began to flag, we had lunch in the peaceful garden - well it was peaceful until a very large group of well dressed people​ swarmed in - perhaps the attendees of the service that had been in progress in the convent's chapel. Whatever, we tend to be crowd averse, and left hurriedly, sowing the seeds of the day's second surprise.

We managed to find the bus stop for the return trip, and after a detour through the metro and some more fun with the stored value cards, we wound up in Chiado for lunch, then a visit to Sao Roc. This church has an almost overwhelming mass of detail, lots to take in. Anne went to put on her glasses, and realized that they must have been left behind, on the table in the garden at the Azulejos Museum. And so, I got to make the trip there and back again. I sure know the way now.

So, this is our last day in Lisbon. Definitely a place we would love to come back to. Tomorrow, with luck, we take the train to Porto.

My two key pieces of advice for Lisbon are, 1: if you want to use public transport,  buy a Via Viagem card, choose the "zapping" option, put 5 Euros on it and top up if you need to, and 2: watch out for pigeons.

Lisbon#4 Sintra

Perhaps one too many copo de vihno tinto, we felt a tad seedy this morning.  The magnificent sunrise view from our window helped get us going though.

We had arranged for a car to take us to Sintra, so we got organized and out the door by 10.  Lovely chap with excellent English drove us down the Coast stopping at Carcais - a pretty beach side town which must have lots of British expats from the number of English bars -  and Cabo da Rica, the most Westerly point of Europe, some 10 kilometers more west than Finisterre. Finisterre feels more like the end of the continent though. After admiring the dramatic views of the coast, we headed off along an impossibly narrow road up to the Pena Palace, perched high on mount Sintra. Sure is a unique creation, monastry meets Disney, a dizzying collection of different styles. Grand Designs on steroids. It was super crowded on a lovely Saturday afternoon, lots of Portuguese and lots of tourists. 

After a squeezy shuttle bus ride, we headed down to explore the pretty village of Sintra. A bit like Ravello, it would probably be a nice place to spend a few days. It was filled with Portuguese people having a relaxed afternoon eating pastry and drinking beer, which seem to be important national customs.

We retreated home after that, and after a rest headed out again to get Via Viagem cards - the stored value travel cards - for tomorrow. These cards have proved to be an intelligence test which so far I have failed abysmally. But hopefully I have finally cracked it and the Lisbon public transport system will be at our disposal.