The hair on the throne

Date: Apr 9, 2010


We took one of these hop-on-hop-off tours of the city hitting all the big touristy things to see. Get off the bus, explore, and then grab the next bus doing the circuit and repeat the cycle. It’s a cool way to see the city from above ground as opposed to traveling by underground and just coming up to see what’s in front of you. Anyway………….. they have this running commentary about what you’re seeing, and as we passed a church the voice said: “The queen wanted a son so badly she vowed to God that if she got a “Hair on the throne, she would………………” Well, we never heard what she would do because we both convulsed in laughter and started commenting on the possibilities. With our, okay, mostly mine, warped minds, you can imagine the direction of the conversation.

Travel Travails

We got out of Dodge because we knew that we had time at the end of the trip back in Lisbon and we were antsy for the open road. Our rental car pick-up time was 9 a.m. and upon arrival at the airport, Carol waited with the luggage where the cars were to be picked up, and I went to the counter.Oh, my god, It looked like the opening day tickets were available for a Dave Matthews concert. The line was looooooong. It took three hours to get to the counter. A miserable experience, except…….There was this couple behind me, and after frustration set in and we realized this was going to be an unusual deal, we started talking. Turns out the couple was from Poland, and we had this wonderful time talking. They were an absolutely delightful couple, and after a while, e-mail addresses were exchanged, promises made to see each other again, and it reminded me of why I travel. Okay, so they weren’t Portuguese, but their spirit and insight to the world was warming to my heart, and reminded me of why I travel. It’s to meet people and renew the spirit when I get depressed about the direction things seem to be going in the world. Carol got to meet them when we got to the car pick-up and, naturally, we had to wait again.

Undiscovered treasures.

Unfortunately, there aren’t any anymore. Everybody knows where the gems are and they all seem to congregate there on the same day we arrive. So it is around the world. Too many internet suggestions exist on where to go and what to see, and there are too many travel sections in too many papers pointing people do the same. So we just have to tough out the hordes descending on the little picturesque towns and go there anyway. So it was today with two Portuguese towns with dozens of tour buses discouraging their loads into the souvenir shops. Sintra and Obidos. Wonderful places, and I shouldn’t object to people wanting to do the same things I want to, dangling preposition and all. Sintra has a very interesting palace. All the more interesting because it wasn’t the usual gaudy place of royalty, but rather a summer residence for court. My favorite room was the “Magpie” room. So named because the king had magpies painted all over the ceiling as a reminder to the ladies of court not to gossip too much. Who said all royalty was stupid. Lots of Lord Byron establishments since the town inspired his: “Childe Harold’s Pilgramage.”

We ate lunch outside in a little snack bar with literally hundreds of little munchkins nibbling their way through their picnic lunches. They all wore hats and looked like a colorful kids parade waiting to happen. The enormous sycamore trees provided shade while their fuzzy seed balls twirled their way down to earth, most of which seemed destined to wind up in our glasses of juice. There is an international exposition of modern sculpture, and they looked like they were designed by second generations of Dali, Picasso, and Henry Moore, very interesting stuff. It made the walk up the hill very pleasant and helped us forget how far it actually was.

A group of high-school types sat outside the palace and did this impromptu rhythmic hand and foot dance while one of them played a didgeridoo. Who knows where that came from, but tourists stopped and filmed them to their obvious delight.

We moved on to Ovidos, which quickly became my favorite place so far when I discovered they were dispensing samples of cherry liqueur in edible chocolate drinking cups. I mean, what’s not to like. Naturally, a bottle was purchased. It may make it home. Carol promised to make me the chocolate cups.
Sounds like the firm basis for a party. The city itself is a delight, with a capital D. It’s an old medieval city completely surrounded by walls totally intact. Narrow alleys lead up and around the town. It’s a true treasure. It’s the only remaining town mentioned in Camoes “The Lusiads,” which apparently is the epic poem of Portuguese Literature. Red tiled roofs are no longer red, but various shades of yellow, brown, and rust as the lichens have grown and perished over the centuries. Plants have taken seed in the places where the dust has collected they send their flowers sprawling out over the roofs. Espaliered wisteria, roses, plum trees, and mulberry trees sent their roots and stolons into the cracks of the wall and thereby clung as they climbed up and made intricate designs. Flower pots hung from every doorway and window and all together made for a fairy tale type scene. The houses are all painted white with a blue or gold vertical stripe on each side of the corner of the house, and another horizontal swath at the base where the stucco meets the cobble-stoned street. It’s as if the Cal band had been hired to do the job and left partway through the job. But maybe they just got stuck into the cherry liqueur part way through the job.

Carol read that a 19th century farm house took in guests and served local honey for breakfast, so it’s not too difficult to know where we’re staying tonight.
Stay safe everybody,

C and J