Getting to really know someone well, takes time. It takes effort. You need to discover things about their past. Engage with their present. Learn of their plans for the future too.
I guess that’s why we, like all of the other millions of travelers head for the historic sites first. We like to get a feel for the soul of the place we’re visiting. Feel its pulse. Take its temperature. Cut through the layers, get under its skin. Examine the examinable. Find out what keeps its heart beating. All of this helps to diagnose. Reach a conclusion. However, it’s in the exchanges with the living population that reveal its true state of health. Portugal gets our thumbs up. A big green tick.
Three nights. Two days. Hardly time enough. We start with a convoluted Scoot up into the hilly area of Sintra, north west of the capitol. Eyes raised upwards towards Pena Palace. It tops one of the hills, overlooking Lisbon and its surrounds. A fairy tale Cinders’ Castle.
This hilly escarpment a mesh of one way single lanes. We and they wiggle between the tiny villages scattered throughout. The whole area teeming with tourists. All lining up to visit the area’s three palaces. As we close in on our prize, so does the weather. Low cloud and drizzle dampen our spirits. Can just about make it out. Scoot gets us right up close. He’s so park-able.
As we wander into the main square, it’s apparent we’ve been beaten to the best vantage point. We catch a couple of ‘peepers’ peeping – with welcoming smiles . . .
. . . unlike the overseeing concierge – “cheese” obviously not on his menu for today.
The castle, come palace, wouldn’t seem out of place in Portmeirion. The inner rooms all very live-able and not too OTT – (no central heating in those days) 🙂
Without Scoot on board our touring existence would often become cumbersome. Often, our camp is a little out of the way. Often, the places we want to visit are a little out of the way too. Often, buses, trains and trams not in easy reach. This site no exception. Lisbon is quite a sprawl with twenty-seven percent of Portugal’s population living within. We’re nine kilometres from today’s destination, the old town. No need to check when and where to catch a bus – good ole Scoot! Plus no parking fees. Any small convenient space will do. Next to a wall on a pavement, just off the main drag is where we leave him.
So we start with the past. Long, long ago. Spend an hour or so inside the Archeological Museum. It’s actually housed within part of the old Jerónimos Monastery – our next port of call. We skip the hour long queue having bought a combo ticket – sometimes we do do our homework.
After lunch we lurch and linger into the old town. Interconnected praças around every corner. Praça do Rossio our favourite.
The main pedestrian artery awash with eateries and street artists. All ticking along nicely. Some amusingly strange . . .
. . . others just brilliantly entertaining.
Then before we know it it’s time to head back to Scoot. A cheery wave from the future bids us farewell . . .
