Sintra

Our last day was one of my favorite. Nuno picked us up at 9:30am and we headed to lush and serene Portuguese countryside.

Sintra is knd of like the Newport of 18-19th century Portugal. This is where all the aristocrats and wealthy built their summer palaces. On the way to Sintra amazing follies and homes are tucked away into the hills. The first one we came upon was Palacio Nacional de Queluz.

This quaint Rococo palace reminded me of some of the palaces we saw in Russia, they are very grand but faded and very minimal security. We could get close to alot of the furniture and fiddle with door handles, candelabras and wall mounts. All the things I love to poke around. Apparently the stables are very good here and they have amazing shows on Wednesdays, but alas, it was all closed up today.

We then drove to the heart of Sintra. The town is in the hills and there is a cool microclimate there that kind of transports you to another time. Maybe is was the castle looking fountains, the moss covering old stone walls or the huge Hemlocks holding court but I can definitely see why William Beckford and Lord Byron called this place home for a time. Byron works himself into a total tizzy over the village in Childe Harold:

"Lo! Cintra's glorious Eden intervenes
In variegated maze of mount and glen.
Ah me! what hand can pencil guide, or pen,
To follow half on which the eye dilates
Through views more dazzling unto mortal ken
Than those whereof such things the bard relates,
Who to the awe-struck world unlocked Elysium's gates?"

Nuno drops us off at the bottom of a mountain where we take a trolly to the very top to reach the entrance of Palacio Nacional da Pena. This was built by an eccentric German Prince with his own money so that it didnt have to have public state rooms and instead could be a cozy albeit massive home for his family. This was a real highlight for me. All the turrets, onion domes and grotto like structures plus massive verandas and Moorish windows that looked out over amazing vistas to the sea.
We spent several hours here just puttering about and soaking in the cool climate.

We took the trolly back down to the bottom and Nuno then took us to the center of town where we had plenty of time for lunch, shopping and a tour of the official Royal Palace built in the 15-16th centuries. The tile work was amazing.
We popped into Parakeet, a famous little patiserie and bought the pastries Goncalo had mentioned, Queijatos (sp).

Leaving glorious Sintra we headed to the coast and winded our way past beach after amazing beach. On our way out of town we did stop to admire Wiliam Beckford's former home, Monserrat. A beautiful oriental folly that is now closed to the public. We also made an appearance at Palacio Quinta da Regaleira, a drippy castle of a place filled with gothic towers that lead to wild gardens of agapantha, pools and fountains. I could of spent the whole day here, there simply isn't enough time to see it all.

We continue to the coast and stop at the most western point in Europe Cabio da Roca. We take a picture in the windy weather, wave to New York and hop back into the car to Cascais. This former fishing village is a bit like St. Trop not in the glamour department but in its evolution from sleepy town to overcrowded beach. The water is gorgeous and the grand old homes dotting the oceanfront are right up my alley.

Nuno drops us off and we stroll for an hour and soak up a bit more sun, watch the sailors coming in from sea and get in a bit more shopping. As we approach Lisbon again the concrete becomes more apparent than the beaches and before we know it our day is at an end. Nuno bids us goodbye at the Lapa and we go in for a change and a rest before heading to dinner.

At Nuno's suggestion we try a very modern and hip spot called Bica do Sapeto. Partly owned by John Malkovich, it is in a former warehouse that looks over the water. We have Caperainias, rose, steak and eel (not our choice but a chef's compliment) and watch the sunset on our last night in Portugal.

Back at Lapa Palace we have another drink with our favorite bartender Goncalo. He was in quite a tizzy over lack of sleep and friend drama so when I pulled out a box of those gorgeous pastries we bought in Sintra for him, he nearly burst out in tears. It was so sweet and mom and I were happy we were able to cheer him up a bit. He continued to entertain us and we enjoyed our martinis while the pianist tickled the ivories in the main room. We bid Goncalo good night, I gave him my card and we headed to our room. (Since then we have been emailing and he sent me this picture of himself, sweet kid!)

We are in bed by 12:00 for an early morning rise for the airport.
Mother packs her bags and I take one more chance to stare out over the pool and palm trees, out into the ocean before I head back to New York for madness, mayhem and hardly a moments rest.