Portugal: Overview

Sintra region with Atlantic ocean beyond

Once upon a time, about twenty years ago, I put Portugal on a long list of places to visit. I'm not sure why. Many places land on The List because I want to experience the culture, food, or landscape firsthand. I just didn't know much about Portugal beyond the role it played in exploration, that the country is the world's largest cork producer, that it also produces wine, and that it is a member of the EU. One might be able to assume that Lisbon was a grand capital, but who knows? Perhaps the unknown was what piqued my interest the most. The idea of traveling with eyes and mind wide open to learn what one can was very appealing.

We arrived in Lisbon after a chaotic airport experience in Barcelona and an uneventful two-hour flight. Quite by accident and before we had to search the airport for them, we met Dorothy and Dion, who had arrived from Newark at roughly the same time as our arrival. We rented a Renault Grand Scenic--a 7-seat MPV (multi-purpose vehicle, Europe's sexier term for minivan), arranged all our luggage very, very artfully, and drove 20 minutes to Cascais. Driving in Portugal was fairly easy, or so my driver made it seem. For one, traffic flows on the right side of the road, just like in the U.S. With this in mind, I thought I would take day trips as often as possible, and I would be able to give John a break from all of the driving. Unfortunately, there wasn't a single automatic transmission to rent in Lisbon, and someone here never learned how to drive a manual (hangs head in shame). The motorways we traveled were well maintained and well marked so navigation was easy. Although I bought Michelin road maps, we almost exclusively used the map app that came installed on my iphone. Being able to see our position on the screen helped so much, especially when we were unable to read the ornate tile street signs set into walls at knee height.

Guincho Guest House and tiny side yard

Our rental was located in a suburb of Cascais, once a playground of royalty and now a suburb of Lisbon as urban sprawl here, too, has reeled in this former coastal respite. This former fishing village now supports over 200,000 residents. We went into Cascais almost every day to shop for groceries at the Jumbo hypermarket, then would quickly leave town to escape traffic and crowds. Perhaps this retreat was shortsighted on our part, since we missed out on seeing the charming harbor and the more historic area of town. Even though it was so, so close to where we were staying, I never got to see what made Cascais tick, and I'm okay with that.

Fig Alley

The Guincho Guest House was the newest rental we've ever booked, all fresh surfaces and clean appliances and IKEA everything. In fact, the subdivision in which it was located was still under development, or possibly abandoned as would be truer to the current economic reality in Portugal. The walled, tiny yard was planted over with some sort of ground cover that appeared as if it would never need mowing. The swimming pool, which had been a selling point, was not much bigger than a bathtub.

Bathtub pool

Daily I had to point out to the cousins that the pool wasn't deep even for dives, let alone cannonballs, which had the tendency to displace epic amounts of water. Still, the yard was pleasant and cool with several places with recliners and daybeds in which to seek shelter from the relentless Portuguese sun and listen to the adjacent barnyard sounds: Braying donkey, crowing rooster. Or so we imagined because we couldn't see over the wall.

Plein air bed

Olive tree

There were 16 of us on this trip. Besides our little family of four, there were John's brothers--Ben, wife Caroline, daughters Dodie and Scarlett; and Will, wife Helena, sons Bjorn and Bruce and daughter Sophia--mother Dorothy, and family friend Dion.

Cousins: Simon, Bjorn, Sophia (holding tooth she'd just lost)

Hearts lessons

darling Brucie, 2-1/2 years old

Then, toward the end of the trip, family friend James joined us. That made for a full house. In fact, we were a little short on bedrooms. We could have used 5 or 6 but had 4, including one that was full of cots and bunk beds and was mostly inhabited by the boy children, but also by James. Bless him. Trooper.

the Brothers Shepard (John, Ben, Will) and extra brother James

family dinner table

A typical day started with breakfast and coffee and lots of conversation, reading, and planning for the day. Then we might manage to get out the door for an activity or we might have more conversation, reading, and planning for dinner, at best.

best way to vacation: books and beer

Whenever we went out, our excursion culminated with a trip to the grocery store. The grocery store could, in and of itself, be a cultural event. I will write more on this subject later. Suffice to say, a group this large required a lot of food for proper meals and all the little meals in between. Meals have, over time, become an important place for us to come together for sustenance and connection.

The topography in this corner of Portugal was rugged. Guincho Beach, one of the best beaches in Portugal, was a 15 minute walk from our rental.

boardwalk to Guincho Beach--beware vipers

Most of the Portugal we saw was golden and hot looking, agricultural but not necessarily lush. Still it had a fair amount of healthy vegetation and some unusual trees.

Here are a few more random general observations about Portugal:

coloring books are popular here too

VW Up! Unavailable stateside

technicolor sunsets

We saw a nice cross-section of Portugal, but at the end of the day, I still don't know what makes the country tick. It seems to be a corner of Europe that remains overlooked. To whit, most of the tourists we encountered were speaking Portuguese, which we initially thought was Russian. Our cultural exchanges were almost exclusively conducted with restaurant servers who were scrambling to meet other diners' needs. I would like to return since there is still so much left to learn and see, but, for now we've had a good introduction.

Barcelona: Day Two, part two

thank goodness for pano lenses. 99k.

From one sacred space to another, our next stop was Camp Nou, the 99,000 seat home field of FC Barcelona. This part of the day was dedicated to our youngest, who lives for soccer and plays year-round. As we were planning our trip, I had heard from another soccer parent that the Camp Nou Experience was really great. That you could tour the press box and the locker rooms, and you could go out on the pitch. When I purchased advanced tickets, I was surprised that there was no timed entry as for other "cultural" sites. We could visit at any time, which worked well for the open-ended parts of our day.

When we were no longer able to absorb another square inch of Sagrada Familia, we hopped in a taxi and headed for Camp Nou. Before we could even enter the museum, we had to run the gauntlet of fans who'd stop on a dime to pose for photos with player posters. The Experience was a little bit excruciating from almost immediately. The museum had a lot of great memorabilia that spanned a century--trophies, jerseys, shoes, newspapers and magazines, game programs, patches, pins, and more. Then, the tour: it's not very dissimilar from shopping at IKEA. There was one way in and one way out, and you're herded through all the exhibits, which wouldn't be horrible except that the entire facility was crowded with so many people. So so many people. And, it was hot and smelly. And, yes, I'm complaining. Because I couldn't complain then. I didn't want to ruin it for Winston, but even he said, "Mom, I wish it had been more exclusive." See how we can learn something from our children. This was probably the politest thing he's ever said. He's 13 and didn't want to show me that he was disappointed.

Anyhow, we were photographed for security, then funneled through the press room:

into a locker room (no names on lockers made me think this was the visitors' locker room)

by the chapel for last-minute prayers:

and, onto the pitch (even though this was as much of the turf as we were allowed to step on)

Then we spent an hour in the FCB Superstore. So many jerseys to mull. After we made our purchases (both boys chose the same kit!), we grabbed a taxi, picked a restaurant at random in our travel guide, and asked our cabbie to take us to the El Raval neighborhood. Once we arrived, the restaurant looked a little full. No line out the door, but crowded nonetheless. Lucky for us, you couldn't swing a cat without hitting a restaurant in Placa de les Olles, the charming little square where we'd been deposited. John spotted Ristorante Gravin where we tucked in to a superlative tapas and pasta lunch. I cannot believe I did not take any pictures. I didn't even write down what we ate, which was a travesty because the restaurant's link is broken. One of our tapas was a porchetta--super seasoned, thinly sliced pork loin with attendant peppery lardo that we ate on bread. My main was a pasta with a tomato-swordfish sauce that was exquisite. Mostly I remember being really happy and sated.

After we ordered and were settled into our bottle of white rioja, I bought tickets for the Museu Picasso. The first opening was two hours out, which was perfect since I anticipated that our lunch would be a long one. I felt very lucky since I hadn't pre-purchased tickets before we left home. Our friends who were in Barcelona in June told us they were unable to get tickets and were disappointed to have missed the museum. It is the top tourist attraction in Barcelona, which is somewhat surprising to think that it is more popular than either Sagrada Familia or Camp Nou at which we saw maybe a million people.

The Picasso museum was a 10-minute walk from the restaurant, and we took our time wandering through the old, dark, winding, narrow streets of El Raval.

streets of El Raval

laundry day

 

enjoying a churros snack

The museum's collection, housed in five mansions, focused on Picasso's formative period, particularly up to the Blue Period, but also featured his last major cycle, Las Meninas.  The permanent collection contained over 4,000 works, but it was difficult to tell how many were on display. John and I agreed that this wasn't the best representation of Picasso's work, although we did enjoy the two large galleries of studies for Las Meninas and found them absolutely exhaustive. No photography was allowed so I borrowed these images from wikiart.

Las Meninas (Picasso), 1957

Las Meninas study (Picasso), 1957

Marguerite (Velasquez on left, Picasso on right)

We walked back to Eixample from the Picasso Museum, and it was a long, long walk (over 2k). Along the way we found Verdu the good ice cream/orxata place and got cones. Winston and I each had milk and cinnamon ice cream, which was so refreshing and unique in that it was a light milky, non-eggy base with cinnamon sprinkled on top. I would love to replicate it at home.

After naps, we headed back to the vicinity of Verdu because we had seen a restaurant that was a strong candidate for dinner. But, we couldn't find it. Instead, we found Josephine, which was fairly empty and very expensive, but had an incredible Jazz Age vibe and a golden glow.

We started with a cheese plate and foie gras plus these punch bowl-sized gin tonics

Amuse bouche: roasted baby artichoke and olive oil puffs that looked like marshmallows

Winston and I shared steak, served on a little burner with big flakes of finishing salt, and fried potatoes and padron peppers

We talked about all the amazing things we saw in Barcelona and vowed to study Spanish so that when we return, we can fully immerse ourselves. We talked about coming back in 2026 to see the completion of Sagrada Familia, which gave us chills at the the idea of such an auspicious accomplishment.  But I hope we return sooner. I'd still like to visit La Boqueria and the Santa Caterina market with its colorful roof (food halls); the Olympic Park and Gehry's big fish; the maritime museum that our friends said had surprised them; the Fundacio Antonio Tapies; the Barcelona Pavilion designed by Mies van der Rohe for the 1929 World Exhibition; La Seu (Barcelona's cathedral) and the Barri Gotic; listen to jazz guitars and watch flamenco; and more.

But first, we had plans to meet up with family in Portugal for a week of sun in an off-the-beaten path European country.

Barcelona: Day Two, part one*

*To keep the post about Day Two manageable, I have broken it into two parts. The first one is about Gaudi's Sagrada Familia.

Before we left St. Paul, I purchased tickets for a 10:00 a.m. timed entry to Sagrada Familia (SF). I didn't want us to have to get up too early on our first full day of vacation, and I wanted to make sure we had plenty of time for the afternoon naps we would need. In a stroke of good luck, Hotel Actual was a ten-minute walk from SF, and we made sure to leave ourselves plenty of time to grab another bocadillo somewhere along the way. It was a beautiful morning, sunny, bright, and not too hot yet.

A month later, I am still at a loss as to how best to write about Gaudi's masterpiece. For as long as I have known about this basilica (or temple), I have been fascinated by its unfinished state. I get chills thinking about its monumentality and excited by the idea that the construction will be finished in my lifetime. And the details, the details. Every inch inside and out is planned, which I knew before I saw SF but still didn't prepare me for the amount of design that was done by Gaudi. I was relieved to learn that he executed the design in several phases.

As we approached SF along Avenue Diagonal, the first sight was electrifying. You can see the identifiable bell towers but also construction cranes, evidence that work is still underway. Even though you cannot see the construction inside, you can hear the drills and hammers, which is exciting.

The lushly detailed Nativity Facade celebrated the birth of Christ and exhibited some of the more Gothic and more nature-derived design elements. This was the first completed facade (1930), most of which was accomplished in Gaudi's lifetime and thus established his design intent for future architects and builders.

Polychromed plants and insects covered the bronze doors in one of the three Nativity Facade porticoes and represented the joy of nature. Gaudi had intended for all the archivolts and human figures to be colored as well as the plants. I am glad they're not, although I would love to see the rendered drawings. These doors were installed just last year.

The Passion Facade, which has a starker, more modernist, very angular style, was designed to show Christ's suffering. Construction on this facade was begun in the 1950s. Part of one of the six inclined columns, representing a sequoia tree, can be seen on the left.

Christ's foot from the Judas Kiss sculpture, Passion Facade.

The Calvary of Christ above which is the Death of Christ, also Passion Facade. These sculptures are on two tiers, the hierarchy of which was more evident from a few steps back.

Massive bronze doors with thousands of symbols and an unfathomable iconography. I like to think of these as the Dan Brown doors as they would be at home in any of his thrillers populated by secret societies.

  

And the interior, oh the interior. The verticality was most impressive. The branching columns unmistakably resembled trees and gave the overall effect of being in a forest clearing. The pale concrete columns and arches and other vertical surfaces ensured that colors from the stained glass were reflected onto them. Since our visit coincided with a full-on shining sun, no-cloud day, the color was splendid and vibrant.

The crossing

The canopy over the altar with glass vines and grapes and a Latin cross.

Stained glass. This side is primarily yellows, oranges, reds.

A rose window. Near perfect gradation from blues/purples at top to blues/green in the middle and yellow/orange at bottom.

Colorful reflections

Of  the 18 planned towers, eight are finished--four on each of the Nativity and Passion facades--and two--one on each facade--are open to the public. Our ticket included an opportunity to tour a tower. From home, without doing any research, I chose one at random, the Passion Facade. We took a small elevator to the viewing stations at the near top of the tower. We were able to see recently completed portions that were still protected by a scrim of some sort.

City views framed by one of the bell tower's tiny cutout windows.

Crowning elements covered in colored glass and tile. The ears of corn and grape bunches symbolized the Eucharist's bread and wine (body and blood of Christ).

Tile-covered medallions. Two familiar little faces peeked out about as far as they dared. We were really, really, really high up over the street. Fortunately, we were able to take the elevator down. Had we chosen the Nativity Facade, we would have had to walk down the stairs.

Each of us was affected by Sagrada Familia. John, who has seen countless churches and cathedrals as the child of an art historian, said he'd never seen anything like this. Winston asked if we could just sit for a while and take it all in. We all vowed to return in 2026 upon its completion. In the meantime, I look forward to following the construction of the remaining towers, domes, and the Glory Facade.