Living the Journey: Adventures in Portugal

This is the 7th installment on our 8-month trip, following:

Iconic Lisbon trolly

Our easy flight from Paris to Lisbon took about two hours. As our young cab driver navigated the car-clogged streets, he taught us a few Portuguese words. They were similar to Spanish, except with a strong "sh" sound. But when he told us he wasn't a fan of of Spain, hinting at an ancient rivalry, I figured I'd have to avoid speaking Spanish in an attempt to communicate in this country.

We lugged our carry-ons down precarious stone steps to an old apartment building. Cooking scents permeated the dark and narrow staircase. Dragging our stuff up to the third floor, we discovered that a wide-angle lens had done its magic in online pictures. The place was Lilliputian, with a shower that I'd soon discover felt like a stand-up coffin. But we figured we could deal with it for three nights.

Our apartment was down this street.

I yanked open the slider over the sliver of a balcony to the squall of brakes, pound of footfalls, and coughs of neighbors as their smoke drifted in. Throughout our time there we'd be serenaded by enthusiastic conversations, laughter, arguments, and singing, that echoed along the alleyways all night into the early morning.

We spent our time wandering the hamstring-exploding streets, exploring Lisbon's gritty wedding cake beauty, happy for stable shoes on the uneven cobblestones. Pausing on the steps to catch my breath, I'd take in signature Portuguese glazed tiles and a deep blue balustrade tagged with graffiti.

I adored the Museu da Marioneta, a magnificently curated collection of puppets from all over the world. Housed in a grand old convent, its throng of semi-animate faces created the aesthetic of a haunted house.

Another highlight was spending an evening with our friend Simone, her husband, and another couple. Months earlier, Simone had asked if we'd be interested in housesitting for them at their Pacific Northwest island home. That's when we discovered we'd be in Lisbon at the same time! After drinks at their bright and cavernous rental, we went to a dinner and Fado show.

fado

At the intimate restaurant a woman and a man sang traditional, mournful folk music. The feeling of fado is infused with saudade, the Portuguese word for longing and a feeling of permanent loss. In other words, it would be a total bummer if it wasn't so beautiful.

Californians meeting up for the first time in Lisbon!

Serendipitously, Staci Greason and her husband Larry were also in Lisbon, and we met for a chatty breakfast. We'd been social media friends for years, and seeing them in person was lovely. Staci is the author of All the Girls in Town, a novel I describe as a #metoo love letter to women's friendships. I hope we meet again soon in another part of the world.

The last day as I was walking down the street, I looked up right into the face of Anne Parker, whom we'd met a decade ago in Baja! We'd been to her home-state of Colorado a few times but had failed to convene, and now the hand of fate threw us together in a European city of half-a-million people. We enjoyed dinner together that evening, grinning the whole time at the kismet of it all.

with Anne!

A car service arranged by the homeowner of our upcoming housesit picked us up and drove us twenty miles to Sintra, which took almost two hours due to traffic and holdups. The driver, however, was undisturbed and instead enjoyed phone calls that kept coming in to wish him a happy 77th birthday. He mentioned that his parents lived into their 90s. I asked him why, and he said that's just what his family does--adding that his parents didn't smoke or drink.

We'd landed this month-long sit through a connection and had never met the homeowners. They'd already left for India when we arrived and so we were shown around the vast property by the housekeeper. Our apartment was on the lowest level of this sprawling home on a property that included a pool, an additional two-bedroom cottage, a yoga shala, a vast vegetable garden, along with fruit and nut trees. There was a team of gardeners, so our only duty was to occasionally water some plants, feed Black Kitty (the feral beauty who lived outside), and care for Puzzles, the boney old feline who, when he wasn't sleeping, marched around protesting in a gravely meow.

Black Kitty

We soon learned that this gorgeous house decorated with colorful art and velvet and oaken furniture--and packed with books and games-- had glitchy sinks and toilets and wifi and light switches and faucets. Everything seemed abundant and on the verge of breaking. The profusion of apples and chestnuts in the orchard rotted on the ground. I googled how to bake chestnuts and we enjoyed their nutty flavor but couldn't make a dent in the excess.

I was seized by a longing for our simple life in Baja. There's a lightness to having a house you can clean in an hour. Not that we had to clean this Sintra mansion, fortunately. I also missed walking out the door to the beach or the desert hills. In Sintra, I soon found, I struggled to climb the mountainous cobblestone streets replete with lines of cars and towering buses squeezing through narrow lanes. One time as I hiked steep steps through a park, I fell and had an impressive ass-bruise that changed color over the days like a sunset.

We never used the pool because it was often cool and drizzly.

Walking the mossy property to pick kale and lettuce was akin to picking your way across ice, as everywhere was slippery. I preferred snuggling up with my journal, crossword puzzles, and Geraldine Brooks' Year of Wonders, which I plucked from their shelf.

slippery!

One day Cheryl Beck Esch happened to be in town. She'd once interviewed me about housesitting on her podcast...and once again travel synchronicity hit. We were able to spend a day talking about life and adventures in person, rather than online.

with Cheryl

There's a magical, misty ancientness to Sintra, which is best known for being populated with castles. We went to the five major attractions:

1) Palacio National, a medieval royal residence whose white kitchen chimneys jut up in many views of the city. I loved how instead of religious iconography, it was beautifully embellished with swans and other creatures of nature.

Palacio National

2) The Moorish Castle, a hilltop medieval fortress we trudged to uphill from our house, is a stunning array of stone buildings rooted in the mountains that requires strong legs and no fear of heights to navigate.

Moorish Castle

3) Monserrate Palace, a palatial villa that served as the court's summer resort but in the 17th century became privately owned. Its yellowish-pink stones and golden hallways seemed to glow from the inside out.

Monserrate

4) Quinta da Regaleira, a four-story palace with extensive gardens. While I explored the grounds including lakes, fountains, and a chapel, Dave walked down into the so-called Initiation Well, a circular staircase that descends into the earth, meant to be a mystical journey. While he woo-woo'd out, I couldn't find our meeting spot and thought I might be lost forever in wonderland.

5) Pena Palace, a striking yellow and red building that stands atop the Sintra Mountains, was no fun inside due to the press of crowds. But we enjoyed strolling the grounds, more like a nature park with the towering moss-covered trees, stone bridges, and water features.

Pena gardens

Speaking of crowds, there were signs posted everywhere that declared SINTRA IS NOT DISNEYLAND. Locals were fed up with tourists, and it showed in some of their side-looks and impatience. As another massive tourist bus almost flattened me on a walk, I understood. I was finding Sintra enchanting, dreary, beautiful, and frustrating.

misty Sintra

I was happy when we spent time at the sea. One day we took the local bus to Estoril and walked along the malecon to Cascais. Another time we took a vintage 1930s trolly to Praia das Macas, where we had lunch overlooking the beach. The trolly had to stop at one point because someone had parked on the tracks! It took a while to find the car's owner.

tram

We generally ate Indian and Asian food, since Portuguese offerings weren't to our taste: salted cod, octopus, sardines, ham-and-cheese sandwiches. I craved fewer french fries and more salads and veg. As a nondairy guy, Dave sought out vegan pastel de nata, the famous custard tart. We did enjoy the ubiquitous piri piri chicken.

Carvoeiro

After nearly a month in Sintra, we rented a car to drive to Spain. Along the way we stopped in the Algarve, a coastal region in southern Portugal. It was heavenly to be near the sea in charming Carvoeiro, a cliff-side village overlooking turquoise waters.

As we strolled, I got a message on my phone from our friend Stephanie, whose house we were renting in the Cadiz region of Spain. Record-breaking rainfall in the area had flooded many buildings. I clicked on a video she shared of water cascading down her house's stairs from the top to bottom floor. She had cleaners on the job and believed that in a few days the house would be dried and and ready for us.

So we extended our stay in the Algarve a few more days, hoping that we'd have dry pillows to lay our heads on in Spain.

If you're interested in our life of housesitting, budget travel and living in Mexico, check out my books Wanderland: Living the Traveling Life and Call It Wonder: An Odyssey of Love, Sex, Spirit & Travel.