A multi-pronged Aug-Sep 2018 trip to Boston to visit Allie, then to Lisbon via Dublin to spend time in Portugal with Laurie, culminating in a return to Boston to meet Barb for a long weekend.
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Monday, Sep. 3: Cascais – Nazare – Obidos
Our plan for the day is a road trip to two towns, Nazare and Obidos (forgive my lack of accent marks: there should be accent marks over the “e” in Nazare and the initial “O” in Obidos, but I don’t know how to do that in WordPress). Laurie had been hearing about Obidos from friends and Maggie as a lovely medieval walled village we should see. I had heard of Nazare as home of huge waves for surfers, though mostly in winter. That’s literally about as much as either of us knew about either town, but we were happy to learn more and see them for ourselves.
We began with a quick breakfast downstairs in the cafe next to O Segredo. It’s a good find, offering coffees and pastries. I get a hot little ham and cheese sandwich that hits the spot for me; Laurie gets a pastry and coffee. We walked down the hill to the Europcar office near the train station at 11am to get the car we’d reserved when we first got to Cascais. The process for actually formalizing the rental agreement and getting the car takes nearly an hour but eventually we get a nice little Mercedes and are on our way.
The drive to Nazare is blessedly easy, about 2 hours almost all on main highways, the A5 to A8 to A9. The highways are great, well-signed and not crowded at midday. We made sure to get the Portuguese equivalent of EZPass so we could zip through the frequent toll booths without stopping. As with any highway, while it’s great to speed along and get to a destination, you end up losing the feel of the local towns. We could have been going from Baltimore to Philadelphia, but there’s a better variety of music on the radio in Portugal. It’s also more important to stay out of the left lane. No matter how fast you’re going, someone else is always zooming much faster and wants you out of the way.
We got to Nazare and encountered a beach resort town wedged up against a tall cliff outcropping. We made one pass through the congested town center and beachfront before finding a place to park, then commenced exploring on foot. One of the first things Laurie found is a store selling handcrafted pottery and art. She shopped awhile for serving bowls then decided to look further or come back later in the day. We headed for the funicular to take us up to the top of the cliff and a neighborhood named Sitio. There are some great views of the town of Nazare, its beach and bay. The little town square of Sitio has a number of tourist stalls selling a common set of ceramics, t-shirts and souvenirs. I always wonder how these places differentiate themselves with the basically the same stock. I think the answer is they don’t, really — it’s all about foot traffic and location. We were somewhat tempted by the nicer sweaters and other woolen goods on display but didn’t make any purchases. I couldn’t resist, however, the lady with the warm roasted nut stand and walked away with a bag of salted popped corn kernels. They were very tasty and I can’t recall having seen them anywhere else.
It was about a 1 kilometer (or about 1,000 yards) walk out the headland to the lighthouse which is the heart of the surfing location. We started out together but by the time we came to the odd surfer-antelope dude statue, the road down to the lighthouse became steeper and the sun and wind stronger, Laurie decided to bail out and return to the Sitio central square to wait for me. We didn’t find an explanation of the statue on site and figured it was some totem to surf culture and a magnet for selfies. Turns out it’s a relatively new piece of art, Veado by Adelia Alberto, and is related to a local Legend of Nazare where a hunter chased a deer toward the cliff. Not quite sure how the surfing fits in, but go for it.
On the north side of the headland was another long, pristine beach with bigger waves and a handful of surfers in the distance waiting for the right breakers. They were maybe another kilometer down the beach and just on the edge of what I could see clearly without binoculars. There were waves all along the beach, but there was clearly a particular spot where they felt the waves were right for surfing. I watched them as best I could while walking down toward the lighthouse.
At the lighthouse, which is actually Fort San Miguel, there was a small 1Eu entrance fee and a quasi-museum dedicated 20% to the lighthouse’s history (which goes back hundreds of years) and 80% to surfing which is the main reason people visit the place. I sped through the displays, skipping over the display of signed surfboards from various (famous?) surfers and lingering a bit longer over the explanation of the offshore Nazare Canyon which focuses the wave flow into this particular area (it’s worth watching the video in the linked article to get a sense of just how close to land these waves are breaking…and some amazing clips in this article, too).
There are a number of dramatic photos and a video loop of some of the up-to-100-foot waves and surfers that frequent Nazare in the winter. It’s hard to imagine the combination of bravery, skill and lunacy it must take to attempt to ride these waves. It’s also hard to comprehend the willingness of tow-in Jet Ski operators to assist the surfers, and spectators that brave the cold winds that generate the tallest of waves. As one writer notes, “while the pictures and video are undoubtedly impressive, until you’ve seen it with your own eyes you’ll never really understand the scale, energy and brutality of one of Mother Nature’s most spectacular shows.” I can only begin to imagine. A part of me wants to come back in winter to see this show, but the practical side of me recognizes the weeks or months it might take to be there on the right day, and the discomfort of standing for long in the cold, windblown crowd. More power to them that do.
I could have stayed at the Fort/lighthouse longer to just ponder the waves (still impressive at maybe 6-8 feet) that were hitting the shore, but I knew Laurie was waiting for me at the top of the hill and it was nearly past lunchtime. So I huffed and puffed my way back and found Laurie, borderline impatient, standing in one small shady spot keeping an eye out for me. We head straight back to the funicular, ride down, and search out a restaurant that Laurie found recommended in her Lonely Planet guidebook. The Conchina da Nazare is reputed to have good wood-grilled fish, but when we arrive near 3pm it’s mostly shut down. A waitress assures us they’re still open so we sit down and order. Laurie wants lenguado (sole) but there’s none today so she settles for another type of fish; I try the Nazare-style fish stew. After a while an older gentleman comes along and starts firing up the grill and it’s apparent we’re going to be here a while waiting for the fire to get ready. A group of other older gents are playing cards at a table nearby; we can’t tell what game they’re playing but they’re having a big old time, laughing and insulting each other. Eventually we get our meals and sadly, they’re only so-so, but they are filling. For the whole time, other than the card players, we’re the only ones in the restaurant. It’s a pleasant afternoon but we have other places we want to see today. We head back around the corner to the ceramics shop where we first stopped and Laurie picks out a couple of bowls for Maggie; I’m not sure how she plans to pack them but she seems game. Then it’s back to the car and on to Obidos.
Heading back to the highway I read the wrong sign at one of the roundabouts and start heading toward Obidos on one of the smaller, local roads. It’s a prettier drive, and I would otherwise have preferred to stay on it, but it’s getting late and after a few kilometers we find another entrance onto the A8. In another 20 minutes or so we exit for Obidos. A good thing about arriving at a tourist site near the end of the day is you can usually find a good parking space. We parked just outside the city walls (very limited vehicles inside the walls) and walked in to explore this little gem.
Obidos is a small, picturesque hilltop town with its city walls still intact and a history going back to the Celts and Romans. It was originally a seaport with a navigable river, but over the centuries and with earthquakes the river is largely gone, stranding Obidos on its hill. The town is dominated by its crenelated walls and the castle at its peak. It’s home to an annual Medieval Market in July which is how Maggie first encountered the town several years ago. The festival area spills beyond the north side of the castle while the town largely nestles on the south side.
Inside the walls, there’s one main street now given over largely to tourist shops (and lots of tourists, even in the late afternoon). The throngs made it a little less inviting, but once we got to the castle (now partly a nice looking hotel), we could get onto the city walls for more of a birds eye view, both of the town and the environs. Unfortunately, the high western wall was blocked for pedestrians — I’d really wanted to get up there for a view of the sea and the sunset. We made do walking along the eastern wall. It was a bit intimidating with no guardrails as we made our way, but it was much less crowded than the streets and offered better views.
As we were finishing the walk, we encountered a group of young men and women just coming onto the wall. One woman was clearly worried about the height and lack of railings, but laughing as well, like at an amusement park. We assured them there was another path down just a few meters ahead and we and her friends encouraged her to give it a try. When we were done with our views and and photos about 20 minutes later, we saw they had barely progressed to the next set of steps and the woman was clinging to the walls, still laughing a terrified sort of laugh while her friends scrambled all around her to show how easy it was to maneuver on the wall. She wasn’t buying it, and we’re not sure they ever actually made it down.
Once it became clear we couldn’t really get a good sunset view, we decided to head back to the car and start the trip back to Cascais. Obidos was already rolling up its sidewalks as we daytrippers bled out. We hadn’t spent long in the town but didn’t fall under its enchantment. From our quick glimpse, Obidos seemed like a medieval theme park for tourists. Perhaps the story would be different if we’d stayed longer or come at a different time of year, but compared to other spots in Portugal we’d seen, this town seemed to be groaning under the weight of its tourist traffic and seemed more transparently set up to grab a tourist’s cash.
Our drive back to Cascais was easy and quick but we found ourselves in a neverland of trying to decide what to do about dinner. Neither of us were especially hungry but it was our last night together and it seemed too early to simply return to the apartment and turn in. We decided to find a parking space in town and look for a nice, not-too-expensive dinner. I have in mind one of the highly rated TripAdvisor places that we haven’t tried yet. Partly this was an exercise to validate whether it’s better to rely on TripAdvisor reviews versus the guidebook recommendations that Laurie tends to prefer. It’s been a bit hit-and-miss for both methods but I’m trying to learn to be a better consumer. We first seek out the Taberna Clandestina (#2 in Cascais) but it’s fairly well packed with trendy looking young people — not exactly our crowd. Around the corner is A Nova Estrela (#4) and it has the virtue of being quieter with some tables available. We end up having a rather nondescript meal of garlic shrimp for Laurie and a shrimp/calamari skewer for me. A saving grace was that our server was very nice and it’s often mentioned in the reviews that the family service is one of the place’s strengths. Overall, I think Laurie would have preferred to have chicken again from Jardim dos Frangos, but we’d just been there the night before. Once again, the higher rated places do not necessarily translate into better meals. My TripAdvisor education continues.
We got back to the apartment, were pleased to find a parking space near our door, and began to pack for our journeys home. I took it upon myself to finish the various liquors we’d bought, as best as I could. Got things down to one remaining beer, spent a few last evening minutes on the porch overlooking town and called it a night.
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