Curated Carlos

As soon as I walked into his shop this morning, the owner said “dois cappuccinos?”. I wondered if he would hand me a little bottle and, of course, he did! Walking back to my Airbnb I noticed a plaque on a stately building that stated that it was the birthplace of Prince Henry the Navigator. There are always surprises like this in Porto.

On the advice of my Swiss friend, I’m going to walk up the hill to the Torre dos Clérigos and ascend the 225-step spiral staircase. I did and it was well worth it. A 360-degree view of Porto stretching to the Atlantic was the prize at the top.

A note about ordering anything other than espresso in Porto: be prepared for the most mediocre cappuccino ever. No taste of milk whatsoever and often made with Nescafé. I was almost tempted to pop into Starbucks as much as I loathe them in the US.

There was an ominous incident about 30 minutes into the train ride to Pinhão. Someone hurled a rock through the train window a few rows ahead of me. Fortunately no one was hurt. One couple fled their glass-strewn seat to sit across from me. They didn’t recognize me in my sunglasses and cap, but they were the couple with whom I’d chatted in the vegetarian restaurant in Porto on Sunday night. They were Dutch living in Oslo. It was fun marveling at the coincidence.

The train ride up the steep Douro Valley is everything described in the guidebooks. A broad curving river cuts through canyon-like slopes covered with vineyards. The scenery and the river had us standing at the open windows snapping photos. After three hours, we arrived at Pinhão, a photogenic wine village deep in the valley. The walk to my little hotel, Casas Botelho Elias, was short and steep. The place is just fine and has a nice outside patio. The shortcoming is that I can hear a drunk villager yelling at his wife and the occasional annoying dog barking. Ah, the charms of rural vineyard life! There’s also a sodium vapor light on a pole outside, but the drapes cut off the glow.

My hotel neighbors, a Czech couple, invited me over for a drink and we shared travel stories. They are hugely well traveled and are great fans of Africa. They’ve been to Botswana five times, along with trips to Malawi, Zambia and Namibia. Their safari stories were fascinating, especially the ones about the sentient elephants that pay homage to their dead. Tomás is retired while Zuzana still practices medicine. I’d never considered a trip to Botswana, but it sounds intriguing. Instead of saying “good day”, Africans greet each other with “how did you sleep”. The neighbors were bushed from a day of exploring, so I wandered into the village in search of something light and had a reasonably pleasant salad.

The weather has temporarily turned rather cool with forecasted rain tomorrow, which means that I’ll probably be visiting some nearby quintas (wineries) rather than renting a bike. All is now quiet and I’m ready for a good night’s sleep.

I walked around the corner to grab two cappuccinos to go and the nice attendant handed me a tiny bottle of Moscatel do Douro, maybe because I was the first customer of the day. Perhaps the sign of a good day to come!

I rented a bike and was happy to see that the shop was about 200 meters from my Airbnb, right on the river. It was a classic 5-speed hybrid, perfect for cobblestones. I set off west for the mouth of the Douro and the beach town of Foz, on the Atlantic. En route, I took a detour through the Parque de Cidade, winding through the gravel paths and ponds. I headed back to the seaside bike trail through Foz and then over a bascule bridge (Ponte Móvel) up through Leça de Palmeira, before heading back for lunch in Foz. The owner of the bike shop recommended Salta ó Muro, and I’m glad he did. I ordered the grilled dorado. The serving was generous with some vegetables on the side. It was delicious. The man seated behind me was from Lucerne, Switzerland. He told me that he and his family visit Portugal all the time. He expressed surprise that I was so well informed about European politics and culture (for an American) and I joked that people imagined that I worked for an intelligence agency (my standard go-to in these situations). He gave me some Algarve recommendations. He also asked to follow my blog. I worked off the lunch on the 19 mile round trip ride, a nice break from the city crowds.

After dropping by my flat, I thought I’d trudge uphill (always) to revisit the Sé do Porto (cathedral). On the way I was sidetracked by an intriguing wine bar. The owner features wines and ports from his vineyard and we had a nice chat, with me getting more free Portuguese lessons. I also spoke with a young German couple from Hamburg. The woman had lived in Hatboro, PA of all places, working as an au pair. Her partner’s father had served in the Luftwaffe and they lived for a time in Alomogordo, NM near the now-closed airbase and he spent part of his childhood there. They both spoke with the perfect neutral American accent. I told them I was planning to visit Germany in the spring and they gave me some neighborhood recommendations in Hamburg.

Walking around the cathedral area and then meandering down cobbled streets to the riverfront made me appreciate the charms of Porto even more. Really, three days is the minimum to really appreciate this lovely city.

My Airbnb is so luxurious that it was hard to get in gear this morning; nevertheless, I’d booked a city tour beginning at 11, so I walked out of my flat around 10. The day was cool and sunny and the main drag up the hill was noticeably less crowded. My view of Porto was growing more favorable by the moment. Since it doesn’t take long to get anywhere in the old city, I walked around some pedestrian streets and admired the great architecture. Our meeting place was by the lions statue in front of the former main building of The University of Porto. Since I was early, I wondered through the 16th century Carmelite church and its adjacent museum. The crucifixes from that time are truly gruesome. I’d never seen so many with multiple wounds streaming blood, including deeply abraded kneecaps. There were also many statues of St. Anthony, a particular favorite of the Portuguese.

I booked the tour through Freetours.com. Over the years, I’ve found the free city tours to be the best. The guides are uniformly well-educated and love the history of their cities. They attract the top guides since, when you consider the generous tips at the end, they make far more than the paid guides who advertise on TripAdvisor and other sites.

Felipe, our guide, was particularly fun. He showed our group of about 25 several secret and occult sites, including the Masonic pentagram carved into the stone of the main cathedral, construction of which started in the 12th century. He also told us the story of the beloved King Pedro III, who ruled in the early 19th century and was simultaneously Emperor Pedro I of Brazil. He granted Brazil its independence and is revered there too. The whole saga of his life and rule is very Game of Thrones-like. When his younger brother Miguel tried to usurp the crown while Pedro was in Brazil, the king returned to Porto, the only city that remained loyal to him. After Miguel and the entire Portuguese army and navy were miraculously defeated, the whole country rallied around their true king. Rejecting the advice of his counselors, Pedro spared Miguel’s life and exiled him to France.

He sired 100 children even though he died at 35. He willed that his heart be removed from his body and stored in his favorite church in Porto. Currently, his heart is on tour in Brazil. Another great story provided by Felipe!

As Felipe said at the outset, there’s no need to visit the sites recommended by the guidebooks since we would be showing us them all.

We ended our three-hour tour by crossing the famous iron bridge built by a student of Eiffel and named after King Luiz I. It also doubles as the Metro yellow line, so pedestrians need to pay heed. In ends in Maia, which is a suburb high above the Douro that commands majestic views of the hills of Porto and the Douro River and its bridges. Felipe took a group photo, which I’ve already received. After a break here at the Airbnb, I’ll head out to explore more. By the way, Portugal is derived from Porto! They’re very proud of that attribution at the expense of their national rival, Lisbon

One is as likely to run into a Brazilian as a Portuguese in Porto. Our guide, Felipe, was from Brazil. Their advantage is that they speak the language and fill in a needed gap in the economy of a country with a diminishing population. They’re well integrated into the country and happy to be here.

Did a major walking program this afternoon and dropped by for a glass of vinho branco (white wine) at an outdoor cafe high above the Douro. My server, Sara, was from Rio de Janeiro and is a student at the university. She guessed that I was from South Africa! Now I’m back at the Airbnb thinking about dinner. Seven miles of up and down walking so far. The weather is perfect. Low humidity and high 60’s!

Back at my place. The restaurants are just getting crowded. Low of 54 by tomorrow morning. I’ve reserved a bike for tomorrow and plan to ride west along the Douro to the Atlantic coast at Foz. It’s not that far. Now it’s time for a Port and a piece of dark chocolate with hazelnuts.

I took the express intercity train to Porto and changed to the interurban line which ended in one stop and walked down a steep hill to my Airbnb a block south of the Douro. The host had sent me the codes to enter. I was delighted with the ultra-modern and well appointed flat on the 4th floor. It’s the nicest Airbnb I’ve ever rented. It’s in the rear of a 19th century building and absolutely quiet. After settling in, I took a pic of the washer controls and googled them. This is my usual routine in Europe since the machines have an array of somewhat inscrutable directions. I accidentally poured the detergent into the fabric softener slot, so I had to wait and then rewash the clothes with the proper detergent program. The machine also doubles as a dryer, but I wasn’t about to tackle that task. Air dry is the best option.

While load two was in progress, I decided to circumnavigate the historic core, which involved some formidable stair climbing on the most arduous route, which of course I happened upon. At the base of the ascent, I bumped into a young Portuguese couple and we discussed my itinerary. They were eager to add their suggestions. While I was talking about Braga with Tamara, her boyfriend rolled a joint. He offered me a hit but I demurred…?

After cresting the heights, I headed toward a big shady park. I noticed a monumental building on my right fronted with an enormous statue of a Greek goddess. Aha, I thought, another Salazar building! It was the House of Justice, with columns and statues and crests written in Latin.

I should mention that drivers in Portugal scrupulously stop at pedestrian crosswalks, unlike Nashville where they try to mow you down. While stepping into the crosswalk, a motorcyclist ripped through. I involuntarily barked “mother….er” to the horror of a few Boomer couples behind me. I laughed and continued on my way. Bad Charlie!

From there I headed downhill to my place to finish the laundry and check emails.

Porto’s streets are absolutely thronged with tourists. It must be the great post-Covid getaway, but it seemed more crowded than Lisbon since it’s a much more compact city. Mainly French, American and English tourists. I’m not a fan of mass crowding in narrow streets, so my enthusiasm for Porto waned a bit, echoing the sentiments of the English couple I’d met in Coimbra. Perhaps three nights here before heading down the Douro for a few days is overdoing it.

I was craving greens, so I walked up the hill to a well-reviewed and excellent vegetarian restaurant, Da Terra Baixa. After dinner, I walked along the waterfront and snapped a pic of the magnificent bridges spanning the Douro while dodging tourists. The riverside bars and cafes were absolutely mobbed at 10:00 pm. I couldn’t wait to get back to my quiet Airbnb.

Sophia Residences, my hotel in Coimbra, is ideally located and well appointed. I’m in a suite on the second level and, even though the building is old and somewhat unappealing on the street side, inside the rooms are beautifully decorated with a minimalist aesthetic. The bathroom is huge and everything is stainless steel and white porcelain. The A/C is robust and the windows are double-glazed. There’s even a dishwasher, which is a bit incongruous. A washer would be much more useful for guests. The only drawback is the street noise. You never know about room location when booking; but in my review I’ll suggest staying in the rear of the property. The hosts are solicitous and Ricardo, the manager, brought me a room fan to provide white noise. With some high-end ear buds, I slept soundly.

Across the street is a pasteleria that opens at 7. I made two espressos in the room machine and then walked over to grab two cappuccinos to go: 3 EUR!

On the advice of my English dinner companions, I booked the 3-hour city tour beginning at 10. Our guide, João, graduated from the university with an anthropology degree, but he stated that he was working as a substitute teacher since there was no demand for his field of study. We were a group of eight, mainly retired Canadians who were planning to cycle to Lisbon the next day. The weather was cool and cloudy, but the sun came out in the middle of our three-hour tour.

João was a excellent guide. Although I’d walked through 90% of the route the evening before, he added significant details. There are 35,000 students in the city of 140,000, 24,000 of whom attend the University of Coimbra. Yesterday, I overstated the number, based on the recollection of my English acquaintances.

The tour began in the Baixa district of town. A few of the churches and cloisters dated from the 11th and 12th centuries, while the city was still under Moorish rule. We climbed the hill to the main campus and spent some time near the 18th century Joãnina Library, named after its benefactor, King João III. They have a nest of bats that operate at night, consuming insects that would otherwise attack the collection of 200,000 rare books and manuscripts.

The plaza that features the library has an iconic clock tower and commands a panoramic vista over the city and the Rio Mondego, which runs broad and swift and is the only river that begins in Portugal; the others originate in Spain.

Much of the university was built by the Marquis da Pombal, who served as prime minister and virtual autocrat in the mid-18th century. He also rebuilt much of Lisbon after the epic 1755 earthquake. Like many of the Portuguese elite of the time, he was a Freemason and anti-clerical. He banished the Jesuits and other orders from the kingdom and confiscated a number of church holdings. He recruited top intellectuals from Europe to staff the university and introduced the sciences into the curriculum.

The other significant builder was one of its graduates, the dictator Antonio Salazar. Before assuming power, he was a finance minister. He built a number of faculties, including the well-regarded medical and mathematics schools. He also built a number of monumental buildings, as discussed in yesterday’s post. He had strong Hellenist leanings and strove to model the university after Athens, with gigantic statues of Greek gods and goddesses. Despite his reputation, it is agreed that he was not corrupt and lived simply. Ironically, the movement to overthrow his Estado Novo began with student protests in Coimbra in 1969.

At the end of the tour, we tipped him well and went our separate ways.

I decided to sit in a shaded cafe and enjoy the street activity before taking a long walk along both sides of the river. A group of pharmacy students in their traditional black capes were playing Fado music with their guitars, mandolins and drums. I learned from João that Coimbra Fado is more romantic and wistful than the Lisbon variant, which is sadder.

On the other bank of the river, I watched a group of young ballerinas demonstrating their skills to the music of Johann Strauss and later entered a large sports exhibition and watched a few rounds of young boxers. I recalled how popular boxing was in the US a hundred years ago and could understand why.

Walking along rivers is one of my favorite activities while traveling. With glorious sunny and breezy weather with just a hint of fall, my 5-mile walk was invigorating. I recalled similar walks in Salzburg, Kyiv, Salamanca, Florence, Rome, Prague and Kraków, to name a few.

I wasn’t sure where to eat, so I headed up the hill to the university district where I’d noticed some attractive restaurants. I didn’t want to eat in the Baixa area near my hotel because it was too touristy. Today was a fasting day, so after 8 miles of hilly walking I was ready for a great dinner.

I chose well. O Trovador (The Troubadour) had no inside availability, but luckily I had donned a navy blazer and was pleased to eat on the terrace, across from the Romanesque 12th century Sé Velha (Old Cathedral). I ordered the salmon and a glass of red Douro wine. I cook fresh salmon regularly when I’m at my summer house in Langley, on Whidbey Island, so I’m familiar with all sorts of preparation. That said, this dish was superlative. I declined dessert, since I still had that chocolate from the night before. I’m happy that I waited until 8 to eat so I wasn’t the obvious Anglo-Saxon early diner. On the walk back down around ten, I noticed that the restaurants and cafes were buzzing.

Next stop: Porto!

The hotel in Tomar was really nice. I went down to the breakfast around 7:30 to grab some coffee before heading to the little hotel gym for a quick workout. As those who travel in Europe know, the breakfast buffets are pretty lavish compared to the meager breakfasts on offer in most American hotels and motels. And, they’re included in the price of the room. Most of them have high quality espresso machines, so I usually get two cappuccinos and two shots of espresso. I crave early coffee, but never drink it later in the day. There were several tours staying at the hotel so the mainly senior crowd had to get up at dawn to head out for the day’s touring. At the espresso machine, several befuddled guests weren’t sure which buttons to push, so I stepped in and did it for them. Hopefully, someone will return the favor for me in the not too distant future!

The train ride to Coimbra was a two-step affair, with a change in Entroncamento. During the second leg I saw some areas that had been burned during the summer’s apocalyptic fires. They looked like eucalyptus trees, which, from my experience living in California, explode during wildfires.

While waiting for my Uber at the Coimbra station, I spoke with a young couple waiting for theirs. I said “you’re from Canada” and they replied “how could you tell?”. I replied “I always can tell” and we chuckled.

When I arrived at my hotel, I was a bit dismayed by its exterior and the fact that it was on a busy street. Uh oh, I though. Noise! When I got to the room, however, it was quite modern and had double glazed windows and air conditioning, so the outside noise was barely discernible. Ricardo, the manager, brought me a fan for white noise.

I wanted to wait till the early evening before heading out so I took a nap. After grabbing my stuff, I walked up an extremely steep hill to the University of Coimbra, one of Europe’s oldest, founded in 1290. It has an enrollment of 30,000 and is one of the top universities. The campus is beautiful and its massive and multi-tiered botanical gardens are far superior to Lisbon’s. In addition to the earlier architecture, the history faculty and the main library are built in the Art Deco monumental style, with socialist realism-type statues of powerful half-naked men and women. Unsurprisingly, these were constructed under Salazar in the 30’s. This style wasn’t at all just relegated to fascist and authoritarian regimes. Examples abound in the US as well; for example, 30th Street Station in Philadelphia and the Hoover Dam, to mention a few.

The university district also contains several notable churches, including the “new” cathedral and museums. I’ll have to revisit tomorrow and explore more deeply.

I wasn’t in the mood for a lengthy heavy dinner, so I stopped at a little outdoor place on the walk down to the Baixo, or lower town. It was rather quiet, so I sat near a young couple and we struck up a conversation. They had ordered a salad with figs and other tasty vegetables, so I did the same. They were visiting from their home in the Lake District in the north of England and they’d just arrived from Porto. They felt that Porto is overrated and really isn’t worth more than three nights. They were disappointed that 75% of the buildings in the central area had been built since WW2. They told me they were renovating a 300-year old farmhouse and they showed me photos. Jamie, the husband, was doing much of the renovation himself. We all decided to order a tawny Port but our server, who strangely enough didn’t speak English, thought tawny Port meant tonic and Port. He graciously took that witches’ brew back and brought us what we’d been expecting.

After bidding one another good-bye, I headed home, but was lured into an amazing chocolate shop. I bought some dark chocolate with ginger and another small slab with orange and walnuts. I also bought a bottle of tawny Port, hoping to have a glass with a little of the chocolate. While I was waiting, the young attendant was gift-wrapping some chocolate for a nice couple from America but couldn’t manage to tie the bow, so I gallantly stepped in to finish it for him. The Americans gave me a chocolate bar, which I shared with two American women who were perusing the chocolate offerings. I could comment more about these patrons but suffice it to say that I had a good chuckle after leaving the shop!

I decided to leave the Port for another day since I was afraid that it might leak during travel.

The train from Santarém to Tomar was pretty empty and rolled through rich farmlands, interspersed with the occasional vineyard. Listening to the automated station directions, I was able to get a better sense of the Portuguese pronunciation.

I grabbed a cab at the Tomar station for a quick ride to my hotel, Hotel Dos Templarios (pronounced Tem-plar-ee-oosh, with the stress on plar) which was surprisingly large and fancy. Given the prominence of the Knight Templars’ massive Convento de Cristo on the heights above, the whole town echoes the Templar theme. Since I had two hours to kill before the 15:00 check-in, I left my luggage in the care of the front desk and walked up the steep path to the famous Convento.

Founded in 1160, the fortress underwent successive additions through 1587, during the height of the Templars’ power. As I wrote in the Sintra post, they became so powerful that the French Pope Clement IV demanded their disbandment; however, Dom Denis simply changed the Templars’ name to Ordem Cristo, the Order of Christ. They largely funded the Age of Discovery and subsidized Henry the Navigator. They also played the leading role in expelling the Moors from Portugal in the late 15th century.

The place is massive and lavishly decorated. They even built an aqueduct to bring fresh water to the cloisters. In particular, the hexagonal main chapel is unique. It’s said that the knights attended Mass there on horseback. The Convento is the main draw in Tomar. Unlike Santarém, there was a significant tourist presence.

After checking in, I headed to the large outside pool for a swim. Although hot, this area is inland enough to maintain low humidity and dew points, so it’s not uncomfortable at all. After the pool, I popped by the bar for a large sparkling water and struck up a conversation with Francisco, the bartender. He said that the summer wildfires had raged nearby, though there was no evidence of them in the immediate vicinity of Tomar. His last name, Pinha (peen-ya), I found interesting, and he told me that it was a derivative of “pine cone”. The etymology of surnames is an interest of mine, so we talked for a while about Portuguese names. Some common Portuguese names: Silva from blackberry bush; Perreira from pear tree; Figuiera from fig tree; and Pineira from pine tree. He said that some of these names associated with trees and plants derive from the Moorish occupation era. The area just to the north of Tomar marked the limit of the 4-century Moorish conquest. Looking back in time, the earliest settlers were the Lusitani tribe. They were conquered by the Romans, who were eventually displaced in the 4th and 5th centuries by the Visigoths, who Francisco explained were fleeing from Attila the Hun. He said that explains the genetic diversity of the people who range from olive complexions to blond and light-eyed.

For dinner I chose Landeira, a traditional Portuguese restaurant in the charming old town. Since I was the only diner sitting outside at 7:15 (Portuguese eat around 9) I had a chance to chat with the server, Marta, and the manager, Fabio. They suggested I start with the vegetable soup, which was tasty, followed with the chicken cooked in a clay pot. The meat fell off the bone. Fabio used to work in Porto, so he wrote down some suggestions for traditional Francesinha restaurants. That is a regionally well known Portuguese sandwich. After finishing, and as the place started to fill up, I wandered through the cobblestones alleys and enjoyed the suddenly cool air, gazing up at the floodlit Convento above. On the short walk back to the hotel, I passed through a beautifully lit public garden.

At the hotel bar, I asked Francisco for some port recommendations. He had four bottles from the producer Messias. I tried the Tawny followed by the vintage. The after-dinner drinks served as a fitting coda for a most enjoyable day.

Often when traveling, I don’t like to overplan my day. This morning, I had some coffee, hit the rather mediocre hotel gym, and then showered and had breakfast. I decided to just wander around the extensive historic district for the day.

One thing I’ve noticed while traveling here and in most of Europe over the years is that there is no visible homeless problem. Also, I’ve seen little litter. Even though Portugal has one of the lowest per capita GDPs in the EU, the people seem well dressed and able to enjoy a decent standard of living, although fairly in-depth conversations with younger Portuguese today belie that statistic. I’ll include a recap of those conversations at the end of today’s post, which I will finish on Thursday morning. Now it’s time to finish the Portuguese Nobel Prize winner Jose Saramago’s classic, Blindness.

Santarem is not a well-visited city, since it’s in the Ribatejo and off the beaten foreign tourist route, although the Portuguese themselves are interested in this important historical town. It is the birthplace of Pedro Cabral, the Portuguese who discovered Brazil in 1500 and claimed it for the king. He’s buried in the Convento da Graça, one of several Gothic churches in Santarém. I wandered into about 7 churches, built between the 12th and 16th centuries. The styles include Gothic, Mannerist, Manueline and Baroque. The Manueline churches were funded by the lucrative spice trade with India and the East, and this style is named after King Manuel I. The latter style churches are quite ornate, including the cathedral. The Gothic churches are pretty spare, since, according to one staffer, many of the churches and monasteries fell into disrepair and the interior statues, etc. were removed for safekeeping and restoration but were never returned.

For a small city, Santarém boasts a large and busy old town. As I mentioned, there were few tourists and in some of the museums and churches I was the only visitor. One of the jewels of the old town is the Jardim das Portas do Sol. I spent some time there looking at the superb collection of trees and viewing the vast agricultural lands watered by the Tejo from the crenelated heights of the medieval walls. The gardens featured a large outside aviary with exotic birds, including some vivid green and blue ones.

One of my favorite things to do while traveling overseas is to casually chat with locals to gain a better understanding of the area in which I’m traveling. Sometimes I wonder if, after our conversations, they imagine that I may have been an agent of an intelligence agency!

At the Convento da Santa Maria Graça, I chatted with the young staffer, Ricardo, about his thoughts on Portugal. He said that the economy was a total mess and that the current government was utterly corrupt. As I was to hear later in the day, the younger people are quite worried about their futures. He said that the economy was better in the 60’s and 70’s, when Salazar’s Novo Estado was in power. Interesting, since the Novo Estado was authoritarian. I remember hearing the same wistful thoughts about Tito in the former Yugoslavia. Now, much rich agricultural land, especially in the south near the Algarve, lies dormant. Many of the industries have left, including the fashion sector, which manufactured shoes and clothing for many famous French and Italian brands. Now, only tourism really drives the economy.

One interesting detail I uncovered is that the leader of the 25 April 1974 coup against the dictatorship, Sergeant Salgueiro Maia, was from Santarém and it was he and other junior officers who marched on Lisbon from Santarém as members of the Armed Forces Movement. In Portugal, it’s often called the Carnation Revolution since jubilant crowds placed red carnations in the barrels of the soldiers’ carbines. Ricardo showed me on my map where Sgt. Maia’s statue was and I took a photo on my way back to the hotel.

The oldest site I visited was the Convento de Saõ Francisco, built in the early 13th-century. Some of the original building has collapsed, but much of it has been restored. I noticed pigeon droppings so there must be a rookery in the ceiling.

Finally, I popped into the Convento da Santa Clara, built in the Gothic style. There were two university students associated with Santarém tourism staffing a table inside. We had a lengthy chat about several subjects, as they were eager to share their opinions. As Ricardo mentioned early, they didn’t see much future in Portugal given the rampant corruption and dismal economy. They were both in their final years of university.

They shared that the educational system was rigorous, too rigorous in their opinions. They also mentioned something that I’d heard before, that the Portuguese language was one of the most difficult idioms to learn.

Even nurses and doctors were underpaid, they said, and the nurses, in particular, often left for the UK and Germany to earn much higher wages. They weren’t sure what they were going to do, but expressed interest in crypto currencies and finance. Most Portuguese are encouraged to save in banks that pay very low interest rather that in stocks and bonds, as in the US. They stated that it’s hard to learn about these investment strategies, with instructions along these lines running about 250 EUR out of a typical monthly salary of 750 EUR.

The theme of government corruption is a widespread complaint among the younger generation. Spain, with almost four times the population, has fewer members of parliament. The Portuguese go into politics to get rich. They claimed the people are complacent and that the aging population simply expects the government to raise pensions and continues to elect the same crooked politicians. Surprisingly, many of the young support the Right, unlike the US. They mentioned a young politician named Andre Ventura, the head of the Chega party. Coincidentally, I saw a Chega billboard on my way back to the hotel. They seem desperate for some kind of change, although it’s not clear how that will happen.

Even though the day was hot, in the 80’s, by the time I walked back to the hotel, it was much cooler and breezier.

I’m looking forward to grabbing the train to Tomar later this morning to see the city famous as the headquarters of the Knights Templar. I’m glad to have spent two nights in Santarem, a really historical and attractive town.

After coffee, I found a nice trail that ringed the walled old city and wound through a forested area. I saw one guy walking his dog and a woman running. I headed back to the hotel to catch up on emails and other tasks before checking out and walking across the street to the bus stop for the 10-minute ride to the terminal in Caldas da Reinha. I had about 40 minutes to kill before the bus to Santarém, so I walked into a grocery store and bought a package of sliced cheese to snack on. A 200 gram package was 1,59 EUR. In the US it would’ve been 3 times as much.

The bus ride to Santarém was clearly a local. It took an hour and 15 minutes. The Mercedes Benz buses are new and air-conditioned and not crowded. It sure beat taking the train back to Lisbon and then heading north on another train. In the hinterlands the people are mostly native Portuguese. You can see the facial characteristics of the 16th-century explorers in their faces, especially the younger ones. They’re good-looking people. They’re quieter than Americans and aren’t constantly looking at their phones. I always notice the details when I travel.

Santarém is in the Ribatejo, along the Tagus River. It was in the low 90’s when I got there mid-afternoon, but very dry, unlike the more humid areas near the Atlantic. After checking into the hotel, my first “luxury” accommodation, I went to my top-floor room to plan the late afternoon activities. Around 5, I headed into the historic center. Although it was 90, the humidity was low, so the 30-minute walk into the historic core was tolerable. I walked by several 400-year old churches and found one that was open, the Church of Misericórdia, built in 1552 and rebuilt after the 1755 earthquake. Its organ, built in 1818, is quite well known in musical circles. The church is now a municipal property and the sacristy is open for tours. It’s really stunning.

As the thunder started, I walked into a covered cafe for a water and a glass of wine. Although threatening, the storm never really arrived as predicted, though the temperature dropped to a comfortable 75. I made an online reservation at one of the renowned restaurants in town, Taberna Ó Balcão, run by chef Rodrigo Castelo. I arrived as they opened, at 7:00 pm. Of course, at that hour, I was the only one there, but the staff were fantastic. I had a local soup and small river shrimp dish to begin, and an exquisite cod main course. The server explained all of the details of the preparation, which I can’t fully recall, but it was incredible. The ambience was country chic, with a full view of the kitchen. After a leisurely 90 minutes, I walked 15 minutes back to my hotel under a gentle sprinkle.