Cascais

The breakfast buffet was poorer than in Cannes, but I suppose that was to be expected of Portugal. The day started off with minor frustrations. I missed the train to Belém by a few minutes because I was on the wrong platform. I lost money to a vending machine. The Ribiera market (also here in Portuguese) was not impressive. I suppose I had some adjustments to make, coming from France.

From the Belém station, it was a long walk to Belém Tower and the Monument to the Discoveries. For a golden period in the 15th and 16th centuries, Portugal, a minor country on the edge of Europe, was in the forefront of European exploration of the rest of the world, then sank back into obscurity as other European powers raced ahead. However one legacy is Brazil, which makes Portuguese rank 7th by number of native speakers.

The figure carrying a caravel leading the procession is Henry the Navigator who provided the impetus to discover.


Although I wanted to continue west to Cascais, there was no station nearby so I had to return east to the station. There I missed the train by 20 seconds because of some elderly people in the queue. So I cooled my heels writing the diary.

I reached Cascais with a train change at Oeiras. When the sea breezes hit me I felt it was worth the effort. The day had started off cloudy but it was now sunny and very warm at 30C. A public thermometer showed 20C, patently wrong. A wedding cavalcade with horns blaring went past.


The pedestrian precinct was paved with striking mosaic designs similar to those in Spain.

I found a barbecue chicken shop and had a portion with piri-piri sauce and a full serve of chips, took them to a park and washed them down with a beer. When I got my order, I understood why guide books recommend asking for only a half serve (meia dose). I fed the bones and a lot of the chips to stray dogs in the park. Not surprisingly, they suddenly took a liking to me and followed me around.

Incidentally McDonalds in Portugal serve beer. Also popular in this country are bottles of Nestea and Lipton. I was so warm returning from the beach that for once I did not mind that they gave me too much ice.


In the evening I took the elevator up to Bairro Alto again and dined at A Primavera. This was a nice joint run by cousins. Apparently Josephine Baker once visited, if a picture on the wall was to be believed. I had the Bacalhau à Bráz (strips of salted cod fried with matchstick fries and egg batter), a signature Portuguese dish. The walls were decorated with frames with Portuguese homilies, such as: O falso amigo é o pior dos inimigos (The false friend is the worst of enemies), Amor com amor se paga (Love repays love). An elderly Portuguese couple at the next table was impressed that I was looking up words in my dictionary and we had a short chat.


Back on the Praça, a street vendor was selling glimpses of Jupiter through a telescope for 100 escudos. In one establishment a dance party was in full swing. One woman was doing steps all by herself.