Author: Grubb

With the weather predicted to be in the mid-seventies, we figured it would be good day to head west along the coast and scope out the resort town of Cascais. It’s an easy train ride, and we went early enough to avoid fighting for seats. (By early, I mean any time before noon. After twelve,…

Today was supposed to be without purpose, laid back and relaxing. No hike to any hilltop fortress, no wandering cold empty palatial hallways, no room-by-room exploration of museum antiquities, nope, just roving the crooked streets of Lisbon taking advantage of sunny seventy-degree weather. Then Ella mentioned something about porcelain sculptures near the Museo de Lisbon…

Sintra, famous for its picturesque hilltop palace, was a short train ride north. Since it’s a major tourist destination, and since the memories of the roped-off interiors of the Pizzi Palace merge with countless roped-off dining rooms and drawing rooms and bedrooms of the Schoenbrunn Palace, etc., we chose not to go inside and tour…

The day started out with a rain that mostly disappeared by the time we maundered up Rua da Esperanza on our way to MNAA (Museu Nacional de Arte Antica). This is the first museum on our trip that didn’t require a mask (nevertheless, we’re still sticking to the old guidelines). We didn’t linger by the…

An easy Uber to the Coimbra train station this morning. Other than buses running their routes, not much traffic. We go through the routine of masking up for mass transit. Then it’s on to the train where I’ve got a window seat. We pass hill after hill thick with a profusion of greenery. Bottle brush…

No signs of rain today, so a late morning scoot under the Roman aqueduct… …before entering the botanical gardens and ambling down a path through the bamboo forest and out onto the riverfront walk. We stopped at a cafe that had a tables on a deck built off the river bank above the Mondego. I…

The dramatic storm front that threatened to drench us yesterday was, like most things Baroque, needlessly exaggerated. A sprinkling here and there, but, for the most part of the day the lowering clouds swept overhead, disappearing by evening when we took a walk up to the top of the Coimbra campus for the dazzling view….

Storm clouds swirled in this morning, towering billows of dark grey shot with silver, outtakes from a gloomy Baroque masterpiece threatening to unleash the fury of two weeks worth of withheld rain. With the temperature dropping it was time for the down vest and knit cap along with the umbrella. Today we were going to…

After a couple cups of Delta coffee (since coming here I’ve become a snob in that regard), we boarded a quick train to Coimbra. Our initial plans for traveling in Portugal had us renting a car, but the Covid crisis priced us out that option. So no increased heart rate going into the centripetal swarm…

Porto is all about the river. All roads lead up from or down to the Douro. As much as I shrugged off plugging along the inland waters in a tour boat, walking the Porto promenades on either side of the Douro is instantly refreshing, and I have to admit I’m going to miss that river…

Tour to the Douro valley where the grapes are famous for making great port and excellent vino verde. Ella and I aren’t the tour type of travelers. Groups make it difficult to wander off, my specialty. Sitting in vans for long stretches of time while a guide tries to feed us fascinating facts becomes tedious…

An Albuquerque statue in Porto? How could we resist? We weren’t sure whether it was the seafaring Albuquerque who bullied his way into India and points east, but according to our Google map the “Albuquerque Statue” was in the middle of a park making up a roundabout near a graveyard Ella wanted to visit. So…

All of the above were strutting their stuff in the Jardim de Cristo Palacio this morning. The Palacio is a circular dome that serves as an events arena. The Jardim is a gathering of gardens terraced into the steep hillside overlooking the Douro River. Paths lead up and down and all around with medieval turrets…

Sunny. Seventy degrees. Yawn. Bus to São Bento station. Then the train to Braga. Twenty-five stops later, we’re there. The basic idea was to go north and stop in some picturesque town before we got to Spain. Braga, whose citizens are reputed to be the happiest in Portugal, seemed a good pick. Besides a brooding…

You might have heard of a bookstore in Porto, the Livraria Lello, beloved by Harry Potter fans. One the most beautiful bookstores in the world if you’re inclined to favor wooden two story shelves with a deep golden varnish bisected by a crimson spiraling staircase spreading its Victorian wings along the upper landing. Narrow and…