Despite the programmed metro strike this morning, the above ground trains were operating as normal. We caught a train to Cascais, barely a 30 minute ride along the coast.
Lisbon sits on the Tagus river which opens to the Atlantic. Cascais sits on the Atlantic. On the map below, the blue circle is where our apartment is in Lisbon. We are one block from the riverfront. The red circle is Cascais. From our location to Cascais is about 30 km. The purple circle is Sintra, which is where we went a couple days ago.
Cascais is an upscale beach town, similar to say, Marbella in Spain or Laguna Beach in California. I admit to listening for Russian accents as those oligarchs like their fancy villas and yachts on the coast of Spain and Portugal. I could swear the guy sitting at the table behind us at lunch drinking vodka shots was one of them. But probably, we would need to go to the Algarve area on the southernmost coast of Portugal to find the billionaires.
There are no big tourist sights in Cascais. Grubb would argue that the little lighthouse counts. The beach, the small shops, the beach, paddle boarding, a little snorkeling, beach soccer-volleyball (footvolley), the beach, hanging at the cafes with espressos and cappuccinos, beer, sangria, or whatever floats your boat, the beach.
We did search out something called Boca do Inferno (mouth of hell)- a place on the sheer cliffs where the Atlantic has battered its way through the rock, creating an arch and inlet. Probably would have been more impressive on a stormy day.
I guess you could say we went to Cascais just to see Portugal from another angle. But also, it was much less hustle and bustle than Lisbon and nice to have nothing to do, no big museums to visit, no palaces or castles to tour, nothing to see but sand and water. Okay, okay Grubb…and a lighthouse.
And while Grubb visited the lighthouse to gush over the Fresnel lamps, I sat on the patio sipping a Pedras sparkling water (ha! You thought I was going to say sangria didn’t you?) and staring at the ocean. Overhearing some American guy talk about how long the remodel of his house in Boulder was taking (sound familiar Keagan and Beth?). But, it is mesmerizing to watch the ocean, so soon the voices faded and I fell into a peaceful daze.
We did have a delicious lunch. Grubb went for the traditional bacalhau (cod). I dined on homemade ravioli in marinara laced with abundant clams, mussels, scallops and shrimp. With an appetizer of baby clams in butter-garlic sauce. Oh you just can’t do better than that sauce. And sangria. Always the sangria. It happens to be a major source of vitamin C.
With full stomachs and renewed vigor after lunch, we meandered to the museum of Paula Rega. Her subject matter heavy on the heart but her style didn’t draw me in.
Across from the museum, in a large park we heard the sound of kids cheering. We investigated to find a large ring of kids and their paarents, in the midst of which a woman was speaking into a microphone and a mascot, looking akin to Big Bird was nodding its head and clapping.
Back in Lisbon at the end of the day, we certainly didn’t need another meal after that lunch but we’ve started a habit of picking up a box of fresh, huge, juicy sweet strawberries to bring home for dessert. Paired with a few bites of a dark-chocolate bar infused with orange and made crunchy with almond bits. A sweet accompaniment as I sprawl on the couch and begin writing my thoughts on the day.
More Cascais photos.