Sintra

Although we’ve finished Wellingtonia, there is a  World Heritage site on  our doorstep, the Sintra national park. Sintra is a mountain rising out of nowhere, very well wooded but with massive rocks in the woods, and close to Lisbon, so a brilliant place for summer palaces.


First we stopped for a coffee to fortify ourselves since everywhere is up. While we were quietly drinking it, in came about five or six armed police and three or four tax inspectors. The till and the books were examined, the waiters were questioned, the price list was checked, while the police ensured that no one made a run for it and nothing was smuggled into hiding. It was quite exciting to us, but it seemed an everyday occurrence for everyone else.

There is a Moorish castle almost at the top (we were very pleased with ourselves when coming down again) and it has the most terrific views. This was when we wished we had Marc and Tom, well, Phil did, but the crenellations weren’t very high, so it could have been a bit fraught. There’s also a summer palace started in the thirteenth century and finished in the sixteenth. It’s just lovely, with cool grottos and water fountains, and lovely decorations. There’s also a lot of beautiful Goan made chests and Brazilian rosewood tables and such, including a ghastly ivory effort from Macau.

Just a rock

Ta Dah! The rock moves!

Then we went to see a house built by a bloke who made millions in Brazil, in the late nineteenth century. The house was interesting, but the gardens were amazing. The millionaire bloke had all sorts of interests, including a sort of mystical philosophy, and, as far as we could make out, the garden is meant to be symbolic of something, probably something like the journey of a human soul. However that might be, the garden is great fun. There are really beautiful bits, but miles of tunnels and grottos, all pretty confusing, I felt we needed a ball of wool. And there was an “initiation well”, very well hidden in some rocks, with a revolving rock for a door, that was like a tower of Pisa, but going down. Luckily the new phones have a torch, because some turns took you into pools. There was a grotto and tunnels behind a waterfall. Now we really wished we had Marc and Tom with us, although frankly any age would have enjoyed it.

Sadly, the edge was taken off our enjoyment when Phil cracked his head on a downward projecting piece of stone. It bled quite a lot, and hurt more. A kind Polish couple gave us a plaster and we got it to stop bleeding. Then we had a excellent meal and came back to the hotel, so we are recovered.