To Portugal

The Portugal leg of our trip has just finished. It started in effect with a train trip from San Sebastion to Leon, still within Spain, from where we would collect our car for the drive into Portugal.  The train was a regional one so slower, with a 5 1/2 hour trip through wooded hills and then inland plains, with periodic towns some industrial, others the picturesque tightly packed tile roofed towns we are seeing elsewhere in the country.  Individual homes don't dot the landscape it's either rural or town, period. The train carriage was a different experience to 'turista class' out of Barcelona. Most notably it absolutely stank of garlic. The smell came in waves as nearby digestive systems settled whatever the hell they had consumed for breakfast, then someone opened their packed lunch and mon dieu the eyes almost started watering.  Anyway onwards and upwards so on arrival at Leon late afternoon we walked out into their most awesome old town centre and joined the many having a bite and a glass, at street side. 

The evening proved entertaining as football team Real Madrid had won a significant game and the town came out to celebrate mostly I think in the plaza beside our hotel. Singing, drums, chanting, fireworks, motorbikes revving engines to complement the drumming, and the occasional police siren whoop presumably if someone was going overboard. It subsided in the wee hours but we were not left without entertainment for long as in the morning there was a religious procession, fortuously in our plaza!  It was at least a civilised hour so we headed out into it to enjoy the noise and crowds. A platform presumably with the Virgin Mary  and carried by many black suit and tie wearing men, was preceded by a small band, then followed with members of the church in regalia and an extensive brass band. The different sections of the band seemed to have a mind of their own but their music came together in due course and gave a rousing sound for the townspeople to follow after. 

The town was very crowded Sunday morning with people well dressed, kiddies likewise. The town is renowned for its 13th century Cathedral, which we visited and then walked around in the afternoon. Again crowded, but which only enhanced the place seeing the level of interest it generated.  I'm not surprised; the cathedral was one of the best we have seen, just mind boggling in its scale, lavish detail and remarkable history spanning eight centuries or so.  Immediately around the base of the cathedral the streets and plazas were some of the oldest looking and most fascinating areas, with their centuries old paved streets and walls. While in the cathedral some thunder came over and boomed around the interior, to underline its magnificence!
From Leon we drove into Portugal, to a town called Vila Real,our longest drive. The motorways are so good they just eat the miles up even though drivers routinely speed on them, big time, which only increased once we passed into Portugal. No border post, you just drove through it as if nothing was there. Hello Portugal. The Spanish side was mostly grain growing plains, then a hilly border area and hilly and rocky it has stayed since, but with plenty of vegetation so it's not too dry. So Portugal is rocky, seemingly a more rural, rougher and poorer version of Spain; but less urbane and polished also, so interesting. The Vila Real hotel made the stopover worthwhile. The hotel sits on the edge of a river gorge, effectively hanging over it so we could look down about 100m from our balcony. To our great delight there was a swallow sunbathing on our balcony, which shuffled to its feet and departed, to join the many others floating and twisting around the hotel front. Probably the best viewing we have ever had and two species to boot. I must say they are one of our favourites, so wild and free and masters of the air. Ones heart catches a brief ride each time one rockets close by. With one of the best balconies we have had to watch from we spent a lazy rest of the day, then headed off into the countryside in the car, the following day. We found the Douro River which we would be visiting again in a couple of days. It is steep rocky valley system and we marvelled at the terraced vineyards clinging to the hillsides, often with stone walls holding up each line of vines. We wanted to drive into one of the occasional small villages we encountered, as we drove the narrow often walled hillside roads. 'There will be vehicle access and an open plaza in the middle' we presumed, so we drove in via the tiny one vehicle street we came upon. However as it tightened further I stopped and got out, wondering what was just ahead. What was ahead was that the rough cobbled road with equally rough two story stone houses leaning over it dropped very steeply and without warning tightening to less than vehicle width. A trap! Back at the car a dog had appeared at a window grate right beside the vehicle and was going apoplectic, plus a woman had emerged from a house to stand beside the car and stare at it and us. Not unfriendly but not much help either. So we thought 'this isn't going to work out'and with difficulty inched the car backwards until a multi point turn was just possible, and head back out the same way hoping there was no other traffic about. Visit a local village on a steep Douro hillside: Tick. The GPS got us home where we selected the more predictable activity of G&T drinking and swallow watching, on the balcony! The next day we drove into Porto itself, the coastal city where the mouth of the Douro river is its ancient port. Earlier occupation of the city by the Moors has left its stamp on the old city, with ceramic tiles forming panels on many walls including external. Picture a very old church, but with ceramic tile fascades, usually patterned and often in blue. We spend many hours trolling the old city centering around the river, it's prominent iron bridge, the now retired port wine barges moored to the side and the Port wine company premises (Taylor's, Croft, Graham's etc) prominantly signed. The stacked into stories, stone walled, ceramic tiled and orange tiled buildings at waterside and up the steep banks either side are a picturesque backdrop to the river, as a centuries old inland trade route. A highlight was having dinner in a steep side street cafe, where small cement terraces had been added beside the doorway to hold several small tables and chairs. But don't push your chair back, the edge is right beside you. I ate grilled sardines; whole, ungutted, quite large sardines grilled over coals then drizzled with olive oil, a bit of garlic and some small boiled potatoes. A glass of 'green' wine being a fresh dry white wine with a slight fizz, and all was well. Shanti the complete coward had something more recognisable. Our final Porto day was a solid one that involved a small group tour into the Douro valley, then two flights getting us into Seville around 1.30 am, where I was so weary hot and thirsty it seemed a good idea to shower then sit in bed and drink both cans of very cold lager from the mini bar. Consequently its now the following afternoon and Shanti is still asleep. But back to the steep sided valleys of the Douro river and its tributaries, which are bounded by mountains and therefore have an isolated climate, along with their slate, shale and granite substrates. Extensive vineyards cover many slopes, usually small holdings owned by families residing in the villages dotted around. They typically sell their grape harvest to wine makers including those who manufacture Port wine. This area has a very distinctive wine culture with about 100 local grape varieties and very old, distinctive vinification practises including the previous transportation of wine barrels down the Douro to Porto, in the absence of earlier roadways. Now there are trains and a couple of trucking routes. The companies where the Port is finished and shipped abroad therefore receive their partly finished product, in Porto, which explains their large premises there. We loved the area and its wine culture but were particularly struck by the sheer magnitude of the labour involved in growing the grapes. Terraces are cut by hand into (often) the rock, stone is crushed to provide a substrate for the wines to grow in, and stone walls hold each row up particularly on the steeper slopes. The villagers are largely grape growers or local service providers; hardly any person is not involved in some way with the industry. One factor that underlined this unique location is that the underlying rock strata has a bedding plane that is tilted vertically, meaning that the slates and shales (which split in a single plane) enable the grapes to vertically penetrate the rock itself rather than the rock obstructing their root growth. We had a bit of a lunch treat at a riverside Michelin starred restaurant, as part of the visit. Timber balcony at water level, warm breezes fluttering the white canvas umbrellas, formal service and a flow of superb dishes and local wines - table wines are made here not just Port wines. Then another vineyard visit on a very steep hillside and finally a boat cruise in an old wooden longboat in the manner of the craft that used to trade up and down the river. A memorable day then a bit of reality in the form of the two flights etc that now have us in Seville. Sxx