Day 8

We had the usual breakfast at the restaurant out front plus hot chocolate, and a prepackaged muffin. Two euros each.

The sun was breaking through the clouds and I announced, "it's gonna be a beautiful day." I don't think I need to tell you how it turned out. We had intermittent showers all day. For the first time, we used our rain covers and put on raincoats. 30 seconds later we passed a pond and I swear the ducks laughed at us.

At a sports ground, we watched a 7-on-7 soccer match for a few minutes, until the rain came harder. The kids didn't even notice the rain.

We passed through several villages, alternating in quality-- nice, run-down, nice… Adfeloas seems to be nothing but abandoned factories, all huge rambling fantastic stone buildings.

We did well for lunch. Following our instincts, we left the course to find Main Street. Bingo! A simple diner, and yet again, we beat the lunch rush. Within a minute of being served, 9 or 10 locals came in independently. It was a bit if a wait to pay but it was worth it.

While we waited, Gyu eon asked for .50 euro. At many places we'd seen a display of candy bars of various sizes, ranging from barely acceptable for trick or treating to could feed a family of four. JH asked about and the waitress pointed to a gimbal machine, motioned to put .50, open the ball that comes out and see what you win, an impressive feat of miming.

I gave Gyueon .50. He won! He was so happy and proudly held up his prize-- the smallest possible candy bar.

Day 7, Mealhada

After a few days off we feel recharged and ready to walk 22.4 km to Mealhada, although one day in Coimbra doesn't seem like enough. We should have stated just one night in Santarem and two in Coimbra.

Finding the route was easy-- all we had to do was go outside. We turned left, walked to the river and turned right, within 30 minutes we were walking through livestock farm land.

I counted 4 horses and 40-something sheep at one farm. A few steps later, I saw an official sign declaring the size of the farm (7.9 hectares) and the number of animals (6 horses, 60 sheep). Good enough for Inspector Patrick.

We passed through 9 or 10 villages, each a little different from the others. Each house in one village still had Christmas banners hanging. Another didn't have a single abandoned house.

One thing they all have in common is that every house has two barking dogs in the the thankfully well-fenced yard. Some dogs were scary, growling and snarling, straining at their chain or trying to jump the fence (or both!).

One, the scariest of all, we never saw. We just heard a low growl from Hell, claws scrapping on metal, and the THUMP of a body hitting the high metal fence, over and over until we were out of earshot.

Another house had an inner fence and an outer fence, with a mean, aggressive dog patrolling each sector.

On the other hand, we met many nice cats.

We almost screwed up lunch today. We walked by a truck parking lot and didn't check out the little cafes next to it, hoping for something better. We followed a sign advertising a place just 200 meters ahead. We passed a house on the way and the two men outside wished us a good journey to Santiago.

We walked well over 200 meters and there were no more buildings… no restaurant? We backtrack and now there was a woman with the men. Through mime and simple words we asked where we could eat. They told us to continue back, turn left (away from the dodgy truck stop) and go on the big toad. Then one man walked over to his van and mimed putting gas in it. Oh, the gas station! Ok! Abrigado.

Lunch at the AS Bombas, next to the gas station. was simple, good, and cheap; 10.20 for 4 sandes mista (ham and cheese sandwiches), 2 soft drinks, a bag of chips and a Snickers. Excellent service too!

Rain had been threatening all morning, after we stepped back out after lunch, it was sprinkling. I was mentally preparing myself for more.

Instead of backtracking, we stayed on the big road (N1) until the trail rejoined it briefly. Then, we followed the camino through a Eucalyptus forest full of peeling trees and browned ferns. For those 20 minutes or so, we couldn't hear the traffic on highway N1. We spotted our first yellow scallop way marker on a tree, labeled 'Santiago'. 19 more days!

Lendiosa chapel has a bigger outside area than inside. Soon after, a woman picking oranges spotted us, called us over and gave us oranges. She tried to give us an entire bucket but we pointed to our packs to indicate that we couldn't carry anything more. She took the opportunity to stuff 8 or 9 info a side pocket of JH's pack, like she needed more weight.

We decided lighten her load by eating as many as we could as soon as we were out of sight (so we wouldn't get loaded down with more). With every tear of the peel, juice sprayed out, like the fruit was too eager to be released. The smell was intoxicating. The taste, strong and sweet. Three hours later, my hands still smell like oranges. I don't ever want to wash them.

We reached the end of the stage, Mealhada Centro but still had a long 1.4 to get to our home for the night, Alberge Peregrino Hilario. It seemed so far that JH assumed that I'd made a huge mistake, even though she'd supervised all navigations today and vouched for all of the landmarks on the map. "There is the Oasis and a cafe and we are still on the camino going north but yes, you could be right-- I'm probably taking us the wrong way."

I'm still unclear on what exactly an albergue is but I do know that this was a nice place, with excellent hosts. They weren't expecting peregrinos, we were the only ones since two came through on December 17. Anyway, we were told that the bunkhouses were full so we'd have to stay in a private room. I didn't mind but the bunkhouses were all but shuttered up-- closed for the winter obviously. I wished he'd just said that. Besides that, where were the bunk house guests?

It's a family run business, the two brothers take care of guests, father does the cooking, mom takes care of the cleaning. One son was a librarian, the other a lawyer, and dad was an unsuccessful used car salesperson but they gave up there jobs for this.

At their adjoining restaurant, we ate the local delicacy, leitoes, which is spit roasted month-old pig. It was fantastic. I guess you could say we had a meal in Mealhada.

JH: The father is really nice. I feel love.
Me: You feel the glass of old Port gave us.
JH: Write that down for your blog.

Done.


Photos

1 Inspector Patrick approves
2 peeling trees
3 scallop shell pointing to Santiago
4 FREE oranges
5 dinner

Day 6, Coimbra, Fado

Coimbra Fado is music intended to woo women. They are songs of destiny. The singing is passionate, barely restrained impatience at times, but refined. The Portuguese guitar adds a tone that can be bright or melancholy and the classical guitar keeps is all together.

In Coimbra, since its purpose is to woo women, it is only performed by men. Not just any men though-- only current or former students of the university can play it.

Traditionally, the wooer would stand outside the house of his beloved and sing. If the girl liked what she heard, the singing of lyrics, she'd flick the lights on and off three times. Any observers in the street would signal their approval by clearing their throats instead of clapping. The audience at our show tried it but the throat clearing quickly turned into chuckles before reverting to clapping hands.

It is beautiful music.

I have a good video but I don't know how to post one in blogger yet.

Dinner was the best yet at what I have renamed the "Point and Eat Grill". It was the first place we looked at but we wandered around for 20 minutes looking for other options before we made our way back.

Photos: Portuguese guitar

Day 6, Coimbra

We ate at a shiny new McDonald's, full of university students, and then walked to our hotel near the center, which was much further than we expected.

We checked into The Moderna. It was nice, although not particularly modern, unless you compare it to Coimbra University or the churches in town. We cranked up the heat, and hung our still damp clothes to dry. JH probably re-washed them. This is not interesting to you, Dear Reader, but it is to us. Clean and dry clothes are very interesting.

We took ourselves on a mini-walking tour to get a feel for the city. It's perched on a hill. It's a compact city, with everything of interest within 15 minutes walking of Centro. For a city of 100,00 (I don't know if that includes the 20,000 students at the university), it doesn't feel crowded at all.

We checked out a couple churches and got our Credentials stamped at Church of Santa Cruz, one of the oldest buildings in Europe, founded in 1132. I don't know which part is original but the main part is Manueline style, which I guess is Portuguese Gothic. If something is worth ornamenting, it's worth really ornamenting.

Our tour continued through Arco de Almedina, the original main gate in the wall that protected the city in medieval times. It's an artsy neighborhood with boutiques, cafes, and public art. We bought tickets for a performance of traditional music, Coimbra Fado.

We had an hour to kill and walked up the hill to see the university and get a peek at the Botanical Garden. Gyu eon, who didn't want to go to a concert asked a series of stupid questions that annoyed JH. For example, "why aren't the university buildings connected?", and "how do they study in such primitive buildings?"

I'm glad I didn't have to field those questions. In his defense, it's not the type of campus that we are accustomed to seeing. There were no large expanses of grass or ostentatious entrances or Starbucks at the main gate, just old majestic buildings with a lot of history. Coimbra University, founded in 1290, is one of the oldest universities in the world.

In further defense, he's generally well-behaved and doesn't usually complain.

We got just a peek at the gardens, then snaked back down to the concert.

Photos:


1 Igreja Santa Cruz
2 Igreja Santa Cruz
3 King Dinus I, founder of Coimbra University
4 outside botanical garden

Day 6, train to Coimbra

It rained over night and the clothes we hung two days ago aren't dry. Yesterday I asked someone at the tourist office how to get to the train station. She suggested a bus or a taxi. "How about walking?" I asked. "Um, uh, I guess you could walk this road", she replied, drawing a line on my map, "but it's a long way, maybe 20 minutes". I told her that it's ok because we are walking to Santiago. She smiled, but her eyes said, "that's crazy talk".

It was almost exactly 20 minutes down the hill, through yet another almost completely abandoned neighborhood. Not for the first time, I wondered how the richer countries ever agreed to the Euro.

I watched the ticket agent select adjacent seats but when I looked at the tickets later, I was worried by the non-sequential seat assignments; 82, 88, 91. On the train, I was surprised that our seats were together. The is a clear pattern to the seat numbers but I have no idea why they are arranged this way:

…
W 94 96 A 98 92
W 97 95 A 83 91
W 84 86 A 88 82
W 87 85 A 83 81
…

W- window, A- aisle

Any ideas?

Gyu eon started reading a book but soon fell asleep and reminded me of a line from a Monsters of Folk song, "I guess I'll rest my head against my elbow and the window and let my wheels go…"

JH quickly got engrossed in an ebook but I just looked out the window at land that was definitely getting hillier. We passed through many small villages, some with only 10 houses. More than once, I saw a pedestrian bridge, complete with elaborate ramps crossing the tracks, just to accommodate one or two houses.

Photos

1 down the hill to Santarem train station
2 the station

Day 5 Santarem, stirring conclusion

So we dropped off Gyu eon and the laundry and I grabbed an umbrella just in case.

Two sites stood out for me, Portas do Sol and Igreja da Graca. Portos do Sol is like the Great Wall of Santarem. When I first looked out over the wall, I felt like we were hundreds of meters above the world. It's an illusion though-- Santarem is just 130 meters but the surrounding land is completely flat in all direction for a great distance. It's a neat effect and an inspiring view. We saw several young couples sneaking kisses around the park. It's not a private place but like I said, it is inspiring. I snuck a few kisses with my girl.

Rain came and sent the young lovers and and other sight seers scurrying fit cover. We whipped up the umbrella and snuck a few more kisses.

We wandered, not trying too hard to stay on the tourist route our friendly tourist guru had suggested but ended up at most if the sites anyway.

Igreja da Graca (Igreja means church) stood out for me. It's so open that I though the inside was still outside, like the main door was a gate. It has very little ornamentation. The simplicity was so beautiful that I didn't even notice the rose window (for which it is famous) until JH pointed it out. It is a bare church, no organ, no balcony, no extra rooms, spartan pews. A church for the truly devout. The most ornate thing in it is the sarcophagus of the first governor of Morocco.

Gyu eon was feeling better so with a recommendation and a dot on a map we went out for dinner at bull-fighting themed Taberna do Quinzena. Portuguese style Roast beef, grilled pork, and prawn kebab... Fantastic.

Day 5- Santarem, part 1

Dull weather, dull day. We didn't leave the room until 11. The shirts JH washed aren't dry at all. They feel wetter. The room is so damp and cold that everything feels wet.

We went to the mall for breakfast and wifi. I ate and left them there while I made the 40-minute round trip to get the laundry. On the way, I bumped into two Mormon missionaries. Nice guys, as all Mormon missionaries are. I won a bet, guessing that one of them was from Utah.

I tried hard not to dominate the conversation but I guess I miss talking to native English speakers. I was a bit sad when we parted ways.

Back at the mall, Gyu eon hadn't even changed from his smart phone slouch position. We sat around until 2:30 and I was dying to explore the city. Gyu eon said he wasn't feeling well and insisted on going back to his room and taking a nap. We left him there and took a mini tour of Santarem.