Sintra

Portugal has sucessfully and completely captured my heart. Well, it still shares quite a bit of it with Granada, lets be honest, but this place is super rad. Yep, super rad. It's tempting to let the photos speak for themselves, but when have you ever known me to give up the mic? Wes would certainly attest that it's not a likely occurrence. Anyways, back to Sintra. I have to admit I was skeptical. Portugal is different than Spain, and definitely different than France and Italy. Portugal is like those countries' wild half-sister that has been left to expand and breathe without the imposed limitations of grumpy parents.  It is less developed, has less people, is less concerned with appearances and all together simply feels more raw and flowing <for the record a. I can't find the parenthesis on this keyboard, and b. I don't know if any of that is actually true in real life. But that's certainly how it feels to me, who has the reins in this discussion>. Maybe it's the history that I've read about since I was a tot that gives Italy, France and Spain that air of other-worldly, high-class, old-school, untouchable otherness. Portugal doesn't have that. It's likely I feel this way because I knew nothing about the country when I came other than they obviously colonized Brazil, and maybe a few other countries.  Sad to say, I know. But well, actually I don't know. And I love this country for that.

Sintra- we arrived when it was raining last night and came into an incredibly warm embrace of class and elegance and an open bar {hallelujah}.  This hostel is the most beautiful place I've stayed, and I really mean that.  It's intimate from the moment you walk in and reminds me of the old homes in Berkeley with wooden floors, built-in white shelving, crown molding and floor to ceiling windows.  There is even a fireplace and candles on the dining table.  Oh yeah, and there is a dining table.  Did I mention the bar?  Yep, it feels like home.

While it was tempting to stay curled up in my warm, comfortable top-bunk bed this morning, coffee and the need to do two weeks worth of laundry aroused me to alertness.  And thank goodness it did- this town has so much to see and do.  Who would have thought.  We walked out into the {rainy} street and the air was wet and spoke of Fall.  While we've watched the colors change here and the temperatures go from nude beaches to alpine skiing, this morning I felt Thanksgiving looming around the corner for the first time {dibs on making Sangria as my dish!} and realized that means Grams birthday is also right around the corner.  So, let me take this moment to say Happy Birthday Grams!  You're as youthful and spry as if you were 40 years younger, and I am thankful everyday that you're not only my grandma but you're one of my best friends.  Thank you for being such a positive force in my life and I look forward to celebrating with you for many years to come.  I love you so incredibly much and can't wait to catch up when I'm home!

Okay, back to Sintra. Nick and Ericka, thankfully, talked me into exploring castles today.  I say talked me into because I have seen more churches and ancient structures than I ever thought I would see in a lifetime.  I wasn't super keen on more castles, but was thinking of getting back to the beach or browsing the historical district {a.k.a. shopping}.  But instead we spent the day exploring two places that easily could easily been figments of Walter Conan Doyle's imagination.  Really.  We've been to so many beautiful places on this trip it's hard to fathom or record, but this palace and this castle blew me away.  They were mysterious and almost mythical in their architecture and history, and they were easy to lose time in.  

First stop, the Quinta da Regaleira Palace and Garden...

Pretty surreal that this was a summer home.

The garden grounds have a number of grottos and underground tunnels.  Walking through them I felt like I was moving between The Goonies, Hocus Pocus, some Steven King novel, and Game of Thrones.  Surreal.

One of the underground tunnels spits you out here, in the "Courtyard of the Gods." 

Oh, that's just me in my tower ruling over my minions.

This "well" was built to symbolize movement from hell to heaven, the idea being to bring to life the imagery of Dante's Inferno. Underground tunnels lead to that circle on the bottom, and only vaguely make you think of ritual sacrifice or some twisted something...

These next few photos I just like.  The gardens I'm sure are home to elves and fairies. 

The Palace

That would be the Chapel- even though the history behind this place is entirely pagan.  And a bit creepy...

After the Palace, we walked up to the Castle of the Moors.  And by walked, I mean climbed.

Up there on top... Yep, that's where we went.

But the climb was absolutely worth it.  You're likely {hopefully} noticing a trend in this region-  the Moors settle the land, build these outstanding architectural marvels, and then are overthrown by Christians and sent "back" to Africa. Their engineering ability is spellbinding- Wes, you'd be enthralled. 

And the views!  So what if that was obviously the point.  This was a fortress, after all, and meant to be a look out for oncoming attackers and crusaders and such.  And I am grateful today that I can take in that view without the concern for attackers on the horizon.  Although the wind up there was definitely plotting to overthrow us. 

Sintra is green, lush and timeless feeling, and over there to the left would be the Atlantic. 

Once again, that's just me overlooking my minions down below.

Interesting that the fortress was very Great Wall of China-ish.  I wonder which came first. I bet you Google knows... Great Wall came 500 years earlier, but this fortress was still pretty damn old.  Circa 700-800 BC.  Mind-boggling.

And with that, I shall say ciao once again.  One more week, and I will be stateside with you, my friends.