We’re out of Lisbon early, but still have one important
Lisbon thing to do. Just outside of town
is the little village of Belem, pronounced be-LING for some reason. Belem is known for exactly two things. The second is the massive Monument of the
Discoveries, towering 170’ over the banks of the Tagus River. The shape suggests a sailing ship with Henry
the Navigator at the bow accompanied by 32 of his historical fellow Portuguese explorers. The courtyard floor depicts the sailing
adventures that resulted in Portugal’s global influence. As far as monuments go, it’s very well done
and very well presented.
The first most important thing about Belem, especially to a
man of my appetites, is the legendary pasteis, that 3” cup of flaky pastry filled
with a just-right-sweet custard that’s caramelized to perfection. Yes, we had them at least twice a day while
in Lisbon, but this town is supposed to be the mecca of pasteis, with Pasteis
de Belem being the high holy place.
We walk into the tiny storefront, see a few tables behind the counter
area and ask if there is seating available.
The host says there is no wait and we follow through not fewer than five
rooms of full tables. This maze just
keeps going and going. We come out into the
biggest space of all, a dining room with at least 40 more tables, almost all
full, and we are seated. Besides their
namesake treat, Pasteis de Belem is thankfully a full-service bakery and
restaurant, because we can only do so much sugar at breakfast. We pick tuna-and-hard-egg and ham-and-cheese
sandwiches, plus a few pastries back. The
sambos are comically large so we only finish half of them before we get to the
main event. They are right. It’s the little differences that make de
Belem king. The crunch of the pastry
is pleasantly audible from the table behind us.
The custard is just a little more flowing. The caramelized top just a bit more…
carameley.
Between the carb loading and the sugar crash, this is going
to be a challenging drive. We head out
on the highway for the 90-minute blast to our first beach stop of the day. The highways are well designed and well maintained,
and our little Renault is up to the task, even if I have to shift down to 4th
in the steeper slopes. My fellow drivers
are a good reflection of Portuguese values.
Orderly, respecting the rules and each other, always sliding right for
the faster car. By 10:45 we arrive in
Sines, a quaint, quiet beachside village in the center of Portugal’s west
coast. At least that’s what we think
until we get there. The bitty little berg
is just dominated by the battle scars of the oil industry. Our first stop is beautiful swatch of beach
whose ocean is dotted with oil tankers. We
drive the half mile to the lighthouse only to find it’s in the middle of a huge
tank field and captive behind high fence topped with concertina wire. The last mile or two into the center of town shows
us a few beaches that would be nice except for the fact that they’re surrounded
by oil docks, massive pipelines and more tank fields. The middle of the town is quaint, but smells
like raw crude. Among the industrial, we
do find the cutest, most feminine little café to caffeine up, but after that,
straight to the car.
Back on the coast road, south for another hour to Obeceixe (pronounced
we-DON’T-know). This is way more
what we are expecting… a tiny coastal village with a vibrant arts scene… but
definitely with its own personality. We
stop in a few of the local artist gallery shops before parking near the old
original village. Mandy picked this town
mostly because of Bar de Praia, the 6-table surfside café overlooking
the beach and their legendary Portuguese clams.
We open with a fresh tomato and goat cheese salad and a bottle of the cool,
refreshing house white. The tide is out so
the beach is nothing more than wide banks on either side of a shallow tidal
pool, perfect for the families with young children splashing around. One such British family, or at least the mom
and dad, pull up into the table behind us.
10 minutes later, their slightly panicky kids find them asking “where
were youuuuuu?” and received the parent
of the year reply “mummy needed a little drink”. Our clams definitely lived up to their reputation,
tiny, tender and bursting with flavor, and are adorned simply with a toast
heart. We linger a little longer
enjoying the fine weather and last drops of wine.
Walking down, we realize there is a lot more to this beach. It’s wide and beautiful, surrounded by rock
cliffs.
Continuing south, We make a brief stop at Bordeira, a
popular surf beach. The parking lot is
filled with ubiquitous surfer vans, a cross section of cargo vans, camper vans
and RVs, all in various states of decay from too many months of being lived
in. It’s a good sign that this place is
legit. The long boardwalk lands us on a
outcrop where we spend a bit of time watching the surfers ride the consistent
supply of 10’ breakers.
The coast drive is everything we had hoped for, sometimes
right along the water, other times a bit inland through everyday rural Portugal. We pull into Sagres, the southwest tip of Portugal
(and continental Europe for that matter) around 4pm. We park at the town’s famous fortress and make
our way inside. We pass the modern
lighthouse and make our way to the point itself, the place where Peter the
Navigator launched his expeditions. The emotions
of the explorer’s families who stood here waiting for their loved ones return –
hope, fear, anticipation, excitement – still hang heavy in this place. Their spirits wash over us as the sun gets
close to the ocean’s surface and the salty afternoon breezes blow through our
hair.
Dinner tonight is in Portimao. Near the marina, on the other side of the beach
road, just off Rue de Barca is a tiny little enclave of half a dozen restaurants
all featuring the traditional coastal fare of the country. The place we had originally planned seemed a
bit dark and serious inside, so, at the encouragement of a helpful barker, we
end up across the way at Restaurante Peixarada. The outside walls are all sliding glass
panels so we can sit inside and still feel like we’re outside on this cool,
misty night. We’re at the very end of
the tourist season and there is just one other table seated in the big
space. Like all restaurants here, as
soon as you sit down the bus person comes over and asks if you want bread,
cheese, and olives. You learn pretty
quickly that these accoutrements are not included “free” like in ‘Merica, but
they are inexpensive and indispensable.
Portuguese bread is among the finest in the world, and the cheese they
serve (like we would expect butter) is absolutely fantastic. Our mixed fish platter, selected from the
fresh fish case, of course, included bass, sea bream, tuna steaks and, of
course, sardines, and was simply and expertly prepared. Like most restaurants we have encountered,
there are only Portuguese wines on the menu and you really don’t want anything
else. Tonight we are offered a bottle
called Silk and Spice, a white blend of the 2023 vintage with a whopping 14€ price
tag. The more we drink Portuguese wine,
the more we like Portuguese wine. And Portuguese
people. And people in general.
It's been a very full day of exploring and we finally make our way to the Lagos Avenida Hotel in Lagos for our final resting place. It’s a swank place in a hip town. We’re greeted very warmly by a friendly desk clerk and we’re asleep before our heads hit the pillows.
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