It’s morning in Lisbon. I’ve just finished spooning grounds into the basket of a moka pot and am standing at the oven, click-click-clicking a lighter in a frantic race of flame against gas. Nearby, Sean is leaning out the window, hanging our clothes on the line. Our Airbnb host, Maria—the nicest woman in the country, I’ve come to suspect—started the washer for us when she got up for work. It’s only been a week, but salt crystals have already started forming on our t-shirts, so when Maria offered up her washing machine, we couldn’t say no.
After the coffee has percolated, Sean tips two mis-matched sugar packets—which appear to have been pilfered from one of the many cafes surrounding the apartment—into two mugs. I follow with the coffee and a splash of spelt milk from the fridge. (For a country that’s so animal-protein-happy, Portugal has been surprisingly friendly to my lactose intolerant spouse.)
Sean snaps two bananas from the bunch we bought at the grocery store yesterday, and I set a box of orange-flavored digestive wafers on the table. This is breakfast. It’s simple, but it’s cheap. And today, cheap is the chef’s special. We’re headed to Sintra, a one-time hideaway for Portugal’s rich and royal. Castles and estates are everywhere there, and even though each one costs 8€ per person (or more) to visit, they’re all can’t-miss.
We start at Pena Castle, the most iconic in Sintra. Bright yellow, candy red, and iridescent blue, it looks like a spectacular, Disney-inspired stack of DUPLO. Around every corner, there’s a grand terrace floating over the forest; through every archway, more battlements frosted white.
Next up: the Castle of the Moors, a tiny approximation of the Great Wall of China. This former military stronghold was sacked by Christian crusaders in the 12th century, and the weathered ramparts now wind romantically through a tangle of tall trees.
After a packed lunch of deli chicken and cheese by the lake, we have a decision to make: head back to the apartment early, or invest in one more castle. Our feet are already sore from two days marching up and down Lisbon’s hills, but the last castle on our list—Quinta da Regaleira—is the most intriguing. (“It’s the castle I’d build if I could,” Sean said. Visiting castles is kind of our thing, so Sean has very exacting standards.)
And Regaleira doesn’t disappoint. The grounds are the most intricate we’ve seen all day, with sloping paths, labyrinthine caves and grottos, and even a dry well with a passage to a waterfall at the bottom. And the castle lives up to Sean’s standards too, from Gothic turrets to Ludwig II-like whimsy. It’s the perfect finale to our day in Sintra.
It’s evening back in Lisbon. I check my phone as we’re getting off the train and see 84 flights of stairs climbed—a record for our time in Portugal so far. Exhausted and sore, we limp back to our local grocery store and pick up two pre-made salads (called “Americana,” presumably because they contain bacon) as well as bean soup and a bottle of Portuguese beer.
Hunched down over our bowls, neither of us say much as we shovel lettuce and broth into our mouths. Except this: “This is exactly what I needed tonight. This has been a good day.” Um bom dia.
What’s the first thing you think of when I say Colombia? Cocaine? Pablo Escobar? Narcos? FARC? Terrorism? That’s fair. But what if I told you everything you thought you knew about the country is wrong?