DECEMBER 8 - 12, 2001: Onward we go into Portugal, stopping first in Tavira for lunch. We do this partly because our Lonely Planet guidebook calls this particular restaurant "excellent". That might not sound so special, but Lonely Planet, published by (and mostly for) Brits, is the only guide we have ever seen that describes food in terms of economic, not gastronomic, benefits. After weeks of "great value portions," "budget-conscious fare," "pleasant decor at the price," "simple but filling meals," etc., we are so surprised to find a superlative referring to quality, we figure we can't pass it up. And guess what? It's pretty good. 

Driving still, after Tavira we head to Sagres, the most southeastern point in continental Europe. It is beautiful, but cold; the cliffs perched hundreds of feet above the sea and very exposed to the winds. With pretty much all the hotels nearby closed, we head on to Lagos for the night. Lagos is a larger town, with a beach feel and a number of small pedestrian streets. It has a nice, dropped - out - of - the - rat - race - because - hell, - even - the - winners - are - rats feel. And there is Mullen's: a pleasant bar run by a group of Scotsman, with their Portuguese wives/partners and children scooting around the bar speaking most sentences in a shifting, slightly-Scottish-accented dance of language. It also has very good food. And this being Portugal, (as Lonely Planet would say) it is economically fulfilling. And you can smell a bit of the sea air. I decide that, should I ever become a fugitive from justice, you all can find me at Mullen's, drinking Guinness. It's that type of place. 

After Lagos we drive on to Sintra, and a pleasant country inn. We get in about 2pm, and want to rush to grab a bite to eat and see the Pena Palace, so we drop off our passports at the desk and our bags in the room and rush out. Nearing the center of town, along a row of parked cars we see a space opening up. We grab it: ten feet from the big P (for parking) sign and steps from town. We go to eat. And return. And there are three policeman waiting by the row of cars (half depleted) when we come back. And there is a little slip on the windshield. We figure at worst we have to pay a ticket. But no, the police, once we have approached our car, scream into action: running the 50 feet down to us, they want to see our "papers." Our passports are at the hotel, Heather's drivers license is in her bag, and my drivers license is at some moped rental place in Greece (we think). It looks as though my plans to disappear into Lagos as a fugitive will have to be amended if I am a fugitive from nearby Sintra. We start explaining. We try to point out that, yes it is our car but as it is presently parked we don't actually need a driving license to be standing here and if you will just take the ticket cost in CASH (hint hint) we can go to the hotel and get our "papers" and continue to be guests spending our money in your beautiful country. It doesn't go well. 

So we end up with my accompanying two of the policeman to the station, with Heather following (apparently the need-driving-license-to-drive-car bit is flexible). From there more talking. Finally I am, once again under police escort, taken to the Hotel to get our papers. On the way we pass the offending parking strip, where I see another tourist couple looking in disbelief at the policeman with their "papers" spread over the hood of their rental car. And the return to the police station. And the lecture (for the third time) about why one should always carry papers with you. And lots of documents. And our fine, after all that, is about $16 and we are allowed to leave. Driving back, we once again pass the offending parking strip. It is completely full of cars again, with the police nowhere in sight. An early retirement to Mullen's averted, we visit the Pena Palace, which is a bizarre but enticing collection of styles and furniture: classical, Spanish antique and Moorish mixed together, but breathtaking, in the "glad-it´s-not-mine" kind of way. And we are in paid parking. 

Sintra to Lisbon, the skies have turned gray with a hint of rain. We take a hotel just on the main square (the Rossio). Yes, again, paid parking in a garage. Lisbon, even in gray, is striking: a low city with stunning large classic buildings along the square. We climb up into Barrio Alto, which is full of small cafes, and neat shops, and find a tile store with ceramic tiles from as far back as the 16th Century. The next day we go to the Tile Museum, which is fascinating. It starts out very through and informative, with vast collections of tiles. Once we hit the 20th century however, there isn't much -- it is as if the museum ran out of money and had to do the last bit on a shoestring. We also get a little lost trying to find a restaurant, and as we are getting a little tired of the "traditional" Spanish and Portuguese fare, we end up at King of Chicken, wonderful roasted bird, and yes for you brits, economical. 

The second day we manage to tour the city a bit (partly by just jumping on a bus that appeared to be going in the correct direction before it did a 180 -- our Portuguese makes our Spanish seem scholarly). It rains a bit, but we end up in some funky cafes, bars and a restaurant in Barrio Alto. Interestingly, every third block or so has a small music store, with a variety of frantic beats emerging. We really enjoy Lisbon. This is slightly dampened by the parking garage, which, it turns out, is about $30 per day. We would have been better off with tickets. 

We drive first to Evoric, to see the Chapel of Bones, which is not listed in the guidebooks. It is a mesmerizing and ghoulish sight -- the chapel is constructed with cement holding together bones, with skulls for ornamentation. Thousands and thousands of bones. Both eerie and yet very striking, almost reverential. One feels very starkly human. From there we head to Monsarez, a classic and charming hillside town, and without a bone in sight. A summer town however, it is deserted. We do a quick tour of the castle and marvel at the view. Just as it starts to rain. We manage to find an open restaurant for lunch, when the other couple leaves we have it to ourselves, and there is not much heat. By the end of the meal we can see our breadth. Back to Spain.

on to spain again...