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Yes, I'm tempting fate again by appending 'part one' to the title of a post, but append and be unfinished, I say.
( The journey )
The first day - from the point of view of me and Pellegrina - was spent with a large group of TS and SocT people at Sintra, a town of dramatic contours, lush foliage and palaces. By the time Pellegrina and I arrived, late on Thursday evening, the Palacio da Pena had already been identified as the target for the day by those who were already there, and it was a decision I was happy to fall in with. Interaction with the locals ended up being delegated largely to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
na_lon that day, on the basis that she is tall, announces that she has made her mind up, and I suspect because the British majority in the party might assume that as she is German she is better at interpreting the ways of stray Britons to the Portuguese, and vice versa. It was at the top of one of Sintra's many hills, and was about an hour and a half's steep walk from the station. Not for the last time, I began to wish that I had brought my walking shoes and invested in some more practical clothing other than an outfit which has been characterised as that of an Englishman abroad. My shoes were fairly sturdy but by the end of the climb to the palace had cracks in the soles, though these didn't get any worse during the rest of the week.
( Let's go! says Na_Lon. )
Apart from the toll on my footwear, the walk was worth it. The views from the road and then the path as it curved round the hills of Sintra, looking either inland or out and up the coast, were exhilarating and confirmed to my inner, jaded and landlocked self that I was in another, maritime country at a more southerly latitude. The sun shone bright, the sea and sky were a radiant blue, the leaves a rich green. The route to the palace was full of historical associations. We passed a house in which Hans Christian Andersen had lived at one point, just one of many authors, Portuguese and non-Portuguese, to have lived in Sintra. Once within the park walls, there were fragments of earlier fortifications to pass by, and even a Moorish grain silo. I didn't get to visit the Moorish castle, but perhaps will on another occasion. After over an hour we reached the palace, and were greeted by waves from members of the taxi party, includingskordh, jane_somebody and of course the noble and mighty prince_eldarion.
The Palacio da Pena itself has been compared to the fantasies of Ludwig II of Bavaria. It was a conversion from a ruined monastery, and the new building was designed by Baron von Eschwege, a German architect, on the orders of Maria II and Fernando II of Portugal. Fernando was born Prince Ferdinand of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, was the first cousin of Prince Albert the British Prince Consort, and the nephew of King Leopold I of the Belgians. He was styled king after successfully fathering an heir to the Portuguese throne. He shared the family ambition to make their mark in Europe, but albert and Leopold were more tasteful. The Palacio's design was intended to blend German and Portuguese styles to mark the union of the Coburg and Braganca dynasties, and has done so in a way that anticipated Portmeirion. One kept looking out for people with pennyfarthing badges and Rover bouncing around looking for dissenters to smother. Portuguese royal iconography was more prevalent, including Triton, whose fishtail feet and tree-bearing shoulders presumably symbolise the Portuguese monarch's dominion over sea and land.
Pena was a summer palace with accommodation for the royal family and their innermost circle of courtiers. I think the rooms that made most impression on me were the chambers of the last king, Manuel II, an unmarried king who at the time of his deposition in 1910 does not seem to have moved into the more regular and larger suite used by his father Carlos (assassinated in 1908) and mother Amelia, and the kitchen, which could produce a few SocT banquets simultaneously. Unsurprisingly really, the menu on display was written in French, but it was somehow a bit jarring to see a French menu in Portugal. Then, back to the hotel by train to Cacem and bus to Porto Salvo, via Taguspark, where Microsoft have their Portuguese HQ.
After the palace we returned to Sintra town for a late lunch. Cafe Bristol, as it name suggests, was English-speaking tourist friendly and did generous portions compared to what one would receive for the price in the UK. Pellegrina ordered a substantial dish of cream-baked cod, another of the party was confronted by a prodigious slice of salmon, and I began on my first vegetable omelette of the week. This seems to be the default vegetarian option, where there is one, thoughthe_marquis managed some sort of combination of fried items. Eating out at Sintra helped make up for the hotel's lack of a restaurant for evening meals, as did their folder of takeaways options. I became a consumer of cheese pizza.
More photos here - and more to follow on Photobucket and at www.vingilot.org in due course.
( The journey )
The first day - from the point of view of me and Pellegrina - was spent with a large group of TS and SocT people at Sintra, a town of dramatic contours, lush foliage and palaces. By the time Pellegrina and I arrived, late on Thursday evening, the Palacio da Pena had already been identified as the target for the day by those who were already there, and it was a decision I was happy to fall in with. Interaction with the locals ended up being delegated largely to
na_lon that day, on the basis that she is tall, announces that she has made her mind up, and I suspect because the British majority in the party might assume that as she is German she is better at interpreting the ways of stray Britons to the Portuguese, and vice versa. It was at the top of one of Sintra's many hills, and was about an hour and a half's steep walk from the station. Not for the last time, I began to wish that I had brought my walking shoes and invested in some more practical clothing other than an outfit which has been characterised as that of an Englishman abroad. My shoes were fairly sturdy but by the end of the climb to the palace had cracks in the soles, though these didn't get any worse during the rest of the week.( Let's go! says Na_Lon. )
Apart from the toll on my footwear, the walk was worth it. The views from the road and then the path as it curved round the hills of Sintra, looking either inland or out and up the coast, were exhilarating and confirmed to my inner, jaded and landlocked self that I was in another, maritime country at a more southerly latitude. The sun shone bright, the sea and sky were a radiant blue, the leaves a rich green. The route to the palace was full of historical associations. We passed a house in which Hans Christian Andersen had lived at one point, just one of many authors, Portuguese and non-Portuguese, to have lived in Sintra. Once within the park walls, there were fragments of earlier fortifications to pass by, and even a Moorish grain silo. I didn't get to visit the Moorish castle, but perhaps will on another occasion. After over an hour we reached the palace, and were greeted by waves from members of the taxi party, including
skordh, jane_somebody and of course the noble and mighty prince_eldarion.The Palacio da Pena itself has been compared to the fantasies of Ludwig II of Bavaria. It was a conversion from a ruined monastery, and the new building was designed by Baron von Eschwege, a German architect, on the orders of Maria II and Fernando II of Portugal. Fernando was born Prince Ferdinand of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, was the first cousin of Prince Albert the British Prince Consort, and the nephew of King Leopold I of the Belgians. He was styled king after successfully fathering an heir to the Portuguese throne. He shared the family ambition to make their mark in Europe, but albert and Leopold were more tasteful. The Palacio's design was intended to blend German and Portuguese styles to mark the union of the Coburg and Braganca dynasties, and has done so in a way that anticipated Portmeirion. One kept looking out for people with pennyfarthing badges and Rover bouncing around looking for dissenters to smother. Portuguese royal iconography was more prevalent, including Triton, whose fishtail feet and tree-bearing shoulders presumably symbolise the Portuguese monarch's dominion over sea and land.
Pena was a summer palace with accommodation for the royal family and their innermost circle of courtiers. I think the rooms that made most impression on me were the chambers of the last king, Manuel II, an unmarried king who at the time of his deposition in 1910 does not seem to have moved into the more regular and larger suite used by his father Carlos (assassinated in 1908) and mother Amelia, and the kitchen, which could produce a few SocT banquets simultaneously. Unsurprisingly really, the menu on display was written in French, but it was somehow a bit jarring to see a French menu in Portugal. Then, back to the hotel by train to Cacem and bus to Porto Salvo, via Taguspark, where Microsoft have their Portuguese HQ.
After the palace we returned to Sintra town for a late lunch. Cafe Bristol, as it name suggests, was English-speaking tourist friendly and did generous portions compared to what one would receive for the price in the UK. Pellegrina ordered a substantial dish of cream-baked cod, another of the party was confronted by a prodigious slice of salmon, and I began on my first vegetable omelette of the week. This seems to be the default vegetarian option, where there is one, though
the_marquis managed some sort of combination of fried items. Eating out at Sintra helped make up for the hotel's lack of a restaurant for evening meals, as did their folder of takeaways options. I became a consumer of cheese pizza.More photos here - and more to follow on Photobucket and at www.vingilot.org in due course.
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