Tag Archives: History

Day 14 – from Condeixa to Coimbra: a full-on day

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Thursday 10 September 2026 – Long Post Alert!!!

Our destination today was the University city of Coimbra, some 20km away – about 5 hours’ walk. As before, we decided to leave very early so that we would mostly be walking before the worst heat of the day. As before, we got out of the hotel at around 0625 when, as before, they turned the streets lights off with a click at 0630, which meant photographing this statue gave rise to a less than satisfactory result.

Before we left for Portugal, I (as so many others) had been re-reading The Odyssey by Homer, with its frankly tedious repetitions about rosy fingered dawn. But you kind of get the idea when you see it for yourself.

We walked along the road out of Condeixa, past this house with its neat kitchen garden,

this impressively-tiled shrine,

and a goat

before reaching the outskirts of the small town of Cernache, where we passed a very engaging alojamento catering for pilgrims on their way either to Fatima or Santiago – Casa Amazonia. We first noticed the ducks  and geese

and then the place itself, which is remarkably architected.

One assumes it’s run by person or persons from South America, probably Brazil. Uniquely decorated, it was.

As we headed into the village, it seemed that the trail was going in every direction except the one we needed it to, which is, of course, northwards. At one stage we were squinting into the rising sun; at others it was behind us

and providing views across a countryside over which the sun had yet to burn away the overnight mist.

Walking into Cernache, we passed several instances where the scale of things seemed to have got out of kilter: a picnic table set up that would seat an entire banquet;

and a row of houses with enormously tall and thin doors.

We got to the town’s main drag

with a plan that said we would get coffee at a bar at the far end of the street. As we walked along, we saw a few people in yellow hi-vis tabards and Jane thought she saw the word “Fatima” written on the back of them. There were a couple outside our coffee stop

but that, it turns out, was because there wasn’t room inside for them because of all the other buggers in yellow hi-vis.

Bloody pilgrims, eh?

In the face of this queue we backtracked through the town to where I thought we’d seen another place open, and had coffee there, though their selection of pastry was limited. Even after we got going again, the town was still crawling with yellow hi-vis;

how they’re going to get on as a pilgrimage group that large is anybody’s guess, but good luck to them. I suppose.

After the town, our track went off the road

and on to a forestry track, which we followed for quite some distance. We passed a mystery object

which (if Google Lens is to be believed) is an air release valve, part of a water supply system that allows air that has built up in water pipes to be released to avoid blockage (just like bleeding a radiator). One area was lined with notices

announcing an area reserved for the training of hunting dogs. Apparently (according to ChatGPt, anyway) hunting is likely for anything from songbirds through wild rabbits to boar and deer, though I can’t see dogs being much help for hunting songbirds.

We followed an undulating path, occasionally rough underfoot,

and, as we got high in the hills, passed a lonely goatherd.

As we walked along, we could hear an unearthly grinding and squealing, which got louder and louder; but we could see no machinery that might be making such a noise. Eventually we sussed the source;

the anemometers on top of the pylon. I’ve never come across this before.

Emerging from the track onto the road, we had one of those inevitable Caminho-type route characteristics; if there’s a choice of route, the Caminho always goes uphill.

We toiled up the hill – one of several non-trivial and rather unexpected uphill pulls on the day – to get a nice view in the general direction of, but not including, Coimbra’s centre.

We had been quite high up and therefore now had to go down again (under, not on, the motorway, I’m glad to say) and we saw that there had once been an aqueduct, the Macomboa Aqueduct.

It seemed to me to be a commentary on modern life that The Powers That Be had prioritised the flow of traffic over the flow of water, but actually it never worked because of design errors, and was anyway partially destroyed by Napoleon’s troops, so cutting a road through it didn’t cause any ructions.  We walked close enough to get quite a good look at it.

before heading into the area called Santa Clara, where, after another couple of kilometres, we got our first clear view of the centre of Coimbra.

On our route down into Coimbra centre, we passed one of the City’s significant buildings that we particularly wanted to explore, the Mosteiro de Santa Clara-a-Nova, the new monastery of Santa Clara (to which the ill-fated aqueduct had originally been intended to supply water).

The old monastery had been founded in the early 14th century near the river Mondego by Queen Isabel of Portugal, wife of King Dinis I. The queen was greatly admired during and after her life for her pious and generous nature, and was canonised in the 17th century. Queen/Saint Isabel was a great admirer of Santa Clara (who was inspired by St. Francis of Assisi and who founded the “Poor Clares”, a mendicant order of nuns who lived in extreme poverty and almost complete isolation), and hence dedicated the monastery to Santa Clara. Unfortunately the monastery was prone to flooding, being too near the river; a new monastery was built in the 17th and 18th Century to replace the old one, and all the nuns as well as the Gothic tombs of Queen Elizabeth and other royal princesses were transferred to the new monastery, therefore called “Santa Clara-a-Nova”.

All this history was vouchsafed to us by a nice young man who gave us a short, erm, briefing about the place once we’d bought tickets. Inside, the place is very impressive, albeit not well lit.

At the altar end is a statue of Santa Clara and the silver tomb constructed for Queen Isabel.

The silver tomb contains her “uncorrupted” body, transferred from her original stone tomb, which is also housed in the building.

Along the side of the tomb we see above are representations of kings and queens; on the other, of Poor Clares. There’s a reliquary containing various pieces, including a pendant

which contains a hair from the Queen.

The monastery also has a very fine cloister.

Moving on from the new monastery towards the city centre, we passed the ruins of the old one.

Ironically, the crane you can see apparently poking out of its roof is actually on the site of the new monastery.

To get to the city centre, one crosses the river Mondego, and this gives a very fine view of the university hill.

We would get to the university later in the day, but first we had to get to our hotel, via a few Things To See.

We passed many handsome buildings as we headed for our hotel,

a couple of significant murals,

and the church of Santiago,

which, despite its imposing façade, is very plain inside.

Another very imposing building is the Santa Cruz monastery.

inside which is some very impressive tiling

and an even more impressive organ. No sniggering at the back there!

In the main chapel at the far end

lie the tombs of the first two kings of Portugal. One can get close to them by paying €5 and entering via the Sacristy, which now does service as an art gallery.

Out the back is another very fine cloister.

whose walls feature some lovely tiling.

Having spent time in these fine buildings, we hied ourselves to our hotel in time for the Assignation I mentioned in my previous entry. This was with a lady, Jessica, with whom I worked in my days as a Tech PR flack, and who has now moved to live in Portugal. It was lovely to meet her again and catch up, and also to be the beneficiaries of her special powers: she knows where to buy Twinings finest Earl Grey tea, something that has been beyond us ever since we arrived in Portugal. The lovely lady brought many, many teabags with her, possibly even enough to see us out for the rest of our time in the Iberian peninsula. A wonderful side-effect of a very pleasant re-encounter.

Jessica sadly had to leave us after only an hour or so, but our time in Coimbra was not done, oh dear me no. We still had to go and explore the University, which has a significant history.

Coimbra is one of Portugal’s oldest cities. It was an important Roman settlement (Aeminium), later became a Moorish stronghold, and after the Christian Reconquest in 1064 grew into a major medieval city – it even served as Portugal’s capital in the 12th–13th centuries.
Its university was founded in 1290 as the Estudo Geral (“General Study”), by royal charter of King Dinis – initially based in Lisbon, not Coimbra. Over the next two centuries it shuttled back and forth between the two cities four times (the name stayed the same throughout; only its location changed) before finally settling permanently in Coimbra in 1537, based in the old royal palace on the hill above the city. It became the country’s only university for centuries and a center of Portuguese intellectual and legal life, with a distinctive academic culture (black capes, fado de Coimbra, and its own traditions separate from Lisbon’s). The historic campus and library (the ornate Joanina Library) were named a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2013.

Operative words in that description are “hill” and “above”, so we steeled ourselves for something of a climb. And, I have to say, it’s a bugger. You toil a way up a steep street, and then have to climb 114 really very chunky steps. The, ogh goodness me, a little more walking up a steep street and

another 77 of the bloody things. We had to get to the top of these by 6pm, as this was our timed entry into the hallowed halls of The Library, which is the only part of the university which imposes this restriction. We waited a few minutes outside, and then were allowed inside to… wait a little more. The rooms we waited in were part of the University Prison – at one time it ran its own judiciary. The we were let into the Intermediate Floor which features – surprise! – a lot of books.

The final stage of this rather po-faced exercise was to let us in – ten minutes only! – to the Noble Floor, with a strict verboten on taking photos or video. Absolutely not, you inderstand?

It’s very opulently appointed (although badly lit, hence the poor quality of the photos above) and I suppose is quite impressive, although I couldn’t, obvs, spend time with carefully composed shots to show you. The stricture on taking photos really annoyed me, as I could see no good reason for it – our time slot was for only a small group so it’s not as if there would be a forest of selfie sticks and mobile phones. That’s why I thought “sod ’em” and took a couple of illicit shots – and I was not the only one doing this, by the way.

Apparently bats live in some hidden nook or other on this floor and are welcome, as they control insects which would otherwise damage the books. Before the bats come out at night, cloth has to be laid on all the tables for their protection. The tables, not the bats.

One exits from the Library visit on to the main square.

and thence you can visit other parts of the University, if you have bought entry tickets, which, of course, Jane had ensured we had with us. The first room we visited was St. Michael’s Chapel, which one enters by knocking on the door and waiting to be let in. But it’s worth it.

There’s another stupendous organ (hush, now!) and a remarkable Eucharistic Throne.

It’s also possible to step inside the Royal Palace to see rooms such as the Armoury

and the Great Hall of Acts

which used to be the throne room of the Royal Palace and is now the scene for a variety of high academic processes. Its ceiling, like so many we’ve seen today, is astonishing.

The route back down from the Royal Palace to the main square takes one past a handy view of the city’s fortress cathedral

which time didn’t permit us to see inside; but we reackon we’d given the major buildings of the city centre a pretty good showing, so hightailed it back to the hotel…

… in time to go straight to bed, because we needed to make another early start the next day to, once again, beat the heat. But I’ve taken up quite enough of your time for the moment, so I’ll tell you all about the next leg of our Caminho some other time.

 

 

Day 13 – From Zambujal to Condeixa: Roman in the gloamin’

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Wednesday 9 September 2026 – Despite the weather forecasts, I was in for a bit of a surprise as we opened our door to go round to the house for breakfast. It was drizzling! The Met Office had opined that any drizzle should have stopped by then, and Accuweather stoutly maintained that there was 0% chance of precipitation. Anyway, the reality was low cloud and a light drizzle to greet us. Lara had laid out breakfast for us, with the usual fodder – yoghurt, granola, bread – and also some blueberry jam that had been made by her father, who apparently spends a lot of time making jam and sends a lot of it over to her from his home in northern Portugal. In general conversation, the subject of Marmite came up and, to my delight, she actually had some! She confessed that she didn’t know how to use it, so we were able to do a bit of cross-cultural information exchange, and got Marmite on toast out of it, which was a good start to the day.

We only had a dozen or so kilometres to cover today, so were able to start out relatively late, meaning in daylight, albeit in the remnants of the drizzle and low cloud.

The Caminho led us along the Rua de Santiago

past the church which had been the souce of the carillon we’d been regaled with the previous day.

Was that an image of Sant Iago himself to the left of the cross?

Nope. To our delight, it “struck” 8 as we passed by (despite the clock showing seven minutes past twelve), so we could listen once more, spellbound, to the tune that was belted out of the loudspeaker you can see in the photo above.

The road soon became track, leading past olive groves

and other crops, which in some cases appear to have been abandoned.

After about half an hour, we came to an arresting sight by the path,

which led not to an “authentic pilgrim experience” (to quote James Nesbitt’s character in the Camino film “The Way”), but to an experience with an authentic pilgrim. It turned out to be part of a pilgrim garden, Refúgio das Cabaças, the site where three pilgrims had made their permanent home and opened up the site for passing souls,

offering refreshments for a donativo.

On the site they had built a chapel, dedicated to Saint Jacinta,

and many other diverting pieces of decor

and an idea of what we still had to cover.

We treated ourselves to a coffee and a look round, and, when we went to say thank you and goodbye, one of the site’s pilgrims came out of his hut and read us some blessing text, which was sweet of him – and then said he would accompany us some way along the Caminho, as he needed to stretch his legs!

We had his company (and that of his dog) for the next half hour, as he pointed out various things beside the road as we walked: a shrine to Sant Iago

which he said was Spanish and inauthentic, as hats hadn’t been invented when the saint was around; the spiritual power of reversed numbers above lintels

to protect the inhabitants against evil spirits; an azulejo

bearing a reproduction of a picture painted by Pier Maria Baldi in 1669, marking the time members of the famous Medici family from Italy walked the Caminho.

He had been living at the site since 2019, having decided that he needed to step away from the snares and delusions of his previous life (we never found out exactly what that was – might he have been a corporate man?).

He greeted people as we went by, so was clearly a well-known presence. After a while it began to get a bit weird, as he started becoming more and more philosophical – and really in a calm way – about the errors of humanity and particularly Muslims. Jane, who has some knowledge of the Christian canon, did a marvellous job of engaging with him and indulging him in his more trenchant comments.

The trail left the road for a track which was quite narrow at times,

passed a litter of terminally cute puppies

and eventually led past a tiny hamlet, where he took his leave of us with another blessing.

A remarkable interlude.

By this stage we were only an hour or so away from Condeixa and so we carried on, along a forestry trail where it was clear that Eucalyptus were making a takeover bid.

It didn’t look like a planned planting, but there were plenty of the trees around, including some quite mature ones. Some of them had done that appealingly colourful peeling of the bark that we’d seen in Australia.

At one point we could see Condeixa

before plunging down a path that meant, of course, that we would have to, erm, plunge back up again.

This took us to the day’s main Thing To Do: explore the Roman ruins of Conimbriga, one of Portugal’s largest and most spectacularly preserved Roman settlements. Originally a Celtic hill-fort dating back to the 9th century BC, it was occupied by Roman troops in 139 BC and flourished under Emperor Augustus into a wealthy urban center complete with a forum, baths, an amphitheatre, and opulent aristocratic villas famous for their vibrant, intact mosaics. As the Western Roman Empire collapsed, the city built massive defensive walls, but it was ultimately ransacked by Germanic Suevi invaders in 468 AD, forcing its citizens to flee to nearby Aeminium (modern-day Coimbra). Archaeological interest began in 1873, and the site was declared a National Monument in 1910. Large-scale, systematic excavations launched in 1929, leading to the preservation of its world-class mosaics and the establishment of the on-site National Museum. Remarkably, despite over a century of study, only about 10 percent of Conímbriga has been excavated, leaving the vast majority of the ancient city still buried. Surrounding private land continues to be acquired by the state to broaden the search and launch new exploratory excavations.

We bought tickets – a bargain at €5 each for old people – and (after taking coffee at the handy site café, of course) walked around the site, which is quite extensive.

As you go in, at first blush it looks just like yer average Roman ruins,

but then you see your first mosaic and (if you have any soul) are captivated. The mosaics are phenomenal!

I don’t know the extent to which these have survived or been restored, but, whatever, the sight is amazing.

The buildings themselves are mere remnants of what there once was, like the forum

an aqueduct,

and the private houses. There are two striking examples. One is the house of Cantaber, an important aristocrat of Conímbriga in the 5th century, which is the biggest private residence in the city, with an area of 35090 square feet – 3260 square metres, about three-quarters of an acre, which is a substantial size for a house. It was built in the last quarter of the first century;

above is about the middle third of this huge house.

Another remarkable house is under cover, and is called the House of Fountains.

Again, the mosaics in this house are wonderful to see.

There is also a museum on site, which has a vast array of implements and accoutrements that have come to light in the excavation. It also has a model which shows how astonishing the Forum and its associated Basilica would have been.

I’ve attempted to put together a video which gives an idea of the sweep of the place and the extent of the mosaics.

We spent well over an hour on the site, and it was time well spent. When we left, we discovered that the grey skies and low cloud had cleared, the sun was shining – and it was beginning to get quite warm. All we then had to do was to get ourselves the relatively short distance to our hotel, which we managed with only one minor Map-Reality disconnect. We walked into Condeixa past the town hall

with its Manueline pillory.

Next door is a church, the Igreja de Santa Cristina

which has some decorative tiling on its spire

and in its calm interior

a low-key Eucharistic Throne?

We soon arrived at our hotel, the very posh Conimbriga Hotel do Paço,

where our room wasn’t yet available, but a Nice Lunch in the restaurant was. After lunch we ensconced ourselves in our room for the rest of the day to relax, gather ourselves and plan for the morrow.

Tomorrow’s destination is Coimbra, “the Oxford of Portugal”, which has an impressive University presence among its other attractions. It’s going to be a busy day, and a hot one, so we will probably set out early to cover as much of the ground as we can as early as we can. We also have An Assignation, but you’ll have to read the next entry to find out about that.

 

 

Sintra’s interesting

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Tuesday 25 August 2026 et seq – Long Post Alert!

Sintra is a bonkers place, you can tell as soon as you step off the train and walk past the ticket office in the station.

I began to get a sense of artistic overload as we made the short journey from the station to our hotel, which has a bonkers sort of name – the Bliss Hotel. However, despite the rather fey name, it’s actually a modern, well-organised place and the friendly receptionist had us booked in and into our room in short order. It’s a comfortable room and, being modern, is rather better laid out than the room we had in Lisbon, albeit without a fridge for the milk.

It was late afternoon and the weather was good (which was more than could be said for the morrow’s prospects), which meant that it was time to go for a walk. Obviously. So we set out for a look around and to find a bite to eat, and the full force of Sintra’s bonkersness became clear as we walked around. Here, for example, are the buildings next to our hotel.

and opposite them we see this.

The Town Hall is simply wonderful, with overtones of Gaudi (and it’s very own rollo*),

and looking up across the strikingly unusual buildings to the Moorish Castle on the far hillside

gave me powerful sense of déjà vu – the perspective reminded me strongly of the forced perspective one sees in Portmeirion. It’s a delight for the senses. The constant sense of something unusual going on comes, I think, from its very unusual background. Sintra’s history spans from Neolithic times via Moorish rule in the 8th century through the 1147 Christian conquest, after which it became a royal retreat. In the 19th century, King Ferdinand II transformed Sintra into Europe’s first center of Romantic architecture, blending Gothic, Egyptian, and Moorish styles into UNESCO-listed palaces. It’s this mish-mash of architecture, combined with the Portuguese flair for colourful decoration, that makes the place so striking, I think. And this is before we’ve seen even one palace!

Jane’s instinct for finding a decent place for a bite to eat led us unerringly to the Sintra Terrace restaurant,

which gave us a very fine meal with a very fine view.

Actually, it wasn’t quite unerring, as the map of Sintra gives one absolutely no idea about how complicated the village is, because it’s steeply arrayed up the side of a hill (the one with the Moorish Castle at the top). But we found it eventually, and then, refreshed, went for a potter around. I suppose Sintra is officially a town, but the locals refer to it as a village, and it has a lot of little villagey nooks and crannies as you walk around,

and lots of narrow streets,

with, it has to be said, lots of tourists.

The walk from the hotel to the centre of the village takes one past what I roguishly labelled a Moorish bus shelter

but which is actually a fountain, and a very striking one at that. One also passes a bewildering array of occasionally bizarre sculptures, which apparently get changed quite frequently;

there’s a sculpture park in the depths of the greenery you can see behind these examples. The village, even on a Tuesday evening, is a buzzy place,

and we got a first glimpse of one of the three (bonkers) palaces for which Sintra is well known.

This is the National Palace, and Carlos was to be on hand to take us around it the next day. It was good to have had the chance for a wander around the village in nice weather, because we were by no means sure what we’d be faced with the next day.

Accordingly, we met Carlos at 10am and went out – into lashing rain. We walked along to the village and when Carlos suggested that we stop for a coffee and a traditional Sintra take on the pastel de nata, called a queijada, we acceded easily. There are a few places in the village which speciaise in these local pastries,

and so we had some delicious bites to eat with a coffee,

whilst Carlos gave us some background to Sintra and the things we could expect to see.

Our first stop was the National Palace. Carlos managed to get us in in front of a queue of several dozen in a tour group, and we wandered through the palace, which is a very palacey sort of palace,

with palacey rooms a-plenty.

To quote from its website, “The current Palace of Sintra emerges out of many royal palaces. This is a set of buildings that were constructed, added and adapted over the course of many centuries with the actual date of the founding of the country’s oldest palace a question that still remains to be resolved. In all likelihood, the first building was constructed in around the 10th or 11th century when Sintra was under Moorish rule. At the end of the Middle Ages, the Palace of Sintra was at the heart of a large territory under the care of the Queens of Portugal while also one of the preferred destinations for Portuguese monarchs. The abundance of hunting in the region, the freshness of the climate during the summer months and the need to take refuge during periods of plague in the capital all contributed to turning the Palace of Sintra into a regular destination.”

The walk through the rooms features some panels where actors interpret the monarchs – particularly the queens, who were often very powerful and forceful people – and other key people involved in the history of the palace and the country. It’s an interesting tour, and there are several arresting sights, such as the Swan Room.

with its wonderful hand-painted ceiling.

It was used as a Great Hall of the Palace from the time of King João I and Queen Philippa of Lancaster. Its name derives, you’ll be surprised to learn, from the decoration on the ceiling panels with their date of execution unknown but believed to have been in the 14th century when Sintra, as part of the Queens’ Lands, was under the direct administration of Queen Philippa; the swan with a crown was an emblem deployed by Henry IV of England, her brother.

Another striking ceiling can be found in the antechamber of King João l; this second room of the king’s apartments, next to his bedchamber, was used for royal audiences.

This room, again you’ll be staggered to learn, is called the Magpie Room – the magpie and the motto “Por Bem” (for Good) being emblems used by King João.

Generally speaking, the Palace gives good ceiling. This is another example, the Galley Room.

Commissioned by King John Il (1502-1557), this room, possibly a gallery, connected his apartments with the north-west wing of the Palace. The ceiling, featuring ships from Portugal, the Ottoman Empire, and the Netherlands, dates back to the 17th century.

The best ceiling, though, can be found in the most striking room in the Palace, the Heraldic Hall.

Here’s as much of the ceiling as I could fit into a shot.

The Heraldic Hall is the ultimate expression of the monarchical ideal of King Manuel 1 (1469-1521). By placing his coat of arms at the top of the dome King Manuel I positioned himself as the centre and pinnacle of a society that was hierarchical yet interdependent: his authority relied on the nobility – represented here by 72 coats of arms of the most prominent families – who, in turn, received their social distinction from the king. King Manuel highlights his own lineage by displaying his descendants through the coats of arms of his eight sons and daughters (the latter with half a shield, awaiting marriage to complete it).

We passed evidence of restoration work being carried out in the palace

and our final port of call was the kitchen, the part of the building sporting the Palace’s two bonkers chimneys.

If you’re going to do a chicken brick, do it properly; that’s the way!

We exited through the shop, with its wonderful retail offerings,

and Carlos took us to another of those bakeries for some more queijadas. This was one of the original bakeries in the village – Piriquita means little canary, which was the nickname of the founder whose family still run the business today.

It’s dead popular.

We sampled a further variety of typical Sintra pastries and then Carlos took his leave of us, having made sure we knew how to find our next destination – a mansion house and its grounds called Quinta da Regaleira. Unsurprisingly, this being Sintra, it’s bonkers.

The estate was bought in the late 1800s by António Augusto de Carvalho Monteiro, an eccentric and wealthy Portuguese businessman who had amassed a fortune in Brazil. He worked with the Italian architect and theatrical stage designer Luigi Manini. To quote the website, “The culture and creativity of these two personalities resulted in an eclectic-revivalist architectural ensemble, with a particular focus on the Manueline, Renaissance, Medieval and Classical styles.” To quote the BBC, “Quinta da Regaleira is a postcard-perfect mix of Gothic, Egyptian, Moorish and Renaissance architecture.” Between 1904 and 1910 the two of them created a property brimming with pagan and Christian symbolism. Bonkers, in other words.

Carvalho Monteiro had a deep interest in – and was quite possibly an initiate of – the Knights Templar, a Catholic military order with roots dating to the early 12th Century. And one of the features in the gardens of the manor house was something that Jane knew about and particularly wanted to see – the Initiation Well. This was what we first headed for – or we would have, had the map they gave us at the ticket office been any use. But it was spectacularly useless. Fortunately there were occasional signposts and we got there in the end. There are actually two such structures, but one of them is unfinished.

We could see people at the bottom, and wondered how to get there, but in the interim headed for the main one, which was detectable because there was a queue. One walks down a spiral of stone stairs;

it gets darker and darker towards the bottom, and a tunnel leads away from it, branching into other tunnels – there is some modern lighting to relieve utter darkness. And one of the branching tunnels leads to the bottom the unfinished well,

so now we know how the people got there. The exit from the tunnels is by a waterfall.

The purpose of this bizarre construction? Again according to the BBC, it is believed that Templar initiations at Quinta da Regaleira began with candidates entering the Initiation Well blindfolded. Holding a sword close to their heart, they would descend nine flights of stairs – a number that represents the nine founders of the Templar order. Once reaching the bottom of the well, the candidate would walk into a dark labyrinth where they would symbolically and literally have to find their way up towards the light. If they were able to make it back (without straying into the incomplete Well) to emerge into the sunlight by the waterfall, initiates would walk across stones in the water to reach the chapel, where they would then be welcomed into the brotherhood.

Bonkers.

Here are a few photos of some of the other corners of the gardens, to give you an idea of its architectural range.

The last building there is the chapel, and I took a peek inside.

Both its inside and outside feature the extreme detailing that is typical of the Manueline style, named for King Manuel I, in whose reign the style was developed.

The chapel is a neighbour to the manor house itself.

We looked in, and there were several more Manueline flourishes

but there wasn’t much else to detain us; and anyway we had another place we needed to be, so we headed out.

That other place was the Moorish Castle, dating from the 8th and 9th Centuries, which, as I’ve said before, is at the top of the hill. So we started up

and up

and, long story short, got to the top of the ramparts.

En route (apart from having to buy tickets to get in), we passed great views over Sintra

of the castle itself,

and even of Lisbon in the distance,

but the prize we were after was a view of another Palace, the Pena Palace, whose architecture is, you’ve guessed it, bonkers.

The Moorish castle itself held little of interest – it was badly damaged during the 1755 earthquake, so, having got the photo we’d come all this way to capture, we headed back down towards the village. The signage we encountered was exceedingly confusing, and pointed us in several different directions, but we managed to get back to Sintra by the fairly simple expedient of simply heading downhill. We got back to the village in fair need of a G&T and providence stepped in for us; no sooner had we been served our drinks than the heavens opened. If we’d been five minutes later getting down from the castle we’d have been drenched.

All in all, it has been an excellent 24 Hours in Sintra. We are due back in Lisbon on the morrow, but plan A says we might have a go at visiting the Pena Palace first. So come back soon to find out whether that particular plan came together.

* Actually not a rollo, which is a Spanish thing we saw a lot of on our Camino Francés, but a pelhourinho, a pillory – a a stone column, or less frequently a wooden one, erected in a public place, next to which criminals were exposed and punished. So similar in principle to a rollo, then.