Thursday 27 August 2026 – Our original plan had been to scarper back to Lisbon fairly sharply today with the idea to visit Belém, a suburb which features a Manueline Monastery, a Tower and, importantly, a pie shop. However, Carlos told us that the monastery was to a certain extent shrounded in scaffolding which somewhat dimmed our enthusiasm for the jaunt. In any case, Jane had been looking at photos of the Pena Palace, showing facets that were not well-displayed in the photo we’d struggled all that bloody way up that bloody hill to get. Yes, this one, for those of you who haven’t been paying attention.

Our original intel had opined that the Palace wasn’t that much worth a visit but Jane decided that this was probably not the case, so had gone online to book tickets. I suppose that a warning light should at least have flickered over to amber when the only time slot available to book for entry to the palace was 0930, but idealism and optimism ruled the day and so we booked tickets for the palace (and the shuttle ride up from the gates – you weren’t going to get me that way a second time, oh dear me no). My thought was that getting there early would mean smaller crowds. (Can you hear the hollow laughter at this point?) And though Google asserted that the distance from the hotel to the palace was a mere 3km, we knew enough of the local terrain to realise that those kilometres were not going to be of the benevolent kind. Anyway, the 434 bus went there and ran very frequently, although we would have to catch the first bus, at 0830. With breakfast only being available from 0800 at the hotel, a certain donning of metaphorical skates was thus called for in the morning, so we were up, showered, packed and ready to go as we entered the breakfast room, and were checked out so we could get to the bus stop at 0830.

So: the Pena Palace, then. Why would one want to visit? Well, it has quite the history, and (as was clear from our photo from yesterday) has the bonkers architecture that appears to be a qualifying quality to be allowed to exist in Sintra. The village was popular with the various royal families of Portugal because of its cool summer climate (downpours included, as we found out). In 1838, King Ferdinand II (the German-born artist-king and consort to Queen Maria II) purchased the hilltop ruins of a 16th-century Hieronymite monastery that had been destroyed by the 1755 Lisbon earthquake. Ferdinand commissioned the Prussian engineer Baron Wilhelm Ludwig von Eschwege to transform the ruins into a theatrical, vivid fairy-tale castle, which was constructed primarily between 1842 and 1854. We read that “the palace intentionally clashes bright yellow and red wings, blending Neo-Gothic, Neo-Manueline, Neo-Islamic, and Neo-Renaissance styles into a pioneering masterpiece of European Romanticism.”

Bonkers, then. But probs worth a visit.

Some of the practical realities of the day began to become clear at the bus stop, as there were a load of other people there. A French lady in the queue told us that many of them were staff for the various places along the route so they (quite reasonably) got first dibs on spaces on the bus. We managed to squeeze into the last couple of seats on the bus and it set off for its journey round the local lanes. The 434 is a circular route, which goes from Sintra, via a very roundabout route, to the Moorish Castle and then the Pena Palace before returning to Sintra and doing the same loop again; these buses run very frequently, so it would have been no issue had we been forced to wait for the next one.

The journey to the palace was along narrow and winding roads, so took some 20 minutes and deposited us by the palace gates just before 9am. It looked like there was a bit of a queue

and, annoyingly, people seemed to be jumping it, so I wandered up towards the front to see what was going on, and discovered that it was

really quite a substantial queue, with some kind of fast track system being operated by shifty-looking operatives, who were probably just normal tour guides doing their best to help their people.

At 0900 on the dot the queue started moving forward and we actually spent only a few minutes getting through the gates and into the grounds. It’s a 10-minute walk from the gates to the palace and lazy people (like me) could pay for a shuttle to do the hard work, and so we had a ride to the entrance. From the bus, you (along with hordes of others) walk through an impressive gate

and get your first (and, it has to be said, very striking) view of the palace

before you round a corner and….join a queue. (Note to travellers: tickets give you an entry time and woe betide you if you are late.)

The queue leads you through a tunnel (helpfully described on the audio guide, should you have it about your phone)

which is, again, made somewhat more aggravating by people skipping past because they’d paid for fast track access. As you shuffle forward, you do, though, start to get an idea of what awaits you.

As with all palace visits, one gets led along a pretty much pre-determined path through the palace rooms, which are very palacey but also somewhat Manueline, which adds a bit of spice to the otherwise rather humdrum run of furniture and decorations. Having shuffled through yet another grand and elaborate portal,

one gets to say hello to old Ferdinand

and then carries on through to the Stag Room, which admittedly makes something of an impact.

This was designed to be the palace’s large dining room, part of the palace’s reception and entertainment centre, along with the Great Hall and the Smoking Room. It takes its name from the stags’ heads you can see dotted around the walls. The Great Hall is next,

again decorated in the elaborate, not to say overwrought, Manueline style. The decor is quite extreme but there are several more conventional  palacey touches, such as overdone lamp stands.

Another doorway

leads to the Smoking Room, with its lovely Murano glass chandelier

and beautifully-worked ceiling.

Impressive as these rooms were, I was beginning to get very fed up with the crowds and the slow progress, but at last we were allowed out into the open air so we could admire the buildings from the outside, which is what I was really interested to photograph. We debouched on to the Queen’s Terrace, which allowed us to get an eyeful of some of the astonishing architecture and decor.

There were, of course, the usual run of people who seem to think that a view like this is improved by having their stupid, gurning faces in front of it.

There were other rooms to take a look at, such as the Sacristy

and the chapel, which was a tad crowded

before one could get through to see it properly.

I was a bit palace-roomed-out by this stage, but we spent some more time exploring various views of the buildings.

before talking the Wall Walk

which neatly led to the reciprocal view of the castle from which we’d viewed the palace less than 24 hours before.

The urge for caffeine was beginning to kick in by this stage, so we looked round for some more angles for photos

and then headed for the café. Trouble is, loads of others had had the same idea, so we thought “sod it” and headed for the exit, giving me a view that allowed me to formulate my First Rule of Pena Palace: if you hate crowds, don’t visit Pena Palace.

(The Second Law is: If your desire to see bonkers architecture is greater than your hatred of crowds then do visit Pena Palace.)

On the way out, we made a couple of useful discoveries: there is a much quieter cafeteria outside the ticket barriers

but which still gives you an inkling of what the palace is like;

and there is such a thing as “chocolate salami”, which is an upmarket version of rocky roads and so delicious that we had to have a second portion.

As we walked down to the exit, we saw hordes of people still pouring in and about to have their enthusiasm crushed by the queues awaiting them,

and even more outside waiting for this experience.

One of the 434 buses was there as we exited so we hopped on for a ride back to the station. For such a short distance (just a couple of kilometres), it took a long time, stuck in a slow traffic jam to and through the village. But we got to the station eventually, and found that it was 40 minutes until the Lisbon train, which was just enough time for a beer. On arrival in Lisbon, we pottered down to the same hotel we’d been in before, where we were effusively greeted by Rita on the reception desk, who immediately recognised us as the people that the hotel still owes over £400. She apologised for the slow process through which their finance people were grinding, and leavened this depressing news with the titbit that we’d been upgraded to an Executive room, which was nice of them.

We relaxed for a bit and then went out for another splendid meal at Em Alta Na Baixa before retiring for the rest of the day.

Because (drum roll…..) the walking starts tomorrow! Our journey to Santiago will start from the Cathedral and take us several weeks. In the few days we’ve been here we’ve already walked over 25km, and we have just the 630 to go. Do please stay with us for the journey.

 

 

*  Carlos told us that until about 15 years ago, Sintra was a lovely quiet place, but then Condé Nast magazine buggered things up by nominating Portugal as the best tourist destination in the world, after which it’s been overrun. The result is living proof of what our late next-door neighbour Cyril used to say: “Tourism is ruined by tourists”. The place was madly busy when we were there – traffic jams, difficulty passing people on the pavements, crowds everywhere. Nice to see a place being successful, particularly somewhere as arcane as Sintra, but one wonders where the money’s going. Renovation work on the three major buildings we visited was apparently being funded by EU grant (and reluctantly at that – the authorities nearly missed the boat) rather than tourist takings. Sintra is absolutely worth visiting, but at peak season, like we did it? Less rewarding, I’d say.