Tag Archives: Sintra

A Pain in the Pena

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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.

 

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.