Not knowing what to title a post from Portugal, we went with a shout out to Love Actually and our last minute attempt to learn some of the language…just in cases. The only Spanish we’d really learned was husband and wife (that’s English), which is Mujer and Marido…and given they sound a lot like Mohair and Mojito we had completely forgotten the proper pronunciation and didn’t feel confident in using them anwhere…a mojito for my mohair?…etc…

We didn’t, however, realise how closely the Portuguese language seems to resemble Russian, or at the very least it resembles my Mum impersonating a Russian accent, (and nearly led to a further musical title: “Back in the USSR??”), so we, obviously, struggled. So much did we struggle that we could barely even speak English properly (relative to normal). In one town, the home of Ginjinha (a cherry liqueur, not ginger beer with a shot of gin or jin), I was constantly asked probing questions by the ladies on the street (PS-we’re not up to the tarts yet), “Ginjinha…Ginjinha??”, to which all I could muster was: “Yes……is being my answer….to the question…you are asking…”  #onlysevenmonthsuntilwewatchloveactuallyagain. Subsequently, and to my disappointment, I found out the Portuguese scenes in Love Actually were…actually…filmed in France (fair enough as it would have been much easier to budget for…prices vary by +/-1000% on either side of the street in Portugal …and are also time/language dependent).

Given the only other title I could come up with was “My Portu-GAL, no Portuguese tart”, we’re sticking with what we’ve got.  Long intro over!!  PS-we’re in Portugal.

While Portuguese is definitely the least romantic of the romantic languages we’ve heard so far, we also didn’t get off to a flyer with the people. So much so that upon hearing from a guide that the Portuguese introduced the concept of thanks to the Japanese (hence Arigato being very similar to Obrigado), we had to call BS… not true…as in Lisbon, at least, it seemed nobody really knew the meaning of Obrigado…I think that as they lost their rule of the world and now had to deal with idiots like us, their understanding of thanks is waning a little.  Or maybe something was lost in translation??  But, wasn’t that also in Japan first?  Ok, longer intro now definitely over!

Thankfully…we had a ridiculous hotel room with a panoramic view from our balcony over the city towards the castle, and unsurprisingly this is where we spent most of our time in Lisbon recovering from our colds and eating the best jamon and cheese of the trip.

We did venture out to the neighbouring town of Belem, one of the least crappy suburbs, to try the world famous pasteis de Belem…a tiny custard tart. While tasty, it was clearly invented to hide how dreadful the suburb really is and somehow drag Lonely Planet readers to it anyway. We did get to catch on old ‘W’ class tram back, past the Lisbon version of the Golden Gate and had dinner at the new Time Out markets, which was great…despite the Lisboans who were working there. On day 2, aside from our walking tour, where we covered almost 2kms in 3 hours (helping to burn off those tarts), we took a stroll through the old suburb of Alfama, which was not destroyed in the great Earthquake of 17-something…something, but I’m sure nobody will mind if it is detroyed in the next, imminently expected, quake. (Another San Fran similarity, along with the bridge, hills, trams, prices.)

As a final farewell from the locals, when we picked up our rental car, we were again presented with a free upgrade to a station wagon and then berated, in Russian or Portuguese, for complaining as this was a “normal” car for them (again lost in translation as normal must mean “one of a kind”). Our emotional outburts won our over their…awfulness…and we were rewarded with a Renault Clio, as we drove off, triumphant, we soon realised it only had just over half a tank of fuel…Obregado Lisbon. Tick.

Now with a (small!!) car, we could do some real exploring of the country. First stop Sintra to check out the incredible Moorish castle, with it’s vomit invoking heights, lack of hand rails, slippery stones, vertigo and supremely stunning views. As well as the fairytale-like Pena palace, built by a contemporary of Ludwig (of Neuscwenstein fame).

With things picking up in Portugal, we went to spend the night in the tiny hillside town of Obidos (the Ginginja town). When Lea said we were going to spent the night in a fortified town, I was picturing something far different than driving around walls, through tiny gates, along tiny-er cobbled streets into a town packed with tourists, who you “tried” not to run-over, but who you could hardly see through the tears and clutch smoke. But, post drive in and pre drive out we had a fantastic time! Ginginja on tap (literally) and poured in small chocolate cups! We stayed in a Pousada, which was a renovated 15th-ish centruy castle….and probably still is.  Basically you pay a small fortune, to live in a dungeonesque room built to hold 2 people far smaller than 21st century Australians. I think the ensuite was still with original tiles so you could actually catch the same tinea used by the old soldiers to slowly end there tedious, smelly lives over hundreds.of years.

We had dinner at the top of the castle, with a table overlooking our peasants in the fields below, but Lea got quite a shock when she thought she was reading from the kid’s menu only to realise all the meals actually had kids in them!! The were cooking with children, not for them!! We’re not kidding! Needless to say, James ordered a goat dish, and Lea (who’d not yet been able to find a Nandos) ordered the chicken. Afterwards we went to our favourite bar in town (favourite because it was open) for more Ginginja, where we sat and watched groups of girls come in only to go in to use the toilet…all at the same time. Mind boggles, but the bar keep looked at us and just said “tour de toilet”. When we asked if it happended often, the response was, “Unfortunate, yes…is being my answer…to the question…..”. The castle also gave us our first mimosas of the trip, tick, and a glimpse of the Atlantic…tick.

Obidos was our first really touristy town for a while, so it was great to get back in the habit of old European pastimes of stopping at the end of a stair case for no reason and the much loved, standing in doorways…for NO reason.

Our next stop was Coimbra, and here we had another balcony with a view of the former capital and now University town. Room was tiny but the view and the fact we had a selection of pillows made up for it. However, we couldn’t decide between the Climactic of Cervical options?? But, it was in the streets where we saw something we thought society will never invent. Countless students walking around with a shopping bag, purpose made to fit ONE, single, sole beer bottle…I’m not sure this will catch on in Australian campus culture. How would you carry the funnel and tubing?

Coimbra was beautiful, we even lined up for a dinner down some dingy side alley with dozens of people and by luck we managed to get in to the top 16 who managed a seat at the first setting. We were last in that group though so got the worst seat in the weirdest house in the smelliest street…so only way is up! I did sit right on the flimsy, steel cover to the basement, so I guess it was still a…grate spot. Amazing, gut-achingly, butt-breakingly, tasty, rich food, including some insane pork belly* unlike anything I’ve had, served with rice soaked in olive oil and…something else tasty. *Yes, Lea lined up for an hour to eat pork!…even if she didn’t know it.  Afterwards we took in a local Fado show, we weren’t sure what to expect, the way people talk about Fado here it really seems to put the cult part of cultural, but we loved it and will totally go again…next time we’re in Coimbra.