Once I came to terms with the fact that I had basically moved my family to the Nebraska of Portugal I got out the guidebooks, the travel blogs, the google map and got to work. I mapped the distance from our Airbnb to every possible castle, river walk, historical village, fireplace bar, notable restaurant, amusement park, hiking trail, and beach. Anything that was less than a 3 hour drive was put on a list. Since, much like Nebraska, we were smack dab in the middle of the country, this included most of Portugal. Over the next few posts I'll share some highlights. First up, the historic village of Marvão.
Peering over the Portuguese/Spanish border on the highest peak of the Serra de São Mamede mountain range, stands the tall, dark and handsome Castle of Marvão. With Spain so close, Billy and I half-jokingly debated cutting our losses and running for the border, back to our dream house in the tiny village of Andalusia where strangers pinched the cheeks of our children and smiled at our lousy Spanish. But no, I had done too much research, and besides, we were locked into our Airbnb. Sunken cost fallacy or not, we were going to day trip the shit out of this country and find out what all the hype was about.
One of my favoirte things about Portugal ended up being the historic villages. The country has a gold mine of these incredible, car-free, open-air museums. Not sure if there’s a better way to throw some culture at your kid (and perhaps risk them breaking an arm) then setting them loose to run through ruins, skip through cobblestone streets and climb around castles. Sometimes when I'm watching them it really feels like I'm at a dog run or flying pigeons. Who knows if any of this choose-your-own-accident-adventure stuff sticks, but it sure beats alternately shushing and ushering them through museums with that weird, sorry, frown/smile that has given me mouth wrinkles too young, too young. Okay, fine. They didn't give me mouth wrinkles. They just underlined them.
A few days later we headed to Sortelha, another mountain top wonder just under 3 hours away. As you can see, the clouds were refusing to budge, but my outlook on Portugal was brightening.
One of the best preserved historical villages in Portugal, I'd like to say that we came to Sortelha because of it it's Gothic archways, anthropomorphic tombs and 13th century castle, but mostly I drove my family 3 hours for a bar:
When researching I had read about a tiny bar in a stone house nestled among the tangle of streets complete with a fireplace and a few lazy cats. It sounded like the perfect place to have a glass of wine on a cold and rainy day. It was.
Thanks to the clouds and the cold, we basically had the village to ourselves. We spent the afternoon letting our three foot tall guides lead the way. We didn't get much of a history lesson from them, but one thing I did learn in our time spent in Europe is that it almost always starts with the Romans, with an occasional followup by the Goths, only to be outdone by the Moors who are then driven out by the Christians. Although I guess the almighty Tourist Attraction has conquered all. Bow to the selfie stick ye kings of old.
I especially love that they don't put railings or protective guard posts on any of this stuff. It really gives sight-seeing a boost of adrenaline.
We were so close to Monsanto, another historical village that I had been dying to go to, that we decided to try to pull a double header. This was, not surprisingly to anyone who has ever been around a 3-year-old, a huge mistake. Their little legs went on strike the moment we got out of the car. Fed up shouts of, "CARRY MEEEEEEEE!!!" echoed between the boulders. I tried to snap a few pictures with Nakota's arms wrapped around my neck like a King Cobra strangling it's snake charmer, but it got exhausting quick. The never-ending steps and slopes did not help. But check out these houses. Talk about working with what you got!
After an hour we gave up. We packed our aching feet, knees and shoulders into the rental car, which I wished looked like the one above but most definitely did not, and pointed her back toward the heartland. "Where should we go tomorrow?" I asked Billy. He winced. "Level ground."
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