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LOG ENTRY DATE: July 23, 2003 Made it! Lisbon. Well, actually, Cascais, a resort town at the mouth of the Tejos River, about 15 miles south of Lisbon. Either way, it's Portugal, meaing we got—finally—ALL the way across the Atlantic. Not to make less of the efforts it took to get to the Azores—and the hard work by that crew—I just wasn't comfortable saying I'd sailed across the Atlantic without actually setting foot on the European continent. And here we are! Arrived here on Sunday morning, on a crystal clear day, with a northerly wind blowing at 15 knots. The headlands of Portugal and the neat white towns with red tile roofs stood out for miles. So, too, did the shipping—a lot of it! We had to cross the major north/south shipping lanes just off the coast. Fortunately, we did not see much traffic that night, but at dawn, we counted 7 ships at once that were in the lanes, that we would have to dodge between. The marina at Cascais is beautiful and very luxurious. It's also very expensive, at $40 per night. But, since the costs are being split by me, Tom, and Susan, it doesn't seem so bad. Adam is no longer with us, having taken his leave soon after we arrived. . . he was ready to start his two month trek across Europe. Monday was spent exploring Lisbon. The city is made up of 4 parts, and we explored the Alfama district. It's the oldest part of the city, having survived the great earthquake of 1775, which destroyed three-quarters of the city. It's made up of tight, narrow streets and stairways, all climbing to the top of several hills, topped with churches or forts (these being a predominant feature of the Lisbon cityscape). It's a ramshackle area, lots of old buildings, and lots of clothes hanging out to dry. . . i told my shipmates that that's what the Alfama means in Portugese: the Laundry District. Of course, one of the fun things about Lisbon—or really anywhere in Portugal, it seems—are the cafes that seem to populate every street on every block. It's impossible to walk very far without being able to get some sort of succor, either liquid or solid, from one of these establishments. So, relief from a hard day at playing tourist is never far away. Tuesday we took the bus to the town of Sintra. It's an old town, nested on the side of several steep hills, which are topped by a long, rambling Moorish castle, and the very eclectic Pena Palace. The city has been, over the years, the protection of the seaside towns from invasion, and the favorite place of retreat for heads of state. The Moorish castle is now only a wall, for the most part, that runs around the top of the second-highest point over the town. . . it's a nice hike up to it, though it—like the town of Sintra itself—is heavily popluated by tourists. The highest ground has been reserved for the Pena Palace, which is a schmaltzy combination of Gothic and Baroque, with a side of Bavarian castle thrown in for good measure. The palace's redeeming feature, however, is it's park, a huge piece of ground that surrounds the castle. It's actually Mount Desert-esque, with it's (once) manicured paths, lakes, and buildings, all created (once) for the enjoyment of the ruling Portguese family. Like Mount Desert, the property has been given back to the public, and it's mind-boggling plantings (huge sequoias, cedars, oaks, and rhododendrons) and infrastructure can be enjoyed simply by wandering around the grounds for hours. We'll be here for another few days, at least. We have plans for another siege of Lisbon, this time to the Alto Barrio region, perhaps, with it's hot street life. Today is the market in Cascais (pronounced, so as to illustrate the frustration of our trying to speak Portugese: Koosh kice), with the fisherman's market this evening, where they sell their daily catch. Also, some administrative work on my communications with home, and some boat maintenance. Ultimately, after Sue leaves, we'll move to the Algarve region of Portugal, the southern coast that has beaches and, importantly, good anchorages. |
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