Portugal: Day 1,2 and 3, to Coimbra and Duoro

Portugal: Day 1, 2 & 3, from Coimbra to the Duoro river and back.

Those familiar with the ‘Lonely Planet’ must know that the book divides the country into regions. I believe these regions are purely based on their geography and not so much the politics.  The first 3 days of my journey in Portugal drove me through the regions of Beira, and the Duoro river valley. Over the extent of these days it had dawned upon me, that a country as small as Portugal can be at times as diverse as India.

I reached Coimbra, the capital of the Beiras and what is aptly called the Oxford of Portugal. On my first night which happened to be a Friday night, I looked out for traces of students having a fun time on the road but found none. What I found was a restaurant, oh ya food again. Although I have no habit of noting down the events as they happen, I feel now I really should’ve noted the name of the restaurant where the menu is typed everyday on a typewriter, which is itself as old as its chef. With my little knowledge Spanish, and comparing the words with Portuguese, I was able to set my order right. It had an English menu but I simply chose to read from the typewritten one. It felt fresh to read the food items under a date. Soon I realized that the food was as fresh as the menu. I think it was fish on day one for me in Coimbra. Actually it was that more or less all through my journey.

Anyways so there I was, my eyes on the plate and the only sound to be heard of  was that of the people talking softly. Yes that is one thing about the Portuguese that I noticed immediately. They are softer than the Spanish. The words are much more rounded than their neighbors and so are their bodies. So, as I sat at my table all alone thinking about how to go about tomorrow, the long table next to me, which had the ‘reserved’ sign, started to fill. A few men in their late 50’s came, and drinks came with them. Then more men and more drinks, till I realized that this was some kind of a re union. There was one man whom I picked to ask at the end, ‘is this some kind of a birthday party or college reunion?’ and the man simply smiled and said ‘Its Christmas’

Well not only those men were soft with their party mood, although this was much before they got a little tipsy, I guess even their wives must be easy on them. This was my first rendezvous with the people, the men from Portugal and it looked like other than the grand old chef who insisted I have his best desert, there were a few in the group of men who didn’t mind me staying on till the end.

I had to get on the road early the next day and so I chose to leave. 

In the original plan about this region, I had 2 nights in Coimbra and to drive to Porto, the second biggest city in Portugal from where I would take the ‘tourist’ cruise with my people to Peso do regua, on the other side of the Duoro river. The cruises don’t operate in winter, so I thought to myself why don’t I simply drive to Peso do Regua rather than Porto.

The reason I chose to drive in this trip was that this is exactly how my people would travel. Public transport was fine and cheap but that would largely limit the places I travelled to. As I drove to the other side of the river, I learnt that the book spoke about a train station, further away from Peso and was a place not to be missed. So just to see the train station I went the 25 kms. Those 25 kms, my dear people were the best I had driven in the whole of Portugal(actually there were a lot more).

The river looked like a lake. The image of the surrounding mountains so clear that a vineyard dried up in the winter months could drink water from it.

The town of Pinhao .. population of 110. Imagine one wedding in this town and the whole town is empty, other than in mid-summer, when the tourists would account for multiples of at least 5.

Sometimes the journey is better than the destination is what I thought during those 25 kms. But here the destination Pinhao was as good as the journey itself. When I travelled with my dad in India and we would go to Hotels to negotiate the rates, I used to tell him, lets not, it looks expensive. He would then say, “lets see, they need us”. Well that’s what I thought when I went to see the rooms at the Vintage hotel in Pinhao. A hotel made out of an old warehouse for wine. It looked solid and when they said that they have special rates for the first week of may, that’s exactly when my people would come, I was happy. Not because of the rates but because this was the first time I had acted like a businessman on my trip and not just a traveler.

In the travel business, I have to deal with local travel agents who in turn deal with the hotels. But what if the local agents aren’t good enough, well yes then why will I work with them shall be your question. Well, good at arranging stuff, but not good at actually suggesting it. My job in this trip I had then learned was not only to get familiarized with the place I had decided to take my people to, but to question it first, and to see if there is anything that is better than that. After all I will come back for more, but my people will see Portugal only once.

And I want them to be as happy as I was with Portugal.

A stay in Pinhao, overlooking the river in the month of may, when the big hoards of tourists are still away will play a big role in letting Portugal talk for itself. That evening, when I drove back to Coimbra and ate at the same restaurant, I realized that I had not much of an appetite. I was already contended with Pinhao and finding it out for my tour.

On my way back from the restaurant that night, in a narrow lane in Coimbra I saw the students, then I saw more in subsequent lanes. It was as if the town had its arteries in the lanes. It was where it was alive. 

I had read about the traditional music of Portugal. It is known as Fado. The book spoke about Coimbra as a place where it was born and Lisbon was simply where it took off from. I usually don’t like sitting at places where the tourists sit and listen to music, or watch a dance specially set for them. But that night after the first 20 minutes of Fado I realized, that the singers who were in their late sixties were as enthusiastic about their singing that evening, as they would have been when they started. Who was I to think of this place as typical and the experience touristy.  When I got off from my chair, it was half past mid night!

Its true that Pinhao won over Coimbra in Natural beauty and the sheer appeal. But somewhere I felt that Coimbra was a place to feel and not to see. Much like the first night when all I did was saw the town and it felt empty. The second night I felt the pulse of the town, coming from its lanes from its students talking about their country or maybe their love life, from the music that played in that touristy café and later from the air that felt warm in +7 degrees. Or maybe it was just me who felt warm .. in Portugal!