• Lexie Magill

Camino de Santiago

A 49-day adventure by Lexie Read more
  • Tears, paperwork, and backtracking

    April 27, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 13 °C

    Before I knew it, we were in the city outskirts then the historic centre outskirts and then we were there. End of the line. I've had 33 days to get ready for this and I wasn't.

    I stood there in the graduating crowd and felt around in the dark for an emotion. I couldn't get hold of one, they were too slippery. Myths and murmurs of long processing times at the pilgrim office made me scurry down there after a few minutes.

    How it goes from here is this:

    You go online and pre-fill your name, route, start date and location, and whether or not you did this for religious reasons. I did this last night, but lots were doing it on the street. This form spit out a QR code. You show this code to the security guard (I'm not making any of this up) who lets you into the foyer.

    You scan the QR code and it gives you a ticket. You wait (not even a minute… those liars) until the screen shows your ticket and a desk number. You go to that desk. You hand over your credential and scan the QR code again. They inspect your credential, stamp it, and, if it is to their satisfaction, issue your Compostela, look at you, and say congratulations.

    You shake their hand. You walk through the gift shop (still not kidding) and buy a little cardboard tube to keep it safe. She rolls it, seals it, takes your money. You walk out the door, find the closest bench, and collapse. You burst into tears and let out the cry you have been carrying for 945km.

    You go back up to the Cathedral, find and fall into the arms of pilgrims you know. You laugh. You hold people as they have their turn to cry. You exchange Instagrams, cheek kisses, international number codes.

    You walk 4km back out of town to find a bed. You have a beer. You tell some people what you've done. You sleep.
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  • Pilgrim mass(es)

    April 28, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 12 °C

    I've been fairly picky and contrarian about which of the religious parts of this whole thing I participate in, and I've tried not to let the word "should" weasel its way in there.

    Midday pilgrim mass in the SdC cathedral made the cut. I bloody LOVE the shaking hands bit. The rest was all honesty boring and long and uncomfortable. Nowhere near as inclusive and gentle as O'Cebriero but to be fair SdC are the big dogs and can do what they like. Maybe it was and I just couldn't understand the mumbling ancient priest.

    Place was packed. I was perched on a tiny ledge of a stone pillar base and spent most of the hour wishing we could make a decision on standing or sitting because either is fine but my back has strong feelings about the transition. You very strictly could not take photos during mass and there were roaming security guards to make sure of this.

    Lining up for the tomb of St James did not make the cut. I zipped out of there and past the queue outside waiting to join the one inside, taking the stairs two at a time, to show off.
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  • What now?

    April 28, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 13 °C

    Waking up on Sunday, I had one foot in and one foot out of the pilgrim experience. I was in a bunk bed, but I wasn't walking today. I had to get out by eight, but my Compostela was now amongst the things I needed to pack up. I was finished, but I needed to walk the last four kilometres of it again to get to the bus station. Some are in the same boat, some are continuing on to Finisterre. What do we say now? Buen life!

    She's very misty and atmospheric today, could not see more than 50m ahead which frankly wasn't a bad thing in this strange communist youth camp the albergue is part of. The complex has wifi in two areas, the reception and the bar I was in last night. I beelined for the latter, excited to spend my first morning off slow with a coffee but NO it was closed. Out of the fog I spied another door - yep, there's a dining hall of course there is, they were probably all in here last night eating a good dinner when I was eating my anticlimactic BAR BREAD.

    Talking to myself was an issue before the trip but it's really been allowed to set down roots over the last thousand ks, so I made the mundane observation to myself that there's a bit going on here, and joined a queue. It was cafeteria style, sliding your tray along and putting what you wanted on it, and in all the American highschool movies I'VE seen, you pay the mean lunchlady with the dry sense of humour at the end.

    When this didn't happen, and the bench I was sliding my tray along just ended, I looked around furtively and went and sat at a table. Maybe we pay when we leave? I chewed and watched, the chewing slowing as I realised this might be free. I don't think it was supposed to be, I think I just missed a crucial step by mistake, but in the spirit of no private property and workers rights I didn't bother to correct it. Branna called this character growth. I call it the juncture we'll all point to in a year when I'm in jail, because I also nicked a bunch of stuff for later. Next stop, face tattoo.

    My bus wasn't until 7pm so I mooched around SdC until 11.30am before heading to the Cathedral for mass (see separate post). Resuming my mooch afterwards my jaw dropped to see Matt sitting outside a cafe. He's a great bloke keen readers will remember from Ages Ago and we'd sort of loosely discussed cycling across the Meseta, which didn't happen. He's a fancy pants and only stays in hotels so between that and the fact that I assumed he'd cycled what I'd walked, I firmly believed I'd never see him again.

    I joined him and Rachel, who he'd met and walked with in the last few kilometres, for one of the best conversations of the whole Camino over the next two hours. Today was truly a litany of things going wrong/falling through/being harder than necessary and in many ways hanging around SdC until 7pm was a source of frustration but in the big scheme of things, it made this wonderful, spontaneous, open connection possible and for that it was all worth it. There are no coincidences on Camino.

    We split in three different directions - Matt to the 5-star hotel in the cathedral plaza (of course), Rachel to scope out the next mass, and me to KFC. I will not be taking feedback at this time.

    What followed was five hours of cock up after cock up I will be detailing in my whinge file so as to not tarnish this account or scare mum. The headline is, I laid down my head in Braga, Portugal, ready to start the next phase.
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  • Adjusting softly in Braga

    April 29, 2024 in Portugal ⋅ ☀️ 8 °C

    I spent last night gleefully cosplaying Jury Villa after getting into the room at 10pm. My first privacy in over a month.

    It had a king bed and a single and I strongly considered the latter, as the king seemed too much. I didn't want to sit on the bed in case I made it dirty. I had a good look at myself in a mirror. I wondered why my cupboards weren't full of Maltesers - the producers are slipping here. I had a very hot shower and slipped between crispy sheets, unobserved. I slept well.

    Today is a day off. No walking, no buses, I'm staying still for a day for the first time since Burgos. I'd wanted a two-night stay at the same place so that I didn't need to check out this morning. For reasons my whinge file is well acquainted with, this didn't happen but I had until 11am to check out and there was a washing machine and dryer in the kitchen. Heyo! While that clanked (I later realised this was my coin purse in my pants pocket whoopsadaisy) I caught up on some admin, booking a bus and some accommodation for Porto etc.

    It's a very small old town here so the place I was keen on for brunch (BRUNCH! we really aren't on Camino anymore) was a short walk away and I practically skipped there. After five weeks in rural Spain where there isn't much other language or cuisine, a waiter with great English bringing me this was g l o r i o u s.

    Michel said the Portugese have much better english than the Spanish because they watch things subtitled rather than dubbed and I can see the logic in that. I feel lazy and uncool about it but I I'd just got ok in Spanish and my brain at this stage is a huge slow boat, I can't turn it in time.

    I then dropped my bag at the next place and spent the rest of the day wandering happily (but efficiently, I'm a SEASONED pedestrian) around, doing whatever the hell I wanted before settling in for an evening on the couch (a TREAT) updating here, cooking dinner (a TREAT) and listening to music out loud (a TREAT).
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  • Project Recuperate complete, we move on

    April 30, 2024 in Portugal ⋅ ⛅ 13 °C

    Check out today is at 12, an area in which I feel strongly that the European approach is superior to ours - you don't need to be in your room between 2 and 4pm so it makes no difference as long as you can drop your bag. But rolling out at 12 instead of 10am is an incredible, wonderful, VIP experience. I shall stage sit-ins at all major hotel chains in Australia until I achieve this change. My legacy. #YesWeCan.

    I took a moment to reorganise my bag, riveting stuff, had another incredibly (to a frankly unsafe degree) hot shower, set about eating as much of my food as I could, and then toddled back to that brunch place from yesterday. Hallo, I chirped, grinning dumbly, and plonked myself down in the singularly most inconvenient spot I could have chosen, next to the, admittedly very disguised, storeroom door. At this point I realised I wasn´t hungry in the slightest but I´m also not a quitter, so.

    I was to regretti spaghetti this on the 1.25pm bus trip to Porto. I´ve always been Not Great when it comes to motion sickness but it turns out if you travel at a max speed of 5km/hr for five weeks, going 100km/hr on a six lane highway will actually nearly kill you. I tried looking out the windscreen but that was distractingly trisected by two enormous cracks which gave rise to decapitation paranoia which wasn´t very calming either.

    The good thing about travelling 100km/hr is you get there bloody quickly, so after 45 minutes I tumbled off, green, and set about my challenge. I was trying to navigate from the decentralised bus station to the centralised hostel without using my phone. I got within 600m, which we´ll probably call a win, and had a beer and an OP SHOP VISIT on the way, which we definitely will.

    On my post check in walk I discovered this neighbourhood is absolutely riddled with that chain of op shops, and they aren't very good, but there are also quite a few vintage shops and I am in the market for new pants, let me tell you. My walking ones are exceptional and I would and probably will buy them again, but its time for a change.

    I´m working out that some parts of the Camino approach are more transferable than others. Sorting accommodation same day is far more stress and admin than I am willing to trade for the flexibility. But as long as I have a bed, I'm cool with winging the rest.

    As an excessive planner (in recovery), I genuinely enjoy putting itineraries together because for me it is like getting the holiday twice, same as online shopping - there are two dopamine deliveries.

    However what I found surprisingly liberating on Camino was the constraint on my time in each place. You'd get in early afternoon, and you'd need to eat and shower and do laundry and journal and go to bed early, so you'd see what you see and then bounce before the sun came up. There was no Top 10 Things in XYZ.

    I´m bringing that to Portugal. I know the city I'll be in on each day, but within those days I just walk around, pick left or right on vibe, go through a door when I'm interested, sit on steps, lean on fountains. I'm having a wonderful time with that. I felt so agile today.

    I will definitely miss things, and there's a little voice that quietly suggests I'm not doing this properly, and then throws around the 'should' word. I shush them by pointing out that I will no doubt stumble across some of it, but I'll also do and see stuff that I might not have if I was at the Top 10, getting the same pictures I can see on the first page of Google.

    After another evening walk, sat cross legged in my top bunk (nice ladder, curtain!), I had a quiet epiphany. Sometimes an idea that has been floating around as a gas just solidifies suddenly and drops into your lap. This one was a question I am now ready to ask myself, in need of an answer. I'll be working through for the next little while I reckon. Might need some more plods in the Hundred Acre Woods. Think think think.
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  • May Day May Day, I'm too thin

    May 1, 2024 in Portugal ⋅ ☁️ 9 °C

    I somehow forgot Porto is on the Portugese Camino route. I have been wished Buen Camino when with my pack on the street, and the hostel is full of pilgrims, many starting today. I clearly reek of Camino (literally as well as figuratively, I suspect) because I have once again fielded all the laundry questions. Mate I've clocked off!

    From Porto to SdC is a six day walk, and some have prepared accordingly, like the guy from Amsterdam sitting in front of a breakfast of champions at the next table - a packet of Camels and a hip flask. He asked me if I knew anything about routes, because he was going off some stuff a bartender wrote on a placemat when he went out last night, he's on four hours sleep.

    After some chatting he asked to see my Credential and pored over it which made me feel strangely proud, like a boy scout having his sash admired. He showed me the expert guidance he'd be going off and there was substantially less on this placemat than I was expecting to see - literally a list of four towns and a phone number. He was planning on doing 30km today, doesn't have rain gear, and was still there by 9am, so good luck to him.

    It's raining, but in a wonderfully workable way. It will sprinkle for about a minute as a warning so that you can find shelter, then it will absolutely bucket for 15 to 30 minutes, then the sun will come back out for 30 and the cycle resets. When you aren't trying to walk 30km through that, it's delightful because you just pop in somewhere or find an awning and wait it out, smug in the knowledge that you'll be right in a bit and it's a good excuse for a break. Not everywhere you are keen to pop into is open as it's the May Day workers public holiday, but that also means there's barely any traffic so when the crowds of umbrellas get too much you can co-opt the cobblestones. Fab.
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  • Bat the bread, win a bread

    May 1, 2024 in Portugal ⋅ ☁️ 12 °C

    A few months ago, I messaged Branna with what I was pretty sure was a revelation.

    Using lots of exclamation marks, I made proprietary noises about the concept of self care through disassociation, i.e, pretend there's a child that needs rest and nutrition and fun and love and dedicate yourself to its service. The child just happens to be you.

    I got the hump when she pointed out how fucking obvious and ancient that thinking is, but as a card carrying people pleaser, externalising a person to please works for me.

    This kid had an absolute whale of a time today. I said yes to everything. You're a bit wet? We'll have a sit down in that warm bar. You want one of those snacky things? We'll have two. That's shiny? Swipe the card babe. Tired? Nap time! I love you. I love you too. Midnight snack? Good idea.
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  • A rare car-adjacent highlight

    May 1, 2024 in Portugal ⋅ ⛅ 13 °C

    When you travel alone you can make an art out of idling, in a way that for all my progress I don't think I could achieve with almost anyone else - I'd be conscious of what they wanted to do, if they were bored/cold/tired.

    There's also nobody to tip the scales either way when you do something a bit *naughty* like trespass because hang on SURELY that's not still an operational mechanics?

    Although I don't think I really did. Surely it's quasi-public space? One raised eyebrow or attention attracting hollering and I'd have scuttled though. I told you that breakfast was a gateway to the criminal underbelly.

    Anyway. What a garage.
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  • What I lugged

    May 2, 2024 in Portugal ⋅ ☁️ 9 °C

    Well, shall we do a little What's In My Bag before I fill it with Portugese tiles?

    Rob Godfrey will be interested, if nobody else. A fair amount of thought went into this and on the whole it's served me very well given I've had snow to rain to sun, minus 3 to 28 degrees.

    If I stand naked and shivering, this is what's in front of me. I've noted what I acquired later (+) or lost (-), and what I wouldn't bring again (*).

    Bags
    - 28L backpack
    - Waterproof pouch
    - Cross body day bag (I only used in cities on Camino but it weighs nothing, doubles as a packing cube and I will use it daily now in Portugal)

    Equipment
    - Waterproof pack cover
    - Sleeping bag (shout out Branna)
    - Carabiner x3 (attached to bag)
    - Duct tape (wrapped on toothbrush)
    - Ear plugs
    - Water bottle
    - Zip lock bags
    - Whistle (shout out Mum)

    Electronics
    - Phone
    - Headphones
    - Travel adapter
    - Head torch (* as discussed)
    - Power bank (-)
    - USB to USB C cord (this needed to be twice as long, note to self)

    Clothing
    - Walking shoes
    - Sandals
    - Rain jacket
    - Puffer jacket
    - Merino long sleeve
    - Merino t-shirt
    - Cotton t-shirt
    - Cotton singlet (+, pure indulgence)
    - Walking trousers
    - Leggings
    - Bike shorts
    - Bamboo dress (* this was a last min pack informed by vanity and I've only worn four times, mostly for laundry purposes, but to be fair I might wear it heaps in Portugal, which was the intent)
    - Merino socks x 3 (this was the right amount given unreliable drying)
    - Underwear x 3 (-1 lol)
    - Bamboo bra x 2 (I'd get something quicker dry next time)

    Toiletries
    - Toothbrush and paste
    - Deodorant
    - Sunscreen
    - Facial cleanser
    - Moisturiser
    - Soap (I mucked around with those stupid wilderness sheets for ages and they are the biggest pain in the ass, just bring a small bar in a ziplock)
    - Shampoo
    - Paw paw ointment
    - Blister kit (I didn't need this but I wasn't to know that and I shared it with others which I feel is in my karmic interest - compeed etc is extremely expensive here)
    - Hair clip

    Miscellaneous
    - Passport
    - Credit cards
    - Coin purse
    - Scallop shell (+)
    - Credential (+)
    - Assorted temporary snacks and books

    It sounds like a lot listed out like that but I'd point out that in weight and volume, comfortably under 7kg/28L, it's roughly half what the majority had. The largest I saw someone carrying was is 85L. I assume that guy is now dead.

    I haven't detailed or photographed the medical stuff because you probably wouldn't have to bring it, but that accounts for about 2kg of my weight so if you deduct that and the backpack itself (just over 1kg), the contents are ~4kg.

    I say to you again, an extremely slim minimalist.
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  • It's working

    May 2, 2024 in Portugal ⋅ ☁️ 12 °C

    I am really really enjoying these whatever-I-feel-like days. The Camino was incredibly relaxing in so many ways, but there was fundamental, if extremely simple, structure to each day. In other ways it was an intense experience and I think going straight home after it would have been a Bad Idea so I'm thrilled I have this time in Portugal for a different kind of holiday.

    Obviously Atlantis is real but I'm just about ready to add another fringe belief to my arsenal, and that is that there is a fraternity of Australian men called Mat(t), staged globally, that conspire to babysit me and provide a dose of normality right when I need it. The Porto branch of Matt Inc. was great for eye contact yesterday when Rolling Stone Pilgrim was mucking around, and was there when I unplugged my charger in the common area and caused the entire building to lose power ("what a power move", quipped I). It was restored within seconds by flipping a fuse switch.

    There's something about that powerpoint I reckon because when the Russian couple sat down for breakfast and their chair leg grazed it we were once again without electricity. Except this time flipping the switch wasn't working. There was one guy working and even with power he was fairly thinly spread between checking guests out, dealing with queries (I feel ya bud) and, for reasons they *must* have, toasting bread to order. Guests must not be in charge of the bread. You will get the quantity and type of bread you requested prior to midnight and he will toast it for you.

    Both of these smashed together when the Russian just could not fathom why the lack of electricity was getting prioritised over their breakfast. With an alarm literally going off and the rest of us sitting calmly, he went over to the small man in the baker boy cap trying everything at the fuse box and made a fuss. Can he get their BREAD PLEASE?

    The German was brave enough to tell him to let our bread/power hero get on with it and won my vote in the upcoming hostel Student Council elections, but nay BREAD NOW, BREAD IN THE DARK. He was very polite and got the bread and I hope he spat on it. Sadly Mat(t) missed this saga and I had to satisfy myself with the woman sitting opposite but she raised her eyebrows at all the appropriate moments so maybe she's an associate member?

    Another big wander with perfectly serendipitous rain breaks, including the local library and adjacent gallery in the gardens with the appallingly good views and all the birds. I've somehow made it four days in Portugal without a pastel de nata, I think because I was putting too much pressure on it, so I sorted that out and perhaps for the best, it was extremely average. So the next one will be better, excellent!
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  • But...

    May 2, 2024 in Portugal ⋅ ☁️ 15 °C

    Another thing I let the Little Lexie operating the joystick these days do was book us both in for a full body scrub and massage today.

    I figure I've got about a cubic metre of grime to shift, and I've been wanting a back scratch for ages so this will tick both boxes.

    On the way I walked past this one - thank goodness I didn't try to come here as it looks like they only do it for pregnant or for child, possibly also for hot stones, I'd have been turned away quick-smart.

    Where I had made my appointment, Pausa Spa, had just the one treatment room so when I walked in he (I was really hoping it wouldn't be a he but so be it) greeted me by name.

    What followed was a very awkward encounter involving the absence of a towel in the change room (he was mortified to have forgotten, I was mortified to exist) but then a nice scrub.

    He asked several times if the pressure was ok, I resisted the urge to say "I would, look at me, I would like you to draw blood" and just mmhmmed.
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  • I am now slightly less thin

    May 2, 2024 in Portugal ⋅ ⛅ 15 °C

    A Francesinha, Google will tell you if you ask nicely, is a sandwich that originated in Porto that involves layers of toasted bread and hot meats like steak, ham, and varieties of sausage. It's topped with (a fried egg if fancy and) sliced cheese, which is "melted by the ladling of a near-boiling tomato-and-beer sauce" and usually served with chips. I really enjoy the phrasing there so I've kept it as a direct quote. It's also the reason I don't need dinner tonight. Very delicious, probably a sometimes food though.

    By divine design (all that Camino karma) I managed to pick what I later learned is a good restaurant by complete accident, and by virtue of being alone, get a table without a reservation. Afterwards, I sat on the bench outside to which the wifi reached, and watched cars attempt to navigate a shockingly sharp tight turn.

    Well actually it's not the turns fault - it was there first and bicycles and horses would have handled it just fine. My favourite was the guy who, at very slow speed, completely missed and rammed the wall of the building and immediately tooted the horn, as if the building should have moved.
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  • Sandeman

    May 3, 2024 in Portugal ⋅ ☁️ 12 °C

    Rachel, the woman I met via Camino Matt (I hope Matt Inc. is paying him a per diem for travel?) recommended House of Sandeman, across the river in the wine district. She's good looking so of course I did what I was told. It's part hotel part hostel, and it's without a doubt the most luxurious stay of the trip. I don't want to throw around words like 'best' hostel I've ever stayed in because lots of factors go into that, but it's LUSH. She sold it to me as a hostel where you get a hotel experience, and she's right. I am slightly mad I haven't been here the whole time I've been in Porto but it's all good. Better than good.

    The entire Camino, every morning I played a very fun game called 'do I still have two ear plugs' because while they are very effective, I did tend to tug them out in my sleep and they'd end up in my sleeping bag somewhere. I won this game every single day until the last one, when I clearly knew I could relax a bit, and presumably slept walked outside and flung the right one onto a highway because it's nowhere to be seen. Since then I've had two nights in private rooms and two nights in a hostel where sleeping on my right side and just using the left plug worked just fine.

    SNORES MCGEE, MEDICAL MYSTERY, in the far corner, really challenged this arrangement, but the bed was extremely comfy and I drifted off about 1am, after getting the giggles about midnight. I had one of the lower ones which was nice as I think the Sandeman name is more well known in port wine than welding circles. In the morning I met an American man that did not make me want to set fire to anything, extremely noteworthy, and set about showing the free and very good breakfast who had two thumbs and wanted more cake (👍me👍).
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  • Some more seamless PTing

    May 3, 2024 in Portugal ⋅ ☁️ 19 °C

    Without the discipline and exertion of the Camino, baggins and I are both getting a bit heavier, but it's fine because I've only picked the two hilliest cities on planet earth in Porto and Lisbon. Today it was time to transfer twixt them, via a walk, two metro routes, a four hour bus, a walk, one metro route, and a walk. I don't have a sim card you'll recall, so this was all done offline and done very well I MIGHT ADD. I also didn't feel sick on the bus despite taking the extraordinary risk of eating a pastel de nata and a pizza roll that weighed, conservatively, 600g on it.

    The bus station I chose in Lisbon (there are multiple, I bet that's stuffed people up) turns out to be next to the ZOO so that was tempting but I had to tell Little Lexie no for the first time - we had a bit more faff to go to get to the hostel and we had to ration the puff. This was wise because once we'd checked in it was pretty much gone. I went to the supermarket, cooked dinner, read a bit of this Ken Follet that really isn't grabbing me, sadly, and went to bed. They can't all be Nat Geo worthy ok.
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  • Impractical and perfect souvenir

    May 4, 2024 in Portugal ⋅ ⛅ 18 °C

    Sucker for a good print. One hanging immediately caught my eye but I dutifully rifled through an enormous stack to confirm yes I do like it the best. In an alarming break from character, I engaged the bloke in conversation and learned about the artists that use this space and got shown around the workshop. He's mates with them, but uses a different workshop himself. He's minding things today while they're at the market today and tomorrow. He showed me the poster they'd made to promote their stall - it's the one I liked to begin with! Sold. When I left, I saw it pasted in the street. I'm carrying it around like a hobo architect. I hope it inspires mystique. Where's she going, what's she planning?Read more

  • Chiado, Barrio Alto, left a bit, and up

    May 4, 2024 in Portugal ⋅ ☁️ 19 °C

    Getting lost in an approximate direction again, today in the area I'm calling 'left of the two streets' and I simply won't be qualifying that or translating it to easts or wests because they are SYNONYMOUS with left and right. Furthermore, north is directly in front of me and inexplicably south is down. It works for me.

    From the hostel I didn't have to check out of (heaven) I walked around Chiado, Barrio Alto and Baixa, down to the water and Time Out Market, and back to the hostel for lunch.
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  • More stuff in pretty streets

    May 4, 2024 in Portugal ⋅ ☁️ 18 °C

    I then undertook a big loop via the Estrela garden and Eduardo VII park, back down through the designer label area, into Barrio Alto again which, by night is sort of a zoo.

    This, and all the signs saying things like "you look like I need another drink" and "if you're still standing you need another drink", is entirely the fault of two groups that, if you took the census right now, appear to make up 50% of the city population and are chiefly concerned with maximising their booze volume value ratio at all times:

    1. British lads/hens/stag groups - stop singing Robbie Williams in the street you sunburned bellends

    2. early 20s American consultants - stop talking about JP Morgan onboarding you geek bellends.

    Back at the hostel after 18km, I cracked unceremoniously into the sardines I've carried over 900km since Roncesvalles. They were fine.
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  • Brace yourself for Sintra

    May 5, 2024 in Portugal ⋅ ☁️ 17 °C

    Overnight camp time! I'm catching a 40 minute train to Sintra, a UNESCO listed town in a national park that was a little royal playground back in the day. WOOF. It's a popular day trip from Lisbon but I'm staying in a vintage guesthouse private room I quite generously booked myself many moons ago and forgot about. Pleasantly surprised was an understatement.

    As I was being shown around the woman told me the house was originally owned by a painter that worked on the Pena Palace, then a dentist who worked and lived in the house with his family of six. My room used to be one of the administrative offices, and the woman used to come here as a girl for her dentist visits!
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  • You walked to the Monserrate Palace?

    May 5, 2024 in Portugal ⋅ ☁️ 17 °C

    Theres a lot to see in Sintra, and I'm sticking to my guns on going slow and not researching the daylights out of it in advance. There's a balance though obviously. I poke around gently in specific areas of Google to influence the odds being in my favour. For instance - I didn't know which train I'd get but I knew they were hourly until a certain time. I didn't know which things I'd try to go to but I knew I wanted to see Quinta de Regaleria and buying tickets online before going was recommended. I knew you could buy a ticket for just the gardens of Pena Palace if you wanted.

    Excited to flex my walking muscles again I puffed my chest out indignantly when the guesthouse woman suggested the historic centre (10 minutes) and QdR (20) were viable on foot but I should take a bus for the Monserrate Palace and gardens as that was a whopping 4.5km away. Ma'am. I'll be walking.

    Everyone else evidently took the advice as between QdR and Monserrate I had the road to myself bar the occasional bus, tuk-tuk (doing a thriving trade) and bike. It was fantastic. The best way I can really describe Sintra is if you shook some moorish inspired fairytale castles into a botanical garden and then let a bunch of surrealists pick the outdoor furniture.
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