Exploring Portugal: Porto #2

November 2014 and I had just started the DELTA. In anticipation of the success of my first LSA (you'd think I'd wait till it was a given, wouldn't you?!), I decided to treat myself to a weekend away. My only provisos were that it was cheap and stress-free, and thus I hit on the idea of Portugal.

I hadn't been back to Portugal since I finished my contract there in June 2011. As it was easy to get from Madrid to Porto I figured that then was as good a time as any to go back. Finding a flight for €41 rtn (£32.50/US$52.50) was the icing on the cake. Sure, it was with Europe's "favourite" airline (can't you hear the sarcasm?) and the return flight was at stupid o'clock in the morning, but cheap is cheap and so I booked it.

Four weeks later, and safe in the knowledge that I'd passed my LSA (yay!), I landed in Aeroporto do Porto (also known as Aeroporto Francisco Sá Carneiro). It was 09:40 and waaaaaay too early to check in at my hotel, so I got the metro into town. It was as easy as it had ever been, and just as cheap too!

I changed at Trindade for São Bento, from where it was a nice walk downhill towards the Ribeira. I wandered along the riverfront, drinking in the views and taking pictures, before grabbing a table at one of the cafés and treating myself to an Earl Grey tea and a tosta mista (ham and cheese toastie).


No place I'd rather be

Refreshed, I crossed the iconic Ponte Dom Luís I and focussed on getting some shots of the Ribeira. I could have stood there all day trying to capture what I was seeing...

The Ribeira in the sun



Boats on the Douro

The view from the bridge

I reluctantly pulled myself away from the view, crossed back over the bridge, walked uphill and headed for Avenida dos Aliados, which was where my hotel was. The Câmara Municipal (Town Hall) is still one of my favourite buildings. And it looked as gorgeous as ever against a backdrop of blue sky.

Still one of my favourite views

Having checked in and dumped my bag, which was growing increasingly heavy, I took one last look at the Town Hall, and then went to check out Torre dos Clérigos. But I got distracted by Casa Oriental, the most-photographed shop in Porto.


Trying to photograph the city's most-photographed shop

Close-up of the produce

Salt cod in bags

A stone's throw from Casa Oriental, sandwiched between Igreja dos Carmelitas and Igreja do Carmo is the narrowest house in Portugal. En-route, I caught sight of one of the trams, which was perfectly coordinated with the autumn leaves. I would later discover that this was one of the few trams not to have been defaced by modern-day advertising.

Old-fashioned tram and autumn colours

The narrowest house in Portugal between Igreja dos Carmelitas (left) and Igreja do Carmo

With the main sights checked off, I decided to head for Campanhã, the regional train station, and jump on a train to Braga, my old home. An hour later, I had arrived. I walked slowly through the streets, taking in the changes, smiling at the sameness. And then I swung a left and headed purposefully for my school...



Familiar platform at Porto Campanhã

I had almost reached the school when I realised I was walking alongside a former colleague. She turned and saw me at the exactly the same moment, screamed and hugged me, and then insisted on walking me into the school to 'show me off'. I spent a couple of hours catching up with my former colleagues. It was almost as though I'd never left. When they went to class, I headed home.

By the time I got back to Porto, darkness had fallen. Hungry now, I headed for the Ribeira, determined to have one riverside dinner. But I soon got distracted photographing the bridge and Vila Nova de Gaia, all lit up and casting light onto the river.

Mosteiro da Serra do Pilar all lit up



Lights reflected onto the Douro

Several hundred photos later, and I was ready for dinner. I chose one of the riverfront restaurants, ordered robalo grelhado (grilled rockbass, a former favourite) and ate overlooking the river.

Iconic view

The next day, the sun had been replaced by heavy rain. Despite this, the autumn colours shone through. And I realised that I haven't noticed autumn in Madrid. One day, the leaves are green, the next, they are brown. There's no change, and I miss that.


Autumn on Aliados



Cute shopfront

Having walked up to Rua Santa Catarina (one of the main shopping streets), I made my way back downhill, and then uphill to the cathedral. I mostly wanted to see the views, but once there, I couldn't resist going inside. And when I saw a sign for the cloisters, I handed over my €3 (£2.40/US$3.75) without hesitation. What can I say? I'm a sucker for cloisters!

View from the cathedral



The cathedral cloisters

Another view

Artistic arches

Keen to take a ride on one of the trams, just for old time's sake, I decided to go to Foz do Douro. By the time I reached the beach, the wind had risen and the skies had turned black. Nonetheless, I walked along the front taking in the stormy seas and the smelling the ocean air...

The lighthouse



Wild seas



Dark sands



Looking back towards the lighthouse

I walked along the seafront admiring the views. It was rainy and blustery, but I didn't want to go back, so I just kept on walking. Despite the greyness, the views were awesome. An hour or so later and I was done. I made my way back to the tram, stopping en-route to pet a friendly cat. Then it was back to the city for one last wander. Breaking with tradition, I walked down a street I'd never walked down before, and came across some scrappily but brightly-painted doors.


Doors to make you smile

Back in the centre and I decided to head out to the airport and find my hotel. It was too cold and wet to hang around, and I had an early flight the next morning. The weekend may have been brief, but I loved going back. Perhaps one day I'll go back permanently...

Hidden Madrid: Fiesta de la Trashumancia

Of all the fiestas I ever thought I'd attend in Madrid, a sheep festival was not one of them. But as a bonafide country girl, when I heard about La Fiesta de la Trashumancia (The Transhumance Festival), I ditched all my weekend plans in favour of witnessing more than 2,000 sheep being herded through the city centre. Because sheep!

Since ancient times, nomadic shepherds have moved their flocks in search of better climates and more food. Traditionally, they would move from Castilla y León in the autumn to Extremadura, and then back again in the spring.

Long before Madrid became the bustling metropolis it is today, shepherds, permitted by law, herded their flocks through fields and woodland in this area. But as urban sprawl took over, the grazing lands of old and the droving paths have been whittled away. For the past ten years, shepherds have brought their sheep to the centre of Madrid to defend their right to use the country's fast disappearing droving routes, some of which have been in use for more than 800 years.

Sheep!

The fiesta is always on a Sunday, so the sheep spend Saturday night in Casa de Campo. The next morning they are herded down Calle Mayor and into Plaza de la Villa, for a welcome meeting (bleating?) and the symbolic payment of 25 maravedís, coins first minted in the 11th century. From there, they make their way into town passing by Sol, Cibeles and Puerta de Alcalá. They then head back to Casa de Campo.

Waiting for the sheep to arrive

Let the fiesta begin!

Keen to see as much of the parade as possible, I had chosen to meet the sheep on Calle Segovia near the cathedral. I was surprised, not to mention rather pleased, to note that there were very few people around. But, as I later discovered, that was because they had already staked their places on Calle Mayor! At least I got a few minutes of uninterrupted photo-taking.


Following the flock

Baa baa black sheep...



Crowd-surfing



Standing head and, er, horns above the rest

It took absolutely ages to get from Calle Mayor to Sol, for which I blame the goats! There were just four of them, but they were far from happy about being herded and so they stopped dead. It took the sheep a few minutes to notice they'd stopped, but when they did, the entire flock came to a standstill.

As the farmers tried to get them moving again, the flock started panicking. Sheep were milling around in all directions, bleating like crazy and jostling for position. And at the centre of it all, utterly motionless, were the goats. Or reindeer. At least according to a nearby child, who excitedly shouted, "Hay un reno!" (There's a reindeer!). His parents made no attempt to correct him, making me wonder if city people really can't distinguish between a reindeer and a Spanish goat...

Reindeer or goat?

The organisers stormed alongside the flock, shouting at people to get back and physically pushing those who were slow to respond. With tempers rising, some spectators got in on the act. A rather aggressive man, who had already 'suggested' nastily that I move, grabbed an older lady by the arm and yanked her backwards with such force that she tripped on the kerb and almost fell. I put out my hand to steady her, and then hastily took my leave as the two started yelling at each other.

Confusion on Calle Mayor

I ran up to Sol, both to escape the aggression and to grab a decent vantage point. Thinking it better to go as far along the route as possible, I found myself standing on Calle de Alcalá, mere feet from farmers dressed in colourful clothing, singing and dancing. Having been unable to see the earlier performance at Plaza de la Villa, I was delighted to catch this one.


Women performing a traditional dance



Women in traditional dress watching the dancers

From Sol the procession moved down Calle de Alcalá, heading for Cibeles. With the road closed off to traffic, both spectators and sheep had a little more space. The sheep took full advantage of this and several of them broke free from the flock to graze the central reservation and devour the pansies.


One of the badly-behaved goats



Heading for Cibeles



Mmmm... pansies



A sea of sheep

I followed the sheep all the way to Puerta de Alcalá, and that's where we parted ways (after a few more photos of course). I headed home while they swung a right and started the long walk back to Casa de Campo.


Anyone know where we are?



Spectator sheep

Exploring España: Consuegra

If you've heard of Consuegra, you'll know that it is home to some of the windmills made famous by Cervantes in his novel Don Quijote. But did you know that the town is also home to the world's most expensive spice? Or that it holds a festival dedicated to the same? Nope. Well, until very recently, neither did I...

One evening last month, when I should have been finishing off my lesson plan for the next day, I found myself making a list of the places I'd like to visit this academic year. With much of my disposable income, er, already disposed of, I decided to focus on day trips rather than weekends away, and that was how I came to consider Consuegra.

I first heard about the town ages ago but, having seen the windmills at Campo de Criptana, I didn't feel the need to hot-foot it to Consuegra for more of the same. Now, with Consuegra back in the picture, I started doing some research and soon discovered that the best time to visit the town is in October when the saffron fields turn purple. When looking for some images, I learned about La Fiesta de la Rosa del Azafrán. And I was sold.


Lovely landscape of La Mancha

I work every other Saturday so the very second I got my timetable, I checked to see whether I was a green (first) or yellow (second) Saturday. If I was green, I would have the whole weekend off whereas if I was yellow, I would have to choose whether to go on either the Friday or Sunday. Argghh! Of course I was yellow. Nonetheless, I was determined to see at least some of the festival.

The next problem was getting there. Unless you have a car or are prepared to rent one, you have to go by bus. The name I'd been given was Samar, seemingly the only company covering this route. Unfortunately, the bus times were all but useless. Convinced that it had to be possible to arrive in Consuegra before 13:35, I did some digging which turned up AISA. And thus I found a bus leaving Madrid at 09:30 from Estación Sur (aka Méndez Álvaro) and arriving in Consuegra at 11:30. Let the fiesta begin.

Or not as it turned out. Despite several sources on the internet saying otherwise, the fiesta would not be starting until the following day, and I would be at work. So there I was, two hours south of Madrid for a festival that wasn't. With nothing else to do, I spent a couple of hours getting acquainted with the windmills instead...

Having scrambled up a grassy hill, the first windmill I reached was Mambrino

High above Consuegra, rising up from the plains of La Mancha, stands the Cerro Calderico ridge, and running along its spine are the windmills made famous by Cervantes in his iconic novel, El ingenioso hidalgo Don Quijote de la Mancha (The ingenious gentleman Quijote of La Mancha). Originally there were 13 windmills; today, there are 12, all modern-day reconstructions that have been christened with names taken from the Don Quijote.

Map of the ridge

Mochilas (left) and the aptly-named Sancho

Up close and personal with Sancho

 

 

Sneaking through a gap in the wall

Vista Alegre

Halfway along the ridge is La Muela, a 12th century castle. Built on the remains of a 9th century Arabic fort, the castle was alternately occupied by the Moors and the Christians from 1083-1183.

In 1183, the castle was back in the hands of the Christians, and King Alfonso VIII (r. 1158-1214) gave it to El Orden de los Caballeros del Hospital de San Juan de Jerusalén (The Order of the Knights of the Hospital of Saint John of Jerusalem), who turned it into a Grand Priory. Over the years, the castle underwent several restructures before falling into disrepair in the 19th century. In 1985, it was finally restored and today it's open to the public.

Standing near the castle looking back towards Vista Alegre

The 12th century castle

From the castle, it's an uphill walk to the other seven windmills. When you think of Consuegra, it's these particular mills that come to mind, probably because almost all of the photos on Google images feature this group. Having seen these from the road on the approach to Consuegra, I couldn't wait to start exploring...

What's that coming over the hill? Is it a monster?

Seven of Quijote's 'giants'



Sunlight behind one of the mills

Looking back towards the castle

Thanks to some very poor bus times (the ONE bus back to Madrid leaves at 15:15!), I only had a couple of hours to spend in Consuegra. Obviously, I would have loved to have seen the fiesta I'd gone all that way for, but there are worse ways of spending one's time than wandering around the windmills. It was a gorgeous day, the landscape was stunning and the site was surprisingly tourist-free. Three hours, twelve windmills and three hundred photos later and I was ready to call it a day. Consuegra, done!