Saturday

The route was all you could hope for – Mark did good. I was scared out of my wits frequently and kept reminding myself we were on an adventure, not a sedate Sunday drive. We were driving the coastal road to Sintra with a stop at Cabo do Roca, a spectacular promontory we’ve been wanting to see , and a final stop off for wine and tapas at a restaurant Mark had been told about in Sintra. It should take about three hours and a half hours in all. We would be good and hungry by then.

We left here relaxed by the ocean and made our way to Sintra for a late lunch. Mark fought the satnav which was determined we should take a tiny, and I mean tiny, lane, crooked and steep. We complied the first time, turned around a time or two and gave up on the satnav completely. When we arrived in Sintra, it was eerily silent. Everything was closed and dodging pedestrians wasn’t nearly as much fun. We’d forgotten about siesta hours (don’t know what they’re called here, must ask) and nothing would open for another three hours! Damn, damn, damn! So we followed the route through the village to the highway, a whole twenty minutes back on beautifully paved roads and lanes to spare. Yes, it was ugly but ugly isn’t always bad.

By now we were starving so we headed down to the tourist section of Cascais certain the meandering streets would have something open. Mark was craving pizza and beer. We found an Italian place and boy, did we enjoy ourselves!

Mark had pistachio and chocolate chip gelato. Call us in heaven.