Riverboat cruising in Portugal
I first read about riverboat cruising in a magazine several years ago, and promptly decided I wanted to give it a try. I’ve done several ocean cruises, especially in the Caribbean, but rivers in Europe sounded different and fascinating. The boats are much smaller, holding maybe 130 or so people, and the venues are fabulous.
Much of European civilization developed along rivers, and traveling them would be a wonderful way of seeing Europe without a lot of packing and unpacking. The boats park in the center of towns and cities, and one can seen a great deal of the countryside in peace and comfort. The quintessential riverboat cruises follow the great rivers of northern and eastern Europe: the Rhine, the Elbe, the Danube, etc.
We decided to give this a try, so off we went, after several months of happy anticipation. (Planning a trip is one of the best parts.)
In theory, I would have had my book finished weeks before we left, but since I produce best when desperate, I ended up e-mailing my manuscript to my editor about two hours before the airport van picked us up for the drive to Dulles Airport outside of Washington, DC. (Not surprisingly, the nation’s capital is a great city for finding international flights.)
On our way over, we connected through the HUMONGOUS airport at Frankfurt, and I have distinct memories of how at an absurd hour of body time, a little electric cart carried our party of four through about ten kilometers of airport. Our driver was a good-natured woman who looked like a fashion model (I am deeply envious of those German genes).
As one member of the party imitated truck air horn honks, the driver called the German equivalent of “Out of the way, we’re coming through!”, my sister and I treated the airport to several choruses of “The Little Nash Rambler and the Cadillac,” and the fourth member of the party cowered on the back seat and tried to look as if she didn’t know us. <G> Strange things happen when one is jetlagged.
German airport security is thorough. One member of our party got patted down, and she said she’d had sexual encounters that were less personal. (Though to be fair, the security people were polite and professional.) On our flight home from Munich, we went through no less than five security checks, not to mention passport control. The last security/passport check was specifically for people flying to North America. I didn’t mind anything except having to relinquish my water bottle.
There are three major riverboat cruising companies that specialize in English speaking passengers: Uniworld, Viking, and Grand Circle, but only Uniworld cruises in Portugal. (http://uniworld.com/) Why did we choose Portugal? I guess because it looked beautiful and off the beaten track. Practically no one but Regency buffs has ever heard of the Douro River, which runs east to west across Northern Portugal and goes into Spain. (One of Wellington’s nicknames was “Old Douro,” probably a pun on both the river and his famously dour disposition.)
Plus, the river runs through steep sided gorges covered with terraced vineyards in what is one of Europe’s oldest wine producing regions. What’s not to like? <g> We were all well pleased by our choice.
Portugal is a small country on the far west of Europe, but it has a proud history. In the Age of Discovery, the 16th century, its captains and navigators discovered the world. Like Britain, this small country fathered a huge empire that included Brazil, Mozambique, and Angola as well as Goa in India and Macao in China.
The country has a Mediterranean feel, though it’s not on the Mediterranean. The language is derived from Latin and the written form looks similar to Spanish and Italian, but the accent is quite different. One of the guides said the pronunciation is influenced by the Gaelic peoples who lived along the north coast of Portugal and Spain.
We spent the first two days in a five star hotel in beautiful, sunny Lisbon. Uniworld provided a coach tour of the city, which was fun. The city is built on seven hills, like Rome, and it sprawls across the Tagus, Portugal’s greatest river. The whole country is hilly and 70% of the population lives near the Atlantic coasts. This is why traveling in the north felt remote and peaceful.
In Lisbon, we lunched at a café where I tried one of the local staple meals, codfish and boiled potatoes served with a little cruet of olive oil. Not bad, though not exactly lite fare. <g> Later, in shop windows, we saw slabs of dried cod that would be taken home and soaked for a day or two before cooking. Our last night in Lisbon, our little party had dinner at a dockland area of small restaurants. We sat right under a grand suspension bridge and had a fine meal. Since the restaurant was called Piexes (Pisces), guess what the menu featured. <G>
We loved the Portuguese people we met, who were friendly without being overpowering. They took very, very good care of us, and urged us to tell our friends to visit their country. (That’s what I’m doing now. <g>)
The country was beautifully clean and most of the cars and equipment I saw looked new and healthy, but it’s not a rich nation by any means. Portuguese citizens often go to other countries for jobs, sending part of their money back home, so it’s not surprising that they want to develop the local tourism industry to create employment. They have lots to work with—everyone I’ve met who has visited Portugal has loved the place. Plus, as a socialist country, it’s less expensive to visit than most European countries.
After two days in Lisbon, we were coached north to Porto (also known as Oporto), which is the second largest city in the country. For the first time ever, the Douro Queen had sold out, so there were 120 people in the group—two coaches worth. A small group for an ocean cruiser, but largish for being hustled around on land. But I must give Uniworld credit—the coach were spiffy new and comfortable and the drivers first rate. (A couple of times they drove down VERY NARROW AND WINDY roads with impressive skill.) Plus, there were good arrangements for meals and local tours. All went very smoothly.
Because the Douro descends steeply from the Iberian plateau, our ship traveled through great locks that were built into modern dams. In several cases, we went from a lock to a bridge that was so low that the navigation array had to be tilted flat on the sun deck, along with the awning. Never a dull moment! But many peaceful ones. There are lots of olive, cork, and almond trees, too. We were told that in the spring, when the almonds were flowering and filling the air with intoxicating scents, families would travel north to enjoy the sight.
The coaches took us to cities and universities and ruined hilltop castles. Our principal guide, Patricia, was delighted to find that I wrote historical novels, and she made a point of showing sites of particular interest. (“Wellington and his army camped out at the foot of this hill. That convent was turned into a hospital for wounded British soldiers after the battle.”)
After flying and driving, cruising the Douro River came closer to the rhythms of the past. Not all the way—we were on a motorized cruise boat and the sophisticated locks meant we didn’t have to shoot the rapids to get casks of wine down the river to Porto. But the pace was civilized, allowing us time to admire the terraced hills and quintas and little lonely stone buildings. From jet age to the age of river travel.
To be honest, I don’t much like port, which is the region’s most famous product. I find it way too sweet. But the history of port is quite interesting, and certainly part of the reason there has been a 400+ year alliance between England and Portugal. The other reason is to stand against their mutual enemy, Spain, but the port is more convivial. <g> A number of the great Portuguese port houses bear British names. Sandeman, whose warehouse we toured in Porto, was founded by an 18th century Scot named George Sandeman.
The various tours we cruisers took included a great deal of history. Did you know that Catherine of Braganza, the Portuguese princess who married Charles II of England, is the person who introduced tea to England? A historic deed for sure! Plus, her dowry included the city of Bombay in India, a prize that was part of the British empire till India achieved independence after WWII.
I wouldn’t say Portugal is a shopper’s paradise unless you like embroidered linens, though I was intrigued by the handbags made of cork. It’s soft and tan and supple and looks very like suede. But one thing I saw over and over was the image of a rooster. It was on tee-shirts and woven bags and there were tons of gaily painted little cast iron rooster magnets and key chains. Plus a few classy sterling silver version.
I finally asked a clerk what the story on rooster was, and was told the tale which made the rooster the national symbor. The whole story is here: http://shoebox.heindorffhus.dk/frame-CoqBarcelos.htm but briefly, an innocent pilgrim who was tried and sentenced to hanging for a theft he didn’t commit said that a roast rooster on the judge’s table would stand up and proclaim his innocence—and it did!
The only hitch in our trip was on the flight home, when we missed connections in Munich because our flight from Porto was late. (WARNING: when an airline says that a 40 minute connection time is adequate because flights are tied and it’s not a huge airport, they LIE!), and became guests of a Lufthansa at a nice little airport hotel in Munich and didn’t get home until Monday evening, with cascading domino effects on laundry and coherence. (The hotel was so used to taking in stranded passengers that they had a specific buffet set up for Lufthansa passengers.)
On the flight back to Dulles, I sat across the aisle from a Romanian woman who coughed for most of nine hours, and I came down with a bad cold. Eastern European bugs are tough. But the kitties were really, really glad to see me when we got home.
It was a great trip, and not just because traveling in Portugal (and, briefly, Spain) stirred my imagination for Regency era stories. Lovely country, lovely people. I’d be happy to go back again. Maybe rent a car in Porto and drive along the Douro valley, staying in some of the fabulous manor houses and convents that are now hotels. And while I don’t love port, the local table wines were fine.
Did all this beauty and history give me an idea for a book? It sure did! But I might have to learn to like port. <g>
Mary Jo |
Portugal Countryside 
