DAY THIRTEEN

It's my last day. Do I want to travel more? Nooooo, I scream inwardly. But I'd heard so much about Sintra, and the coastal towns, and the delicious fish there, and it's only forty minutes by train, and cheap. So I'm off.

Sintra is gorgeous; I decide I want to live there, especially when I find a little healthy-food cafe. I just walk and sit, and walk, and feel the sun, and walk, and have a gelato. I decide not to visit all the tourist suggestions, which want a lot of money. I joosta henjoy.

And then. And then I decide to go to the coastal town of Cascais. It's a bus ride away – another forty minutes – but a train goes back to Lisbon from there.  But once on, I find it's a milk-run, unfortunately; redeemed only by the sweet little girl sitting beside me, who babbles on in Portuguese to me, myself sort of grunting assent, and smiling, and gesturing, and making things with her dominoes.

I didn't really see a lot of the town. I wanted to get to the beach, the Atlantic coast, and look out to Newfoundland, and the sun was already hovering close to the horizon.  I just walked along the boardwalk and basked in the rosy hues, and came back for a bite, when I finally found something open on the beach. The Portuguese make delicious, and very nutritious food. I explored some of the shopping area before plunking myself on the train and rushing to my last sleep in Europe.

bathroom at the hostel; lovely to wake up to all this light

the train station in Lisbon

history of the little cafe in Sintra

Sintra street

a tiny portion of a huge garden in Sintra

cute, eh?

in the park

in front of the historical centre; Sintra

Sintra; reminded me of pictures of the Amalfi coast

the little babbling girl on the bus to Cascais

street in Cascais

along the boardwalk

and again

tiles in an underground walkway

as above

more boardwalk

from the cafe where I ate

shopping area, Cascais

still Cascais; I love the sidewalks