Iberian Interlude
Wednesday, June 11, 2025 - Estero, Florida
We were up early on this fine spring morning. We stowed our bags in the car, and set off south, across Alligator Alley, for Miami. The traffic was sparse this morning in theE. We cruised across the grassy expanse in just over two hours. Then, we hit Miami traffic. Ai caramba! The rascals drive more aggressively here than they do in in New York City. Our faithful GPS led us to a Holiday Inn near the airport. We had arranged to leave our car there for two weeks and stay at the hotel on our return. The extra charges for parking and room were reasonable.
The hotel shuttle ran us over to the American Airlines terminal at Miami International. Accumulated miles had allowed us to bump up to business class, a pleasure that we have not often experienced. We checked in, later boarded and settled in to relative comfort for the eight-hour flight. A glass of champagne met us before take-off. Great meal service accompanied watching several movies on our screen cubicles. It was a relatively easy flight into Madrid, Spain.
The American terminal there may have as well been as far away as Cuba. We walked at least a mile along the jetways, to the customs clearing gates. There, a scrum of about three hundred Americans stood in line waiting for clearance. It took an hour for us to get to the point where they swiped our passports and said welcome.
We have a basic grasp of Spanish, but soon became confused. Every sign said Salida( exit.) We bounced from one kind soul to another asking questions to find our bags. It seems that you have to drop down two floors and take a small train to the luggage arrival area. Predictably, the area was in chaos, with hundreds of new arrivals sorting out their luggage. We found ours and walked even further to find an exit from the terminal. Wear good walking shoes is the operative dictum.
Outside the flow of cabs, buses and cars was bedlam. We found a cab stand, signaled for one of the hacks and boarded her. It was sauna like and in the mid-nineties out. The driver was pleasant and had a fair command of English.
The traffic was worse than Miami. The cabbie copied down our hotel info, punched it into his GPS and we were off. Eventually, we found our hotel. The tab was forty Euros. Too much? We had no idea and paid the man.
The hotel is a boutique inn with lots of character, about one mile uphill from the Prado Museum. The hotel Catalonia Puerta del Sol, at 23 Atocha, welcomed us. The desk clerk was charming and spoke better English than I did. The local time was only noon, so our room was not ready. We checked our bags in and set out to see what we could see.
The Avenue de Atocha is about a mile run from the Plaza Mayor in the center of the city, down-hill to the Prado Museum. It is lined with small stores, bistros and sundry shops. We walked its length. People were out and about. The traffic was clogged everywhere. This cowboy was starting to drag a bit from the flight and the forced march through the terminal.
We were in search of the “Hop on-hop off bus” that you usually find in most cities. We walked by the Prado, admiring this huge complex of parkland and neo classical architecture. A statue of the Spanish painter Velasques sits in front. Inside lay many art treasures that we had come here to see. Veronese, the Italian mural master is featured in a special exhibit. We had last seen his epic works on the ceilings of the Doge Palace in Venice.
The “hop on” bus (less the hop off feature) took us in for $23 euros each. We rode through the city, listening to a recorded message of Madrid's history. It was not quite synched in with the busy traffic, so it was pretty useless. I couldn't manage the climb to the upper deck, so that meant the ride was pretty uninteresting. C'est la vie. What we could see is that Madrid has many urban parks and tree lined boulevards. The streets were crowded with tourists from everywhere. The Spanish capital looks both prosperous and interesting.
From the bus area, we flagged a cab down and rode back to our hotel. Our room was ready and we settled into Room #410. It was both clean and spacious. We fell into bed and slept like dead logs in a swamp for two hours.
Arising groggily, we cleaned up and decided that the small hotel bar would be our final destination for the day. It was comfortable. A good glass of Spanish cabernet and a wonderful Caesar salad made us happy. ($45 Euros) We retired to our room, settled in to read and sleep well. It had been a long first day in Madrid.
Friday, June 13,2025- Madrid, Spain
We were up at 6 am. We watched the European version of CNN, shuddering as usual to all of the international tensions. We had pretty good coffee in the room, with some great chocolate scones from a market across the street. Cleaning up, we had hailed an Uber for a 10:15 am ride down to the Prado. You have to have tickets purchased on line or you wait in a very long line. ($20 Euros each) The three-story building circles an open courtyard, with tables for the leisurely.
Inside of the venerable institution, we first visited the Veronese exhibit. The “Adoration of the Magi” and other grand murals grab your attention with their vivid colors. Goya showed a raft of dark colors and then many lighter ones reflecting his joy of life.
The crowds swirled around us in a profusion of languages. We stopped in a central courtyard for cappuccinos and muffins, appreciating the art all around us.
A collection of Heronymous Bosch paintings featured a very weird perspective. His “Garden of earthly delights” is a study in many miniatures, in a variety of odd poses and activities. I can only think Salvador Dali used him as an inspiration many centuries later.
El Greco, like many of the struggling artists, painted the “look at me” portraits of the famous and wealthy of their time, sitting astride horses or in other epic poses. I didn't much care for any of them. Reubens too, with all of his delightful colored paintings catered to the wealthy. His technique is masterful, his subject matter plebian. The “Rubenesque nudes” reflected the beefier versions of femme fatales. Breughel the elder was a surprise favorite. His five “paintings of the senses” are a study in technique and color, with wry humor.
Like all great museums we had visited, after two or three hours, the “museum glaze” sets in and you lose interest in what you are seeing. Mary visited the gift store to buy some book markers. I sat and watched the international swirl of people mill around us. I did come to one observation. Our personal favorites are the French Impressionists. These wonderful paintings feature one of two people in studied poses. Here, among the Spanish paintings, the artists feature crowds of people in many activities. I don't know why or what that means, it is just an observation.
Leaving the Prado, we walked across the boulevard to one of the grand hotels and caught a cab there for the brief ride back to our hotel. {$10 Euros) Thousands of tourists were swirling around the center of the city. I wrote up my notes and we enjoyed a delicious “vino tinto” in the room.(red wine). I was still flagging, so our hotel bar sounded good enough for me. Good cabernet, with a margherita pizza, hit the spot. Afterwards, we were treated to an oddity. An enormous crowd of young Spaniards was marching down the Avenue Atocha, shouting, “Jesus, Salvator mundi” (Jesus, savior of the world.) I don't know who or what they were representing, but there were thousands of them loudly proclaiming their love for Jesus, the savior.
It was early in the evening, but we were still recovering from the flight over, so we repaired to our room, to read and crash early. It had been a nice day in the Spanish capital.
Saturday, June 14th, 2025- Madrid, Spain
We were up at 6 am. It was already 69 degrees out and promised to be a scorcher. Coffee and chocolate croissants were a good start. An uber met us at 9:15 am for a ride to the Palacio Nationale. (Royal Palace) 13 Euros. We had been advised to buy advance tickets on line and were glad that we had. There was a long line of tourists waiting to enter the place thirty minutes before its ten am opening.
The Palace is a massive affair. Four stories tall and U-shaped, it surrounds a huge courtyard. Fronting the Palace, is an impressive wrought iron fence, with gold tipped finials. It gave me the impression of a huge Crusader Fortress. The complex sits across from the equally impressive Cathedral of Almudena. Behind the Cathedral is another Art Museum. The crowds were already building.
We sat outside for a time, watching the considerable streams of visitors that were lining up to enter. The Royal Family of Spain no longer is in residence here. The place is more of a National Museum.
We gained admittance at ten am. The first-floor gallery is lined with administrative offices. Inside the main entrance, a massive two story staircase leads up to the exhibit rooms. Fortunately, they did have an elevator, that a kindly guard escorted us to.
The second-story corridors are massive brick walled galleries, with 35' ceilings and a 30' across marble flooring. Large windows sealed the corridor from the massive courtyard. The exhibit rooms run off this spacious corridor.
The grand ballroom had been built to impress. Parquet floors and gold-gilded mirrors reflected wealth and power. Window washing this sucker must have been a chore.
The Royal Chapel is a velvet lined, gold-gilded small church, where the royals sat with a good-sized array of retainers to hear services. Gilded statues, and rich fabric walls made it a place of finery.
The music room was small in size, but contained six Stradavarius musical instruments in glass cases. Each piece was probably valued at over a million Euros. Velvet fabrics and gilt edged everything seemed to be the motif.
There was a private card room, a billiards parlor and other special purpose rooms. Each was rich in fabric and exotic woods and luxuriously furnished.
The Royal receiving room was a hoot. The gold edged mirrors and fabric walls surrounded the Royal Thrones in a massive reception hall. This is the room where the Royals received foreign ambassadors. It had been meant as a showcase, to impress visitors with Spanish wealth. It achieved its purpose.
Like all museums, the route ended in the gift shop. We found an elevator there to a small, second floor cafeteria. We enjoyed cappuccinos and sparkle water, with muffins. The A/C was delightful. Outside it would reach 100 degrees today.
Leaving the museum, we were engulfed by crowds of visitors waiting to gain entry. We didn't want to even try and wade through them to visit the Cathedral. The heat was sauna like. We flagged a cab nearby and asked to be dropped off at the Plaza Mayor, the very heart of the city. It was awash with visitors.
We snagged a seat at a Starbucks and sipped their delicious brew. All around us, tourists were walking hither and yon. A market across the street had throngs of people buying provender or sipping beers or water. It was a serious people show.
Through a nearby stone arch we wandered into the Plaza Mayor. Stretching about 100 yards in length and half that across, this massive rectangle is lined with shops and restaurants of all types and throngs of people. In the center of the square a single fountain sits. All around it, small children ran, kicked soccer balls and cavorted in the harsh sun. We found the “Magarit” restaurant. Outside, we sat under a tent. Large tubing spayed cooling mists around us. Agua con gas (sparkle water) was delicious in the heat. A platter of breads and various dips and a wonderful platter of fried calamari were delicious. (28 Euros)
Beggars, con men and other miscreants circled around seeking advantage. We had one strange incident. We were sitting by the fountain, when a middle-aged couple came nearby, complaining of coins falling from her purse. She set her bag down near us and rummaged through her purse for a few minutes, before sighing and then leaving. We thought nothing of it at the time. But, when we later returned to our hotel, both of our room keys had been wiped clean. Luckily, we had known enough to encase our credit cards in “Farraday sleeves” that protect them from scanners looking to steal the credit information. And this is what I think the “complainers” had been up to. Be aware. The rascals are out there.
The pedestrian mall leading up to the Plaza was wall to wall people. We walked for several blocks before coming to an intersection near the Four Seasons Hotel, where four other such pedestrian walkways merged. Each of them was crowded with hundreds of walkers. This area must really rock at night. We walked a few blocks over and flagged a cab. For 10 Euros, we were ferried back to our hotel, happy to be out of the mid-day heat.
I wrote up my notes and we enjoyed a glass of “tinto vino” in the room and luxuriated in the A/C. My legs weren't working well that day, so we read and slept for a time. Later, we again enjoyed the hotel bar for wine and Caesar salads. It had been a nice visit to the Spanish capital, but we were ready to move on. Tomorrow, we would fly to Lisbon, Portugal and join up with our friends from Spring Run for a river boat cruise on the Duoro River in Northern Portugal.
Sunday, June 15th, 2025- Madrid, Spain
We were up early and started packing. That's easy enough. There are no decisions to make. You just toss everything you have in a bag. Coffee and chocolate croissants were again our starter.
After checking out, we hailed a cab on Avenue Atocha for the run to Madrid International. We were flying Iberia Air. The plane started boarding and took forever to get ready to leave. The older plane was much more comfortable and roomier than many of the newer planes. We were sitting in the cheap seats, but didn't mind. It was a one hour and twenty-minute hop to Lisbon. The flight was quick and easy.
Making our way through the terminal proved more difficult. We finally hooked up with our luggage. There was no required customs check. One door said “something to declare,” the other said “all the rest of you deceptive weasels.” Getting through that door was like being in a scrum during a rugby game. About five hundred rascals pushed into lines and mobbed their way through the gate. God bless the British for their sense of order. I wish they were running this place.
Fortunately for us, a Gate #1 representative was waiting for six of us as we emerged from the scrum. She took us all in hand, in the awful heat, and led us to a bus that would ferry us to the Sheraton Hotel in downtown Lisbon. We were just happy to have things go so easily. Good job Gateway.
The Sheraton Hotel was a step up in class for us. It is luxurious. We checked in with no effort and made our way to our comfortable room on the eleventh floor. It was very nice. We unpacked for our two-night stay and caught a major cat nap that lasted well into the late afternoon.
Cleaning up, we made it to the basement meeting room for a six pm, one-hour briefing and “meet and greet” with other tour members of our group. Free glasses of a decent dry red wine, loosened up tongues. We met our guide for the next ten days. “Carmen” is one of those wonderful and capable tour guides that could handle anything. We were to much appreciate her skills over the next week. She briefed us on any number of cultural tips, security alerts and ways to do things. She had a sense of humor that made you feel at ease. Though born in Madrid, she had married and settled in Portugal north of here. She suggested that we use English to speak to merchants. Apparently the Portuguese are all well-schooled in English from an early age.
After the meeting, we settled into the first-floor dining area, adjacent to the bar, with several couples in our group. Mary and I had Caesar salads, with some decent cabernet and great bread and oil for dinner. ($40 Euros.) It was a good opportunity for us to chat with several new friends from Spring Run, who were on the trip with us. We much enjoyed the brief repast. We would all be taking a tour of Lisbon tomorrow and looked forward to it. Mary and I had taken this tour, on a previous visit, but still looked forward to “seeing it all again.”
As the evening hours asserted their claim, we made our way to our eleventh-floor aerie and settled in to read and crash. We always use the Italian term for tired, “Stanke Morte,” (dead tired.)
Monday, June 16th, Lisbon, Portugal
We arose early. Sleep disruption, on tours while crossing vast distances in short periods of time, is common. At 6:30 am, we enjoyed a nice breakfast in the lobby dining area. Omelets, lox and cheeses, with cappuccinos, made for a tasty start for the day.
Our 8:30 am tour of Lisbon assembled in the lobby and filed into two buses. Maria, our talkative and informative guide, would lead us for the day. She pointed out the multi-colored tiles on building exteriors as we drove through the city. Some mosaic friezes were crafted in pictorial designs that caught the eye. A rainbow effect on a tiled tunnel wall was particularly attractive.
Lisbon was a military fortification first founded by the Phoenicians as a trading center, and then conquered by the Romans in 200 B.C. St. George's castle, the original fort sat atop one of the area's seven hills and guarded the entrance from the Tagus River. Blooming Jacaranda trees had been introduced to the area in 1306. They flowered in a delightful shade of lilac for us today.
The city had evolved under a variety of cultures. First built by the Phoenicians, then conquered by the Romans, the Moors had ruled the city for five centuries from the 8th through the 13th centuries.
Overrun by the Moors, the French and others, Portugal's first King John (Jao) in the 1300's had forever cemented the new countries relationship with Great Britain, by marrying Countess Phillipa of Lancashire, England.
Maria, our guide, was lively and informative. She told us that the modern bridge, that we could view crossing the Tagus, is the 'April the 25th Bridge.' Its name had been changed to commemorate the founding of the modern Portuguese Republic and the fall of dictator Antonio Salazar in 1974. Portugal had been a dictatorship from 1947-1974 under the repressive Salazar.
The Tagus River splits this modern city of 150,000 souls. A huge statue of Christ the King, some 110 meters tall, stands on the far bluff of the river, dominating the harbor's entrance. It is a copy of the statue standing over Rio De Janeiro in Brazil, and was built to commemorate the city being spared destruction during W.W.II. Portugal was officially neutral during the conflict and was the site of much international intrigue on the part of all warring participants. Broad parkland now occupies the river-front area. A section of old warehouses, called the 'docks,' has been converted to trendy boutiques and bistros. It is the center of nightlife, for the young, in Lisbon.
The city had been razed by a mighty earthquake in 1775. 'Common Square' had been built to commemorate the city's restoration. There is another bridge that crosses the Tagus, further down the river. Its span is 18 kilometers long. The Portuguese claim that it is the longest suspension bridge in Europe. It had been named for Vasco De Gama, the famous Portuguese explorer, who had rounded the Cape of Good Hope in Africa and opened up the orient to European commercial interests.
Our bus first stopped at a small parkland next to a four-story, turreted battlement called 'Belem.' (Portuguese for Bethlehem) Built in 1517-1521, it is a small castle that had once occupied the center of the Tagus River and served as a means of defense. Siltation had filled in one side of the river in the 1800's. Now, it is an attractive tourist Mecca. Today, it was covered in scaffolding, as restoration continues on the ancient structure.
A bronzed biplane stands nearby on a pedestal. It commemorates the flight of two early Portuguese aviators who had first flown across the Southern Atlantic, to Portuguese Brazil. We took photos of everything not moving, during the quick photo op, and then reboarded the bus. We were headed just several hundred yards down the Tagus, to the 'Discoverer's Monument.' The sun was shining, the day was warming and the sky was a bright azure, pleasing to look at. A gentle zephyr from the ocean cooled us in the heat.
The Discovery Monument was built in 1962, to commemorate the fifth centennial of the death of Portugal's' Prince Henry the Navigator. The Discoveries Monument also pays tribute to the many classes of Portuguese who had aided in the discovery of new lands across the globe. The huge stone monument is shaped like the white marble prow of a ship. Along either side, are 20-foot stone statues of clerks, clergy, navigators, queens and kings, sailors, artisans and every other group of people who had supported the exploration. At the middle of the prow stands Prince Henry the navigator, the main force behind much of Portugal's early discoveries. A stone relief map of the world lies in front of the monument, giving perspective to the distances that this tiny country had sent its explorers. It is all larger than life and impressive to see and experience.
The waterfront portions of the city are dominated by broad tree-lined boulevards, with immaculate park areas and monuments sprinkled along the way. As the bus threaded its way through the narrower back streets of the older sections, we saw a seedier and more worn visage of this older city. Potemkin Village is the phrase that comes to mind.
Next, we stopped at the massive, walled edifice that is the monastery of St. Jerome. It was closed on Mondays, so we scattered to shops selling their famous lemon custards. (Pasteis de Belem) They are made from an original recipe used at the Monastery in 1837. Maria said they now bake 30,000 of these delights daily and send them everywhere. Together with a bottle of water, it made for a refreshing repast in the noon day sun. I include this description of the monastery from a previous visit that Mary and I had made here.
Construction of the monastery started in 1502. It wasn't completed until one hundred years later. The massive stone walls and huge entrance portals showed signs of aging. It had been occupied by an order of monks until late in the 1800's. Now, it is a world Heritage Museum.
The interior is what you might expect, a set from an old Hollywood movie of a medieval monastery. The chapel is both ornate and well stocked with religious icons and much gold-leafed statuary. The wealth of the new world had been poured into this property of the church. The interior, two-story courtyard is still well preserved. Around its periphery are many examples of skilled, tiled friezes, depicting pastoral scenery in the delft blue tiles. It is a color and style that one usually associates with the Netherlands. Perhaps the artisans had been imported or trained the local counterparts in their craft. A large, carved-stone relief tomb is the supposed resting place of the explorer Vasco de Gama. Everyone now agrees that it is a 'Washington once slept here' type of claim, much like Spain's determined association with Christopher Columbus.
It was 98 degrees out as we finished up the tour and were ferried back to the hotel. Mary and I read for a time and then caught a cat nap. Diane and Barry had suggested a restaurant nearby for dinner. “Banzi's” is a small bistro, with a dozen tables in a small bar area. The barman spoke flawless English. He said he had been studying English since he was five years old. He also had a great personality. He recommended a “Pacheca” red wine, that was smooth, dry and tasty. An absolutely wonderful Caesar salad, loaded with fresh shrimp, and accompanied by some fresh grain bread and olive oil was wonderful. ($40 Euros incl. tip.) This place was a great find. Thanks Barry and Diane.
It was windy and still very warm as we walked back to the hotel. We had a “bags in the hall order” for 7 am so we repaired to our room to read and surrender to the sandman. It has been a nice visit to an attractive city.
Lisbon to Porto
Tuesday, June 17th, 2025- Lisbon, Portugal
We were up early at 5 am. We packed our gear and then put our bags in the hall for pick up. It was after 6:30 am so we wandered down to the breakfast area in the first-floor lobby, where we were joined by Bill & Mary Keefer.
Cappucino, with an omelette and some lox and swiss cheese made an elegant repast to start the day. One of the great pleasantries of travelling is the meals you share with new and old friends. Bill and Mary were engaging. Bill got in a number of quips. We enjoyed the meal.
The group was scurrying around getting ready to board the 9 am bus for the ride north to Porto. Most of us, who had travelled a lot, knew enough to be aboard the bus early and ready to roll. Four poor unfortunates either didn't get the word were eventually left behind. They would have to get a cab up to Obidos to catch up wih us. Carmen didn't screw around with laggards, bless her heart.
The ride north was pleasant, filled with snippits of Portuguese history and geography. Prince Henry, Magellan and a host of other Portuguese explorers all got their due recognition. Originally named “Lucitania” by the Romans, the Moors, Napoleon and other peoples had swept up and down the small strip of land on the Atlantic coast of the Iberian Peninsula. During W.W. II the country had been “neutral” and was a famous mingling spot for spies from all parties engaged in the conflict.
The terrain along the coast here is rocky and hilly, like California. Earthquakes had shaped the region. Stands of Eucalyptus trees blossomed along the hill sides. It is a fast-growing replacement species for all of the original pine tree forests cut down and used for paper pulp. The Portuguese employ wind power, solar power and hydro power as their main sources for utilities. They hope to reach a 90% sustainable power goal in the next twenty years.
As we neared Obidos, we could see the remains of what looked like an old Roman aqueduct. It wasn't. It had been rebuilt by town fathers to replicate and original aqueduct that had fallen into ruin. Like much of Europe, the area was trying to recreate what I call a “Medieval Disneyland” for tourists.
The bus let us off into the 90-degree heat. We walked under the portico of the walled town gate, and into a delightful village. The two main roads inside the walls are all cobble stones. They are attractive as hell, but really difficult to walk on. The rows of shops were tourist cute. Notions, jewelry, snacks and few taverns lined the way.
One of the local customs involved drinking a sweet cherry liquer from a small chocolate cup. We dutifully performed the ritual. Shopping is right up there among my lists of favorites, with hemorrhoid surgery. I sought out a spot to sit on the steps of an old church, while Mary browsed the colorful boutiques. I was joined there by Jerry Bussey. We wondered why officials didn't come out and shoo two old agnostics from their steps. We found out that it had been turned into a bookstore ages ago. No wonder we were left alone.
The flowering Jacaranda trees were abloom in a bright pink. They spilled over the town walls and made for an attractive frame for pictures. The top of the wall was nearby. But, you then had to circumnavigate the town with no handholds along the wall. Screw that !
Mary and I walked down the second major street. It was lined with small restaurants, with tables out in front. The heat chased everyone inside. We found a small place called “Gina Marquinna's.” Sparkling water and lemon tarts made for a refreshing stop. Being inside also helped. It was hot out, near 100 degrees. We walked back to the bus pick up site and were glad that our driver came back early. The A/C of the bus was wonderful.
From Obidos, we drove north along the coast. Hilly and wooded with Eucalyptus trees, it didn't look too inviting. In Porto, we came into a very large, old industrial city. Three bridges cross the Douro River here. One of them, we were to see later, was engineered by Gustav Eiffel of tower fame. The wrought iron steel work, with no super structure, is a local landmark.
The bus pulled up to a riverfront berth, where a sleek three decked craft awaited us. The “Douro Cruiser” welcomed us aboard. We enjoyed a glass of champagne (or two) and an hour long talk on “everything Portuguese,” while the crew ferried our bags to our staterooms. Everyone was in a festive mood, ready to spend a week cruising east on the Douro River towards Spain. Soon enough, we escaped to our rooms to clean up and prep for dinner.
Meals were served “down below” on the first deck. At 7:00 pm we collectively descended and sat wherever we could find a seat. Sometimes you know your dinner companions. Other times you meet and enjoy the company of strangers who soon become your friends. There were 23 of us from our Spring Run Group, so we pretty much got to sit with one of our own for every meal. It was a good opportunity to meet and spend time with people whom might have “seen around” but didn't really know. After a few glasses of wine, which they did not stint on, conversations became lively.
Red pepper soup, salmon in sauce and vegetables and a lemon pie custard for dessert made for a delightful meal. Every night, the stewards served us a different red or white Portuguese wine. It was a good start to a week that would be both fun and relaxing.
We have discovered, in traveling far from home with a group of friends and neighbors, that a unique relationship is forged. It is a Fellowship of the Road that unites its participants in time and space forever more.
Many years from now when we think of the remote wilds of the upper Douro River, we will think of the many kind faces that shared their time, their convivial nature and their friendship with us. Their genial nature and friendly conversations were to much enhance our passage, through a land different and far away from home.
Wednesday, June 18, 2025- sailing on the Douro River in Portugal
We were up early at 5:30 am. It was a light morning for activities, so we read for a time, then prepped for the day. At 7:30 am we went below for breakfast. Good coffee, with mushroom & cheeses omelets, accompanied by fresh lox and cheese, made for a great breakfast. I forget which friends we sat with, but each meal became an important part of the day, to socialize and get to know your friends better. Topside, it was chilly and in the fifties out. It felt great after the last few days' heat. Terraced vineyards claimed most of the surrounding hillsides. Stately homes graced the slopes as well.
The Carrapetelo lock is impressive. The lock of Carrapetelo is the tallest lock in all of Europe. Built from 1965-1972, its length is 313 ft., its width 40 ft. The “gate” is guillotine shaped and drops down to encompass the boat. Then the lock, lifts us 115 feet. This lock is referred to as the "BIG MAMA". “Big mama” is an understatement.” This was the biggest lock we ever saw. Great music was playing, as we were raised us up 100 plus feet. It is always eerie, sitting inside of a lock chamber, while the water gently raises your boat. I am always impressed with the engineering involved. The lock also acted as a dam for the lower Douro River. Before the dam, flooding had occurred in the Porto region, during the rainy seasons.
We passed on lunch, already feeling the “caloric sag” affecting us. The ship docked at 12:45 am at “Regua”. Above us on the hillside, sat a nautical history museum. That is where we would all head to. Like ducklings following Mother Goose, we walked up the winding stairs of the hillside. It was 98 degrees out and HOT !
When we did reach the hill top, we saw a marker, for the level of some of the epic floods of the Douro. The marker still reached above our heads. The museum probably would have been interesting. It features all manner of pictures and implements related to wine-growing and the means by which the growers shipped their product to Porto. But, our group got stuck behind a collection of turtles, that moved with less speed than their name sakes. Standing is not my forte, so Mary and I bailed out. A small tent, sitting atop the hill, provided us with sparkling water. We sat and watched the river flow by idly. It was both bucolic and restful.
Afterwards, we clambered down the 100 ft. stairways, to the ship. It was a chore for me. Back aboard ship, we settled into the lounge for some very good cappuccino and cookies. We welcomed the air conditioning. Ozzie Nelson, the patron saint of all nap takers, called out to me. I couldn't resist. We hit the sheets for an hour nap. It was the best thing we did all day7 pm dinner gong summoned us. A shrimp appetizer, cauliflower soup, fresh Perch in sauce and a lemon tart cake were wonderful. The red wine served, in large quantities, made all of us cheerful. The conversation was lively and fun. Everyone was having a good time, even dodging the odd barb or spirited repartee. It was a good way to end the day. After dinner every night there was some type of musical entertainment in the lounge. It was not for us. We retired to read, until we drifted into the welcome arms of Morpheus.
Thursday, June 19, 2025 - motoring along the upper
Douro River
We had our usual early breakfast, talking with people who were now becoming our friends. Afterward, we wandered topside to watch the scenery. The hillsides in the area are rocky and eroded. There are signs of heavy run off, down through the narrow ravines, originating in the mountains to the north of us.
A 10 am lesson on Marenca dancing didn't attract us. We sat and enjoyed the visage in the crisp river air. We passed through two smaller locks and under one bridge, where everyone topside had to sit. The clearance was that close. A light rain chased us all indoors. We again passed on lunch.
The group was assembling for a 1:30 pm departure for a visit to Castle Rodrigo. I was advised that the terrain was too steep for me to walk, so I passed on the tour. Mary's account of the trip is as follows:
It was a fifty-minute bus ride into the first small town of Figuera del Rodrigo. About 5,000 inhabitants call the area home. The area around it is filled with olive groves, a few wine vineyards, some almond and cork trees groves. All of these products had to be hand harvested, because of the steepness of the terrain in which they grew. The small town was pretty shut down as it was a holiday. The group toured a battle museum and a church and took some photos in the town center.
Further along, the visitors came to the fallen down edifice called “Castle Rodrigo.” After the Spanish occupation of Portugal for over 60 years, the castle was destroyed. The 58 local residents had chosen not to restore it, because it was considered a “traitor's castle.” They decided not to rebuild the castle to give warning to the Spanish not to attempt to occupy Portugal again. Villagers have long memories. In the surrounding town, a few churches competed with gift stores and other vendors of cork, almonds and olives. The housing stock in the area wasn't exactly deluxe. It was late afternoon and the tourers had to get back to the ship.
Back aboard the Douro Cruiser, I had caught a brief nap and was reading and enjoying a cappuccino in the lounge. I was joined by Jerry Bussey. We chatted for a bit and debated on the relative wisdom of hammering a few drinks before dinner. We thought it wiser to wait.
The tour bus made its way back to the ship, arriving at 6:30 pm. Everyone scrambled to get ready for dinner at 7:30. A seafood appetizer and potato soup were followed by a local variety of white “Hake Fish” in sauce. The capper was a sinful strawberry cake dessert. It made the wait worthwhile. The tasty red wine, served liberally, much enhanced the various conversations.
After dinner, a troop of local Flamenco dancers, robed in colorful costumes and accompanied by a band of musicians, performed their stylized ritual dances for us in the lounge. It had been another interesting day on the River Douro, in Northern Portugal.
Friday, June 20th, 2025 - Salamanca, Spain
We were up very early today. We breakfasted early as well. Then, we all scrambled to get ready for the 9 am 120 KM run eastward to Salamanca. Most of us were well-schooled with the program by now. We got on the bus early, settled in our sets and were ready to go when the launch hour arrived.
The terrain across northwestern Spain and Eastern Portugal reminds me of the American Southwest. The predominant coloration is brown. Hay, grass and adobe homes all stood out with a slightly dried out tan coloration.
Most of the ground cover is of the wispy, gold coloration of hay, which I think it was. We didn't see much wildlife on the run over, but when we came this way in the late afternoon, herds of sheep and cattle were everywhere about, munching on the hay to beat the band. Small herds of horses also grazed in the dusty, hot afternoon.
The fields were often subdivided by broken rock walls. It is the same in Ireland, where the topsoil is not very deep and using rocks as building material is part of the local agriculture. It looked like they were “growing rocks” in some of the fields, perhaps for sale as pets?
The fields did give me a sense of antiquity here, as I wondered how many times farmers had raised those fences and tried to grow a crop, only to have them run over by invading hordes. The legend of Sisyphus, rolling rocks up a hill, came to mind.
The housing stock was either adobe or of ocher rock construction. The various small towns didn't look too prosperous. We didn't see too many grand villas. I got the sense that much of the area existed on a pretty basic level.
As we approached Salamanca, the houses got nicer and the roads wider. Some 150,000 residents make their way in this northern Spanish City. 35,000 of them are college students. The University here is one of the largest in Spain and the one of the oldest in Europe. Signs of habitation in the area date the origins of the city to at least 700 B.C.
The area held special interest for me. A score or more of miles to the Southeast lies the good-sized city of Valladomo. A hundred and eighty years ago, one of my great, great grandfathers had set out from here for America, probably one step ahead of the law.
The Greeks, the Romans, the Moors, the French and others had swept through here in ethnic and religious waves. Persistent local claims point to even earlier Celtic tribes settling here. No wonder some of the locals can be contentious.
The economy here is varied. Processing wine products and the production of filigreed jewelry, leather goods and other consumables meant a stronger economy than most. Shoes are a particularly fine product of the area. I guess that explains all of the cattle north of here. Like much of the Iberian Peninsula, tourism is one of the major drivers of the economy.
The bus dropped us all off at the city center. Like Madrid and Lisbon, the great central gathering place is called Plaza Mayor. The same rectangular shaped square, with shops and restaurants surrounding an open square, where children gambol and everyone strolls at night. It was crowded already by late morning. A tour with a local guide was scheduled for one pm.
I viewed the surrounding topography and decided that I probably couldn't keep the pace, so Mary and I split off to explore on our own. We had a general area of the late afternoon rallying point, so we figured we wouldn't get left behind. It was extremely hot and in the high nineties out (F).
We sat for a time, in the Plaza Mayor, enjoying a cappuccino and a lemon tart. The groups of tourists drifted by, with the auditory trail of a swirl of languages. Each small herd was following a guide, holding a different colored pennant.
People watching is always fascinating. The variance of color and mode of dress had us wondering from whence each group had come. I am pretty good with languages but several groups had me asking “HUH. Who dat?”
We arose and started to wander to the southeast and the major “Old” and “New” Cathedrals. The University also lies in this quarter. The brick facing on most of the buildings was a pleasant tan color. The uniformity is eye pleasing, like many towns in Italy.
Various squares provided us with seats to watch the mobs swirl by. Mary occasionally shopped for post cards and oddities, while I anchored our seats. It really was hot out !
The “New Cathedral” (1600's) was a pleasure and a cool refuge. Massive vaulted ceilings covered a variety of ornate naves honoring various saints. Polished wooden benches indicated that masses were held here regularly. The size of the Cathedral brough to mind a favored book, “Pillars of the Earth.”
Connected to the “New Cathedral” is the “old one.” Though smaller is scale, the same gilded niches featured one saint or another. The Spanish are strong in their adherence to Catholicism. These massive structures are a testimony to that faith.
From the Cathedral, we walked outside. It was broiling out. We espied and decided to visit the Salamanca Museum of Art Noveau and Art Deco. For an eight Euro fee, we entered into an interesting two-story building that had once served as a small Palace for some major domo of the 1800's. Stained glass ceilings framed the two floors. A collection of fine porcelain figurines occupied many glass exhibits.
In one room, I could swear that we were looking at an original Degas. The sweeping, colorful pastels pictured a delightful ballerina dancing on stage. It was beautiful. Closer inspection showed it to be a talented imitator. And a good one he was.
On the second floor, we discovered an attractive, small bistro, in art deco styling. A Tiffany lamp and other 1930's portraits, gave the impression of a French Café in mid 1800's. We settled in for sparkle water, cappuccinos and pastries. It felt wonderful to be basking in air conditioning.
The afternoon was waning and we knew that we had a bus to catch. Several inquiries about the named square drew puzzled look and a “Huh, where dat?” Finally, two construction workers looked at our map and pointed us in the right direction, bless their charitable souls.
A collection of our own had gathered in front of the “New” Cathedral, waiting for our companions to arrive. We all chatted idly of what we had seen and down.
By 3:30 pm most of us had arrived. Our guide started us down the hill to the pick-up spot. I would hate this walk in the rain or with snow and ice. It was steep.
Our buses were on time. We boarded them happily, enjoying the A/C. Most of us were sleepy from the heat. Several had a nice nap on the run back to the Douro. It was here that I saw the herds of cattle, sheep and horses munching their hay in the late afternoon sun. A few groves of olives and several varieties of trees that I knew not filled the pastures.
Back at the boat we scrambled to ready for dinner. Seafood appetizers, eggplant soup, with a local white fish and Tiramisu for dessert met with everyone's approval. I tried and enjoyed a fruity, dry, white wine tonight. We all did and gabbed to beat the band.
After dinner, most of us wandered back to our rooms, to read, and drift off to sleep. It had been a long day on the tourist trail and this cowboy was beat!
Saturday June 21, 2025- Motoring on the Douro River
It was a “free day” for us on the river. There were no scheduled activities or tours. We had a late breakfast at 8 am and then sat topside, watching the river and the steep hillsides unfold before us. The countryside can tell a story for you, if you try to read it. This one told us of farmers, trying to eke out a living on rocky, thin soil. The grape vineyards here are terraced laterally. It was different from many other countries who planted and grew them vertically. I am sure it has something to do with both drainage and harvesting
Sometimes doing nothing is positive. We read for a while and then caught an hour nap. Being a slug can be fun. Noon found us back at the trough. Fish soup and a light salad were washed down with a dry white wine. As always, the conversation was both lively and entertaining.
It was a beautiful day to be on the river. We made our way topside to read our books and luxuriated in the warming sun.
The ship was nearing Regua in the late afternoon. We tied up along-side of two other longboats. There would be a festival ashore tonight. Some custom or other entailed hitting friends over the head with plastic hammers, to celebrate the Lord knows what. Another nap below made for a lazy day.
The dinner gong summoned us at 7 pm. We collectively made our way below. The crew handled all of us at once with aplomb. Potato soup, a local Bream white fish in sauce and a carmel-flavored cake were washed down with another delectable Portuguese red wine. By now we were all comfortable with each other. Conversations could be both lively and even mildly caustic. Friends talk that way with each other.
After dinner we ventured topside to watch the festivities. Marching bands, dancers in colored costumes and local citizenry marched down the nearby streets to stands set up along the shoreline. Food vendors and local merchants hawked their wares from tents along the line of march. The speeches given were lost to us, both by lack of volume and their Portuguese content. It looked like fun for all of those involved, even the hit over the head with plastic hammer people. All of the locals seemed to be enjoying the festival.
It was after ten pm. These adventurers had heavy eyelids. We made our good byes and descended to our stateroom, to read and drift off to the arms of Morpheus. We could still hear fireworks and the banging of drums late into the night. Bueno Noches mi amigos.
Sunday, June 22nd, 2025- Douro River to Porto
We were up by 6:30 am it was 60 degrees out (F) and blessedly cool. We had breakfast at 7:30 enjoying the company as always. Afterwards, we sat topside, enjoying the cool morning air.
The ship passed under the low bridge and then later dropped down the 100 plus feet of the “Big Mama lock.” We were nearing journey's end at oceanside port of “Porto.”
An 11:30 am a disembarkation meeting in the lounge drew everyone's attention. Colored tickets for baggage were passed out, along with detailed bus schedules for the airport. It was well organized. Carmen detailed which bus each of us would ride on and what time that bus would be leaving dockside on the morning after tomorrow. About thirty of our passengers would be staying with Carmen for the three day “after tour package.”
We collected some fruit and cheese and then got ready for the 2:30 pm bus ride into Porto's center city. The heat had risen again with the rising sun. The bus ride in was a 30-minute trip. Our boat had tied up along the river, but outside of town. Besides all of the usual commercial traffic in the city center, Porto was getting ready for a regatta of the Rabelo boats, the broad, single masted galleys that transport the wine from up-river to the processing plants in Gaia across the river from Porto. It would draw in the locals in throngs. Fireworks afterwards would entertain them as a finale.
The bus into the city dropped us off at an ancient church, dating the 800's. Our Lady of Pilar church had stood on this site since the time of the Moors. A Bishop's residence sat behind it. The small stone plaza between them looked out over the ancient city. In front of the church, the statue of an armed and mounted knight, “Invictus” attested to the city having never been captured by any of the various invaders. The whole plot of land literally sat on a hill top. Several streets fed downward into the town or off toward the Eiffel Bridge and across the river, to Gaia. None of these routes looked manageable to me.
Our group walked down one steep decline towards Porto's modern train station. They reported that the walls of the station are all tiled in multi-colored mosaics, depicting the history of the town. There was some shopping around the station. Most of the buildings that we could see had seen better days. Porto is an old industrial town. Like many cities, the better neighborhoods lay out in the suburbs.
Mary and I staked out a seat at a Starbucks, and watched the pedestrian traffic swirl around us. Great coffee and lemon tarts made the wait pleasant. Huge throngs of visitors were continuing the weekend festivities. They walked down another hill and crossed the “Eiffel bridge” to wander along the shops in Gaia on the other side of the Douro. The bridge has no superstructure. Beneath it, the signature iron work is representative of Gustaf Eiffel's design of his classic tower in Paris.
We sat for a time on the steps of the old church in the shade of a very hot afternoon. Others began to join us. We were waiting for the 5:15 pm pick up by our bus, and the 35-minute ride back to the Douro Cruiser. The bus arrived on time and so did all of us. We were happy to be in the A/C and out of the sun. The trip was nearing its end and everyone was chatty and expectant of the various means of leaving for home on the day after tomorrow.
On board, everyone cleaned up and met for the 7:00 pm dinner call. Shrimp-laden Caesar salads, with great bread and generous servings of a red Portuguese wine, led into a “chocolate lava cake” for dessert. It was awesome. Some of our friends repaired to the lounge for after dinner drinks. We settled into our cabin to read and let the sandman take us away. The collective exertions of the trip were wearing on me. It was a great experience, but still tiring for this aging wayfarer.
Monday, June 23rd, 2025- Porto, Portugal
We arose later this morning and caught a late breakfast at 8:00 am. There was a tour scheduled for 1:00 pm to Guimaraes in the north. Carmen advised us that the terrain was even hillier that Porto. Discretion is the better part of valor. We gave our tickets to two members of our group who were happy to go.
After breakfast we sat on the sundeck and read for a few hours enjoying the morning sun and the sea air. It had been a fun trip but it was time to go home. Lunch brought us fish, vegetables and a glass of white wine. Ozzie Nelson summoned us. A two-hour conference with him was invigorating.
The optional excursion to this medieval city of Guimaraes, that lies north of Porto, was one we had hoped to take. But our trusted guide Carmen suggested that the hills and cobblestone streets were difficult to traverse. This description is a compilation of information from the Internet.
The city was settled in the 9th century, at which time it was called Vimaranes. This name might have had its origin in the warrior Vimara Peres who chose this area as the main government seat for the county of Portugal which he conquered for the Kingdom of Galicia. Guimaraes has a significant historical importance due to the role it played in the foundation of Portugal. The city is commonly referred to as the “birthplace of Portugal” or the “cradle city” because it was in Guimaraes that Portugal's first king, Afonso Henriques was born, and also because the Battle of Sao Memede, which is considered the seminal event for the foundation of the kingdom of Portugal, was fought in the vicinity of the city.
The town is famous for its historic city center, which is listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The 10th century Guimaraes Castle sits on a hilltop and provides grand views of the city. The Palace of the Dukes of Braganza built in the 15th century and restored in the mid 20th century is another place to tour. A ride on the gondola to Penha Park, a visit to a number of beautiful churches or a stroll through the medieval, picturesque streets are just a few of the things to do.
We began to pack our gear that afternoon. We had a “bags in the hall” order for 8:00 am tomorrow morning. Then we cleaned up and got ready for one more lively dinner. A garden salad and mushroom soup led into a course of Sea Bass and a pastry cake, all washed down with yet another red Portuguese wine. Conversations were both lively and nostalgic. These people are all now members of the Fellowship of the Road Confraternity. We will be forever linked in time and space when remembering our Douro excursion.
Mary and I cashed in our chips early. We finished packing, read for a time and then met up with Morpheus in his far away world. It had been a good trip.
Tuesday, June 24th, 2025.
The shuttle buses to the airport in Porto, left as early as 3:30 am. Cruisers were returning to places all over North America. A good sized contingent had come from Texas and California.
Our conveyance left at 9:30 am. Porto Airport took us to Madrid for an overnight. A direct flight from Madrid to Miami on Wed. morning brought us to the United States. We laid over in Miami for a night, then left at 6 am Thursday morning for our castle in Estero, on the other side of the state. We made it back without incident, glad to be home.