Greetings once again from Statistics class. Guess who’s daydreaming about faraway lands from 24 hours ago?

Statistics class has gotten no more palatable for this naval officer since we moved to the salle d’informatique. They even disabled our internet, but I will find other ways to pass the time….

You’d think that my level of comprehension would have improved after faithful class attendance, but the sad reality is that I am even more clueless about this subject now that we are in the computer lab. It is for this reason that attending today’s class on two hours of sleep doesn’t really concern me; there is no deficit or excess of repose great enough to make any difference in my happiness factor during statistics class.

I got back from my Portuguese excursion early this morning, and I figure I should make this three hour block of boredom useful by starting a blog entry that will wrap up my trip. I don’t think my professor will mind, he’s too busy still showing off his command of English statistic words like standard deviation, mean and sample size.  I’m super impressed by this knowledge…and modestly hopeful that the final exam will just ask me to translate these three words into French for him.

Okay so Portugal.  Here’s your map, courtesy of the quay in Belém:

…And courtesy of my old history teacher, Mr. Horne, I grew up knowing all about Vasco….de Gama.

I don’t think you can really say that you’ve experienced a country until you have ventured outside of its capital city. With this thought in mind, I was grateful to spend the bulk of my last day outside of Lisbon, again under the supervision of some trusted tourism haters.

Unlike the previous two days, Sunday was greeted with a brisk morning run and a glorious sunrise. Ana was right: this place is really beautiful when it is painted by the sun.

Rossio square, waiting for my tour van. You look down this street and can see the castle on the hill.

So the van shows up and I meet Marta our guide- along with five cool new sightseeing friends. Our first stop is scheduled to be Sintra, a town not too far from Lisbon (really, what does qualifying for ‘far’ in such a small country?). Sintra is a UNESCO World Heritage site, and I hesitate to go into further detail lest your eyes glaze over as I rhapsodize about the tremendous aesthetic appeal of yet another European village. But really, I loved this city. It’s an unassuming gem of a place that had me considering an application for asylum and learning Portuguese in earnest.

Here are some photos:

Those are chimneys (Myriah, save your comments…we all know what you are thinking).

I have no doubt that this sculpture was created by a man. I don’t know what it’s called, but in yoga we call this Sarvangasana, or shoulder stand. And we wear clothes when we do it.

Hey, it’s Christmastime!  I have already told you that the Portuguese know how to do pastry- and here are two special Christmas cakes. The colorful ones are called King Cakes and the ones to the left (without the crystallized fruit) are Queen Cakes. I believe in the U.S. we call them all fruitcake, and no one actually consumes them.

In Sintra we made our first food stop. Marta encouraged us to try each area’s pastry specialty, and we happily obliged by taking in our sugar bombs with espresso while standing at the counter, as the locals do. I think I gained 20 pounds on this trip.

Sintra has lots to see, but our major stop in town was at Quinta da Regaleira, “one of the most surprising and enigmatic monuments of Sintra”,  built between 1898 and 1912.

I took about two hundred photos while wandering this property built completely on a hill. Beauty, intrigue and lots of greenery abounded. Prepare for many photos that look nothing like Dakar.

A view from the preceding tower. You climb up and have a view of the chapel’s steeple (which houses Templar Order symbols) and the main house on the property. 

I ask you, what’s an ornate estate comprising castles and other structural majesty without its very own view of a castle on an even higher hill? C’est la decadence.

I am still at a loss to neatly describe this place- but here you can see how natural beauty and man-made design are weirdly symbiotic. 

The highlight of the property? An initiatic well. I circled down to the bottom of this eerie subterranean tower (via a secret entrance!) and took a photo looking up. Kinda reminiscent of The Ring, and rightly so it is still a hallowed space used by Freemasons.

Okay I will stop torturing you with photos from Quinta de Regaleira. It was definitely hard to pull myself away…but all of that hiking and exploring did make me ready for lunch.

Our roadside dining spot. Complete with view of a castle on the mountain. Of course.

Lunch turned out to be another reason why this particular tour company kicks ass. We exited Sintra and were navigating a twisty road that would ultimately stop at the Atlantic ocean. Before we got to the sea however, we came upon a weekend farmer’s market that had sprouted up on the road’s shoulder. “This is where we are eating.” announced Marta as she hopped out of the van. 

Living in Dakar, I am absolutely starved for farmers’ markets like the one in Hillcrest that offer diverse varieties of victuals (how I miss fresh flowers!). This place was perfect. We all wandered around the market and bought bags of good eats before meeting Marta back at the van’s tailgate, which was conveniently parked next to our “restaurant”:

Wanna bite?

Marta supplied water and wine while the rest of us offered our own purchases to create the best picnic lunch in Portugal. Olives, tiny seasonal apples, fresh goat cheese, grapes…..I know you are jealous.

After a lunch like that, even if Marta just drove us to Portugal’s National Dump I still would have been elated. We didn’t go to the dump, but instead opted for Cabo Roca (Rocky Cape):

Behold the westernmost point on the Eurasian Landmass. 

Just over my right shoulder: Cape Cod.

Heck, I’ve already posted dozens of photos in this entry, so what’s another? It’s just too pretty.

If you’re still reading this entry, then I am impressed at your attention span. You must be waiting for me to write about our stop at Portugal’s best ice cream parlor. Your efforts will now be rewarded:

Marta (at left) recommended the Gorgonzola and Walnut ice cream. I asked for a sample, just to say I tried it….and then I found that I really, really liked it. So here’s my cone of said flavor with a scoop of strawberry on the side. Shut up, it was good!

We’ve pretty much used up the day and my flight’s at 9:45pm, so we start rolling back towards the city capital for one final tourist stop in Lisbon: Belém. No, I didn’t get to everything I wanted to see in this area, but I did hop out long enough to check out some sites devoted to Portugal’s heritage of exploration:

Skinny view of the Monument of the Discoveries. Did I mention that Portugal is a Catholic country?

The monument’s good side, with a view of the 25th of April Bridge in the background.

One more stop to make, because I’ve got to get to the airport- and thus will have to leave the sights I missed for a return trip to Portugal.

So what is this last stop, and what are all these people doing here?

 Turns out we ended our action-packed eating and non-touristing adventure at one of Portugal’s most trafficked spots. Lucky for us, Marta had a direct link to the bakers in the kitchen…

Pastéis de Belém. People go cuckoo for these. I’d like to think that Krispy Kremes are the Pastéis de Belém of North America- except there’s only one place on the planet where you can get these particular pastries. Talk about perfecting supply and demand.