Chasing Cheese
It started as a quest to discover and taste cheeses...I was inspired by a quote attributed to Charles de Gaulle, who supposedly said "How can anyone govern a nation that has two hundred and forty-six different kinds of cheese?" I suspected there were quite a few more than that, since any self-respecting frenchman would have taken that as a challenge to prove himself ungovernable. So the "cheese-a-day" project began. I imagined traveling to the various regions of France, stopping in small places and searching out the local cheeses at markets and even at the producers' farms. Research began, and I soon discovered there are indeed many more than 246 cheeses in France; I stopped counting at ~700 and I think the true number may never be found. I did compile a spreadsheet (insert) with some information on each cheese I found listed in some part of the web, and I purchased a marvelous map of France with the emphasis on cheeses of each region; there are no roads and the towns are de-emphasized. This was great for poring over while planning a cheese-chasing tour.
The plan morphed into a long trip to Europe which we started in April 2025. The cheese chase is still part of it, but there's plenty of other exploration as well. If you want to skip to the cheese part of the blog, scroll to the end.
First to Portugal... 21 April- 15 May
9 April
Dear friends and family- as you may know, we are embarking on an extended trip to Europe starting 15 April. There are many good reasons to take off now- to celebrate retirement from working, get some relief from the daily barrage of outrage, and because who knows how much longer we will have the freedom and ability to travel?
We want to stay in touch, and if you’re also considering traveling and would like to join us, or meet somewhere along the way, we’d love to have your company! Or if you would just like to follow us we seek out adventures (and cheeses!). Please consider joining us!
12 April Curveball
This weekend, we have just encountered a situation that has forced us to postpone our trip. Cheryl experienced a medical problem that requires that we stay home for at least a month longer than we had planned. We’re in the process of backing out of all the much-anticipated arrangements we had made for exploring Portugal. Not sure yet whether the postponement will affect later phases of the trip; we will deal with it when we find out more. Needless to say both of us are very disappointed.
Daniel’s note 15 April
Wish we were on a plane for Lisbon right now, but instead we are post-op at home. Cheryl had a hysteroscopy today, and some tissue was removed that is now off to pathology for evaluation; we’ll hear what they found in a week or two (hopefully) and then make onward plans. I know not to be happy or sad until the report is in.
18 April
Springtime in California is beautiful. I love it every year. Even the glare of fascist chaos can’t erase the pleasure of flowering greening perfumed sun-painted mild vernal days. A little unexpected extra time at home gave the opportunity to watch the frenzied activity of a chickadee pair around the nesting box outside the kitchen window. I guess we’ll miss next week’s likely fledging of babies.
We too are escaping the confines of our coop on Sunday, dancing on a carpet of good fortune, buoyed by the support of our family and friends. Enjoy the spring wherever you are! We’ll be in touch.
Lisbon 22 April
Sleeping off jet lag at odd hours makes one an inconsistent tourist.
For a non-festival period, this town seems inundated with tourist hordes, at least in the expected areas. The trudge from the waterfront through the triumphal arch, uphill to the Chiado district was jammed with people (like us) who don’t live here. All the shops and restaurants are clearly intended for this crowd, and it feels a bit sad, even on a beautiful sunny day.
In contrast, the neighborhood around our apartment is a place where locals walk their kids to school, and university students hang in sidewalk cafes to drink 1E beers…we took the city bus to the tile museum, rumbling through a normal urban landscape (iow, not too attractive) with a mixed crowd of immigrants and portuguese, and didn’t hear any english, kind of a relief.
Tile museum was full of school kids, the little ones tied together and escorted by their shepherds, the older ones characteristically rambunctious and loud, showing minimal interest in the educational intent of a school field trip. The most interesting part for me was seeing the explanations of the materials used in the pigments: the ancient chemistry of combining oxides of heavy metals and firing at progressively higher temperatures as technology progressed. The colors depended on what they could mine locally or trade for, the technical means of the age, and of course by fashion. Some of the art reminded me of ancient Roman mosaic in style and decorative themes, some showing islamic influence, and quite a bit of assertive Christian imagery. The majority of tile designs are the type we are used to seeing: colored patterns incised into clay squares, mostly abstract geometrical or floral themes. You can see hundreds of buildings in Lisbon covered with such tiles, and the effect is a visual softening of the stucco surface, though the actual material is more durable.
Cheryl:
The most interesting tile mural was a pre-earthquake mid-1700s 50 foot long depiction of the Lisbon monarchical/ecclesiastical buildings, without the surrounding city to distract you from their emplacements.
Also, an impressive achievement by the Marquis do Pombal, was the rebuilding of Lisbon after the earthquake. According to the Lisbon city museum, the entire populace pitched in to rebuild Lisbon, which took two years. (!)
I’d like to know who remembers the overthrow of the dictatorship in the mid 1970s. And how the country has changed as a result of that. The public transit system is so easy, ubiquitous, as are the bike paths, citybike stations with ebikes, and electric scooters. This is a very hilly city, with ravines fully built out, and avenues built right over them, bridging the gaps with other buildings. Both straight and zigzaggy streets intertwine.
Daniel:
Evening walk through the Bairro Alto district was more pleasant, even though highly touristy; it still is a neighborhood, with small groups of locals meeting in the narrow streets at their favorite spots for a drink and some kibitzing (is there a Portuguese word for that?)
Lunch was un-noteworthy, but a late dinner at one of the venues in the Bairo de Avillez was terrific: expensive but delicious cheeses and aged iberico ham with good wines. We sat in the taverna next to the kitchen; all the food that walked by looked fantastic, we weren’t too hungry.
A river waterfront on this scale is unusual and causes one to reflect on the history of shipping and exploration that sprang from this harbor. At the ceremonial commercial square in the middle of town, where the water laps against a broad marble staircase on the tidal riverbank, the river looks almost as wide as San Francisco Bay, with a long embarcadero that accommodates every kind of shipping: fishing, commercial, military, ferries, container, and cruise ships all have their places.
23-25 April
Sleep finally found us - we were all dressed and ready to leave the apartment and decided to lie down again, even after multiple cups of coffee. Didn’t move for two hours.
One Lisbon destination I had marked as a must is the Gulbenkian museum. We were glad to go: though the collection is small, his taste is exquisite. Best display of Lalique items, some great paintings and interesting ancient artifacts, among other items. The museum housing this small collection is vast and signage is poor, so there is a bit of fruitless wandering involved. The modern art building is separated in a meandering garden of paths and ponds; currently showing grotesque angry woman art as well as typical modern concept installations.
Walking back down the hill towards the river, a series of parks with cafes and sunbathers leads to the formal Eduardo 7 park, with great views across the river.
We Uber’d to Belém (“buh-lang”) and floated back on the river taxi; the famous tower was closed for renovation, and we decided to skip the giant monastery. If we get back here I might want to check out the maritime museum.
We are in Chiado at the Flor de Mundo: OK for a hole in the wall, with a nice Douro red; then took the famous trolley 28 up to the Alfama, nice miradouro of Santa Luzia and down the elevator six floors to the city. I was surprised how quiet it was up there compared to the Bairo Alto, which was hopping.
24 April
We took the train to Sintra following a bus ride to Rossio main station.
Emerging from the tunnel into the dismal suburbs - no more decorative tile walls, just endless apartment blocks— does not look like a happy place. The desolate sprawl reaches all the way to Sintra, where it suddenly gives way to the enclave of the aristocracy, now a tourist zone, with green forested narrow streets and stone buildings.
Tuktuk to the dropoff point for the Regaleira palace and gardens (note lesson on buying tickets in advance, which we did not do). Visiting Sintra is not cheap nor convenient, but the Regaleira mansion and gardens are well worth seeing. A fantastical notion of design, with extensive stone walls, plantings, excavations, grottoes and a deep well that you descend via spiral stairs. The overall effect was reminiscent of Balinese carved stone decoration in volume, though the design concept is not the same. Not ancient though it appears to be: it was constructed in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, after some visionaries wrested control from the aristocratic families that had owned it for hundreds of years and done little with it. We spent several enjoyable hours wandering the paths around this place. As for Sintra’s other destinations, they’ll have to wait for another trip.
Today’s transportation included two boring train rides on the suburban/commuter lines, Lisbon to Sintra and from Cascais back to Lisbon . In between there was a pretty wild Uber ride from Regaleira around the tops of the palace hills, past both the Moorish castle and the Pena palace on the facing hilltop, twisting over the cobblestone route, then down into Cascais by the seaside. Not far as the crow flies, but a whole different world in topography vegetation and climate .
At Cascais (“cash-caish”) there is a “Newport Beach-like ” tourist strip where I just had to try a bacalao “bun” with sheep cheese (pointless except as a pee break). We took a stroll along the waterfront strand, past swimming beaches and rocky inlets, towards the Boca do inferno. Wandering further, we stumbled into an
artists colony, newly built within the old citadel, kind of stark but with live/work/display spaces and a cafe. Good start…
25 April Friday
April 25 is portugal‘s liberation day. It’s the day Fascism was overthrown 50 years ago. We wondered what our own country will be like when that day comes for us, what we will have been through before Americans learn the value of freedom.
We had no particular plans, not knowing what to expect. A bus ride towards Campo de Ourique was interrupted at the marquis de Pombal circle because a cross town downhill race was in process. “Everybody out of the bus!“ so we processed around the circle with all the cheerful public confusion about how to get anywhere, and eventually a public servant pointed us the right direction.
There are rallies, marches and commemorations of the events which culminated in the almost peaceful end to 50 years of fascist authoritarian rule. There are still quite a few people around who remember quite well the terror and underground efforts needed to push history, which is much messier than the airbrushed storyline of the carnation revolution. Last year at the 50th anniversary, many people recounted their experiences, and some of these were presented at the Gulbenkian museum and we saw them this week. It’s still a very big deal here, and I hope it doesn’t take 50 years before a cadre of Americans recounts how we got rid of Trumpist fascism.
On the street, everywhere, people in the city are holding red carnations to commemorate liberation (where did all these red carnations come from?). On arrival, the Jardim da Estrella unfolded a lush, mature, tropical feeling very tall treed park/garden, filled with relaxing people and red carnations. It was quiet, serene, and deeply green.
We’ve become accustomed to our unusually bad google maps cell phone directions. The ap used to have an arrow to tell you which direction you are facing, but that is not evident any more. And, most of the street name indicators faintly engraved on corner buildings are missing, so the art of intuitive navigation is in play. But through lovely streets we found the Campo Ourique market which was empty, expensive, and unimpressive. But the neighborhood was lovely, and the people were happy, so, on to another destination, way way way way down and way way way way up. We assume there must be some grand celebration that we were unaware of because tiny streets had traffic jams and evasion strategies happening.
At the Jardim Principe Real we found musicians in a lovely park, street vendors with nice clothing, and a Jamie Oliver restaurant. Delicious. This strip on the edge of the Bairro Alto has a number of overpriced “fashion” retail shops, some in a creatively converted old mansion in disrepair called Embaixada. Out on the street again, our attention focused on the Bettina Corallo chocolate shop on Rua Escola Polytechnica. It’s across from the park Jardim Principe Real. Like in Guadeloupe many years ago, the woman behind the counter was a chocolate lady. And her smile promised a fulfilling chocolate ecstasy. The tiny frothy, hot chocolate was deeply delectable. We were struck with indecision about what else to buy. The handsome customer who comes here every day urged us to buy anything in the case because it’s all good. He looked pretty ecstatic, so trustworthy. So yes, we would like the salted spicy one, and extra dark guanduja block. Behind us, three little children were walking on their tiptoes with excitement. And after the hot chocolate, had my feet not been so tired I would’ve been tiptoeing too.
We gloated and floated with our chocolate booty to the Miradouro, where musicians were playing, people and red carnations were drinking beers, relaxing on chairs, and enjoying the lovely, warm, windy weather of liberation day.
But the biggest surprise was the next event: the immersive encounter with VanGogh in the water museum. The water temple was built in the early 1700s to channel water from the roman aqueduct. Some extraordinary projection artists used VanGogh’s work as the basis for an hour long immersive visual experience in the water temple. See below. And then, a bigger surprise, going down three steep staircases to the basement, was a sweet young man who offered virtual reality headsets that sets you traveling in a 3D full VanGogh colored world. Spectacular, masterful. (The name of the company is Portugal Agenda. I bet they are from Dreamworks, pixar, or something like that.)
https://youtu.be/9MfXNsXWnEQ
26 April
We’ve enjoyed 5 lovely days in the Lisbon area; it would have been
more in the original plan, and I think we could have found ways to
make the most of it, but ... now we’re off to check out other spots.
Today it’s Setùbal (“Stu-bul”), and environs- the peninsula south of
Lisbon. Oysters on the beach, with a terrific local wine.
26-27 April
Saturday 26th we left Lisbon for Setùbal, ( STOO-bal ) rented a car at the airport and headed across the long bridge to the south. Checked in at Hotel Cristal, a spare and stingy place full of tour bus groups. Our destination was the Mercado in the town center, famous for fresh fish; Setùbal is a renowned fishing town, and you can see a flotilla in the fishing marina. The port stretches along the coast for miles, in an estuary protected by a spit of beaches: another perfect natural harbor, and the ocean stays calm all year, according to a local guy. I can’t figure out why there are no waves but it’s no wonder these people became explorers- it is apparently easy to set sail from here, and mostly the winds favor you.
There were good oysters in the Mercado, but even better down on the beach where a food truck shucks them for 1E50 with table service on the sand!
There’s a national park called Arràbida just to the west of Setùbal with a windy and twisty drive up and over a headland and down to a rocky/sandy beach. We thought we were heading for lunch at a place at the end of the road, but got there too late, so decided to just wander down the gravel path along the beach for awhile, and stumbled across another restaurant which was at the end of the road coming down from the other side- quite unexpected and casual but they had a good fish soup and grilled gambas salad in an idyllic setting.
I knew I’d be driving back on that winding road so decided not to drink any wine. A very good decision as it turned out…as we drove back into Setùbal I missed the turnoff for the hotel and went to the next roundabout to make a U-turn, and had a fender bender with a lady who assumed I was going to turn right and crunched into me from behind, damaging the driver’s side fender just behind the front wheel. Nobody was hurt, and both cars were drivable, but we were all rattled. She called her husband who could speak English and we worked calmly through the paperwork (carbon copies and separate statements etc) for a couple hours. Nice people in fact, he works at the VW factory where they made the car, and she gave us some cookies she had made to sell at the market. It’s just a pain in the neck to have to deal with insurance claims, but we are all ok. My first car accident in over 50 years of driving!
27-28 April
Traveling from Setubal to Evora (about an hour) the land is bright green and all the treetrunks are brown black. There is no understory in the sparse forests of cork oak, pincushion pine and olive. Some kind of large birds (storks?) are nesting in the electric transmission towers. No goats, no sheep, few cows. It looks well grazed, maybe between seasons, but maybe it just dries out.
Closer to Evora, vineyards blanket the land: this is the Alentejo. It’s mostly gentle and rolling, sometimes great stretches of land with mostly no settlements or intensive agriculture. Lots of unworked space, seems underutilized. But maybe that’s just the way agriculture is here. Not intensive.
There’s a lot of historical resonances in and around Evora- from prehistoric standing stones, through roman times as the crossroads of a region, islamic and then christian rule in the middle ages, and as the preferred seat of Portuguese royalty during the renaissance. It’s pretty small and the old city is totally walkable, up hill to the big cathedral and roman ruins.
Lunch at Sao Luis da Praça inside the city walls (recommended by hotel) was excellent: pork cheeks (so tender!) pork steak (so tasty) and great alentejo wine. And an orange which is certainly the varietal of Sue and Bill’s tree: laranja da baia!
We visited the Chapel of Bones in the downhill church on the plaza where we ate lunch (at Sao Luis da Praça, very good). Cheryl writes about it a bit further down, with pictures.
28 April Monday
Drove 45 min to Vila Viçosa to tour the marble quarries and workshops- this has been the #1 destination for Cheryl in Portugal. We did get to the quarry but she felt ill and couldn’t really enjoy the whole megalithic extraction show. We do have a few pictures to remind us…
Also had plans to visit ceramic artist workshops in small villages nearby, but had to pass them by. Sometimes it’s just like that- you don’t feel up to it.
And now, the great power outage! We first became aware of it in a tiny village Sao Pedro de Corval where we stopped for a Coke (for Cheryl’s stomach); their power was out, but we didn’t give it a second thought. When we got back to Evora it dawned on us that this was a far bigger, more general issue.
Cheryl says: by this time I was really feeling awful and the hotel was completely dark. No power, no internet, no elevator, no ac, no food. The water ran, but not the toilet. Daniel scored me some water and ginger ale, Somehow we got the word that the outage was massive: France, Italy, Spain, Portugal. Of course I thought Putin did it. But there was no way for anyone to get any information. So that was a new trial. Phones running down, no connections of any kind. We did have the car in which we could run the car and get power for our phones, but what was the point? We had no capability of communicating in any way. And I was throwing up. Daniel left to drink wine in the hill town while I wished for death. This morning I am OK so, what’s to eat?
28 April Evora
Evora (about an hour east of Lisbon) is a village where Jews lived in portugal, with a museum of the inquisition. We are not going there. I almost threw up looking at the tiny gruesome website photos. Hundreds of years of concentrated effort has been made to harden the grip of Portuguese catholicism. it saturates all visible symbols. it almost becomes invisible, except it’s not.
see? the constant reminders of the penetrating power of the church in every street sign, monument, and Sao this and Sao that. not too many Marys. All men, all the time. Even the museum of the city of Evora is saturated. Yes it has remains of neolithic stones just as badly and superciliously explained as usual. Somehow where the stuff was found is noted in detail, but the use or meaning is absent. Then there’s the roman era, again, empty of meaning. They were here, and then they weren’t. Which brings us to the baby Jesus and the endless depictions of poor Mary getting the very weird news,
dumbfounded simple Joseph who cannot possibly grasp the hoax, and the baby Jesus who is eyeing the circumcision tool with innocent equanimity.
and whats with the crows? Have they come to help with the cleanup?
And here come the christmas statues! In the city of Evora museum, there’s an entire wing devoted to a personal collection of nativity scenes. The many ubiquitous Where’s Waldo Voodoo temples that could use some bottles of Jack Daniels to complete the confusion:
and then some I rather enjoy: the plain ones that have those Uh-oh faces, or the simple enjoyment on moms and babies with the daddies looking kinda beside the point. It’s sad, and at least more real than the where’s waldo scenes.and then some I rather enjoy: the plain ones that have those Uh Oh faces, or the simple enjoyment of moms and babies with the daddies looking kinda beside the point. It’s sad, and at least more real than the where’s waldo scenes.
this one looks like jesus is swathed in a placenta
spongebob holy family
taking the babe to a party?
the goat is ready to chow down
jesus in a hammock?
mary and joseph debate what to do about colic
what exactly is happening here?
the simple jews who have no idea that their poor baby’s birth and rising from the dead mythology will be used for 2000 years of violence against his own people.
And then, the chapel of bones. I loved this place.
The Grateful Dead must have been channeling the Franciscan Friars, who had a brainstorm one day and decided to dig up 5000 cadavers in order to use the bones for building materials. I guess digging up the cemeteries was easier than digging up marble like everybody else has done in the past. Did they need permission? Did anyone object? Was this a response to the plague? I mean, who does this???
Anyway, this is a physical therapist dreamland, a land of endless Boney variety. Very beautiful and inspiring to me, even though a little gruesome. I like it.😜
Also, if you think of a cemetery as a quarry, it’s an excavation dreamland. But I wonder what they did with the ribs, fingers, feet, mandibles. I only saw femurs, craniums, ulnas, and sacrums. What happened to the rest??? did they grind them up and use them in the cement? No explanations….so curiosity remains unsatisfied, but happy nonetheless.
29 April
Sometimes things don’t go swimmingly
Don’t be alarmed, we’re ok… but the past two days have been a little rocky: I had a fender bender, Cheryl had food poisoning, and there was a massive power outage. Other than that…
30 April
Two lovely days in Figueira da Foz
My friend Lisa and her husband Stephen have relocated temporar-maybe-permanently to this family friendly modern beach town on Portugal’s central coast, and hosted us as their first visitors since arriving a few weeks ago. They have a spacious apartment on the beachfront road and everything they need is a walk mostly in front of the beach, which is quite deep between the road and the ocean. Sunsets and great clouds come with the location..
1-2 May
We rolled into Porto, where my smallish car suddenly became large in the narrow cobbled streets jammed with people on a national holiday. Parking it in a garage was a big weight off our shoulders.
These stone paved streets and sidewalks are a unique feature of Portugal , known as “Portuguese paving”. It’s everywhere, sometimes beautiful designs of light polished limestone and dark basalt, often just plain or even rubble-y and wavy up and down, presenting rather hazardous footing. No high heels in these towns!
We’re staying in a small apartment on the pedestrian section of Rua Santa Catarina , just up the block from a church completely covered and elaborately decorated with blue/white tile depicting some depressing religious stories, and endless Chinese girls taking selfies.
We had a walking tour of part of Porto in a group where the only questions of the guide came from Cheryl and me. The discussion of the Sao Bento train station was interesting: in tiles, the history of Portugal laid bare. The rest was relatively uninteresting except when the guide described the issue of empty buildings and its relationship to mass tourism- there’s an unhealthy dynamic of increasing housing costs and expensive properties that don’t get renovated even though taken over by international conglomerates who promise but don’t turn them into hotels and other tourist oriented purposes. Gigantic elaborate facades right in the center hide thousands of square feet of empty space. 18% of Porto’s buildings are empty, and uninhabitable. Locals are driven out, and tourists gape at what once was. It’s clear when you look around that a large percentage of buildings are empty, derelict, broken down, abandoned. Almost every gorgeous art deco building is covered in graffiti: It’s like watching the death of a city. Except that Porto has been declared a European center for cultural tourism or something like that, so money is flowing here…into what? Lots of infrastructure like metros. Maybe we are here at a transitional moment in Porto’s development.
There’s a grand bridge carrying metro and foot traffic that crosses the Douro from upper Porto to Vila Nova da Gaia, where the port cellars are found. The riverside promenade in front of the port houses is an absolute zoo, lined with grotesqueries of tourist consumption, as well as authentic port wine distributors.
Lunch at Tempêro d’Maria, on the quayside… I thought, meh, but it was a good place to get out of the rain; Cheryl liked the place, because it didn’t smell like fried fish. We had a flavorful steak. Once she un-blanded the creamy pepper sauce supplied for the steak, with hot sauce, vinegar, and salt, and got some vinegar for the salad it was better.
If one continues past the end of the tourist strip you can take a relaxing waterfront walk on a boardwalk out over the river’s edge , past decrepit buildings, fishermen, and a boat restoration yard with big timbers and craftsmen working wood in a place that looked like a lumber junkyard with gigantic timbers of probably oak. All the buildings across the river, on the riverfront, representing a VAST stretch of history, were abandoned.
Escaped to a backstreet and found a small producer port tasting room (not a huge port cellar with a mass market cellar tour for high price) Vasques d’Carvalho. Excellent selections and explanations by Bruno, a “friend of the (winemakers) family”.
3 May
After seeing identical tourist shops on every street it was a relief to encounter a group of artistic shops in the rua Sousa Viterbo where you can find actual unique crafted items (we’re not talking extravagant here , but nice design Tshirts, wooden bikes, woven woolens and hot chocolate). The consistent blandness of the ubiquitous offerings and relentless surge of tourists just bums me out; I can only imagine how it feels to locals.
Cheryl says: you should know Daniel is uncomfortable in crowds. I have a different observation…..the Portuguese speaking people on the street are by far the biggest proportion of the throngs, and seem pleased and interested in conversations and enjoying whatever there is. The social ambience is “let’s enjoy this together” with a lot of easy smiling. A general optimism and good will, and welcoming of English speaking people with whom they’ve had centuries of trade partnerships, immigrations, intermarriages, and treaties. Consider The Port wine: I saw a T-shirt today with a graphic of the riverfront Port wine distribution rooftops, and the billboard signs on the rooftops said —ALL— ENGLISH —FAMILY— NAMES—
Maybe they still feel a sense of relief and lightness arising from the 1974 revolution that ended the brutality and the shame of the dictatorship. Our tour guide pointed out the fascist statue of Justica, lady justice in front of the old courthouse. She had No blindfold, and she sure wasn’t holding up no scales. This fascist statue had eyes wide open and a big ass sword. Which was what Portugal was dealing with: severe punishment for disagreeing with the regime. he said prior to 1974 it was like North Korea with Illiteracy 30% for women, 25% for men. Constant spying and imprisonments. So maybe the sweetly welcoming zeitgeist is imprinted onto the younger generation by the parents who have experienced in just 50 years, enormous improvements and so much more life and hope than those whose lives are more static or precarious and on the defensive. It’s enlightening to experience a country being uplifted, and modernized.
D: they don’t need to be reminded that this is freedom, but in contrast to exactly what, is not clear. Housing has got to be upgraded rebuilt and made affordable, after years of neglect. The job looks overwhelming. Joshua pointed out that having no wars meant no large scale rebuilding had to be done, and the broken tumbledown buildings all remain.
4-5 May
After a down day we got our courage up to drive out of Porto and head for the beach towns to the north. In Montesinhos (“mohn-te-ZEEN-yoosh”) there was all the fresh air and open space we were missing in Porto: a broad oceanfront promenade on two levels: one close to the waves on a rocky/sandy beach, the other up near the street, passing under a giant sculpture of a fishing net. A section of working port and oil refinery don’t seem to have fouled the beach, separated by a mile or so. We noted a “play-fort” so small and cute it could have been a recently built attraction; turns out it has been there since the 17th century and those cannons are real, and weirdly it is a working naval installation. . At a cafe spilling out of the beachfront construction over the rocks and down to the sand , there was a strong determined well muscled guy breaking pieces off of a large hunk of marble stone with a sledgehammer, while his sidekick tossed them onto other rocks on the ocean. Why? Meanwhile people are relaxing with their beers, just breathing sea air in beanbag chairs or chaise lounges.
Exploring north from Montesinhos, we encountered a string of little settlements on alternately sandy beach and rugged rocky terrain looking somewhat underdeveloped - some beach houses, some fishing towns, some small farms, and a lot of narrow and unpredictably obstructed cobblestone roads that make you go slow and scramble the brains with noise and vibration- no way they lay these all by hand, except they do…all the references I’ve found are full of wooly stories about artistry- this is industrial scale! We finally achieved our aim to find a nice cafe for a cup of coffee on the water at Ruben Dunas in Praia Mindelo. Kind of middle of nowhere. Lots of housing, no services.
From there we headed to Braga, since it was close and why not? Visited the spectacular Bom Jesus basilica, hotel and spa in a beautiful fragrant sculpted floral park atop the mountain, with a view over the whole area. Fresh mountaintop springs flowing from fountains into grottoes or pools, a small lake for rowing amid lawns, old growth trees in a peaceful forested park. Bom Jesus has a good life here.
The north of the country is much greener, with hills rolling up to mountain villages and cluttered valley floors. Actual mountains, filled with water loving trees and small farms with lumber littered here and there. and it’s just not that far from one kind of place to another. The highways are good and tolls are collected regularly.
6 May
You have to be kidding me! It’s unbearably scenic in the Douro … the drive from Porto to Pinhao is about 2 hours and the last hour is twisty and breathtaking.
https://youtu.be/ftOLc3VMto4
It’s absurd to even contemplate the human effort it has taken to build all these terraces and stone walls.
Cheryl asked:
How is it possible that a single row of grape vines is worth building hndreds of thousands of miles of stone walls?
Who built these endless terraces? The answer must be enslaved people, starting with the Romans who knew how to make people build and keep on building. It’s a world heritage site all right, of rarely acknowledged millenniums of forced labor from one end to the other, from the middle of Spain to the Atlantic Ocean, through time and rivers of sweat. Way Further than the eye can see. The walls Probably would extend to the sun, laid end to end. How many hundreds of thousands of people worked building these interminable stone walls over 2000 years, just to grow….grapes?? WTF. And what happens to all the wine? Not a soul is seen working, just vast individual vines pushing towards the sun powering the land going through an endless cycle of growing and dying. The earth expressing itself with little help , except it’s impossible not to be overwhelmed by those fucking stone walls! how many billions of hours of manpower, hacking, piling, fitting, layering? For grapes? I guess if you think of it as a sustainable food supply once fermentated, okay then maybe. But where do all the used wine bottles end up? This Douro Valley business makes interdtate hoghways and chunnels look like amateur projects. It is indeed a world heritage site, in all respects.
Pinhao itself is nothing much, but the Vintage House restaurant is terrific (thank you Shirley!). They walled it off from the smelly train tracks (reminds me of the Pennsylvania railroad station in Baltimore) and gas station, and created a tropical oasis retaining the view of the river and surrounding hills. Boat traffic on the river was steady but leisurely, and it wasn’t overcrowded in town. Blooming cinnamon scented roses and lemon blossoms scent the air along the river.
The road to Regua hugs the riverbank, with great views (for the passenger!) all the way down past the dam (with a lock for boat traffic) and hundreds more miles of terraced vineyards. Regua is a kind of crossroads, so a good jumping off point for touring the region.
Casa do Sao Domingos has a nice perch on the hillside above town. We’re sitting on the pool deck with a glass of port.
A word on our process for this blog- it’s the first time we’ve really collaborated on something like this, and we both like it. Together with our pictures, it will help us remember what we did, where we were…which is important to try to capture, as memory is intermittent. But Cheryl wants everyone to know, she gets credit for some of the writing too. I usually start a section and hand it off for improvements, color, and flavor. Then I get it back, add to it or not, select some pictures and send it off.
How is it possible that a single row of grape vines is worth building hundreds of thousands of miles of stone walls?
7 May
Tasting wine and olive oil at Quinta da Jalloto, a tiny producer overlooking the Douro way up above Pinhão; I had been hoping for a visit to Noval but they were booked. It was the second level busted play for today- we were gonna take a train to the end of the line upriver but there’s a strike, so instead we’re meandering on tiny roads up through this gorgeous landscape, having ever more respect for the effort- the vineyards are tidy and well groomed, even as the villages are shabby and crumbling. The vines and olive trees grow on rocks. There’s barely any soil, and what there is must be retained only by the stone walls.
Walking up and down on the tiny roads and vineyard paths reminds me of another answer to the question, “why do I travel?” Of the several reasons, this stands out- to learn through feeling the whole being of a place, to grok the gestalt (thanks Heinlein and Wertheimer!). This happens in little bits, by asking questions, learning the history, looking at the works, smelling the air, hearing the sounds, touching the rocks, eating and drinking the products, observing the people… always wondering, giving time and freedom to ponder. You can’t get all that from an online experience, a class or a video, or even a good teacher- you gotta get out of your familiar surroundings and open yourself to adventure.
Other good reasons of course exist for traveling - I don’t subscribe to the concept of a bucket list but I do have desires to go to certain places; I felt the need to get away from the political madness in the US; I wanted to get out of the routine at home, and I like the feeling of being challenged to plan and make my way in unfamiliar settings, to feel the plasticity to adapt to different cultures and languages. And also-something magical can happen when I get out from my own head, to see what life is like for people in a different place. The phenomenon of mass tourism makes it difficult to get behind the facades of prepackaged experiences, but it’s worth a try.
As I look at the photos we’ve taken, I know they can’t convey the depth or wonder of the experience of being in a place- at best they can help me remember.
8 May Thursday
It was supposed to be raining so we decided to drive to Viseu, a small city about an hour south, to see what it’s about. Such a place does not exist in North America (that I am aware of): Roman/medieval walls and churches embedded with restaurants retail and residential buildings, surrounded by a modern commercial adaptation to 17-19 century structures and cityscape, walkable with parks and several pastelarias per block. It’s the center of the Dao wine region, less acclaimed than Douro but the wines are still delicious, like Sonoma is to Napa. We chose to go there after reading some travel guides about Portugal’s under appreciated inland cities, and I’ll agree there’s reason to visit a place like Viseu; pleasant but it’s not going to knock your socks off.
It seems like a completely livable and small walkable city more restored and modernized than the other places we’ve been. In a museum filled with the everpresent Catholic imagery, there was an explanation of the cross I felt was compelling. Originally a symbol of cruelty and an instrument of ignominy, the cross was transformed by Jesus into a symbol of love and generosity. This is an idea I had never been offered before today. We were in a church that celebrated works of mercy, and featured potraits of citizens of Viseu — both men and women which in Portugal is unusual— who had lived extraordinary lives giving service to the poor. It seemed the city has a deep history of misericordia, and wellbeing.
The hilly outskirts look like nice villages, but hard to tell whizzing past on a highway. Clear signs of a forest fire that was not too hot: lots of still green trees amidst skeletal tree remains on windy mountaintops, adorned with wind power structures. The fires jumped the villages nestled in verdant ravines or downhill valleys, lush compared to the barren rocky hilltops. And the grape vines look perfectly untouched, the eternal champions of the vegetable world.
We walked down into town again tonight, precipitously along a backstreet, through a moribund port-shipping restaurant complex, across the railroad tracks (no trains today they’re still on strike), and along the main commercial street. We found the restaurant to which we had been directed up the stairs next to the museum, through a back gate and out onto a narrow lane to a single room behind a tiny sign: Tasca da Quinta. Terrific meal with mushroom tapas, octopus salad and Feijoada (white bean stew) , with a nice Douro red that elevated even the orange peel flavored butter, and everything else.
Even walking back from dinner can become an experience:
Leaving the restaurant and starting our return on the pathway down by the river, we found our shortcut uphill route to the guest house to be blocked off and got chased by dogs back down the hill. A quick phone call to our gracious host Manuel revealed there is another (much much steeper) return route- this one took us through the unnamed and unmapped hillside pedestrian-only pathway/alleys of worker housing that finally exited several stairway flights above the high road next to our place. Waggingly happy dogs barked as if welcoming us fearlessly along the route. Just doing a job. It was a sweaty but greatly appreciated hike after wonderful food and wine.
Coimbra 11-13 May
Wandering on our own a bit blindly up the steep and narrow streets we stumbled again and again across interesting places, which were all better explained the next day by our “guru walks” guide, an anthropologist native to the city. It’s a university town with the campus implanted on the top of the hill in the former royal palace. Students in long black capes abound - it seems like formal costumery, and that’s about what it is, yet many of them adopt it for daily use, and wear it all around town, a sign of respect for the traditions of an institution that was established here in 1290.
Better kept than Porto or Lisbon, still most areas have buildings either abandoned or under renovation, and much of the downtown is torn up for a metro.
As with many places in Portugal this one had a thriving Jewish community from the Roman times until they were killed, converted or driven out by the inquisition a thousand years later. Traces are found, like a mikvah recently, under a building in what was the Jewish quarter. Was…the history is so brutal and it is depressing that it always turns out the same way.
If I stayed in this country longer I’d want to find out if there is a music scene outside of the traditional village music like we heard in Gerês, and the Fado of Lisbon and the different version found in Coimbra; I’m guessing the university graduation festival at the end of May would be the place to find out, but we’ll be gone by then.
https://youtube.com/shorts/DGPUcpRNpT0?feature=sharehttps://youtu.be/hjhXNhNoeoA
Three days in Coimbra, staying at a guest house called Coimbra Ameias, on the top floor of the watchtower for the Quinta das Lagrimas, which sits in a garden down below. Very nice modernized place, excellent hosts, voluminous breakfast, served on a terrace overlooking Coimbra across the river (1/2hr walk).
https://youtu.be/OKQ3qnzCUvE
14 May
On our way out of Coimbra we sought out and found the ceramic factory where some of the hand painted dishes are made- this has been one of Cheryl’s hopes the whole trip- and the owner was actually there, let us in, and gave a tour through the place, ending in the showroom. Cheryl says: Turns out you can order any shape (thousands to choose from) and ask for any design. Each piece is signed b the paint artist, and I found a favorite! Marta!
Lunch in Nazaré at Arco Iris was one of the best we’ve had. Terrific bread to soak up the sips around the plentiful Clams, grilled fish, potatoes. Garlic and cilantro, alentejo white wine, and some dessert that seemed like maybe salted caramel gelato that was never frozen. Like sabayon but sans liquor.
We were both surprised at Nazaré- having seen only the big waves from the one location of surfing videos, which shows only the lighthouse… there’s actually a whole large white lovely town that has nothing to do with surfing, quite a bit larger than one might expect. Clearly was a fishing village that became a beach town, but the fishing continues, out of the small port adjacent to the beach. The traditional boats are on display, as are spectacular fish drying racks, loaded with salted fish becoming bacalau. No flies! No birds! Why? The viewpoint for monster waves is up on top of the headland, which can be reached by funicular or a 10 minute drive; the lighthouse is part of a fort that has a surfboard display in a large lit cavern: a tribute to the international surfing community, as well as a detailed explanation of the geology that causes the huge surf. No waves this time of year.
Our last night in Portugal was in Sintra, on the way to the airport. I won’t recommend the hotel, (museu do bonsai) but the location is pretty interesting and we stumbled into a delicious tiny tapas place (“Tira Tapas”) where we met some great young men at the next table- two brothers from Tomar and their friend from Russia. Fun talking my with them about languages (the Russian just finished an anthropology phd in how sound affects humans. Another does surveys and reports for companies needing information about how their products are received.
We’ll visit Sintra again on some future trip- I like the part of town we stayed in, on the walking trail toward the castles on the hill. Little traffic, nice woods, lanes and views. Praça dom Fernando.
17 May, Saturday in Cassis
You know you’re in paradise when…
Somehow they’ve kept the walls clean of graffiti
There’s a market in the town square even when it isn’t market day; on market days it is stupendous
The beach is open, clean and inviting
Food and wine are plentiful, fresh and local
Tourist invasion is manageable
Town facilities are open and free (museum, expositions)
Tango dancing in front of la poste
Plentiful Restaurants
Boulangerie 2 minutes walk from our apartment
Everything is walkable
Boats come and go, little ones, some electric
Weather and bugs are AOK
Scenery is magnificent
The ocean is swimmable
Friends set you up with friends
Can we live here all the time?
I can’t erase the image
We’re driving in Marseille at night. It’s a big city I don’t know and Google maps has routed me inexplicably through the darkest grittiest maze of dock front mean streets . Cheryl’s helping navigate but it’s a mess. In a tight section here’s a motorbike trying to pass me in a place where it’s impossible to pass; he is so close I can’t see him in the mirror. But I sense him trying to squeeze around to my left. I ease right though there’s nowhere to go, and he zips past, snaking around cars in front. His license plate reflects sharply in my headlights: TX-something, and then he’s gone. A few minutes later, traffic stops and I’m cursing Google for taking me here. Finally at a left turn there’s a commotion of vehicles and lights- a bus, police, an ambulance, and a motorbike absolutely crushed on the road. I didn’t stop to see but the bike’s plate reflected sharply in the glare of blue lights: TX…..
18 May
Notes from the cassis wine festival
What a scene! Saves me from having to visit multiple places, as they were all here (10 of them) pouring their wines under a canopy on the beachfront, just above sunbathers on the sand. A couple of food tents were included in the event which has been running for 89 years.
Cassis AOC is a very well regarded appellation, mostly for the whites. I thought the best ones were from Bagnol, Fontcreuse , Bodin, Ferme Blanche. These vineyards are right next to each other on the road out of town. I was surprised to find the Clos de la Magdaleine less appealing than some others.
I liked most of the rosés too (everyone has one), and a couple of the reds from Bagnol and Fontecreuse. But the rosés and reds from Bandol (just over the hill) are better. I had an octopus hot dog: one thick tentacle on a bun with mustard, aioli, toasted onions and ketchup.
Afternoon drive to the top of the hill that overlooks Cassis, and looks down the other way at La Ciotat. We shared the view with groups of young people, come up in their cars and motos to hang out in the crags. The Route des Crêtes that goes along the top of the cliffs is closed to cars on Sundays, so the more sportif are up there on bikes.
Bandol is just down the hill past Ciotat and St-Cyr. We stopped into the village for a stroll and dinner on the wide seaside promenade, and I reckon I’ll be back to find a winery or two. In the meantime I picked up a couple of bottles of Bandol wines.
19 May
Calanques National Park - one of only 7 NPs in France (continental) covers the sea coast and offshore islands between Cassis and Marseille. These are spectacular limestone crests, thrusts and cliffs with trails throughout- tough climbs, slippery rocks, swimming inlets and beautiful views, easily accessible from Cassis and Marseille. You gotta bring whatever you need, as there are no services in the park. People do, and we were part of a happy train heading into a gorgeous picnic and swimming spot about an hour’s walk from town.
In front of the post office a duck stands quietly reading the carved memorial to those fallen for La France in the wars. Checking the names for his comrades, or for his own? What’s it like to be reincarnated as a duck?
There’s a storm brewing- lightning traces across the mountains, the wind picks up and the sky darkens. I’m cheering it on silently from the balcony and the curtains are blowing through the patio door while Cheryl makes the most delicious lamb chops and potatoes, tomatoes and fennel, to go with a Bandol red wine.
21 May
Wineries in Bandol, high definition scenery, cheeses at the market, and even though the boulangerie lady has started to recognize us, we haven’t been here long enough .
I think a month would be good, or two.
Back to Bandol!
I’ve intended to visit wineries in Bandol for a long time; really ever since staying in Cannes in the 90s, working with Aérospatiale, when I got to have Bandol reds regularly, as they are the local wines.
We made two stops- first at Domaine Tempier, my longtime favorite. It’s a relatively humble looking set of buildings in a nice spot, not dramatic; they (and maybe all Bandol wines) were made famous by the California wine importer Kermit Lynch, starting 50 years ago. Tempier’s reds are fierce when young, and really only start to shine after several years; this was clear in the tasting room (we were guided by Maeva and Julia). Even the rosé is better a year or two after bottling. At the end we had a bit of their 20-year old Marc, distilled from Mourvèdre .
We dinked around the tiny roads snaking through the vineyards and made our way to Domaine de Gros ‘Noré, where a rough looking character asked me “vous reservez goûter”? (Non, j’e n’ai pas fait reservation) “Ça n’importe- allez-y!” and showed us in to a rustic room where we sat at a picnic table with some other visitors, very convivial. Alain Pascal and his daughter poured generous tastes of their rosé and reds of several ages and different vineyards. Most were Mourvèdre based blends, making them more approachable at younger age, but the top wine for me was a 100% Mourvèdre from 2012. All were excellent, and I got a new appreciation of this winery; not least from Alain, who apparently built all the buildings and named the winery after his father, who was known locally as “Big Honoré” - Gros ’Noré.
Whenever I’m in a new place, the question arises-“why is this town here?, and “what do people do who live here”? Sometimes part of the answer is readily apparent, like when there’s a navigable river, rail junction or visible center of employment, like a factory; or when it’s clearly a center for an agricultural region. It’s certainly different in Europe than North America: here, the reasons are often buried by centuries of history, involving Roman settlements and the interests of the ecclesiastical powers and aristocratic families long vanished. Every place has a story from the attic about how things came to be; some may be true. A lot can happen in 2000 years.
On top of the massif that rules the skyline to the east of Cassis runs the Route des Crêtes- a really good windy, wind-y and scenic route between Cassis and La Ciotat, definitely worth the drive. Hold on to your children and dogs, because there are no fences or guardrails between you and a 500-meter plunge off the cliffs. Some rock climbers were practicing climbs and descents in the last 10m to the top, and the rest of us just watched out for ourselves.
Not everyone I know would appreciate the museum of the French Foreign Legion, which is (inexplicably) in Aubagne, Provence, quite close to Cassis and Bandol; I suppose also near to Marseille, which might be a better explanation.
I felt drawn to go, having spent a good part of the last 35 years in close proximity to Legionnaires in French Guiana. Never sure of what I knew to be true or wondered whether it was, concerning the Legion, I always regarded them with a certain esteem, while keeping a safe distance. They are reputed to be rough characters who need to leave their former self behind, and they are bound together by the Legion, which gives them new identities within the strictures of the code.
The exhibition covers the history, missions, exploits, weaponry and uniforms of the various detachments of Legionnaires from 1832 to present. Worth considering: a mercenary army of mostly foreigners at the command of an emperor (or someone who assumes such powers) can be used without the usual concern for political backlash. French colonial projects of the 19th & 20th centuries could not have been conducted without such a force.
And they had great costumes! Way better than common army getups.
22 May Jausiers
Just as I got over it, Cheryl came down with the cold I picked up in Coimbra a week ago...
these diseases have a long tail. So now she gets to feel crappy in awesome places; but that’s
part of the experience of traveling.
We’re in Jausiers tonight, a Tour de France town at the foot of one of the highest passes in
Europe (la Bonette). Why are we here? We can’t remember why exactly. Sometimes when you
make an arrangement to go somewhere there was a specific reason at the time, and then it just
goes in a pocket. We knew we had a couple of days between longer stays and perhaps chose
because of natural beauty, or because we’ve never been there before, or maybe it was to find
some cheese! I don’t know but here we are, holed up in a sort of elegant but very rustic guest
house in the Ubaye river valley. Hard charging white icemelt roaring downhill, lilacs are in
bloom, mountains are high and close and there are some goat cheese producers nearby, so
what’s the problem? I found a nice local wine in the village, and Cheryl had a hot bath.
The fewer useful surfaces in a hotel room, the more useless junk they put on them, that I then
have to move and find a home for. There’s almost never a place to lay open my suitcase, so I
end up using the bed or the floor.
23 May Friday in Bauduen
This hotel on Lac St Croix is neither elegant nor rustic, just old and not updated in 100 years:
the toilet paper holders are set up for strips of newspaper, not even rolls.
We’re at a jumping off point for hikes in the Gorges du Verdon, the grand canyon of France. But
we’re still not well, so more likely a sightseeing cruise on the wiggly road tomorrow.
I’d like to hire these swallows to eat bugs- there’s nothing coming through my window
(unscreened as all in France) but the birds are swooping and swerving around, chirping happily.
I think a bit later it’ll be bats performing the same function.
24-25 May in Bonnieux , Lubéron
This is a lovely village, perched on the edge of a hill in the Alpilles range of the Lubéron , full of
medieval stone structures like the one we are staying in: from the road hard against the
ramparts of the medieval city, a gap in a stone wall leads to a steep rough-hewn stone stair,
down through an old wooden gate, opening into a very private terraced yard with a pool,
flanked by 2 big fig trees and a couple of hobbit hovels- the setting is beautiful and the
dwellings are habitable, with peculiarities one gets used to. Remember to live gently, with
acceptance (it ain’t a fancy hotel, and I ain’t Jeff Bezos).
https://youtube.com/shorts/U3K1k5ekTMQ?feature=share
The art village of Lacoste is across a valley of lavender, grapes and cherries from where we are
staying in Bonnieux: it’s tiny, with less traffic cuz the roads are too narrow, and it has been
assiduously remade as a place for artists. Still old but not crumbling. Impressive.
26 May
I ventured to Forcalquier today for the renowned peasant market and to find some Banon
cheese at the source . You have be chasing something, it barely matters what. I’m glad to get
the opportunity to ask whether the best one to try was the soft one or the stronger one: the
cheesemonger was clear, I should buy the “plus fort”.
The weather is warming and the pool is refreshing. I guess that is why we took this place.
Warming up in the sun after a cold plunge, I’m watching honeybees navigate a huge pillow of
blooming jasmine, the scent is blowing my mind and I can’t imagine what it does to them. They
start into the midst of a thousand flowers and seem to lose any discipline, just go foomf! in the
middle of it and wallow around. Fly back out, regain composure and head back in, but foomf!
29 May
Big rounded lumps of cheese on display at the market look today as they might have 100 years, 500 years ago; the cheese makers still haul them from the caves where they have been quietly resting, developing the flavors that only come from aging under the right conditions. Now they use small panel vans instead of draught animals to bring their cheeses to market, but the product cannot be that different; it’s an example of what makes a stay in the French countryside feel so exotic to us.
Today there was a wine festival (another one?) in the nearby town of Apt. Sabrina and I rented bikes and rolled over there, to sample wines from a couple dozen local producers in this Luberon/Ventoux region of Provence. On purpose we didn’t bring bags so we could not buy a bunch of wine; I didn’t want to have to carry the extra weight back up the hill. We failed in this regard: couldn’t avoid making a few purchases, not just wine but crazy cheeses and saucissons; had to call Cheryl to rescue us with the car. The ride back to Bonnieux took us past the Pont Julien, which dates from the early Roman era, and up through the fields of lavender and grapes, groves of cherry and olive trees, many growing on terraces that have existed for about the same amount of time.
A sharp sunset etched the skyline with a sharp tool and bathed the hillsides in glowing gold. The town center (meaning the ice cream shop) buzzed with local teenagers and tourists until past closing time.
31 May
If you look carefully at a detailed paper roadmap (you know, the kind that folds out) it is possible to devise interesting routes without knowing much about the region ; you can’t do this with an online version as far as I know how. Paper works better for me in some cases; I especially like the detailed Michelin roadmaps, currently using the #527 “Provence-Alpes-Cote d’Azur” regional map at 1:200,000 scale. It’s a winner, finding the scenic tiny roads between hither and yon, instead of the more efficient routes. I’ve always loved maps!
Rolling over the Luberon hills, between ripening cherries and blooming grapes, we’re facing up into Mt Ventoux, its scoured limestone cap stark white above green slopes, with the Dentelles de Montmirail in the background; between here and there are deep valleys and stony escarpments, a most scenic landscape. Each of the charming villages perched on the hillsides claim their unique outlook on the varied scene. Vénasque, Gordes, Oppède le Vieux and Ménerbes are especially favored.
I looked over the stone wall at the lookout from Venasque, and saw a sea of vineyards laying variously on the lands below. One struck me as it might be a particularly good one, because of the slope and exposure: a few minutes later in a nearby cafe I had a glass of rosé from that very place, and it was quite satisfying, all the more so because of the proximity and identifinding.
https://youtu.be/gcYOfVWdbhk
This was an amazing felted wool art shop in Venasque. I was scolded for taking photos.:
1 June
-C'était il y a treize ans- the waitress looked at the date on the picture I showed her, of Cheryl stepping into the ice old waters of the Fontaine de Vaucluse, right at the mouth of the cavern from which it issues.
-On ne peut plus y aller, ils ont bloqué le chemin.
We could see that the path is now closed to the public (for safety reasons) and it was quite disappointing for Cheryl to be prevented from going there again ; at least she had access before, twice in fact (we have pictures!) Now nobody will ever get to go, too bad.
Though I’ve been to the village of Fontaine de Vaucluse three times, it looks different to me each time than what I remember; did something change or am I just not remembering? More likely the latter; anyway it’s a gorgeous little place with too much tourist development, beautiful roaring clear green water, some good restaurants and a museum honoring Petrarch, who apparently lived there in the 14 century.
It seemed that everyone on the street in L’Isle sur la Sorgue was eating ice cream. The town is wall to wall ice cream shops, many with a line out the door. Also a good place to score some fabric, tablecloths and other Provençal items.
2 June
Hiked in “Colorado” - a trail through an ochre landscape that somewhat resembles a condensed western US with its colorful rock formations.
Walking made us hungry, so we went over to Lacoste for lunch, and then explored the restored medieval-art school agglomeration, all the way up to the castle of the Marquis de Sade at the top.thanks to Pierre Cardin and a cohort of visionary curators.
4 June
We keep finding ourselves in Apt
Apart from being a crossroads, and “capital” of the Luberon, there are Several supermarkets, gas stations, and a seeming non stop train of markets, festivals, and events in the plaza adjacent to the old town, with its combination of retail serving both tourists and locals. But the traffic pattern is squirrely and it’s not fun to navigate on a bike. Better out on the country roads.
South of Bonnieux and through the pass lies the hills and valley of the “Grand Luberon”- I’m not sure what makes one “grand” and the other “petit”- centered on Lourmarin, a village situated in a flat (unusual) area with castle that has been dedicated to support of the arts in concert with the Aix art university for 100 years. They were setting up for a three-day music festival which is to be held on the grounds of the castle and throughout the town this weekend. Good shopping and eating in this place. Both of us got new hats!
Something worth noting: you can’t get a good idea of any events happening that are accessible to the general public unless you are IN the town or area in which the event is going on. The tourist office and internet rarely has this kind of notification of cultural activities, unless it’s part of a larger well-known expensive annual concert series or the like. Maybe it’s a way to keep these very interesting concerts available to the local people. I don’t know, but it pays to keep your eyes peeled for posters here in France.
Another unexpected adventure unrolled when we decided to check out the winery of Chateau de Mille. As you descend toward Apt from Bonnieux, there’s a large wooden tonneau perched on the side of the road. We’d gone past this several times, thinking it was silly or something. What a mistake! On a whim, we turned in: voila, a winery (and wedding venue) on the grounds of a 13th century grand estate that was the summer residence of the Avignon popes for 150 years. Clearly restored at someone’s great expense, there’s the ancient stone outcroppings consolidated into an old castle opening into modern art exhibit displaying uprooted ancient vines suspended from the ceiling of a gorgeous room overlooking the vineyards. It’s clearly a tribute to the gnarled and massive effort it takes grapevines to live for centuries in limestone. A monument to immortality of the vineyard. Each individual form, and the work as a whole, is kind of threatening, and a spectacular display of the rooted material world suspended in air and time.
Then there are the 16th century fountains and gardens, with large limestone areas clearly habitable for expensive weddings, and more recent buildings (with a pool!) for visitors, integrated with a collection of medieval or stone age outbuildings including a gigantic boulder hollowed out to be a stone bakehouse with a deep wood-fired (pizza ?) oven, and 60 acres of grapes from which they make quite good organic wines. This location is a photograph heaven, the light/dark and the forms organic and built, eroded and finely blended in a typically opulent Provencal architecture.
Less impressively, we pushed on to the LeClerc Supermarche in Apt to harvest chocolate bars, eggs, and some tuna fish and mayo for Dovid. And Cheryl picked up some fromage frais made with brebis (sheep) milk, which you just can’t pass up and sadly will never find at home.
Dinner in Gordes (another beautiful town) was kind of hit and miss: The Outsider had the best foie gras ever. We’d go there again if just for that. Oh, and the nougat dessert.
5 June
There’s the plan… and then there’s what you end up doing, maybe not the same thing.
Oppède Le Vieux is still a place where some people may live, but I don’t understand how, or what they do there. After having been abandoned in the previous centuries, this place was colonised by artists in this century. When we got to the place I begin to understand what they mean: round about the time France fell to the Germans in 1940, a group of friends in the Beaux-Arts school of Paris piled into an old Ford convertible to escape south. An American friend of theirs had purchased a decrepit old priory in Oppède le Vieux, and they found refuge there, in the relatively inacessible hills of the Luberon, with a truly impassable canyon to the rear. I can imagine the hardships but also the sense that they were doing their best to remain safe; they were artists of various stripes, and they attracted others in the next few months; many were jews. An impoverished hungry and thirsty (no running water) tubuculosis riven commune of sorts flourished during the war years, and some of the group stayed afterwards and continued to work in the remote hill towns around here. Gardens and pathways were established in the last 50 years. Some became famous painters or sculptors or architects. Others died. Remnants are still visible, as you walk the semi-deserted pathways of Oppede today, gawking at the preserved ruins of history, 11th century to the present, with hundreds of stone crannies not offering hints of their previous uses, at least to the casual tourists like us. We imagine that there were constant threats of discovery, and many efforts to discover where to hide should the terrifying future become the present.
6 June
At least during this time of year in at least this part of France, one must respect the lunch hours: virtually everything is shut between 12 and 2, or 12:30 and 3, or whatever. Prime hours are not available for commerce, you have to have lunch. It’s a pain in the neck that one gets used to, but I don’t like it. Today we three (Dovid, Sabrina and me) rented bikes with the aim of cruising the countryside with certain wineries as waypoints. We got a bit of a late start but all was well until we reached a place I thought was open 10-12 and 2-6 like the rest of them, but instead had the odd opening for the day only at 1PM; we rode on to another place and then doubled back, having run afoul of the timing and ended up adding quite a few km to our ride, but it was saved by running across a dolmen (round mound of stones) dating from 3000BC, and the best wines of the day at the late-opening place (Mas Edem) we might have passed by. Exhausted from the heat and likely the accumulated tastings, we hauled some bottles back up to our hill town in the saddlebags, just in time for a dip in the pool before (burp) dinner.
Just for the record, we also tasted at Chateau La Canorgue, Domaine de la Citadelle, and Domaine des Jeanne.
7-10 June
We took our leave of Bonnieux and ventured into a different country: Ventoux, very close as the
crow flies but quite separate due to a seemingly insignificant range of hills. Few grapes here,
no cherry trees, no livestock; all lavender, olives and grain, mostly spelt. Every town faces Mt
Ventoux, the presence of which is clearly felt. Bicycles and motorcycles rule the roads.
From a very spiffy Gite outside of Sault, we took a hike through the gorge de la Nesque, a
dinky looking brook that seems could not possibly have carved out a canyon that deep. We
covered ~7 miles of distance but a lot of it was vertical, scrambling up and carefully down a
rocky path along the steep cliffs. At the bottom, a 12th century chapel, built by someone who
needed to be inaccessible from whatever was going on up above. Trail runners scooted by us
on a charity run, oblivious to the crazy risks, with brains that must be processing so quickly like
birds flying through the trees.
Later on a drive along the top of the gorge, there was no way to see the bottom, only the
narrow gash through the limestone , and the beautiful landscape above. We ate at a restaurant/
hotel at the edge of Sault that was hosting dozen or so Belgian guys driving Mustangs- I
thought I had heard the sound of big V-8s in the canyon...
There is no “sameness “ to the regions in southern France- driving just an hour can take you
through several quite distinct zones of topography, vegetation, agriculture, and geology .
10 June We’re back in Cassis for a couple of nights before heading out of France. Rachel and
family are staying in the palace recommended by Melina on the rocks opposite the lighthouse.
What a great spot! We’re up the hill this time, and the town was significantly more crowded
than just two weeks ago. No place to park, restaurants are full, etc...come in May! But this
morning we are alone on Plage Roches Blanches (white rocks) nude beach, laying naked on a
smooth stone in the shade of a pine tree growing out of the rock. A good way to end our visit.
It wouldn’t be France without some kind of disruptive social action- in this case, a taxi strike
affecting the airports in Paris as we arrive from Marseille. We’re going home tomorrow, if we
can get to the airport!
French bee notes
From the time we got in the car at Novotel to sitting on the plane at Orly was 2-½ hours, mostly in traffic and the security charade. They took forever to screen- every small tube of lotion and toothpaste had to be picked out and sniffed. Actual time required at the airport was 1-½ hours, somewhat more than I’m used to. We got to the gate as they were boarding.
Lots of walking is involved, to get to the check in area, then back and around and up and down for passport and security, then another confusing search for the entrance to the gates.
Should I have ordered the “premium “ meal? the standard one which still cost something was not great.
Better to bring your own food and water.
Seats are not great; bring a neck and back pillow.
On board it’s like most airlines, except they actually lock the restroom doors for turbulence, even when only mild.
And now for the cheese! (and wine)
Portuguese cheeses & wines, April/May 2025
Note- I have photos of all the bottles but I didn’t include them in this note because
A) it makes the size of the document too large to share and
B) I’m sure we can’t find any of these wines in the US anyway
But I do have the photos of the front and back labels!
22 April
Already in two days we’ve tried more than half a dozen cheeses and close to that in wines; now to try to remember, and promise to keep up in the future!
Fresh goat from Pingo Doce grocery store: very mild, only slightly goaty aftertaste. Packed so that it stays bathed in milk, but the liquid doesn’t spill out. Lost the label before I remembered to capture it.
Fresh sheep from grocery store: also quite mild, in milk to stay moist. Almost jellied consistency. Vale da Estrela, Mangualde
Semi soft aged cow at Rei da Pesca: Saloio from Pinheiro (near Braga)
At Avillez we had three:
Serra de Estrela soft cow very famous but not that notable to us. Very mild flavor, a bit nutty, pleasant .
Tras-os-montes Terrincho- very sharp aged sheep, semi-hard with red rind, from paprika and brandy. Strong flavor.
Sao Jorge Aged cow from Azores- hard with a bite. I thought it was sheep.
Wine
-a fizzy 2024 VVerde at fish place, no name, very light and pleasant
-Alentejo white at lunch- forgot the name, reminded me of Temecula whites- light with alkaline turn
-“JA” Rose 2023 from Lisbon area
-Avillez/Niepoort 2022 red from Douro
Very pleasant , from Quinta de Napoli.
23 April
Pastries
I must break in here for a word about pastries. One hears a great deal about Portuguese sweets especially the pasteles de nata. Those are terrific, but that’s not the end of it: I tasted a bright orange blob of egg yolk jam that brought me up short. A concoction of yolk and sugar and almond paste that clung to a spoon, with a walnut on top for good measure. And there must be dozens more- traditionally made by nuns, the convents are in grave competition to see who can invent the best pastry. But what do they do with all the egg whites?
Back on the wine channel…
Cheryl likes Portuguese wines! At the Regaleira terrace cafe we actually had two (2!) glasses of the local white, a Sintra wine: Serras de Azeitao, a verdelho.
The nice Douro red from Wednesday night-
Papa Figos, 2022- an inexpensive blend produced for Sogrape by Casa Ferreirinha
24 April
Tonight‘s wine adventure was to see how low we could go. We bought a white wine from the Lisbon area (vinho regional, Fernao Pires grape, Tejo appellation) for less than two euros in the grocery store just to see what it was like: totally drinkable! I’m not sure you can even buy an empty bottle in the US for that. Box wine is even cheaper but I didn’t want to carry so much. I like Portugal.
26 April
Oysters! Locally farmed in the estuary are large and luscious, and great with the Setubal wines:
The Lobo Mau 2023 blend of Moscatel, Gallegos and Roxo from Palmela was the freshest white we’ve had.
27 April
Lunch wines from Alentejo region:
Terras d’Uva Tinto 2023 from Mingorra winery in Beja: Trincadeiro, Castelao & Alicante Bouchet - ok but does not have enough fruit… hot dry region
White 2024 also from Terras d’Uva had good acidity, like a desert farmed wine (Cheryl didn’t like)
White “Caiado” 2023 from Adega Major winery: Antonao Vaz, Arinto & Roupeiro
Serpa sheep cheese , semi soft tangy creamy: add a smear of apricot jam!
Rose Flor de Sal, 2023 Ervideira winery from Aragonez & Touriga Nacional (Cheryl liked, especially with Serpa sheep cheese)
White “ETC”2023 a Vinho Regional Alentejo made from Antonio Vaz, Arinto & Roupeiro
28 April
Wines to drink during the power outage (the server told me she was freaking out- I said maybe you should drink some wine too- I’ve been freaking out continuously since November and it helps)
Ervideira wines from Monsaraz (Alentejo):
Invisivel 2024- a white wine made from first pressing of the red aragonez grape. Very light and fresh- fish, Brie, salads
Conde d’Ervideira 2023- lightly oaked aged white, Antao Vaz grape. Medium bodied, round and pleasant , good with strong cheese
Rosé Flor de Sal- had this also yesterday and I still like it- more like a CA than a French style
The Pinot Noir 2022 is neither CA nor Burgundian. 12%. I don’t know why they bother.
The big reserve red: 2023 tinto blend was rich, peppery and full bodied, with loads of tannin; good for pork and cured meats. The blend includes Cabernet Sauvignon.
The Conde d’Ervideira 2021 is a brute of a red, very dry, almost harsh and not much fruit. Tough, give it ten years, like a Petite Sirah. Aragonez, Trincadeira and Alicante Bouchet.
Fortified Tinta Caiada- 2015, kind of like a port but not… a bit too sweet and not enough character.
Power still out, I’m sitting on the terrace with lovely glass of Alentejo red from Paulo Laureano 2017 Vinhas Velhas blend of Trincadeiro,Aragonez & Alicante Bouchet : full bodied and dark fruity, with light drying tannins. Best and oldest wine I’ve had here; maybe they all need a few years.
It’s difficult to spend more than 10E on a wine at the grocery store- I haven’t made it to a wine shop yet, where I’m sure there are more expensive choices; it has been shocking how good the wines are at the lower price points.
The closest I’ve come to 10e was this Setúbal red for 9.80:
Ermalinda, Vinha da Valentina, 2022, made from Aragonez, Castelao and Alicante Bouchet. Dark fruits, well balanced.
01 May
Moving into the Douro
I skipped the Dao region for now.
Had this half bottle with pork cheeks tonight:
Lello 2021- It’s a full spectrum blend of Douro red grapes, with forward red fruit and gentle tannins.Less than 7E, even in restaurant.
2 May
We finally had some of the vaunted Serra da Estrella sheep cheese….maybe it was just the type we had or an off brand but it was boring, kind of bland like a havarti or something. I don’t get the hype. (Note from later: nah, they’re all boring)
Another Douro red 2021 with lunch of the usual blend, from Andreza.
Our first port tasting at Vasques d’Caravalho was a good education: it turns out we both like the vintage dated versions of the tawnys as well as for the actual Vintage ports, which are ruby style. Had a white port 2014 that was undistinguished, and then the great 2020 Vintage (which I decided to buy a bottle, at yikes 125E!), a Vintage 2013, and a 30 year tawny. All good but the 2020 was great, very distinctive sharp tannins right next to the sweet fruit. Demands cheese!
3 May
It seems there is a standard for wine labels in Portugal: at least in the range of bottles I’ve seen thus far, the back label has the same type of information organized in the same way, always with an English translation. It’s agreeable to me but I wonder if it’s true for more expensive or small producers’ wines as well. Maybe I’ll have to dive deeper!
At a wine bar “Petiscos no Mercado” near the Bulhao market, while my laundry runs: I’m having a glass of Castelares Touriga Nacional Reserva Douro 2021… this is way better than the house reds I can get by the glass in most restaurants.
The Sao Miguel 9 months aged sheep cheese is a strong , hard cheese from the Azores. Good with toast, almost like a ham. Azores cheeses and butter are really good and everywhere: I guess it’s where they decided to source them.
Douro on the Douro: the Cedro do Noval 2021 tasted like raspberries and licorice, perfect with our oxtail. It’s one of the many dry wines from Quinta da Noval.
Dry and port tasting at Quinta da Jalloto- their 2017 red was good, as was the 23 Rose; skip the 23 unoaked white, and the Vintage 2016 port- too simple. The location can’t be beat, on a walk high above Pinhao.
We drove over the hills that separate the Douro from the next wine region to the south, the Dao; it’s like driving over the Mayacamas range from Calistoga to Sonoma, about 3300 feet at the peak, with a different microclimate and a completely different rock/soil composition down the other side- Douro schist, Dao granite.
In Viseu (center of the Dao) we had a Dao red, Dona Sancha, Vinha da Avarenta 2021. Very good, but I have no reference or experience with these wines yet so no further comment, except that it pairs well with the local special pork and rice dish.
Back in Regua, on the Douro side of the divide- “Terra a Terra” 2022 Douro reserve red (Tinta Roriz,Touriga Franca,Touriga Nacional) with dinner in Peso da Régua tonight (chez Paula at Tasca da Quinta) elevated even the orange peel flavored butter, and everything else. Terrific meal with mushroom tapas, octopus salad and Feijoada (white bean stew).
9 May in the Minho region, Vinho Verde DOC with some petty-natty reds. I tried one of those petnats tonight, with a recommendatio uh n from the wine shop. Smelled a bit like feet, tasted like something went wrong in the fermentation, but maybe that’s what they were after. That’s a bug on the label but maybe it’s actually a feature. Granite vat fermentation, wild yeasts, no aging; bright purple slightly fizzy juice, from Quinta da Raza, Vinhão varietal. Gave me a headache.
Another take on Vinho Verde red at lunch was more palatable, very light (10%) and slightly fizzy juice, served cold to be drunk in traditional ceramic bowls: Adega Ponte de Lima 2023, VV from the subregion of Lima. Refreshing - Cheryl compares it to Kombucha, kind of similar less vinegary.
11 May
And now for a completely different wine region: the Bairrada , which is around Coimbra. Tonight’s wine went well with a strong flavored lamb shank:
Another Bairrada red today, this one 100% Baga- complex with fruit , tannin and a bitter bite on the finish; good with pizza!
Another local wine region I’ve never tasted is called Beira. I had a red from there, just north of Coimbra- not much fruit, kinda sour and astringent. Not even worth recording.
Summary:
I like em all except the Beira and Vinho Verde Pet-nats
Douro most reliably good, but so are most of the Alentejo, Lisbon, Setùbal and Bairrada. The one Dao I tried was also good.
Port- mixed bag for me- unless it’s a good single vintage or a long aged tawny, I find them too sweet and without much character. But when there is something of note that breaks through the sweetness, it is worth the effort and price.
This exploration will have to be continued on a future trip!
Cheeses in France
Starting in May 2025, in Cassis
St Félicien- a soft cow cheese with a bloomy edible rind, small and round (gone in a day!)
Lou Pérac- a sheep semi soft bloomy edible rind, came in a brick shape; mild but agreeable
Chaussée aux Moines- cow semi soft round with an edible rind; not distinctive
Ossau-Iraty is a Basque sheep cheese I know already from previous years, pretty stinky semi soft wedge. Great with tomatoes and bread, one of our all time favorites. Nice to be able to get it so inexpensive.
Pèbre d’Aï, chèvre fermier à la sarriette. (We call it summer savory) local small round goat soft with dried herb crust- superb, gone before I remembered to take a picture!. I’ll try to find it again at the market.(see above)
Brousse du Rove- fresh goat, tangy and recommended with honey (good idea, oops, gone!). Came in a tube, 1x4”, slipped right out.
23 May
OK I visited cheese heaven in the Ubaye Valley today- the producer for Le Chambeyron (the area dairy coop) sells direct- in a way I had never seen before- with 24-hr cheese vending machines!
Inside they were tasting and selling cheese in the usual way, and I took out perhaps a bit more than we can easily consume. Ah but it’s research! I saluted the fromagerie workers outside on their break.
It’s all goat and cow cheeses and I chose several after tasting them all, well almost all- in a day or two I’ll have some evaluation.
As always I attempt to eat and drink local- they seem to complement each other well.
The Allemand M&M Secret Partagé red from the high Alps was perfect with smoked meat- it tasted almost smoky even by itself; and today’s Annibals rosé from the Verdon gorge was bright and refreshing with local cheeses.
Tomme de chèvre -Chambeyron, Ubaye: aged goat, smooth and delicious
Carline- Chambeyron, Ubaye: aged cow, hard, quite bitter with a strong taste- can’t eat the rind, or even close to it. But with a little salt and cayenne pepper it is great.
Lou Foundré— Chambeyron, Ubaye:
Semi soft cow , fruity flavor
Tomme au Génépi- Chambeyron, Ubaye:
Soft cow with holes inside; mild mature flavor, but I don’t know what the genepi adds.
Fromage de la Cime -Chambeyron, Ubaye: small round well aged cow, dense, a little dry but tasty; like a concentrated Brie.
I got around to trying the Brin d’Amour Corsican sheep cheese I picked up in Cassis a few days ago. Its flavor is strong enough to shine through no matter what else you ate eating or drinking. Love it, every time- it almost tastes like cured meat .The guy selling was a Corsican for sure, he was right off the boat which docks daily just down the road in Marseille. He had several baskets of smoked sanglier (wild boar) hams, with and without pepper crusts and a raft of sausages, including a powerful fig-boar hard sausage (Figatellu) that I remember from visiting Corsica several years ago. Slice it thin!
I ventured to Forcalquier today for the renowned peasant market and to find some Banon cheese at the source . You have be chasing something, it barely matters what. I’m glad to get the opportunity to ask whether the best one to try was the soft one or the stronger one: the cheesemonger was clear, I should buy the “plus fort”.
Onetik Chebris: Sheep/ goat mix from Basque country, picked up in Cassis- smooth texture full flavor without being too much in either direction. Tall hard rind round, very good.
St.-Marcellin goat , bought at the Bonnieux market. Gentle, creamy and delicious, already slumping by the time we got it home. Here it is, almost gone!
Crazy cheese! This looked fake when I saw it on the cheesemonger’s table, but then she sliced me a piece. It is OMG delicious, a medium cow with red and green peppers mixed in, finishing with a spicy (for French food) kick. Matches Cheryl’s dress.
The tour of goat cheese continued for the rest of our stay on the Lubéron- there are some cow and sheep cheeses but the vast majority available in the local town and village outdoor markets is goat. I find I have some favorites- the small crémeux rounds with white rind , the tomme de chèvre large rounds with edible rinds, and the aged rounds that come wrapped in chestnut leaves (“Banon”style). There are small variations in appearance and name, village to village, but they are mostly similar and I like them.
Comments
Post a Comment