In that last picture you can just make out the Moorish Castle on the hilltop. The tickets we bought for Pena Palace are valid for the Moorish Castle too, so expect some photos from that very hilltop soon!
Being A Tourist
Summer it seems is ticking along nicely. The weather is fantastically summery and there seems to be an almost endless list of things I haven't done yet! Sometimes it's difficult to find motivation when the sun is high in the sky and beating fiercely down. However, I have not been completely idle. In between lounging about reading, the car breaking (again!) and the normal day to day stuff, my family and I have been out and about enjoying some of the tourist traps. Yesterday we all went off to Lisbon to visit the Gulbenkian Park and enjoyed the "Centro de Arte Moderna" located there. (Click here for the English version.) And earlier in the week we visited the "Parque e Palácio da Pena" (English version here.) and enjoyed both the sights inside the Palace and exploring the extensive gardens with it's many follies and statues. Photography was not allowed inside either the Art Museum or the Palace Interior, but I did take a few snaps outside Pena Palace...
The Camping Experiment
Having squashed as much of as little as we had decided to take into the car and having filled our stomachs with a hearty lunch of whatever was left in the fridge we set off towards Campismo Guincho. It was destined to be a long journey and although my wife and I were a little worried that the children would become tired, bored and irritable by the time we arrived they all thankfully seemed to endure the entire 20 minutes of it. But my tedious sarcasm aside, the distance was hardly the point. A change is as good as a rest so they say, and so we were all looking forward to spending a few days in the wild outdoors,except the campsite at Guincho is hardly by any standards "wild" having everything you'd expect from a campsite, right down to the coin-op launderette and overpriced camp shop. So we arrived and having checked in, we drove around a couple of times before deciding on a shady spot under the pine trees to pitch our tent. The practice run in my friend's garden the week before paid dividends and the tent went up easily and quickly. The children were eager to help, holding the bags of tent pegs and standing by in awe at the enormity of our canvas palace.
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Time for a cuppa. Handily, there was a space just over from our pitch where the children could kick around a football, so as they were busy doing that I had time to sit back, put my feet up and enjoy a much needed cup of tea. I knew those individually wrapped bags with strings were good for something! And so I sat there waiting for the water to boil on my new camping stove, admiring the view down the lane and over the hills of Sintra with the children playing happily. Bliss. At least until my tea was drunk and the kids had become bored with the football. Time to hit the pool. Cozzies on, towels rolled, armbands inflated and off we went. The swimming lasted a little longer than kicking a footie around had done, and although the pool was quite busy there was plenty of fun to be had splashing about. Except for my youngest, who somewhat understandably didn't like the idea of getting into water with your shorts still on. I mean, after all, who does that? At bath time you're supposed to take off all your clothes, aren't you? So we had some tantrums from him and in the end decided that he would go back to the tent with my wife, leaving myself and our elder two to splash around in the pool and enjoy ourselves until we could stand the cold water no more, which as it turned out, was only about half an hour anyway.
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Time for tea, and to put the new stove thoroughly through it's paces with pasta in a tomato and veggie sauce. Whilst my wife was busying herself preparing vegetables on a chopping board balanced delicately on her lap, I set to lighting the stove and putting some water on for the pasta. Cooking for five on a camping stove is not the easiest thing in the world to do. It took an age to boil the water and the wind blew the burner out a couple of times in the process too. I had previously, on the way back from the pool, noticed that some people on the site had what looked like panels of foot long bamboo poles near to their cooking stoves and only whilst cooking my pasta did I realise what they were for! No matter. I repositioned my impromptu cooling box seat to make a small windbreak and carried on regardless. Twenty minutes on and we all settled down on our picnic rug for our first camp cooked meal. And seemingly only minutes later, empty plates were being carried dutifully across the campsite towards the washing up area. Never had such a meal been such an adventure!
As the night drew in, we started to settle the kids down for bed. Of course, being the first night out under the stars for the little tykes, this was not going to be easy! Pyjamas on. A trip across to the shower block. Teeth brushed. Story time. Ok, lights out. Some hope. A second trip across to the shower block. Another story. Ok, lights out. "I'm not tired." Nope, maybe not 'lights out' quite yet. "One more story please, Daddy?" More stories. Anyway, eventually my wife and I had all the kids sleeping and out comes the Travel Scrabble.
Two in the morning and my wife and I are being woken up to take a child to the shower block.
Three in the morning and my wife and I are awoken once more to the noise of the wind blowing the left side of the tent in. No joke. I threw some clothes on, found the car keys, retrieved the mallet from the car boot and set to furiously banging the loosened tent pegs back into the ground. Panic over. Or at least we hoped.
Four in the morning and my wife and I are being woken up to take a child to the shower block.
After a very eventful and tremendously blustery night, with thankfully no further major incidents, we decided over breakfast that we'd take a short walk down to Guincho beach across the dunes that morning to catch some beach time before the sun was too high in the clear blue sky. We packed up our buckets and spades into a bag and headed off. A few metres out of the campsite and we turned left onto the boardwalk across the dunes, through the nature reserve, towards the beach. The wind across from the sea was bracing and fresh. Soon enough we came to the other side of the nature reserve and descended the steps down onto the beach. We stopped briefly at the foot of the steps at the "Bar das Ilhas" for a quick coffee, or in other words, an Ice Cream where the children are concerned. Then we struck out onto the beach and suddenly the bracing fresh Atlantic wind wasn't so fresh and bracing any more. It was fierce and biting and the sand stung our faces, our arms and our legs. Clearly a relaxing morning building sandcastles and digging enormous holes in the sand was out of the question and so we set off back to camp with our metaphorical tails between our legs.
We spent the afternoon on the campsite, swimming in the pool, playing on the swings and socialising with our camp neighbours. A French family's car got stuck in the sandy earth, requiring a helpful push, and on the other side of our tent, an English lady set up camp having cycled a ten week marathon charity bike ride all the way from Cambridge through France, Spain and down the west coast of Portugal. New people were arriving all the time, mostly young couples and groups, presumably in time for the upcoming Oeiras and Cascais music festivals. One couple struck up camp opposite us (on what was our football pitch!) in their camper van.
The second night was a lot calmer than the first. The children settled a lot easier and the tent did not fall down at all. My wife and I stayed up late and played Whist over a few bottles of beer. The German Scout Troop camping near the shower block prepared to set off on their Night Hike. There was one moment at around midnight when, judging from the blood curdling screams, the four Portuguese girls in the pitch behind us apparently discovered some kind of disgusting minibeast in their tent, but that aside, the night was uneventful.
Friday morning had come around far too quickly and the pressure was on to squeeze in another pool session for the elder two kids before lunch, as afterwards the time would need to be spent packing down the tent and shoehorning it all back into the car ready for the arduous and lengthy journey home!
So, what have I learnt from my little Camping Experiment. Buy some extra guy ropes and pegs. Pitch the ten facing away from the prevailing wind. Take more toilet rolls. And don't forget to take the table and chairs. Oh, and most importantly, that camping is lots and lots and lots of fun. Roll on the big trip to Spain and Gibraltar.
.JPG)
Time for a cuppa. Handily, there was a space just over from our pitch where the children could kick around a football, so as they were busy doing that I had time to sit back, put my feet up and enjoy a much needed cup of tea. I knew those individually wrapped bags with strings were good for something! And so I sat there waiting for the water to boil on my new camping stove, admiring the view down the lane and over the hills of Sintra with the children playing happily. Bliss. At least until my tea was drunk and the kids had become bored with the football. Time to hit the pool. Cozzies on, towels rolled, armbands inflated and off we went. The swimming lasted a little longer than kicking a footie around had done, and although the pool was quite busy there was plenty of fun to be had splashing about. Except for my youngest, who somewhat understandably didn't like the idea of getting into water with your shorts still on. I mean, after all, who does that? At bath time you're supposed to take off all your clothes, aren't you? So we had some tantrums from him and in the end decided that he would go back to the tent with my wife, leaving myself and our elder two to splash around in the pool and enjoy ourselves until we could stand the cold water no more, which as it turned out, was only about half an hour anyway.
.JPG)
Time for tea, and to put the new stove thoroughly through it's paces with pasta in a tomato and veggie sauce. Whilst my wife was busying herself preparing vegetables on a chopping board balanced delicately on her lap, I set to lighting the stove and putting some water on for the pasta. Cooking for five on a camping stove is not the easiest thing in the world to do. It took an age to boil the water and the wind blew the burner out a couple of times in the process too. I had previously, on the way back from the pool, noticed that some people on the site had what looked like panels of foot long bamboo poles near to their cooking stoves and only whilst cooking my pasta did I realise what they were for! No matter. I repositioned my impromptu cooling box seat to make a small windbreak and carried on regardless. Twenty minutes on and we all settled down on our picnic rug for our first camp cooked meal. And seemingly only minutes later, empty plates were being carried dutifully across the campsite towards the washing up area. Never had such a meal been such an adventure!
As the night drew in, we started to settle the kids down for bed. Of course, being the first night out under the stars for the little tykes, this was not going to be easy! Pyjamas on. A trip across to the shower block. Teeth brushed. Story time. Ok, lights out. Some hope. A second trip across to the shower block. Another story. Ok, lights out. "I'm not tired." Nope, maybe not 'lights out' quite yet. "One more story please, Daddy?" More stories. Anyway, eventually my wife and I had all the kids sleeping and out comes the Travel Scrabble.
Two in the morning and my wife and I are being woken up to take a child to the shower block.
Three in the morning and my wife and I are awoken once more to the noise of the wind blowing the left side of the tent in. No joke. I threw some clothes on, found the car keys, retrieved the mallet from the car boot and set to furiously banging the loosened tent pegs back into the ground. Panic over. Or at least we hoped.
Four in the morning and my wife and I are being woken up to take a child to the shower block.
After a very eventful and tremendously blustery night, with thankfully no further major incidents, we decided over breakfast that we'd take a short walk down to Guincho beach across the dunes that morning to catch some beach time before the sun was too high in the clear blue sky. We packed up our buckets and spades into a bag and headed off. A few metres out of the campsite and we turned left onto the boardwalk across the dunes, through the nature reserve, towards the beach. The wind across from the sea was bracing and fresh. Soon enough we came to the other side of the nature reserve and descended the steps down onto the beach. We stopped briefly at the foot of the steps at the "Bar das Ilhas" for a quick coffee, or in other words, an Ice Cream where the children are concerned. Then we struck out onto the beach and suddenly the bracing fresh Atlantic wind wasn't so fresh and bracing any more. It was fierce and biting and the sand stung our faces, our arms and our legs. Clearly a relaxing morning building sandcastles and digging enormous holes in the sand was out of the question and so we set off back to camp with our metaphorical tails between our legs.
We spent the afternoon on the campsite, swimming in the pool, playing on the swings and socialising with our camp neighbours. A French family's car got stuck in the sandy earth, requiring a helpful push, and on the other side of our tent, an English lady set up camp having cycled a ten week marathon charity bike ride all the way from Cambridge through France, Spain and down the west coast of Portugal. New people were arriving all the time, mostly young couples and groups, presumably in time for the upcoming Oeiras and Cascais music festivals. One couple struck up camp opposite us (on what was our football pitch!) in their camper van.The second night was a lot calmer than the first. The children settled a lot easier and the tent did not fall down at all. My wife and I stayed up late and played Whist over a few bottles of beer. The German Scout Troop camping near the shower block prepared to set off on their Night Hike. There was one moment at around midnight when, judging from the blood curdling screams, the four Portuguese girls in the pitch behind us apparently discovered some kind of disgusting minibeast in their tent, but that aside, the night was uneventful.
Friday morning had come around far too quickly and the pressure was on to squeeze in another pool session for the elder two kids before lunch, as afterwards the time would need to be spent packing down the tent and shoehorning it all back into the car ready for the arduous and lengthy journey home!
So, what have I learnt from my little Camping Experiment. Buy some extra guy ropes and pegs. Pitch the ten facing away from the prevailing wind. Take more toilet rolls. And don't forget to take the table and chairs. Oh, and most importantly, that camping is lots and lots and lots of fun. Roll on the big trip to Spain and Gibraltar.
Five P's
The summer holidays have begun, the children have finished school and have nine weeks (I think) of unbridled freedom to do whatever they want. Well, almost whatever they want. Of course we grown ups want some time to do the things we want to do too. And some time to do the things we perhaps don't necesarily want to do but never the less need doing anyway. So my better half and I sat down and made a list. Well that's not strictly true. She made the list. I watched. The football. Anyway.... As an old mate of mine used to say, probably following on from his many years of disciplined Army training, "Planning and Preparation Prevent Poor Performance". Five P's. Actually I'm sure he had a sixth between Prevent and Poor but I'm going to refrain from swearing! So now we have a list. And a very long list it is too. Lots of important jobs like completing our UK tax returns, booking Christmas flights back to England while it's still cheap, and of course, making sure that all the children have new school uniforms ready for September. Perhaps that last one is a bad example because the kids are bound have a summer growth spurt between now and then. More urgently on the list is the disposal of our dead Clio which still sits morbidly outside our house. That's a "three pointer" on the list though since it needs the full tank of petrol syphoning out, formally de-registering with the proper paperwork and then finally disposed of, so it could take a while, but I'm sincerely hoping not all summer. The list goes on. And on. I'm hoping to get a lot of it out of the way and sorted fairly quickly though, so as to leave plenty of time to enjoy the summer.
So, a couple of nights ago my wife and I stayed up late and started to plan the camping trip that I mentioned to you in my School's Out blog a while back. I was on Google Maps planning routes and she was trying to locate a suitable campsite located smack bang in the centre of Utopia, which for those who don't know is a small region on the Portuguese - Spanish border. I think I had the easier job! We don't want much from a campsite really. A clean shower block is essential, but swimming pools and games rooms would simply be a luxury that we would quite happily do without. She managed to find three or four sites and sent some emails off to them asking about availability during August. The following morning I went out shopping for essential camping items. Cascais Shopping was decidedly unhelpful and I could only find some very expensive single stoves stashed away at the back of the Sports shop up on the top floor and in the farthest reaches of the penultimate isle of Continente. Decathlon across the other side of Alcabideche was similarly stocked to cater for the "young couple's camping holiday" having only single stoves and small berth tents. Next stop was the hardware shop in Estoril, where I hoped to pick up a rubber mallet for banging in tent pegs and suitable gear to enable syphoning of petrol from the deceased Clio. I came away with a mallet. And that was it. A whole morning trooping round shop after shop and all I had to show for it was a 3 Euro hammer. "Tomorrow, Jumbo", I though to myself as I drove home.
The following morning, fresh and ready for a new day of supremely successful shopping, I set off for Jumbo. After some time going up and down the isles, loading up on the way with some much needed bread and fruit, I was about to give up on my quest for Camping gear. Then, I suddenly spotted a small "end of isle" section with some paddling pools and inflatable armbands. Co-incidentally my wife and I had been discussing the night before exactly what kind of swimming aid our youngest might require on our holiday and hence steered my trolley straight for them. And what should I find just a little way along the row but a stash of reasonably priced Camping Gaz stoves and fuel canisters. I'd hit the motherlode! One double stove, two canisters and an inflatable life jacket later I was heading to the checkout.
That afternoon I phoned a friend of mine who lives down the road a little way and has a lawn, to ask him if I might borrow a portion of it to experimentally erect the tent. I wouldn't want to bore you with a pole-by-pole description of putting it up, but suffice to say that I quickly assertained that (a) it was clearly large enough for my family and (b) it definitely required two people to put it up! Twenty minutes later, there it was, in all it's majestic splendour; A canvas palace! Thinking back over the shopping trips of the last couple of days and seeing the tent up made my heart sing in anticipation of the holiday.
The list is getting shorter by the day. Today the car is in for a service and the nice man at the garage has told me that he can make arrangements for the disposal of our dead Clio too. The UK tax has been dealt with as far as is possible for the time being. The majority of the camping holiday is planned for, shopping done, and my wife waits anxiously at her inbox to hear back from the campsites so we can book a pitch at the aforementioned Utopian Campsite. And so we wait. Unfortunately waiting is not something I think I can do much of right now, and if I'm honest, I don't think my wife is in much of a mood for it either. And so the conversation over lunch today turned to our weekend pre-holiday camping trip 10 kilometres down the road at Guincho....
So, a couple of nights ago my wife and I stayed up late and started to plan the camping trip that I mentioned to you in my School's Out blog a while back. I was on Google Maps planning routes and she was trying to locate a suitable campsite located smack bang in the centre of Utopia, which for those who don't know is a small region on the Portuguese - Spanish border. I think I had the easier job! We don't want much from a campsite really. A clean shower block is essential, but swimming pools and games rooms would simply be a luxury that we would quite happily do without. She managed to find three or four sites and sent some emails off to them asking about availability during August. The following morning I went out shopping for essential camping items. Cascais Shopping was decidedly unhelpful and I could only find some very expensive single stoves stashed away at the back of the Sports shop up on the top floor and in the farthest reaches of the penultimate isle of Continente. Decathlon across the other side of Alcabideche was similarly stocked to cater for the "young couple's camping holiday" having only single stoves and small berth tents. Next stop was the hardware shop in Estoril, where I hoped to pick up a rubber mallet for banging in tent pegs and suitable gear to enable syphoning of petrol from the deceased Clio. I came away with a mallet. And that was it. A whole morning trooping round shop after shop and all I had to show for it was a 3 Euro hammer. "Tomorrow, Jumbo", I though to myself as I drove home.
The following morning, fresh and ready for a new day of supremely successful shopping, I set off for Jumbo. After some time going up and down the isles, loading up on the way with some much needed bread and fruit, I was about to give up on my quest for Camping gear. Then, I suddenly spotted a small "end of isle" section with some paddling pools and inflatable armbands. Co-incidentally my wife and I had been discussing the night before exactly what kind of swimming aid our youngest might require on our holiday and hence steered my trolley straight for them. And what should I find just a little way along the row but a stash of reasonably priced Camping Gaz stoves and fuel canisters. I'd hit the motherlode! One double stove, two canisters and an inflatable life jacket later I was heading to the checkout.
That afternoon I phoned a friend of mine who lives down the road a little way and has a lawn, to ask him if I might borrow a portion of it to experimentally erect the tent. I wouldn't want to bore you with a pole-by-pole description of putting it up, but suffice to say that I quickly assertained that (a) it was clearly large enough for my family and (b) it definitely required two people to put it up! Twenty minutes later, there it was, in all it's majestic splendour; A canvas palace! Thinking back over the shopping trips of the last couple of days and seeing the tent up made my heart sing in anticipation of the holiday.
The list is getting shorter by the day. Today the car is in for a service and the nice man at the garage has told me that he can make arrangements for the disposal of our dead Clio too. The UK tax has been dealt with as far as is possible for the time being. The majority of the camping holiday is planned for, shopping done, and my wife waits anxiously at her inbox to hear back from the campsites so we can book a pitch at the aforementioned Utopian Campsite. And so we wait. Unfortunately waiting is not something I think I can do much of right now, and if I'm honest, I don't think my wife is in much of a mood for it either. And so the conversation over lunch today turned to our weekend pre-holiday camping trip 10 kilometres down the road at Guincho....
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