A full day-trip from Lisbon started with our hotel breakfast (along with traditional snagging of some items for lunch later on) and a brief train ride to nearby Sintra, a well-preserved former royal vacation spot that is a major tourist stop and a bit too Disney for our tastes. Still, the colors of the town were beautiful (Art Necco palette) and the steps of the royal palace provided a sunny corner for this photo, but we were more eager to sample the local quejadas (cheese tarts) and move on to Cascais. A coastal cliff-hugging, hairpin-turn-filled bus ride got us to the seaside resort just in time to visit a local supermarket and enjoy the resulting picnic lunch on a secluded patio overlooking bathers on a small beach below. (Three stoned guys soon joined us and started goofily painting each others’ faces. Just saying.) A lazy afternoon on the palm-shaded promenade, a coffee, a quiet train back to our beloved Lisbon. A nice opportunity to leave the city for a day, and so good to be at the sea, though we wished we’d brought along our bathing suits. Next time.
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Necco. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Necco. Sort by date Show all posts
April 8, 2011
November 26, 2012
Ponza, Italy. October, 2012
When the seas were too rough for us to approach Capri, our ship’s captain opted wisely to head instead to the more sheltered port of Ponza, an island further north, closer to Rome. A bustling summer vacation spot that’s packed with Romans escaping the city’s heat, Ponza was very sleepy and low-key on the off-season cloudy Sunday we set foot on shore. And that was fine with me. Fewer people to get in the way of a lazy hike past its Necco-colored houses, its narrow streets and staircases leading up to nowhere and back again. The sound of Sunday’s soccer game on a TV. A cat wandering by. A dog barking in the distance.
November 26, 2018
Ponza, Italy. October, 2012
When the seas were too rough for us to approach Capri, our ship’s captain opted wisely to head instead to the more sheltered port of Ponza, an island further north, closer to Rome. A bustling summer vacation spot that’s packed with Romans escaping the city’s heat, Ponza was very sleepy and low-key on the off-season cloudy Sunday we set foot on shore. And that was fine with me. Fewer people to get in the way of a lazy hike past its Necco-colored houses, its narrow streets and staircases leading up to nowhere and back again. The sound of Sunday’s soccer game on a TV. A cat wandering by. A dog barking in the distance.
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