Driving up the N14 from Porto on Saturday we played a new game of spot the English words. BP and MacDonalds didn’t count and neither did ‘stop’ signs. But there were so many and we couldn’t think of a reason why they wouldn’t be written in Portuguese. Men, women, kids, kitchens, made in, indoor karting, snack bar, fitness class, image service, print & design, take-away were just a few examples and they clearly weren’t aimed at tourists. We’re intrigued to know the reason for it.
As we approached Barcelos, home of the symbol of Portugal, the black clouds dropped their contents, with a vengeance. After spending the whole of our time in Portugal with not a drop of real rain, we now could hardly see through the windscreen; it was horrible! But joy of joys, by the time we reached Barcelos the rain had more or less stopped and as we wandered around looking at copious cockerels, the sun managed to come out of hiding.
You can buy roosters and hens in various colours and sizes, on fridge magnets, mugs, jewellery, tooth-pick holders, bottle-stoppers, jugs, even one in a snow dome! We were completely ‘over-roostered’ and so decided to eat one for lunch, which was very delicious with a huge plate of chips.
We nearly stopped at Viana do Castelo, but the campsite seemed badly situated for a two-nighter, so we pushed on further north. The road across the hills that led down to Ancorra was covered in burnt and blackened trees; it seems they have bush fires here too. Perhaps covering 7% of Portugal with gum trees wasn’t such a good idea. The Campsite at Caminha was in a really nice spot, right next to the mouth of the Rio Minho and over the sand dunes from the Praia de Moledo.
At 8pm we trod the boardwalk over the dunes to the beach and discovered the Barracuda Bar. It was a cute wooden cabin set on the sand beside the river. There were two TV screens, one inside and one outside, both showing the World Cup Futebol. I had no choice but to sit with my triple Bacardi & Coke to watch the second half of Germany V Ghana. Apparently it was a good game and when Germany equalised at two all, the eight German customers sitting next to us got very noisy and excited. They didn’t seem too worried about a draw at the end of the game, not as worried as me about walking back to Eileen with wobbly boots.
On Sunday morning, no hangover thank you, we walked the 2.5 kilometres into the village of Caminha. We followed the river right to the far end of the village and then when we reached the Praça de Espanha we turned inland to look at the remains of the fort and city walls. Lots of very smartly dressed people were shuffling in to the Igreja Matriz, including little girls in white communion dresses, so we stepped back out on to the street and found that all the way down to the square at the far end, the cobbles were covered in colourful designs made from wood chips, sand, salt, seed pods, ferns, leaves, petals and flowers. No-one was treading on the designs, they were all creeping along the narrow edges left clear on either side. When we reached the Praça do Conselheiro Silva Torres we found two more streets covered in flowers; it was beautiful and must have taken ages to create. Apparently it is the Carpet of Flowers Festival, held each year for Corpus Christi. We definitely picked the right day to be in Caminha.
To recover from our long walk back we grabbed our towels and spent a few hours snoring on the beach, a nice way to end our time spent in Portugal. To accompany dinner, we decided to crack open a bottle of Mateus Rosé; better buy a candle tomorrow to stick in the empty bottle and remind me of my college days. Tomorrow we’ll drive in to Spain and try to remember our gracias and forget our abrigados.
