Easter 2008.
We hit the road about 10.00am Good Friday morning, heading north to Lamego reputed (according to the Catholics) to boast the most Catholic population in the world. Some 99.8% of the districts residents are Catholic and the town holds an Easter Procession... the carrying of the body of Christ and the Virgin Mother from a church set west of the town to the Cathedral. We've attended before, this years procession was less awe inspiring than previous years when the assembled crowds dropped silently to their knees as Christ's body passed, the silence broken by 'clackers' waved to warn away demons. There were a host of cameramen this year, their presence usually frowned upon, threatened even by a glare from a dark robed hooded monk; this year they were in abundance filming from balconies, in the street floodlights dispersing the dark... and the magic. It was if they knew the ceremony, once pagan in all but name, was passing into the light of the modern world where the parade means more than the intent.
Still... it was worth seeing if only to draw a line between the past and the current time.
There were three of us, the wife, her cousin and me. We traveled in the cousins car, me driving as she'd recently had a neck operation. We stayed in a nice hotel that trilled to the sound of a gushing river plunging to join the Douro a few miles downstream. On the way north, we stopped at Viseu, an ancient town, and ate in a superb restaurant built in the city walls. I ate a steak of Bacalhao (salted codfish) stuffed with smoked ham and cheese... a fishy Chicken Kiev, the lasses ate octopus, it was Good Friday and most definitely a 'fishday'. For pudding we shared the most delicious concoction of bread and creme brulee lightened with a hint of orange, that meal was the highlight (eating wise) f the trip.
After the Friday parade we set off Saturday to travel over the mountains some 100km to see an artist friend who operates an international residency studio in a remote village. It was good to see her... and her cats... and her dogs who feasted of the leftovers of our Saturday lunch. Never have 'doggy bags' moved so swiftly from table to consumption. Pre-breakfast, I used the hotel gym and sauna, testing my new found energy on the treadmill and rowing machine... no problems.
I repeated the workout Sunday morning, then we went shopping... for food naturally... buying the traditional Easter breads, a kind of stuffed focaccia filled with sardines, cheese and ham, bacalhao. We bought a variety of smoked sausage and cheese from a guy to whom you can't say 'no', and packed it all away in the back of the BMW 'jeep' for the afternoon trip home. Before a sumptuous buffet lunch at the hotel, we climbed the 600 odd steps to the church of Nossa Sra dos Remedios, a climb starting from the town square. It's a pilgrimage of sorts... I wasn't sure I'd make it as last month I struggled to climb the single flight to the first floor of our house... but I did and offfered silent prayer for my seemingly restored health.
When we got back down to the town square, we noticed a priest, with bell ringing escort, visiting apartments and establishments in the town. They were giving personal Easter blessings; in the old days it was done in return for alms, food and money to support the church and, supposedly, the poor.
During lunch at the hotel (moderate if sumptuous fare) the priest arrived to give blessing to guests, the wife went, her cousin and I ate on. After lunch, we found a table laid in the hotel reception for the priest. A flask of port wine, some Easter almonds and bolinhos. These particular 'bolinhos' (small cakes) were 'papas de anjo' - Angel's Breasts - a confection largely composed of egg yolk and sugar lightly baked in a sugery syrup. Well you might laugh at the symmetry, I'm not here to judge... the ever irreverent SO and her marginally less reverential cousin decided the Angel's Breast shouldn't go to waste and promptly stuffed their mouths.
This was a mistake.
The sticky fingered cousin retreated to the BMW to clean the sugar syrup off her fingers and managed to lock the car keys inside the beamer. It took three hours to unlock the car... divine retribution? Possibly, though I blame greed. In the end the mechanic had to smash a side window - ten blows with a hammer - beamers have toughened glass, and she probably ate the worlds most expensive Angel's Breast. The repair bill is circa 400€.
It was all worth while... we had a great time.
We hit the road about 10.00am Good Friday morning, heading north to Lamego reputed (according to the Catholics) to boast the most Catholic population in the world. Some 99.8% of the districts residents are Catholic and the town holds an Easter Procession... the carrying of the body of Christ and the Virgin Mother from a church set west of the town to the Cathedral. We've attended before, this years procession was less awe inspiring than previous years when the assembled crowds dropped silently to their knees as Christ's body passed, the silence broken by 'clackers' waved to warn away demons. There were a host of cameramen this year, their presence usually frowned upon, threatened even by a glare from a dark robed hooded monk; this year they were in abundance filming from balconies, in the street floodlights dispersing the dark... and the magic. It was if they knew the ceremony, once pagan in all but name, was passing into the light of the modern world where the parade means more than the intent.
Still... it was worth seeing if only to draw a line between the past and the current time.
There were three of us, the wife, her cousin and me. We traveled in the cousins car, me driving as she'd recently had a neck operation. We stayed in a nice hotel that trilled to the sound of a gushing river plunging to join the Douro a few miles downstream. On the way north, we stopped at Viseu, an ancient town, and ate in a superb restaurant built in the city walls. I ate a steak of Bacalhao (salted codfish) stuffed with smoked ham and cheese... a fishy Chicken Kiev, the lasses ate octopus, it was Good Friday and most definitely a 'fishday'. For pudding we shared the most delicious concoction of bread and creme brulee lightened with a hint of orange, that meal was the highlight (eating wise) f the trip.
After the Friday parade we set off Saturday to travel over the mountains some 100km to see an artist friend who operates an international residency studio in a remote village. It was good to see her... and her cats... and her dogs who feasted of the leftovers of our Saturday lunch. Never have 'doggy bags' moved so swiftly from table to consumption. Pre-breakfast, I used the hotel gym and sauna, testing my new found energy on the treadmill and rowing machine... no problems.
I repeated the workout Sunday morning, then we went shopping... for food naturally... buying the traditional Easter breads, a kind of stuffed focaccia filled with sardines, cheese and ham, bacalhao. We bought a variety of smoked sausage and cheese from a guy to whom you can't say 'no', and packed it all away in the back of the BMW 'jeep' for the afternoon trip home. Before a sumptuous buffet lunch at the hotel, we climbed the 600 odd steps to the church of Nossa Sra dos Remedios, a climb starting from the town square. It's a pilgrimage of sorts... I wasn't sure I'd make it as last month I struggled to climb the single flight to the first floor of our house... but I did and offfered silent prayer for my seemingly restored health.
When we got back down to the town square, we noticed a priest, with bell ringing escort, visiting apartments and establishments in the town. They were giving personal Easter blessings; in the old days it was done in return for alms, food and money to support the church and, supposedly, the poor.
During lunch at the hotel (moderate if sumptuous fare) the priest arrived to give blessing to guests, the wife went, her cousin and I ate on. After lunch, we found a table laid in the hotel reception for the priest. A flask of port wine, some Easter almonds and bolinhos. These particular 'bolinhos' (small cakes) were 'papas de anjo' - Angel's Breasts - a confection largely composed of egg yolk and sugar lightly baked in a sugery syrup. Well you might laugh at the symmetry, I'm not here to judge... the ever irreverent SO and her marginally less reverential cousin decided the Angel's Breast shouldn't go to waste and promptly stuffed their mouths.
This was a mistake.
The sticky fingered cousin retreated to the BMW to clean the sugar syrup off her fingers and managed to lock the car keys inside the beamer. It took three hours to unlock the car... divine retribution? Possibly, though I blame greed. In the end the mechanic had to smash a side window - ten blows with a hammer - beamers have toughened glass, and she probably ate the worlds most expensive Angel's Breast. The repair bill is circa 400€.
It was all worth while... we had a great time.
And it was bloody cold waiting for the mechanic to fail to retrieve the keys with wires poked through levered doors!
you anyway. 
Glad you had a fabulous time.
