Dia 3: Praia de Carcavelos

My day started fairly late yesterday. Since I did not get much sleep after dinner due to my unexpected 5-hour jet lag nap taken earlier in the day, I had to make up for the lost rest hours after breakfast with a mid-morning snooze. That being said, my day was not lost, because it was going to be 90 degrees...which made me think that is was a perfect opportunity to have a BEACH DAY!

The summer beaches in Portugal have a reputation for being sandy gorgeous, and I had done some research on a beach nearby that I could access by train. This particular beach is called Praia de Carcavelos (Carcavelos Beach). To get there, I would have to take the metro to Cais de Sodré station and then get the train to the Carcavelos stop. Just like the metro, the fare was amazingly inexpensive at 1,95 euros for this type of public train transportation.

Summer is hot in Lisbon right now, so of course the train to the beach was crowded with standing room only. In such close quarters, it becomes clear that not everyone is aware of or able to control their own body odor. I spent a good amount of energy trying to adjust myself so that I was not in the air flow passage of a particular passenger’s sweaty stench. I wish I could say that I was more tolerant, but I knew this was going to be a fairly long-ish ride and I just couldn’t handle the smell for that long. This maneuvering somewhat distracted me from keeping track of the stops on the train line, and this particular train didn’t have a sonor alert and display name before each stop.

When I saw a bunch of passengers wearing shorts and tank tops deboarding, I looked around and asked, “Is this the beach?” Nobody answered because they must not have understood English, so I panickedly decided to hop off last minute, trying to stiff-arm the doors from closing and almost sustaining a bad fore-arm injury. (Those train doors in Europe are no joke!) Finally safe on the platform without smashing my foot in the closing door, I realized that I had gotten off at Belem station, not Carcavelos. Damn. Well, at least I escaped the B.O.

At first I sat back down and thought I would wait until the next train came. Then, I started researching Belem on my smart phone and thought I would have a quick look from the top of the steps that connect to the platform. I walked outside of the station (no need to use my ticket, meaning I could get back in), through a garden with a statue of a famous Portuguese person that I will research later, and then made a left on a street that was crowded with tourists. From there, I saw the oldest looking cathedral that I have probably ever seen. I will definitely be back to see Belem soon...probably tomorrow.

Back on the platform, I boarded the train again for Carcavelos. This time, I was able to get a seat, and thankfully, no body odor could be detected from the nearby passengers. As soon as the peace settled in, the train made a stop and in came a group of probably 20-30 bubbling children on summer camp with one adult chaperone. Two Portuguese women got up, shook their heads as if to say “Nope, I’m not dealing with this rn” and headed to the opposite side where they moved onto the next car. For the next ten minutes, I listened to the raspy, zealous voices of two young Portuguese male students, probably 6 or 7 years old, as they seemed to be working out their life’s problems. One with glasses had his hands on the other's shoulders and seemed to be giving him sage advice but then would burst into giggles. I think they were showing off to me and the passengers seated around them, but I doubt they knew that I didn't speak Portuguese. Something I notice about Europeans in general is their gift for the gab. They have truly perfected the art of “catching up” and speaking for long periods of time without a pause. Culturally, in the United States, I think our sentences tend to be a bit shorter with more pauses, especially men. I, for one, am not a big talker.

Finally off the train, I followed the other many passengers to the beautiful, clean, crowded beach. I rented an umbrella with access to food and drink server for 10 euros. There, I enjoyed my first glass of vinho verde (green wine from a specific region in Portugal that isn’t really green but has to do with the age of the grapes) and a generous portion of large prawns with the heads still on.

I got in the water once, thanks to the women next to me who were willing to watch my bag, and

it was glorious. Thee people-watching scene was plentiful. This is a European beach, and Portugal at that, so you have a mixture of tourists and Portuguese people. There are women going topless and lots of thong bathing suits showing off proud brown bums, and lots of men with shorter swim shorts (and in my opinion a more flattering length) than what is on trend in the US. The server who was helping me was very tan and friendly and didn’t speak much English. She looked like my cousin Merisa - they share a definite Portuguese look!

I savored the day as much as possible until the beach restaurants and bars started to close. The train back was filled with lots of 20-something-year-olds with their friends...it reminded me of taking BART home after a music festival in San Francisco.

For dinner, I went to the wonderful Portuguese vegan restaurant across the street where I had a vegetable soup and a pesto linguine. I also drank a port (dessert wine from Portugal) with my apple-pear crumble and vegan creme fraiche. (I am going to make this vegan creme when I get back - it’s too easy once I saw the recipe.)