Saramago says that is entered by Camões Portugal. Also by Eça de Queiroz, by Teixeira de Pascoaes, by Camilo Castelo Branco, by Sophia de Mello Breyner, by poets, bright constellation, by Fernando Pessoa, Fernando Pessoa always in its great complexity.
But Portugal is also input by Raya, or A Raia in Portuguese, ie the border between Portugal and Spain from north to south.
The book club on Saturday, Torrente Ballester Library wanted to venture into this landscape, so unknown to many, following in the footsteps of José Saramago in his trip to Portugal.
Saturday March 5, at 8 am, a group of 18 people, took to Portugal, ready to enjoy a trip in which the main objective was to identify the common elements of a defined geographical area, only for a political border, which share historical items, human, cultural and economic.
FIRST STOP: Castelo Mendo
Castelo Mendo is a village in the district of Guarda about 10 km of the border Sources Oñoro English in Salamanca.
Built on top of a hill and surrounded by city walls, medieval gates introduce us to a journey along the paths of history. The chronicles relate that in 1281 the king D. Dinis gave the call: Charter Fair to the people, ordering that this is carried out 3 times a year.
REMEMBER ...
The narrow streets and squares, simple stone houses, the pillory Square confetti remains of the castle and the chapel, the donkeys in the street with a rope between the two legs, sleepy dog, Mrs. Fatima talkative, the Museum of Time and silence, the woman who sold sweets, made by her at the door of his house, the spectacular views from a hill and the wind.
SECOND STOP: Sortelha
Sortelha The small village appears in the mist of the morning perched on a narrow crest of the Serra da Opa. As the clouds lifted, gradually extending the horizon, just cut by the slender tower that has grown on the thick rock of the mountain. The green moss has been responsible, over the centuries, from artificial joints to seal the stones and buildings making it difficult to distinguish between women and men.
Village old, hispanic origin, remains isolated (until it reaches a road fraught with twists and turns) and shrouded in mystery which can not escape nor the castle rock, or profiles of the rocks, not even his own name.
dare Only ten neighbors, or enjoy, who knows, live within Sortelha , then, given the narrowness of the surrounding walls, the population had to grow on the outside , leaving the new homes sliding down the slopes of the mountain.
"Enter Sortelha is entering the Age Media (...) What makes this medieval character particleboard is the enormity of the walls that surround it, its thickness and hardness of the road, the steep streets, perched on giant rocks, the Citadel, the last refuge of the besieged, last and perhaps futile hope " (Saramago)
REMEMBER ...
The dizzying ride up the wall, hot coffee at the small bar with stone fireplace, rain covering the streets, souvenir shop "with green windows and mimosas, framing the road, drawing the yellow fields.
THIRD STOP: MONSANTO
Monsanto, the most Portuguese village of Portugal, this is what decided the Portuguese in the seventies, when they held a contest in which they had to vote for the most Portuguese village.
is located on the side of a small and rugged mountains. The summit of Monsanto (Mons Sanctus, which breaks sharply in the plain) rises 758 meters.
At its peak, a castle from the time of the Templars presides over this spectacular landscape.
"There are places where it happens, there are others where it goes. Monsanto is them. Monsanto is less and more than expected. It has a slate roof and with abundant Mediterranean tiles, imagine tortuous and very dark alleys, and what is crooked is not dark, and when he can not stop being black, try to dress up in the picturesque " (Saramago)
REMEMBER
...
Monsanto's arrival after a journey that seemed endless back roads, the ride "crawling" along the cobblestone streets uphill, the cave with the two huge rocks distilling water from the rain, the small bar of azeitonas and queijo, the food at the restaurant and Granites Petisco "cold and laughter, rough wine and hot soup, the gathering around a small heater that barely warmed, the ride to the castle, the sun rising between the battlements and clouds, silence from the top.
STOP and FONDA: QUINTA BELA VISTA (Nossa Senhora da Graça and Piss Póvoa)
Reaching the small town of Póvoa and Piss from Monsanto, is a small adventure, not suitable for intrepid travelers. The county road network of Portugal looks like a spider web that weaves the cars as they slowly passing through them. Off the highway that leads to Lisbon, or a national road may complicate the trip, especially if it's night and we can not appreciate the scenery we sense through the headlights of the car.
The Portuguese road signs, does not help too much, and sometimes we feel that using a secret code intelligible only to experienced travelers.
So the trip became an adventure as soon ghostly road seemed to take you to a shrine on top of a mountain and lead to a mysterious swamp emerged as if by magic in the landscape.
Miraculously, without clear awareness of the trail appeared to us in a corner, the Quinta Bela Vista, rather than stop and inn on our first day in the Raia.
The fifth (Portuguese manor house) looked like an oasis in the desert on a dark night.
With all the comforts of a 5 star hotel and the charm of a country house, decorated with nineteenth century furniture, and gems scattered everywhere, the Fifth was also of the rooms in the main house, small houses around where we were arranging for groups.
REMEMBER ...
The arrival of the Fifth and the little hound, "Guapa", coming out to greet the dinner-exaggerated-in the magnificent dining room, coffee and cigars on the terrace still wet from the rain, a fire burning, the ice cream maker night under the covers so heavy you could not move, the bright dawn, the little donkey that pulled his head out the wires of the fence to receive caresses, the smell of freshly mown grass, sun, breakfast, butter and cottage cheese, homemade jams, toast and Coffee, the penalty that gave us leave there and a great will to stay to enjoy, languishing in a stolen time to time in a place outside of time.
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