Spain one: Cinfâes

Cinfaes.

19/7/13

We took the advice of our friends and decided to go up-river on a port tasting and buying journey. We followed the river Douro along narrow winding roads along sheer drops which had me biting my nails. The river was once a fast flowing rapid which always a hazard for the port barrel boats...a lot of port was spilled apparently. Now the river has been intercepted with a series of locks which has turned it into a series of navigable lakes of different levels. Before reaching the area of port grape farms, we wound through little villages surrounding the green wine...vinho verde...grape growing area. Green wine is a very young white wine, fruity and almost tasting of aspro clear...a little fizzy but not like champagne. Very refreshing on a hot day as long as you don't drink too much.

More about that later.😖

The mountains were glorious, all very steep and green and terraced with grapes and old houses and iron gates. We stopped at a little village, Cinfaes, to get fuel and directions to a supermarket where I needed to buy supplies for our lunch...the usual fruit, bread and cheese. The guy had so little English, all he could say was straight up and right. We went straight up and right and found a little street with a sign 'municipal mercado'. We thought this must be it so we parked awkwardly as usual and went for a walk to investigate. We came across a giant marquis with large table areas set up like an eatery. There was a big stage and sound system set up. It was a fiesta that we had run into, that was to start at 10 pm. There were a handful of people eating, so we gawked like dills for a while then decided to join them. It turned out they were food production businesses showing off their wares. There were farming cooperatives coming together like a show. We ate at the middle one where the boss, Fernando, on finding out we were Australian, proceeded to treat us like the royal family. He brought out all the specialties of the region, including half a cow from his farm. There was so much food we thought we would burst. The local wine was like a green red...it had the consistency of blood, but had a sparkle, and so astringent it made the inside of the mouth wrinkle up like a prune. There was gallons of it. Then a port. Then some rocket fuel we were supposed to down in one gulp. We decided to stay for the evening fiesta as there was no way we were driving anywhere.

After a 4 hour nap, we dressed up and ventured out to the fiesta. It was crowded with locals, and farmers and producers showing off their talents in little stalls set up like sideshow alley. There were handcrafts, small goods, leather goods, sweets, pastries, meat and of course green wine. There was a disregard for fruit and veges. We stuck out like dogs balls being the only foreigners there. It seemed word had got around that the Australians were here, and we were stared at all night long. Fernando and his wife Marissa were very hospitable, and their son Dwart was a lovely boy who spoke very good English and promptly fell in love with Suzy. The waiter at fernandos tables was a guy called Edgar who was so lovely, it was almost impossible. He and Tony became bosom buddies, and Edgar gave us some tips on where to visit.

We made the rounds of the green wine stalls, trying each one from each farm, meeting the growers, and getting sweetly merry. The rock band played their set...they were called AZ which was short for the Portuguese word for olives. Weird.

When they finished, the local folk band started to play under the marquis and the locals all started their folk dancing. Tony and I thought it looked easy, so we joined in, me counting 1-2-3 to keep tony in rhythm. Judging by the way we were being looked at, it wasn't as easy as it looked. It was so lovely, though, the way everyone got together and danced...young and old.

Things were going nicely, we were socialising and joining in, being included in conversation and introduced to the locals. When things are going this well, it's time for tony to drop the bombshell that has us reaching for the shovel to dig the hole in which to bury ourselves. "So, is there any more food?"

These people had already fed us for nothing, and were more than hospitable. So why tony does this is beyond me. It has something to do with what I said wasn't what I meant. We have a policy, devised by Daphne, that he has to consult with us before opening his mouth, but that cat got out of the bag. They then got up and rushed about organising another feed for garbage guts, and I proceeded to cower in the corner wishing the world would swallow me up.

20/7/13

We slept in a car park outside some houses, and apparently on of the residents was a little cranky about it. He told someone we were gypsies and would be there for a while. The next morning, I was in the grip of the mother of all hangovers. As usual, way out of proportion to how much I drank. All I could think about was green wine and blood sausages. It got worse as the morning progressed. Tony was told about a river Bestança where the water was clear as crystal and cool. I said " get me there". We decided to depart Cinfaes, and make our way along the river via Bestança. It was Daphs turn to sit in the front. I was too sick to object, so I sat in the back. We wound down and around mountain roads, taking wrong turns, winding up again, winding down again, winding around and around, up and down. I became greener and greener and felt like I was becoming like my Shari who gets motion sickness. At last we stopped looking, and found the place. Like an oasis in the desert, the river was as promised. But alas the hangover wouldn't let up.

We continued to wind on along the mountain road with me moaning at every turn. While I was trying to hold my stomach contents down and not think about blood sausage and green wine, the others were considering the pros and cons of returning to Cinfaes to say goodbye to our friends and have another night of fiesta-ing. They decided for it and ignoring my moans for a straight highway and a hot shower, up the winding hills we go again. When we arrived at Cinfaes, our flat ground park was gone, the town crowded and we parked on a hill. It was probably just as well because old mate would have had a fit if the gypsies were back in his neighbourhood. While the others partied all night long, drinking green wine and eating blood sausage, I went to my slopey bed and crashed out, waking intermittently when the revelling got really noisy, and when the church bells rang.

After 12 hours sleep and 36 hours fasting, I was we'll on the way to recovery and awoke with my old pal hunger with me once more.

21/7/13

After leaving Cinfaês again, we went to the town of Guimarães, the first capital of Portugal, and heritage listed because of its ancient buildings. We had lunch in a little cafe, and when they just kept on bringing out the food...octopus salad, codfish croquettes, roasted pig, pippies and bread and wine (I didn't touch the wine!). I said to Tony, "this is going to cost a fortune you realise...we've just blown our budget". 3€ each later, we left stuffed to the eyeballs.

Next stop was Citânia de Briteiros, a 2000year old Celtic city/archaeological dig site.

We decided to take the non toll road out of here and ended up here...