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Travel Guides: All Countries / Europe / Portugal
|  | Travel Reviews : Portugal |
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| | | | A Portuguese piece of heaven
After two days of uninterrupted sunshine, the dark clouds gathered and the heavens opened. Normally, a nightmare scenario on any holiday, but did we care? Not one iota.
The reason for our smugness in the face of this cold January downpour was the fact that we had just plunged ourselves into a black granite hot-tub nestled in the private gardens of the Six Senses Spa at the Penha Longa Hotel and Golf Resort in Portugal.
The spa was constructed as part of a £15m refurbishment programme at the hotel and we set about watching the rain and unwinding in preparation for our afternoon treatments - a holistic massage for me and a hot-stone massage for my wife.
The array of therapies and treatments that you can try at the spa is vast, and the building itself is an oasis of calm where water features, candles and big comfy sofas abound.
We chose to have our massages side by side in the couples suite, and one hour later, I struggled to muster the energy even to raise a cup of soothing ginger tea to my lips, such was my state of utter relaxation.
But it's not just the spa that's relaxing. Despite its grandeur and five star billing, the whole resort has a down-to-earth and truly welcoming atmosphere.
Lying in the Sintra Mountains between Lisbon and the Estoril Coast, Penha Longa (meaning Long Rock) Hotel and Golf Resort sits amid 500 acres of picturesque private parkland.
The decor in the main hotel is beautifully finished, and thanks to some lovely touches and obvious attention to detail, even the huge lobby and bar feel snug and cosy.
The standard rooms (around £250 per night) are plush, with big, soft beds, stylish bathrooms, plasma screen TVs and a decent sized balcony.
The quality of the view from your balcony depends on which wing of the hotel you're in. Those in the Golf Wing pay slightly more for views of the stunning golf course and the mountains beyond.
We enjoyed the luxury of an executive suite (about £800 per night) which comes with a lounge, study, two bathrooms and a huge balcony.
As well as the spa and main hotel, the grounds are also home to Penha Longa's country club and golf club.
The former offers guests the chance to play tennis or squash and you can horse ride or even have riding lessons. We enjoyed an hour's ride for about £15 each.
The golf club has the 18-hole championship Atlantic course and the smaller 9-hole Monastery course, both designed by Robert Trent Jones II, one of the most famous golf-course designers in the world.
Bill Clinton and George W Bush have both graced the first tee, and George Bush Senior and our very own Duke of York are honorary presidents.
The car park filled with Aston Martins, Porsches, Mercedes-Benz's, BMWs and the odd Ferrari as Lisbon's wealthy gathered to enjoy a round of golf or a spot of lunch while their children got private coaching to set them off on the long road to becoming the next Seve Ballesteros (sorry, I couldn't think of a Portuguese equivalent).
Despite this exclusivity, the staff made us feel very welcome in our non-golfing attire (something that wouldn't be accepted at many a stuffy golf club in the UK) and we enjoyed a morning practising strokes on the driving range and the chipping and putting greens.
In fact, it's the staff that contribute hugely to your stay at Penha Longa as they're attentive, helpful and friendly, but only when you want and need them to be.
We also spent a good couple of hours exploring the private grounds. There are well-marked jogging trails which lead you around circuits of varying length, but you'll need quite a high level of fitness to tackle the longer ones, as the terrain is very hilly.
Owing to my bad ankle, we chose to explore on mountain bikes which gave us the opportunity to see the vast undulating fairways and beautiful surroundings of the main golf course.
The hotel also traces its roots back to the 14th century and there's a monastery, refurbished church and 19th century palace (with conference facilities) onsite, which are all worth a visit.
If you're feeling really active, back in the hotel there's a state-of-the-art gym and an indoor swimming pool complete with sauna, steam room and jacuzzi.
Food-wise, as well as small cafes at the golf and country club, there are two restaurants in the main hotel. assaMassa is opulently furnished and serves excellent Portuguese cuisine, but it's the neighbouring Japanese restaurant, Midori, which is the real crowd-puller.
On Saturday nights the Lisbon crowd flock to Midori for the Japanese buffet and I can't say I've enjoyed many finer meals in my lifetime.
There are three 'stations' where diners are invited to choose between sushi and sushimi (raw fish), teppanyaki (fish and meat cooked on a sizzling iron plate) and tempura (vegetables or meat in batter) - all utterly delicious.
And then, much to our sadness, it was time to leave. Our stay at Penha Longa had been so enjoyable that the time had flown by.
For those of us who aren't used to the A-list highlife, five-star hotels can sometimes be a tad intimidating and at the beginning of our weekend, as our taxi had started along the vast driveway which leads up to the hotel, I had actually felt nervous.
I had even begun to rifle through my pockets in search of spare euros I could relinquish in tips to the expected army of eager, over-officious attendants (who would then of course tut at the meagre amount offered).
But as we were to witness on countless occasions, Penha Longa is far from over-officious and anything but pretentious. It's certainly one of the best hotels I've had the pleasure to visit.
- For more information on the Penha Longa Hotel and Golf Resort, call the Ritz-Carlton on 0800 234 000 or book at www.ritz-carlton.com. Low-cost airline Monarch offers year-round daily flights from London Gatwick to Lisbon. Fares start from £36.50 one way. Ring 08700 40 63 00 or book at www.fly-monarch.com. Web bookings include a £10 discount per return flight.
Travel Guide: Portugal
Not for children
Have just returned from a week's holiday in Vilamoura we were very lucky with the weather - it was quite hot whilst we were there.
It isn't really a place suited to children although Albufeira is quite close by.
The marina is very nice, full of places to eat. There are also plenty of shops around the marina too.
Lots of places for eating and shopping in side streets which all go off from the marina. The food is very good and very reasonable. We also found the people really friendly.
We liked it so much we have already booked for next year but for two weeks this time so that we can also see more of The Algarve.
Travel Guide: Portugal
So what do you get for £199?
From the Daily Mail
Here I am, loitering on my terrace, the Algarve sun pouring down, a wall of palm trees rustling away and the blue Atlantic dressed with dancing white caps.
The little town of Praia da Luz is here for me, the majestic Cape St Vincent is a short drive away.
A drinkable red comes in at six euros a bottle. Pretty damn good, I think.
And a whole week of this in May costs the same as a meal at Le Pont de la Tour in London - or two-thirds of a night at the Hotel Tresanton in Cornwall.
The price - £212.50 all in - would be good value even if I was stuck in a tent on the beach - especially since the full brochure list price for my villa is £415, not including flight supplements and insurance.
How did I get this astonishing deal? Am I the world's sharpest haggler?
No, I went into my local Lunn Poly, told them I had next week free, £199 to blow and asked what they could offer me.
There were three possibilities - Cyprus (over my price limit), Costa Dorada (just come back from there) or the Algarve.
The basic cost for two-star, self-catering in Portugal (through Thomson) was a fantastic £170.50.
The extra £42 was for airport security, administration and insurance costs.
But it was so close to £199, I decided to go for it.
Travel Guide: Portugal
Pringleland for winter
Billie and Chris were not at home. Or perhaps they were in, but still sleeping off a big seafood lunch.
Tiptoeing around the fence of their new house, I peered through the shrubs at a mansion that wouldn't look out of place in Miami or Bel Air.
There is, as yet, no Hollywood-style celebrity tour around the Algarve's houses of the rich and famous. But the way things are going, it's only a matter of time.
Sir Cliff Richard's 20-acre estate above Albufeira is firmly on the map since his very own red wine - brand name Vida Nova - hit the headlines back home.
Alan Shearer has a house on the coast, while Billie Piper and Chris Evans have shelled out for a £2.5 million mansion in the exclusive Quinta do Lago golf resort.
It's not hard to see why they like it here. Southern Portugal may have the best climate in Europe.
Summer days can be as hot as the Med, but Atlantic breezes take the edge off the heat. The winters are crisp, but never really cold.
It can come as a shock to someone from our latitudes, to see flowers in the hedgerows in December. The almond blossom in early January is an amazing spectacle, known locally as 'the Portuguese snow'.
I had been told that the Algarve had been ruined, the coastline built up beyond belief, and every last vestige of real local life wiped out for good.
In the event, I was surprised. The resorts were big and bumptious, certainly. But even the brashest of them had a nice old town at its heart with a whitewashed church done up inside with blue azulejo tiles.
Travel Guide: Portugal
How the nannies made our holiday
Gingerly we spread the towels - and then ourselves - on to the damp sand, trying hard to ignore the hired sun umbrella which was already broken in two places and leaning at a dangerous angle.
The sun was hidden behind an angry cloud, the sea was just a shade above icy and we had less than an hour before we had to leave. But it didn't matter.
For those 50 minutes were ours to do with as we pleased.
No tortuous debates with our three-year-old son Zachary about why it is physiologically impossible for human beings to live solely on M&M ice cream cookies.
No 20-minute chase round the car park in order to get another coat of sun cream on his face.
Without him, and his demanding one-year-old brother Torin, it was almost like being on holiday.
I was with my wife Melinda on the Praia Dona Ana, a gloriously pretty cove just west of Lagos on the Algarve, dotted with towering sea stacks and mysterious grottoes.
It was an overcast day in June, a rarity here where the norm is a blistering 25C and you can go for days without seeing a single cloud.
A half-hour drive away, our children were being looked after by the nanny, booked in for the morning by the tour operator Simply Portugal.
This was our first time in the Algarve. In the past I had been put off by its predictable image, numerous golf courses and sea temperatures always a few degrees below the Mediterranean.
But with two young children to think about, predictability was a virtue.
Travel Guide: Portugal
Happy Families in the Algarve
From the Daily Mail
The look on my two year-old daughter Gaby's face as she took her first ever steps on a sandy beach will be a memory I'll cherish for the rest of my life. A huge smile came across her face as she wrestled free from her pushchair, ran down some steps and skipped excitedly towards the seafront.
Within seconds she was completely at home, digging a hole, filling it with water and introducing herself to children of a similar age nearby. It was as if she'd been there many times before - most probably in her dreams. But this was for real, and her glee at being on a sun-kissed beach was an early vindication of our decision to choose Albufeira in the Algarve as our holiday destination.
If life could not be much better for Gaby, and baby Fran, then it wasn't too bad either for two exhausted parents hoping for a little relaxation. Twelve months earlier, we had felt somewhat claustrophobic when we stayed at an all-inclusive resort elsewhere in Europe. It catered for discerning holidaymakers from Britain, but for us was too regimented and the food and wine a disappointment.
This time we wanted freedom to choose when and where we went each day, where we ate, and with whom we socialised. We'd had enough of sophisticated holidays. It was time to get back to basics - a family-friendly resort with good beaches and ordinary people.
A warm climate was essential. Almost as important was the requirement that our destination should be no more than a two-hour flight from London. We arrived at Faro airport on a Sunday morning to be greeted by a cheery representative from the Travel Club of Upminster and we were given our car for the week - a sporty Peugeot 306.
We stayed at a two-bedroom property in a development called Jacaranda Villas - about ten minutes' walk from the beach at Praia da Oura, on the outskirts of Albufeira. Jacaranda has 50 two-bedroom villas, spaced out in a relaxed, green environment. It is close to the busy village of Oura, with its excellent shopping and dining facilities, but not so close that you can hear the thumping noise of late-night discos.
The villa was spacious, clean and tastefully decorated. It was serviced every day and had a large kitchen/diner, two bedrooms, a good-sized garden and sun terrace. In the distance you can see the tiers of apartment blocks, hotels and timeshare villas traditionally associated with Albufeira. But it would be unfair to call it a mass of concrete, as it has a more historic centre, with quaint streets where there are numerous souvenir shops, restaurants and bars.
We quickly slipped into a routine of rising early to have breakfast, and going to the children's playground or swimming pool inside our resort before heading off to a beach.
Travel Guide: Portugal
Family bonding in the Algarve
Time has been of the essence for me this year - and about time too. Top of the agenda it went, and I needed a holiday to go with it.
Something where I could do the most things in the least time. Not pounding the museum trail or the local sights. I knew exactly what I wanted: a bit of sun, sea, a feeling of well-being and somebody to play with - a mate.
The mate and I had never been on holiday alone before, and even though there was a 30-year age difference (at 13 he's older than his years and I like to believe I'm younger) we share the same interests and enjoy each other's company. This was to be a vacation for me and my boy.
Declan is what I term No 1 son in my family of four children. The reference is purely a numerical one - referring to his position as first-born.
As No 1 son the age gap between us is at its least, and the sense of competing in an adult sense in sport and games at its height.
As a dad I want him to give me a run for my money but not be able to beat me just yet, while at the same time pass on to him the knowledge I have in golf, tennis or sportsmanship - for all that it is.
So we knew what we wanted. Where we wanted to go was decided by recommendations of friends and people we knew who had stayed there before - Vila Vita Parc on the Algarve in Portugal. I knew from those three words that relaxation, health and the outdoors featured there somewhere.
Villas and apartments encircle the Hotel Vila Vita Parc itself, bordered by a private beach. A combination of factors including availability meant that we boys would share a double room in the main hotel and the double bed that went with it.
It was only as he claimed the sheets off my back at night, waking me up in the process, that it hit home that Declan was less of a boy and more of a man these days and any attempt to reclaim what was mine would probably not be worth the inevitable tussle.
If, however, you find yourself sharing a bed with a more docile partner, let me report that the room facilities were more than acceptable and generous in space.
Less generous, if your only language is English, is the lack of TV channels on the hotel satellite reception. Vila Vita Parc is a hotel with German roots and German TV stations to go with them.
Travel Guide: Portugal
Exploring the hinterland
We stayed at Hotel Garbe, Armacao de Pera, during the last week of February and first of March 2001. It had the best location of hotels there: the only one on the beach, so no road to cross. Front door opens onto the High Street, so very handy! We took two bus tours one week; the next we hired a car as we felt more at ease by then. It was wonderful freedom to explore the "hinterland" and interesting little towns along the border river with Spain and car-hire was very cheap at that time of year. We enjoyed every minute despite unseasonable rain and wind this year.
Travel Guide: Portugal
Ab fab Algarve
From the Mail on Sunday
The last time I went to Portugal, I stayed in a hotel that had the reputation of being 'the Fawlty Towers of the Algarve'.
I know this because the proprietress told me so herself; proudly, and with no sense of shame or irony. I have to say that I was not disappointed.
It has taken me a decade to dare to return to the Algarve, but last summer I finally did.
This time I was in the far safer hands of a villa specialist which has only properties with their own swimming pool and offers a special standard of accommodation.
But, of course, even though all villas are special, some are more special than others.
The villa Fonte Das Flores that I took with my two children (Molly, two-and-a-half, and Dylan, four-and-a-half), my partner Nick and my mum and dad, had the official operator's stamp of being 'Extra Special'!
It is in the area described as 'the Eastern Algarve', spreading northeast-from the town - and airport - of Faro.
As our promised people carrier hadn't been returned by the previous users, we were given a minibus in its place.
Dutifully, my dad lurched it on to the main road and we headed towards the small market town of Sao Bras - our first landmark on the hand-drawn map we'd been given.
Travel Guide: Portugal
Wonderful atmosphere
We passed through Seville on our way back from Portugal, by which time it was too late to stay any longer than a single night. What bad planning!
Had we known, we'd have arranged to spend more time there. The atmosphere in the evening was absolutely terrific.
I can't remember all their names, but there are squares, or plazas, dotted all over Seville, with cafes and restaurants spilling out on to the streets. There are many churches that we would have liked time to explore and some really beautiful architecture, exhibiting a strong Moslem influence.
The bullring is fantastic to look at. Seville is well known for its bullfighting history.
We didn't have anything booked but, after eating on the patio of one of the little restaurants, we found an old hotel in the centre of town. We were a few floors up, and the tall windows in our room looked out over a small plaza.
Being August, it was pretty hot, even late at night, so we had the windows open wide all night, but the shutters pulled to. What a wonderful experience!
We fell asleep to the muffled sounds of late-night conversations out in the square, charming rather than irritating.
Travel Guide: Portugal
Where the rich go incognito
No one gave the scruffy-looking man in a bright blue hat and matching shirt a second glance as he diligently practised his shots with his tutor on the exclusive Pinheiros Altos golf course.
No heads turned when he joined his much younger blonde wife on the verandah overlooking the green for a mineral water either.
In fact, ask any of the expats who laze away their lives in the sunshine of Quinta do Lago - one of Europe's most exclusive holiday resorts and described as the Shangri-La of golf - about the celebrity in their midst and they look blank.
'Chris Evans?' comes the bemused reply - before the moment of recognition and gentle put-down. 'Ah, you mean Brian Evans's cousin.'
Brian Evans may not be a household name in Britain, but in the secluded world of Quinta do Lago in the Algarve, he is far more important than his ginger-haired cousin Chris.
For Brian is the director of golf at the Pinheiros Altos course, where the joining fee is reputed to be £45,000 with an additional £2,000 yearly subscription.
By all accounts, Chris Evans and Billie Piper, his 19-year-old popstar wife, have fallen in love with this place where they can wander untroubled.
No doubt that is what has also attracted Alan Shearer and Michael Owen, who bought Ayrton Senna's former home for his parents here.
Others who choose to holiday in this secluded spot at the five star Quinta do Lago hotel include Princess Caroline of Monaco, singer Alanis Morrissette, and Luciano Pavarotti.
Overlooking the beach, the hotel has some nice touches to justify its prices, such as very comfy slippers left by the beds at night and a decanter of port in your room.
Travel Guide: Portugal
Trainspotter heaven
From the Daily Mail
TG, read the letters on the T-shirts of the guides who greeted us at Porto airport. What did they mean? Four-year-old Joseph jumped up and down by my side, as I asked the tall man next to me.
'Portuguese Traction Group,' he beamed back, already in trainspotter heaven. My heart sank. What had I done?
I knew how much Joseph and my husband, Christy, adored railways, and Portugal sounded enticing - a vintage rail tour of the beautiful and unspoilt Douro Valley.
But was it to be a week trapped with a group of people talking of nothing but trams and railway engines?
I looked around hopefully and saw a cross-section of couples of all ages.
The males were obviously train buffs - the women, I wondered about. Later I was to discover that many of them had followed their husbands around the world in pursuit of the ultimate railway experience.
As one woman put it wearily when I asked if she had ever been on a train holiday before: 'Oh, endless, dear. If I didn't, he'd just go by himself.'
Like her, I decided simply to give myself up to the experience and see what happened. Surprisingly, I am very glad now that I did - or I would have missed out on one of the most enjoyable family holidays of my life.
Less than two hours from the airport the scenery changed dramatically from scrubby pines and motorway to breathtaking views of the Douro Valley - grey-green slopes sweeping majestically to the river below.
Travel Guide: Portugal
Fancy a break on the state?
From the Daily Mail
More likely than not, if Britain had a long-established chain of state-owned hotels, it would not be much good. John Prescott would probably be in charge of it by now. There would be long waiting lists to get in.
And demoralised staff - worn down by years of under-funding - would be subsiding helplessly beneath an avalanche of central directives, performance targets, assessment schemes and report requirements.
Yet Portugal has managed to create just such a chain - and it is a great success.
The first 'Pousada' (the word, with calculated understatement, means 'inn' or 'stopping place') was established in 1942. Now there are more than 40 of them, spreading from Valença do Minho in the far north of the country to Sagres at its south-westerly tip.
Many, though not all, are in converted historical monuments, such as castles, palaces, convents and manor houses.
The others, either purpose-built or converted from more modest buildings, have been sited in what some Portuguese tourism minister considered to be particularly interesting and beautiful places. This makes progress from one Pousada to another a deliciously convenient way of discovering the country.
Our Pousada-led itinerary took us from Ourem, the medieval hilltop town perched above the flatlands of Beira Litora, north of Lisbon, to Alcacer do Sal, overlooking the broad curve of the river Sado.
We continued down through the golden plains of the Alentejo, where the spreading cork trees stand like beach umbrellas upon a rolling inland lido, to the whiter-than-white town of Serpa.
Then over the harsh arid uplands and steep river valleys into the Algarve; and to S. Bras de Alportel, close to Faro, with its international airport and good-value flights back to Britain.
Portugal - at least in May - is excellent driving country. Away from the jams of Lisbon, traffic is light, certainly for anyone used to the British road network. And off the main routes it is scarce.
Travel Guide: Portugal
Adrift on a river of port
From the Daily Mail
First, a confession: I have a weakness for port. It has been my downfall more times than I care to remember. After too much wine, I become maudlin and argumentative. After too much port, I become a caveman. It is just so maddeningly drinkable.
In Oporto, Portugal, the home of this divine tipple, I was like a schoolboy let loose in a sweet-shop. Temptation beckoned from every direction. Bottles of port winked at me from the advertising hoardings. Off-licence windows glowed ruby red. Even the man at the hotel check-in was lying in wait for me with a brimming decanter -'With our compliments, Meester Davidson . . .' There was no getting away from the stuff.
In Britain, port is a game, a social affectation. The rules of the game, such as waiting until the ladies have retired and passing the port in the correct direction, matter more than the drink itself. They take it more seriously in Oporto. The port trade has been the lifeblood of the city for 200 years.
If the early running was made by British wine merchants who built up the trade in the 18th and 19th centuries, the locals have made up for lost time. On the far side of the Douro, the river running through Oporto, the great names of port light up the night sky: Sandeman, Croft, Ferreira, Taylor, Fonseca. These are the warehouses where, for years, the boats used to bring the port from the vineyards.
It comes by lorry now, but it is just as good. Better, if anything. The ageing of the port, in huge oak casks, has become an exact science.
A visit to the Sandeman Museum was a revelation - not just about the process of port-making, but about the passions it arouses in this extraordinary city. I shall never forget the embarrassment on the face of the museum director as he confessed that he had difficulty telling the '67 from the '75. He might have been owning up to a string of burglaries. How did he do it? I mean how did he do it? By this stage, I would have been pushed to tell the '67 from a mug of Ovaltine.
We were reaching the conclusion of one of those epic tastings where one has to sample the tawny, then the ruby, then the fine tawny, then the fine ruby, then the late bottled vintage, then the founder's reserve - Every mouthful was a joy and every mouthful slipped down so easily. I knew there would be hell to pay: it was just impossible to stop.
Travel Guide: Portugal
The lost gardens of Monserrate
From the Mail on Sunday
Serendipity is the happy knack of discovering wonderful places by accident - something that can turn a good trip into an unforgettably great one.
It happened to us 13 years ago on a trip to Lisbon. Driving out to the coastal resort of Cascais, we lost our way and found ourselves at a place called Sintra.
About a half-hour's drive from the centre of Lisbon, Sintra is extraordinary - a sort of 19th-Century Disneyland: a collection of palaces and neo-Gothic castles planted on top of craggy hills.
The Portuguese royal family came here to escape the ferocious summer heat of the capital and built fantastic palaces to help them enjoy their stay.
The road that runs from Sintra to Colares passes along such a spectacularly lush slope that a number of writers, particularly Byron, were reminded of the Garden of Eden.
Almost halfway along this road, where the woods become particularly glorious, was a faded sign which advertised the Quinta de Montserrate. Intrigued by a pair of iron gates that stood invitingly open, we parked the car and dared to explore.
It was like wandering into Frances Hodgson Burnett's Secret Garden. Way down below we glimpsed an extraordinary domed building with cupolas, which looked something like a Mogul palace.
Spreading out around the palace was a huge, rambling park which had obviously been left to grow unchecked.
Slightly anxious that we might be chased away by some angry minion, we dared to enter and discovered something close to Paradise on earth.
I realised as I retraced my footsteps last weekend - in glorious blazing November sunshine - that Montserrate had now joined the tourist trail.
Travel Guide: Portugal
Crazy paving capital
From the Daily Mail
The people of Lisbon have a keen regard for shoes. It is one of the first things you notice. Everyone is wearing 'proper' shoes, stylish - if rather formal - affairs, with leather uppers and good thick soles. And they look after their footwear, too.
The city centre is dotted with shoeshine men, crouched on low stools, coaxing new life into old leather.
The reason lies underfoot. The pavements of Lisbon are hard, steep and uneven. To attempt them in anything flimsy or frivolous would be madness.
This is really the one piece of practical information that the visitor to the city requires.
The punishing pavements are made out of what the Lisboans fancifully call 'dragon's teeth' - small, hand-chiselled blocks of black basalt or white limestone.
But Lisbon - like all great cities - is best explored on foot. At least for the most part.
Because it has been built on a range of steep hills running up from the river Tagus, any peregrination involves a few taxing ascents and descents.
Mechanical assistance is at hand from the rattling old British-built trams (or their sleek, non-rattling, non-British-built successors).
There is also an eccentric Eiffelesque tower in the Rua do Ouro, the elevator inside which normally carries the lazy up to the heart of the Barrio Alto.
At the moment, however, the connecting walkway is out of order, so it can offer only a fine view of the city.
The steep, labyrinthine alleys of the Alfama - the only part of the city to have survived the cataclysmic earthquake of 1755 - still preserve an echo of the casbah, a memory of the city's 400 years of Moorish rule.
The severe geometry of the Baixa's avenues and squares stands as testimony to the severely geometrical will of the Marques de Pombal, who put the city back together again after 1755.
Travel Guide: Portugal
Coast and city
We had about four days to spare for a quick break and wanted to go somewhere where we had the option of both a lazy beach hotel holiday and the cultural draw of a city. We chose the Lisbon area.
Travelling in early June, just before the peak holiday season, we had nothing pre-booked. On arrival mid-morning, we hired a car and headed straight for the hillside town of Sintra.
Though Sintra was packed with visitors, it was far more beautiful than we'd imagined: next time, we'd like to splash out and book into one of the local quintas, or farmhouse-cum-luxury B&Bs, and just relax. But this visit we had the coast on our minds, so after an afternoon rambling through the cobbled streets we headed for the Cascais/Estoril area.
Tip: the simple two-star pensaos, or guesthouses, seemed far nicer, to our minds, than the rather shabby three-star hotels. Ours, in Estoril, had simple whitewashed walls with a plain tiled bathroom en suite, a little balcony with views of the town and a really lovely pool. No frills, but clean and inexpensive.
Once settled, we took day and evening trips into Lisbon (less than 45 minutes by car) and even went back to Sintra one afternoon to explore the amazing Quinta da Regaleira, a private house and gardens now open to the public, complete with Masonic mysteries and underground labyrinths.
The beaches around Estoril and Cascais towns were a disappointment, but there's a lovely wild stretch of beaches about nine kilometres west of Cascais. Of these, the Praia do Guincho is the most popular and has a great little bar/restaurant tucked into the cliffs at the west end.
Travel Guide: Portugal
A little slice of heaven
Estoril in Portugal is far away from New Orleans, but sitting on a hot, clear night, listening to the crickets compete with the American band playing at the Jazz Festival, it suddenly seemed a very small world.
The band, Quinteto de Deleayo Marsalis, played their hearts out. One song described their city's loss after Hurricane Katrina and the audience of locals and tourists responded with instinctive sympathy. It was a moving moment, swept away by the joyous big band sound of the next tune.
Somehow in Estoril, a gorgeous coastal resort about an hour out of Lisbon, it is impossible to feel down for too long. The warmth, the ambience and the nearby sea are enough to revive anyone's spirits.
So is a stay at the five-star Hotel Cascais Mirage, overlooking the beaches and gently moving Atlantic Ocean. It's ideally situated for Estoril's beaches, the town, nearby resort Cascais and the hillside town of Sintra, where the Portuguese royalty used to head when the coast and capital got too hot.
These resorts are quieter than the Algarve and the beaches aren't as famous - or crowded - but they're so close to Lisbon that they're ideal for a long or short break.
You can enjoy the buzz of the capital, get some great bathing, walk in superb forests and explore historical castles on one visit.
We didn't get to Lisbon except for a drive through on the way to the airport but it's eminently possible as it's only an hour away by car or train.
What we did get to do on our first night was explore a bit of Estoril town, have a superb prawn and fish dinner at a lovely restaurant in neighbouring Cascais and wander along the cobbled streets.
The vibe is relaxed, there are a number of pubs to choose - including one British-style establishment - and the locals start their evenings at about 8pm. Nowhere near as late as the Spanish but a fairly relaxed vibe nonetheless.
We were there for the annual Jazz Festival (from July 12 to 15), but spent most of our time exploring the area - including a visit to the Cabo da Roca, the western-most point of the European continent.
It's wonderfully situated, with a glorious view over the seas. Our guide Anabela told us it's on exactly the same latitude as New York, so we strained our eyes and imagined we could see the outline of the Statue of Liberty on the very far horizon. Again, the world seemed rather smaller.
Heading inland from the Cabo da Roca we arrived via the gorgeous forests of Sintra National Park in the alluring little town of Sintra.
Steeped in history, the area was settled by the Romans in the 4th Century AD and because of its situation, strategic positioning and cool forests, has been popular ever since.
As it was one of the hottest days of the year, the trip to the National Palace in the town centre became one of endurance. However, nothing could detract from the sheer joy of seeing the Manueline style - named after a monarch, and a mad mix of Gothic, Renaissance and a touch of Baroque - on display.
There was no rest for the wicked and we headed on to the Quinta da Regaleira. The brainchild of owner Antonio Augusto Carvalho Monteiro (1848-1920) and scenographer-architect Luigi Manini, it's an amazing and mad-looking building with superb grounds, secret tunnels, huge statues and glaring gargoyles.
There's so much more to see in Sintra - including the Moorish Castle, bits of which can still be seen on the top of the hill, and the eccentric Pena Palace with its glorious grounds, Romantic/Bavarian influences and brightly coloured walls.
However lunch beckoned. Afterwards we tried out a choice of desserts made out of egg yolk and sugar. They were created by nuns in the 18th century, as they had left-over yolks after using egg whites as starch to iron with.
Some include rice and cinnamon and they are all extremely sweet and rich, with rather saucy names like papos de anjoy (angel's breasts).
No visit to Sintra is complete without trying its traditional cake. Called Queijada's, they're made of fresh cheese, eggs, sugar, flour and cinnamon and have been baked in the town since the 13th century.
Aside from the Jazz Festival, Estoril was also hosting its 43rd annual Craft Fair. There were a variety of eats and drinks on offer, surrounded by dozens of small huts where craftspeople touted their wares including superb pottery and handicrafts . Again the atmosphere was laid-back and relaxed and the night was warm and clear. In fact, there was even something magical about the whole fair - lit by fairy lights and lanterns.
The next morning, we headed down to the Cascais Marina for a boat trip across the bay towards Lisbon. With glorious weather again, it was a great way to see the various inlets, bays, beaches and fortresses along the coastline towards the capital. Every beach was full of tanned fun-lovers, swimming, pottering and playing ball games.
As we drew ever nearer to the seven hills of Lisbon and its huge suspension bridge, Anabela told us the waters had changed from the Atlantic Ocean to the Tagus River which empties into the ocean about 10km from the capital.
We were passed by two container ships in the busy shipping passage, guided by local pilots and beacons on their way into the harbour.
But it was time to head back for a superb meal at the hotel and a port-tasting session. Associated mainly with the port producing areas of Porto in the North, it's an important drink and is enjoyed as both an aperitivo and digestivo. I was so enthralled I bought a bottle of white port to enjoy as an aperitivo.
During our trip we'd enjoyed superb prawns, lovely fish and a huge skewer of meats with vegetables, served with a enticing plate of tropical fruits. While there are the odd greasy spoons and the ubiquitous McDonald's around, most restaurants serve freshly-made dishes at reasonable prices.
So foodies and wine lovers are well catered for. But so are beachgoers and those who like a bit of sporty action - there are six golf courses in the Estoril, Sintra and Cascais area and a brilliant walkway/cycle path for miles along the coast. You can even pick up a free bike from a couple of points in Cascais and set off towards Cabo da Roca.
Windsurfers usually head to Guincho beach, sailors to Cascais Marina and bodyboarders to Praia Grande.
We didn't have time to do all that we wanted to do, but it was a taster to a superb area, only three and a half hours away from London. I for one will be heading back to spend more time exploring, relaxing and swimming in the refreshing Atlantic waters.
- Prices for TAP Portugal flights from London-Lisbon start from £103 one way. Visit www.flytap.com.
- Prices for a week's B&B stay at the Hotel Cascais Mirage start from £875 pp, based on two sharing, with Caravela Tours Ltd (www.caravela.co.uk), including flights and private transfers.
- Call the Portuguese National Tourist Office on 0845 355 1212 (local call) or visit www.visitportugal.com.
Travel Guide: Portugal
Delighted by hidden Portugal
I have a confession to make. I'd never even heard of Alentejo in Portugal before my visit in October.
But on a four-day trip I discovered that this region, situated between Lisbon and the Algarve, boasted a plentiful supply of hidden pleasures.
On our first day, our feisty tour guide, Anna-Isabelle, took us to the Comporta Cafe restaurant where we dined on lovely fried fish overlooking a deserted Comporta Beach. This place really felt exclusive - there was nothing else around. It's certainly worth checking out if you're driving through the region.
The downside is that you won't be able to make the most of the Portuguese wines on offer as there's no accommodation within walking distance.
After a hearty meal, Anna-Isabelle whisked us off to Carrasqueira Harbour where creaky and decidedly flimsy gangplanks above the sea were supported by vertical wooden sticks. It's one of the region's oldest landmarks but looked distinctly out of place.
It reminded me more of rural scenes from Thailand or Vietnam and was a fascinating place where time seemed to have literally stood still.
That night, we stayed at the Poussada de Arraiolos, a former convent with a well tended piazza and beautiful chapel decorated with the blue tiles favoured in the region. The restaurant served delicious food - my rack of lamb served with a plum sauce was a highlight.
There are numerous poussadas (state run hotels) in Alentejo - most are former monasteries, convents and castles.
For history buffs, there are numerous castles to visit. One of the most impressive was the Castelo de Vide in northern Alentejo. It's unique because people continue to live within the castle's ramparts in haphazardly strewn houses. It was a bizarre sight to look down from the top of the castle and see an old lady hanging out her washing.
Our next stop was Alter do Cha's Royal Stud Farm. Horse-lovers can really indulge themselves here. For just three euros we got a tour which enabled us to see the prized animals as well as a room showcasing the old carriages that were used to transport them. The best days to visit are Tuesdays and Thursdays. An impressive falconry display takes place every Tuesday, the birds swooping close to the ground next to you before flying up magisterially over the trees and buildings. Thursday offers a classy dressage show.
The state-run stud farm looked well kept and was enormous. It also contained rooms for visitors wishing to stay overnight, plus a museum, cafe and a pavilion where the horses are exhibited and sold every year, mainly to wealthy Brazilians. Bullfights also take place periodically.
The following night was spent in the isolated, rustic farmhouse of Monte Do Vale in Elvas, a charmingly primitive setting. It had only eight rooms, but spacious surroundings. After our hectic tour, I had never felt so glad to crash into bed - and was not grateful to the owner's dog for barking through the night and keeping me awake.
Despite this, the farmhouse had a cosy, comforting appeal and would be a fine place for a group of friends to stay. Rooms cost from 60 euros per night during the week.
In complete contrast was the Albergaria Betica in Pias - a fashionably relaxed, minimalist-designed hotel. The married owners were obviously proud of their work and happily showed us the many rocks and fossils acquired from historical architectural digs that littered the corridors of the ground floor. A generous decanter of sherry was poured out for us on our arrival - and very welcome it was too.
Alentejo is certainly worth visiting as it's so unspoilt, with plenty of cultural artifacts and buildings to appeal to history lovers and travellers wishing to discover new horizons.
* TAP Portugal fly to Lisbon three times a day from London Heathrow from £100 return. They also fly from London Gatwick twice a day from £95 return. For more information, ring 0845 601 0932 or visit www.flytap.com. Prices for a week's B&B stay in Pousada de Arraiolos start from £541pp, including flights and car hire.
* Feeling inspired? Book a holiday
Travel Guide: Portugal
Algarve swings for golfers and sun-lovers
A group session of Tai Chi on the clifftops is not what you might associate with a holiday in the Algarve.
But Portgual's deep-south resort area, long popular with sun worshippers and golf fanatics, is broadening its appeal with a wide range of health and beauty treatments.
However, with the region enjoying an average of more than 300 days of sunshine each year, its prime appeal is obvious.
Algarve destinations for those who want to indulge the inner self include the thermal complex of Caldas de Monchique in the Serra de Monchique mountains.
Fitness, anti-cellulite and anti-stress programmes, treatments for respiratory, muscular and digestive ailments are all offered at the newly renovated centre.
Swimming, walking tours and mountain bike excursions in the surrounding lush scenery complete a healthy holiday.
Golf lovers are spoiled for choice in the Algarve, with three times as many courses here as further up the coast.
The five-star Hotel Quinta do Lago, at Almancil, by the ocean offers a choice of three in its estate and six more within easy reach.
Horse riding, deep-sea fishing, water-skiing, windsurfing, sailing, canoeing, clay pigeon shooting and a kids' summer activity programme are all on the menu.
Junior visitors will also enjoy the shows and attractions of Albufeira's Zoomarine. These range from spectaculars - performing seals and dolphins, tropical birds and birds of prey, plus an extensive aquarium with sharks to the smallest sea life.
The Algarve's spectacular coastline can be fully appreciated on a boat cruise from Lagos, the most attractive of the region's coastal towns.
However, negotiating the time-sculpted rocky inlets and coves beneath its steep cliffs means transferring to a smaller motorboat.
It's also the place to taste sardines as they should be tasted - fresh from the sea and grilled over charcoal.
Travel Guide: Portugal
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The only drawback was this: I had to submit to the uncertainty of not knowing where I was going to end up in the Algarve.
A return flight from Gatwick to Faro and some kind of accommodation - an apartment in a 10-storey block . . . a cottage on a cliff? - were the only definites.
This made the bus trip from Faro airport a bit of a thrill. The rest of the party knew where they were going.
Bit by bit, they were dropped off at worryingly bleak new roadside apart-hotels in Vilamoura, Portimao and Praia da Rocha, or in town centre concrete blocks overlooking nightclubs.
Eventually, there was me, one old couple coming back for more ('We've been to Praia da Rocha and now we're trying Luz!' they said, like connoisseurs) and the driver.
I read the fine print on a sheet handed to me as I boarded the coach: 'Accommodation may be a hotel, aparthotel, apartment, chalet, club-style accommodation, or even a taverna, pension or village rooms.' Village rooms!
'There may be building work in or around your resort or accommodation.
'Due to the nature of late deals, which are allotted accommodation on arrival, we will not be able to advise you of this.'
And then there was just me, tipped out onto a dusty road surrounded by faceless low-rise villas and a branch of AliSuper, the local supermarket in this part of the world.
I found myself in the heart of the Waterside Village complex, part of a sprawling conglomeration of flatlets and villas called the Ocean Club, which is, effectively, about half of Praia da Luz.
Once a sleepy little fishing village, it is now the centre of hectares of villa developments. Having spotted a large, ugly block of flats, I feared it was to be home for my stay.
But then I found my little terraced villa and, with an audible cry of relief, I let myself in.
Old-fashioned beachside restaurant
On the beach at Albufeira, which is popularly (and unjustly) thought of as the Portuguese Benidorm, I saw fishermen preparing nets for their next expedition, while an old-fashioned beachside restaurant served up the results of last night's peril on the sea.
For some Algarve fans, the best thing about the region is the beaches. Albufeira is by no means the worst, with its magnificent sweep of sand flanked by sandstone rocks.
But the entire south coast is essentially one long beach, from the islands of Tavira and Faro to the cliffs and coves around Lagos.
When you finally turn the corner into the unspoilt western part of the Algarve, the coastal landscape is as wild and windswept as the best of California.
Even the so-called town beaches such as those of Faro and Carvoeiro are ideal bucket-and-spade zones, with a delicate sand that creaks under your feet.
For the adventurous and/or childless, there are secret cove beaches nestling between dramatic cliffs. In the off-season they are all delightfully deserted.
Even in the height of summer you can usually have a few hundred yards of sand to yourself - which is more than you can say for Benidorm.
The beach bum and surfer dude are rivalled in the Algarve only by the golf nut. With about 30 courses and a daily average of six hours of sunshine in winter, golfing visitors tend to think they've died and gone to heaven.
Quinta do Lago, mother of all Algarve golf resorts, is not easy to get to by car from Faro. You'll know you're on the right road when you begin to see the 'sports bars', the golfing academies and the shops selling Pringle sweaters and peculiar shoes.
Among the manicured pinewoods speckled with developments, an air of expensive calm prevails. I walked down to the sea through the grounds of the Hotel Quinta do Lago, swishest of the Algarve's swish hotels.
Mo could do no wrong
And there was the added lure of a private child-minding service - four qualified English nannies, each one of whom can look after up to three children over six months old.
Once there, things looked even better. The sun was shining, the smell of citrus trees and broom flowers was in the air and the road was clear. Finally, I began to relax.
Villa Kimbo was an elegant hacienda surrounded by swaying palm trees and with its own orchard of orange, lemon, fig and avocado trees.
The villa was huge and well equipped with a washing machine and decent kitchen. All that was missing was satellite TV - but, hell, I don't mind roughing it a bit on holiday.
We'd booked a nanny for five mornings. Ours was called Mo, an irrepressibly jolly lass from the Scottish isles who exuded unruffled calm and professionalism.
She arrived with a box of toys and got stuck in with the kids while we fidgeted and fretted from our sun loungers or frolicked unconvincingly in the pool.
On day two, Melinda and I decided we had to get out, for the kids' sake if not ours. So we headed for Luz, an appealing resort near Lagos, just small and sleepy enough to retain some of its original character.
We took the path up to the top of the cliffs, paused just long enough to admire the view along the coast, then headed back to the promenade for a leisurely coffee and a huge doorstep of Portuguese-style toast.
Later, we dawdled along the beach front while nervously fingering our mobile phones before heading back, 40 minutes early yet still guilt-ridden, to what we imagined would be a scene of carnage - broken toys, screaming kids and the nanny in an advanced state of shock.
In fact, we found ourselves intruding on quiet industriousness.
The children had been fed, the mess cleared up and the evidence of the morning's artwork was laid out neatly on the table for us to inspect.
From that moment, Mo could do no wrong...
TRAVEL DETAILS:
Simply Portugal http://www.simply-travel.com (tel: 020 8541 2207)
Better value for money than England
On the first day, which was probably the hottest, we introduced Gaby to the beach on the road to Albufeira town centre, where we had a picnic, played and sunbathed. That evening we walked along the main road in Oura for a meal outside a pub/restaurant. The meal, which included freshly caught fish and a bottle of wine, cost less than £25.
On day four we went upmarket, visiting the designer resort of Vilamoura. About 20 minutes from Albufeira, it was built as a sort of golfer's paradise - top courses and fine hotels galore. But it also has a beautifully appointed marina, where trendy bars, restaurants and designer shops have been opened to entice those passing through on expensive yachts.
Lunch at an Italian restaurant cost about £30 - not bad when you consider this was a more desirable location. The usual afternoon adjournment on the beach followed.
On day five, in blistering heat, we went into the centre of Albufeira and were pleasantly surprised to find it wasn't the heaving, noisy place we expected. Out of high season the quaint streets were moderately populated and easy to roam.
We found ourselves a lovely spot in the shade for lunch at one of Albufeira's finest restaurants, the rustic and typically Portuguese A Ruina. Under a parasol on the beach, a fantastic seafood lunch, which included delicious tiger prawns and a large, tasty red mullet, cost about £60. It would have easily cost double that back home.
And so we came to our last full day, and a good look around Oura. Oura, like Albufeira, is full of Britons who have opted for a new life in the sun. From the Geordie pub to numerous Irish hostelries, you have little difficulty finding licensed premises offering a pint and satellite football. England were playing Germany that day, so trade was busy.
Just as we were making our way back to watch the match in our resort bar, I was stopped by a time-share salesman offering a free holiday and a chance to meet a top showbusiness personality from the UK. The holiday didn't really interest me but I was intrigued by the prospect of meeting 'a star'.
As soon as I set eyes on the mystery man at a nearby hotel, I realised I had been misled. Step forward Bernie 'The Bolt' Carter from the Seventies TV game show The Golden Shot. Dressed in white crocodile shoes, powder blue trousers and a particularly loud shirt, this timewarp phenomenon didn't quite live up to the billing.
But he was likeable enough and I enjoyed our meeting. For he summed up the no-frills, unpretentious atmosphere of Albufeira. I just wonder why I bothered to rush back for the football. As we all know, Keegan and Co. failed to deliver on the field at Wembley, but at least the Wright family got value for money in the Algarve.
Mental and physical humiliation
It's a classy establishment without ever being intimidating, summed up by the fact that it was probably the most child-friendly hotel I had ever stayed at.
With two outdoor pools, a heated indoor and outdoor one, two children's pools, two whirlpool baths and access to two sandy beaches, you begin to see the attraction.
The attraction for parents is Natalie's creche, Annabella's kids' park for those four to 12-year-olds, and the teen club.
I thought I was running my own teen club, while my teen cub seemed more intent on clubbing me to near exhaustion on the tennis court.
Age is a terrible thing, particularly when it's less than yours. But after the mental and physical humiliation of never varying straight-set defeats I decided to put my aching and near-crippled body under the microscope.
Many hotels have spas connected to them nowadays where for £50 you get a rub down with a wet lettuce leaf. Vila Vita has all that but it also has the most amazingly purpose-built medical centre, presided over by a German doctor.
Here you can be MoT'd better than a car with scans, blood test and physiotherapy. I even got the doctor to look at my kidneys, liver and heart on a video screen as part of my check-up. Although I may not look it, I had the insides of a man a third of my age - it's just a pity I couldn't beat him at tennis!
So many of us yearn to escape the daily grind of work and seek a vacation to relieve the stress that goes with it. I epitomised the business person who was simply too busy to put myself first.
On this holiday I could do just that in both a diagnostic and preventative way. Peace of mind and relaxation came to me, partly because all my medical tests were positive.
But if my body didn't need fixing then my golf certainly did and Carlos the golf instructor was the man to do it.
Heaving with locals
We reached Sao Bras without problem and here found our first real landmark en route to our 'secluded' villa - the restaurant Luis Frango.
It was closed when we passed that afternoon, but we returned there one weekday lunchtime to find it heaving with locals eating spicy chicken 'piri piri' and chips at about £2 a go - highly recommended for excellent cheap food and a bit of real local colour.
After Luis Frango, however, we got well lost. Tour operators' directions to 'secluded villas' can often let you down - you forget that 'secluded' really means 'impossible to find'.
We tried several avenues that looked like the given directions ('not a made-up road') before we finally reversed ourselves back to our last landmark, the well in the tiny hamlet of Mesquita, opposite the local bar-restaurant.
Here, we discovered that the name of the villa had been painted, many, many years before, on a wall practically invisible from the road. But we saw it, and followed it.
After getting further directions from a couple of other amused but friendly locals, we eventually passed the neighbourly canine guard that lurks beneath the villa and Fonte Das Flores itself. We were not disappointed.
The blurb said 'key under the mat' - but which mat? Which door? Fonte Das Flores really is a special villa and it's big.
It wouldn't be out of place in a posh Los Angeles suburb - security gated steps lead up to a terrace with a vast barbecue that overlooks a huge pool and another shady terrace.
Inside, there's a dining room, large kitchen, enormous living room (complete with satellite TV, sadly) and a junior 'Sunset Boulevard' staircase leading up to the master suite (complete with separate terrace).
Downstairs, there are three further bedrooms, two bathrooms and a very posh loo - plenty of room for the two small people to run around to their hearts' content.
Golf is a pre-occupation
The cheapest rooms start at £111 per night in off season and during the summer months you can pay up to £245 for a sea-view room. The beach is a couple of minutes' walk away.
One drawback for off-season visitors is the fact there is a lot of noisy building work going on at the hotel.
This part of the Algarve is probably the most exclusive stretch on the Algarve. The resort is halfway between the lively, rather more popular - and familiar - towns of Albufeira and Faro.
Long sandy beaches give way to the Atlantic sea and even at this time of year it is 60F, without a cloud in the sky (although there is a nasty chill in the air after the sun sets).
April to October is the prime season, however, when temperatures range from the high 60s to the low 80s, but it never gets uncomfortably hot.
Golf is a pre-occupation of the holidaymakers who travel here: there are three Championship courses within the Quinta estate itself - Quinta do Lago, Ria Formosa and Pinheiros Altos - and five more within easy reach.
Here, designer clothes are all very well - the shopping centre has MaxMara, La Perla and Burberry outlets cheek by jowl with newsagents and a sandwich bar - but a well-pressed golf shirt is just as important.
And while there is no shortage of exclusive restaurants, where crayfish costing 94 euros (£57) a kilo are plentiful, mock British pubs such as The Melting Pot are the best place for holidaymakers to meet local millionaires, who tend to be more discreet than their counterparts on the Costa del Sol.
A chilled bottle of Dom Perignon at e224 (£136) may slip down easily at sundown, but then so does a creamy pint of Guinness at e2.25 (£1.37).
When Beverley Gibbons' family moved here in the Seventies, land was selling for 40 Portuguese escudos a square metre (a mere 12p in today's money).
Giant model train set
Here we checked into the stylishly modern Estalagem Porto Antigo hotel. Set on the banks on the Douro, it offered views which resembled those of a grand Italian lake. Flat-bottomed barges, decked with flags and winking lights like Chinese sampans, floated by.
Joseph shouted with joy at the sight of a train weaving its way through the mountains above. The whole scene was one of a giant model train set.
We sat under coloured umbrellas catching the last heat of the day, drinking vinho verde - a wine, I was to discover as the waiter filled my son's glass, that locals regard as 'soft'.
Talking to the tour guides, Steve and Marion, over dinner, I received more good news. Marion, it turned out, was a part-time teacher to four-year-olds.
So whenever I showed signs of flagging, or needing a break from the demands of parenthood, Marion would appear, whisking Joseph off until I had enjoyed a rest.
Leaving Mosteiro station early the next morning, we travelled by (modern) train as far as Pinhao before transferring to a river cruiser.
Here we joined the hordes of Portuguese families all treating their womenfolk to a four-course Sunday lunch, plus pre-prandial port tasting on deck.
No one seemed to think anything of being joined by a group of English eccentrics, and accepted us.
Old men patted Joseph on the head as our cruiser passed dramatically through the lock in the Pocinho Dam. I have never felt less touristy in my life.
Later that evening, as we caught another train to Regua, I heard Joe whispering softly to himself: 'Bye, bye, boat.'
Each one is different
The countryside is varied and only mildly scarred by the recent rash of EU-funded building works.
There are great things to be seen - World Heritage Sites such as the bristling late Gothic abbey church at Batalha, or the architectural treasures of Evora (not the least of which is the baroque chapel made entirely from human bones).
But Portugal is a country of little towns and small villages.
And most of them yield some crumbs of interest to the traveller: a tile-decorated church, a carved stone portal, a donkey pulling a cart down a cobbled street, a cafe selling interesting local cake - usually containing almonds or custard or both.
And, if driving in general is pleasurable, driving to a Pousada is particularly so.
In a country that rather scrimps on such things, Pousadas are always very well signposted: a succession of large, easy-to-read blue placards will guide you to the sanctuary of the reception desk.
Dark blue is the Pousada livery. The 'good-night chocolate' left on your pillow comes in a dark blue wrapper. And the staff members all wear dark blue blazers. They tend to be young and helpful, and all had better English than my Portuguese.
Dark blue blazers and chocolate wrappers are about the only features common to all Pousadas.
One of the charms of the chain is that each one is different - in its size, its decor, its character, and its price.
A double room at the swankiest, over a weekend during the high season, would cost you £134 a night; a more modest spot would be less than half that.
The Pousadas we stayed at included a stylish purpose-built Sixties block (Serpa), a chic conversion of 15th-century episcopal buildings (Ourem), and what looked like an over-large suburban hacienda (S. Bras de Alportel).
A culture of contradictions
My subsequent recollections of the day are sketchy, although I do remember staggering up the hill to the cathedral square and taking in the panoramic view of the city, looking across the rooftops towards the Atlantic. Later, I am reliably informed, I visited the church of Santa Clara and waxed lyrical about the Renaissance woodcarvings; port does wonders for the artistic sensibilities.
While the port trade takes centre stage, Oporto has so much else to offer the visitor. It is a big, sprawling city, as cultured as it is informal. There is some glorious architecture. The little railway station, with its frescos of ceramic tiles, must be one of the prettiest in Europe.
The Torre dos Clerigos, a soaring baroque clocktower, is equally impressive. But this is very much a lived-in city. There is not the tweeness one associates with other places of cultural pilgrimage. And the Ribeira, the area beside the river, is quintessential Oporto.
Contradictions abound. The cobbled streets are lined with smart shops and restaurants, but look upwards and you will see women hanging out their washing to dry. Dilapidated 18th-century houses are topped by satellite dishes. Elegantly dressed businessmen trip over feral cats. The woman selling vegetables on the street corner has a mobile phone in her pocket.
Yet it is those very contradictions that give Oporto its charm. The people could not be more laid-back if they tried. In one church, we came across a couple snogging in the confessional. Another church was closed to visitors - at 10.30 on a Sunday morning. The priest was probably sleeping off a port-induced hangover.
As if we were in Paradise
Big green official road signs pointed the way. When I arrived, there was a large visitor centre in the car park. At the ticket booth I was handed a leaflet which explained the sights on the marked trail.
But 13 years ago there was no marked trail. And, luckily, there was no angry minion, only a charming young Englishman - Gerald Luckhurst - whom we encountered near the entrance.
At the behest of the local council, Gerald, a renowned landscape gardener, had then recently been given the job of rescuing the park. He offered to show us around. As we gazed on each new sight with awe, I told him it felt as if we were in Paradise.
He considered it an appropriate description: 'The Arab and Christian idea of the Garden of Eden is a place where plants of all climates grow together.
'Thanks to the extraordinary climate of the valley here, which is warm enough in winter to preserve the palms and cold enough in summer to spare the pine trees, the gardens of Montserrate have one of the finest collections of sub-tropical trees and plants in Europe: 1,000 different botanical species.'
This botanical collection is no happy accident. The history of Montserrate and its gardens is as intriguing as that of any stately home in Europe.
Montserrate was acquired by wealthy English Huguenot merchant Gerard de Visme in 1790, who built a neo-Gothic castle on the site of an old chapel (in best 18th Century landscaping tradition the ruined chapel was moved brick by brick to another part of the gardens to provide a Romantic 'sight').
Famous British eccentric William Beckford took over Montserrate in 1794 and for the next 14 years set about Gothicising the property: creating the classic Romantic landscape which was designed to look as much as possible like the best landscape painting.
Beckford even had a flock of sheep sent over from his home in Fonthill to improve the look of the place.
Beckford is believed to have been responsible for the construction of the huge waterfall built from megalithic slabs of stone. Thirteen years ago, it was an overgrown mess - now it has been cleared and handsomely restored.
Air of melancholy
The bustling streets of the Barrio Alto exude a Bohemian informality, unchastened by the stone skeleton of the quake-ruined Carmo church.
Lisbon is slightly shabby. That is a large part of its attraction. Presiding over everything is a comfortable air of melancholy.
If the Lisboans do need consolation, perhaps they find it in food. The city abounds with cafes, bars and restaurants. The bars stock carefully stacked piles of little deep-fried treats - bacalhau fishcakes and savoury rissoles.
I was less tempted by the plates of small white-shelled snails, which were the much-touted delicacy of the moment.
One of the happy peculiarities of Portuguese dining is the habit of serving the cheese (either bland and creamy or pungent and runny) at the start of the meal, rather than at the end when one might be too full to enjoy it.
Most of the shops are still dimly lit, old-fashioned enterprises, often selling only a single product.
A stroll through the Baixa takes you past a shop stacked with every known variety of Portuguese tinned sardine, a wool shop (where the shop-women sit behind their long wooden counters with knitting attached in bibs around their necks), and a retailer who deals exclusively in drawer-lining paper.
Many of the city's cultural sites are gratifyingly inessential.
I felt able to resist the lure of the Military Museum, the Tile Museum, the Clothing Museum, the Museum of Decorative Arts and even the Puppet Museum. The Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga I did visit, to see Bosch's The Temptations Of St Anthony.
The great artistic treat, however, is the Calouste Gulbenkian Museum, presented to Lisbon by the Armenian oil magnate, squillionaire and art-lover, to house his extraordinary personal collection of paintings, sculptures and artefacts.
There are, in fact, two museums - modernist blocks ranged either side of an informal park.
The Centro Arte Moderna answers the question of why Portuguese modern art isn't better known internationally: it's not very good.
But the main museum, which contains Gulbenkian's collection of classical antiquities, Islamic art, old masters, Impressionist pictures, French furniture, 18th-century silver and Lalique jewellery, is a stunning monument to individual taste.
The park connecting the two gallery spaces - though encumbered with rather too many ugly sculptures - is a rare oasis.
The streets and squares of Lisbon are almost totally devoid of trees. One deliciously shaded area is the old English Cemetery. Established in 1717, it is a reminder of England's long connection with city.
Among the remains of the enduring Anglo-Portuguese merchant families lie the bones of Henry Fielding, author of Tom Jones, who died here in 1754. He called Lisbon 'the nastiest city in the world'. But he was suffering terribly from gout.
His feet were too sensitive to allow him to wear proper shoes.
TRAVEL DETAILS:
Matthew Sturgis flew to Lisbon with British Airways Holidays and stayed at the four-star Hotel Mundial. (http://www.britishairways.com tel: 0870 442 3828).
Heaven for fish gastronomes
The coastal town of Lagos retains much of its traditional charm with cobbled streets full of bars and restaurants as modern developments are further out.
The mega-resort of Albufeira has been more obviously transformed from a small fishing village, but wooden boats still sell the day's catch on the beach
More resistant to change is the wild, windswept headland of Cabo de Sao Vicente with its massive lighthouse.
Eating out in the Algarve is a pleasure with the bonus that balmy evenings provide the perfect conditions for alfresco dining.
Meat and fish are both first class, the two being combined together in the shellfish and pork combination of cataplana alentejana.
Portugal's wines are best described as robust rather than subtle, with port the country's most famous export.
The Algarve is popular all year but May and September both offer sun without the crowds of the summer peak.
Five-star luxury is cheaper than you might think. Three nights at Sofitel Vilalara Thalassa near Porches with flights and breakfast starts at £516 per person (children under 12 from £233).
Cadogan Holidays offers a range of four to five star hotels. Call 023 80 828313
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| | | | The Unlucky House?
Well, yes, the exterior paintwork needed freshening up, and the villa was just where the tour buses turned round and laboured smokily up the hill to the main road.
Come to think of it, why had my neighbour got a beautiful lemon tree and a bougainvillea in his backyard while I had a ribbon of scorched plantains?
Why was my sun terrace slightly smaller than everyone else's?
And why had my villa not got its number (36) stuck outside the front door like the others?
Had I been given the Unlucky House - a place where the spectre of a previous holidaymaker freaks you out in the shower and all the knives have been hidden?
On the other hand, I did have a 10-metre sitting room, two bedrooms (which would accommodate my whole family) and a bathroom.
Yes, I kept banging my head on the extractor over the cooker, but I knew that if I knocked myself out the maid would find me because she comes every other day.
And I still had my (admittedly slightly compromised) view of the palm trees and sea.
In fact, I could have done much worse. Praia da Luz is pretty low-rise, pretty small-time.
By Algarve standards it is positively refined.
The beach is not huge - although there's plenty of room in May - but there are some lovely cliff walks. There aren't that many great restaurants, but there are some British bars: a pub called The Bull, complete with pint pots, and another called The Cave.
The silence at night was shattering, which I liked, but it wouldn't suit those who want to go clubbing.
The area was like south Devon, with proper sunshine.
For anyone seeking drama, it is terrible. For someone who wants to fall asleep for a week over a book, it is perfect.
For once, I have drawn the long straw - and I don't even care if it rains. I'm already £200 ahead.
Winding antiquated roads
Although it was late November, the sun was warm enough to warrant a dip, if it weren't for the thundering breakers rolling in from the steel-blue Atlantic.
I retired to a rather fine beach bar called Gigi Praia, tucked discreetly among the dunes beyond the lagoon. I imagined Chris and Billie nipping down here for a drink or two of an evening.
You'd think the arrival of Ginger and his mates might have scared off whatever remained of the Algarve's traditional lifestyle.
In fact, it's still here. You need only cross the estuary from Portimao to Ferragudo for a taste of the real thing - a fishing village as authentic and lively as any in Europe.
The fleet may not be quite what it was. But Ferragudo harbour still has a great cast of harbour characters, from the salty old sea-dogs, to the local 'artists' wasting time at the cafe tables.
If you get homesick for chicken tikka, apple crumble or bacon butties, you will get your fix at several snack bars in Albufeira. If you hanker for proper Portuguese nosh, there's plenty of it.
The classic Algarve dish is the cataplana, shellfish and sometimes meat, cooked together in a copper pan.
Seafood is a strong point, grilled, fried, or stewed in caldeirada. The most typical is grilled sardines. You see them everywhere, sizzling over the coals.
Within a few miles inland of the coast, by way of winding antiquated roads, lies some of the wildest countryside in Portugal.
On the way there are rustic villages such as Alte, where springs gush into the river past terraces and gardens; and towns such as Silves with its tremendous fortress, and Loule, famous for its daily produce market.
Expensive food and drink
Declan had all the impetuosity on a course that raw talent brings. I had raw tendons that being whipped on a tennis court brings. It's my touch around the greens that Carlos went to work on, with a technique that involved talking the ball into the hole - unbelievably, it brought me results.
The resort itself has a beautifully manicured nine-hole pitch and putt course, an extensive putting green, a very short driving range which did nothing for me and an 18-hole mini golf course which Declan loved because he kept winning on it. Something which I consistently tried to negate by telling him it required only luck and no skill - a bit like my game generally, but I won't admit to that until he twigs on.
The real golf action, though, is outside the resort. Vila Vita Parc guests can have access to 21 of the top courses in the area - for a fee, of course.
The best things for me about golf on that holiday were winning and buggies - I would have settled for just one of them on the tennis court - and to be honest only two things resulted in me leaving the resort complex.
One was the golf and the second was the expensive food and drink. I eventually decided similar eats and drinks could be had elsewhere at half the price. Having said that, food was always of a high standard.
Dishes ranged from fresh Algarvean seafood and Portuguese regional gastronomy to the finest French and Italian food. In fact if you were to stay for a week or less you would miss the chance to sample all eight restaurants - though you could do the rounds of the seven bars.
I went to Vila Vita initially to get my golf together and enjoy getting closer to my son. I did both these things but in the process - thanks to the resort's truly impressive health centre - I got myself together as well, and enjoyed every minute of it.
So much so that I intend making it there a few more times during the autumn and winter months.
TRAVEL DETAILS:
Hidden Retreats (tel: 0161 926 9262) offers breaks at the Hotel Vila Vita Parc.
Tempting little restaurants
It really is the kind of place you could happily not set foot out of for a whole fortnight.
Nick and my dad were constantly glued to Channel 4 watching 'back to back Tests', whatever they may be, but we did manage a few child-friendly excursions.
It was a great relief to my mum to discover that the roads in the Algarve are in really good shape - she still has nightmares about the treacherous mountain tracks and sheer drops that we experienced in Corsica last year - so we coaxed her into the minibus and first carted her off to Tavira.
Straddling the River Gilao, Tavira is a very pleasant town and fishing port with more churches than you could imagine possible.
The riverbanks are lined with attractive rather Baroque houses and tempting little restaurants.
It was here that we first experienced a cataplana. As the kids wept, bellowed and hurled whatever they could at the other diners, we were served up with a fantastic copper wok bubbling full of prawns, lobster tails, crab, razor fish and clams.
The cataplana is the Algarve's signature dish - a fantastic stew of shellfish and more.
There are many variations on the theme and each restaurant has its own idea of what should go into the dish; another day we had a version that included bread and eggs bobbing around on top (not so highly recommended).
Nick, who does all our cooking at home, was so impressed by the whole cataplana thing that he immediately went off to a local store and bought a cataplana pan himself.
Prices are unbelievable
Today, estate agents are advertising tiny two bedroom apartments for £406,000, and a decent plot of land approaches £1 million.
That's before you start building your villa, which must have the requisite pool, patio and proximity to the long sandy beaches.
'When I came it was just a wasteland, with a few huts where old ladies travelled in their horse and carts along the dirt track,' sighs Beverley, who owns the Pine Trees Riding Centre.
'It was mainly ex-colonials and the atmosphere was very genteel. Nowadays the prices are unbelievable. People spend £2 million on a house they live in for two weeks of the year.'
Many would say, of course, that the steeply rising prices reflect not only the superb golf courses, the proximity to Faro airport (15 minutes away after a two-and-a-half hour flight from London) but the beauty of the surroundings: Quinta is next to the Ria Formosa, a 40-mile stretch of sand-dunes, offshore islands and lagoons rich in birdlife.
It is prime territory for walking holidays and in the summer it offers a welcome respite from the razzmatazz of other sections of this highly-developed coast.
Chris Evans's new villa complex (he has bought two neighbouring properties for £2.5 million) is tucked away down a winding road nearby, festooned with palm, fig and almond trees.
While work on his property is going on, Evans lives five minutes away, in a beautiful Moorish whitewashed villa.
So exclusive is Quinta do Lago that there is no need for the high walls and electronic security gates that feature at so many celebrity homes in Britain and the U.S.
While in the summer locals complain that the resort is becoming packed and frenetic, the pace of life in Quinta at this time of year is slow.
It is a good time to travel if you like golf, but the nightlife is decidedly wholesome.
Filthy and triumphant
So far, so good - I had not yet encountered any ancient railways. But if I was set on being resistant to their charm, the following day made me a convert.
My most embarrassing display of ignorance was to turn up at the station wearing white trousers. Sent to change, I made it back to the station only just in time to witness the arrival of the impressive black and red 1923 German locomotive.
Climbing aboard one of the wooden coaches, I caught sight of my son's beaming face, and realised how much this all meant not just to him but to every male present.
Numerous photo stops later we arrived at Vila Real, where we visited the 18th-century Mateus House and gardens, complete with maze and dark cedar tunnel, into which Joseph of course immediately disappeared.
On the return journey, Christy and Joseph took in turns to ride up front in the cab with the driver.
By evening I had never seen father and son so filthy, or so triumphant.
The next day took us on another steam train, this time a steep climb up the Tua Valley. Joseph pointed excitedly to old cable cars, once the only form of travel available for locals to reach their villages.
My son now begged to go on one. I looked at the drop below, and swallowed hard.
Later, all the passengers apart from myself and Joe, who was snoozing in my lap, simultaneously rushed to the windows on one side, tipping the cable car precariously above a precipice, like some mad Western. I shut my eyes and prayed.
Celebrate local culture
The best, however, was Alfonso II's vast, severe castle at Alcacer do Sal, where the medieval simplicity of the building had been matched by a restrained modernism.
The architect who carried out the conversion used dark wood, plain stone and naturally dyed fabrics to achieve something that looks like a photo spread from the style magazine Wallpaper, but is comfortable as well.
Pousadas celebrate local culture. Each one's restaurant makes great play of its regional specialities.
We were offered dishes made from acorn-fed pork amid the cork-oaks at Serpa; and I'm sure that on our drive up to Ourem we saw a close relative of the rabbit that was waiting for us, wrapped in cabbage leaves, on our dinner table.
Some of the cooking was very good (the soft meringue pudding at Ourem was even better than the rabbit), and some rather more modest in both ambition and achievement.
The Pousada management has, it seems, recently caught up with the Seventies enthusiasm for piped music.
The preferred play list shifts between Vivaldi's Four Seasons and the sounds of the Amazonian Rainforest. This is unfortunate. A selection of the appropriate regional folk music would be more in keeping with the Pousada tradition.
And - from the little I heard of Portuguese folk music - it might have the benefit of making enough people complain for the din to be silenced for ever.
Anyone for a selfish cocktail?
Oporto may be on the Atlantic coast, but it is also at the heart of Europe. What would Norman Tebbit, say, have made of restaurants where prices were given in euros as well as escudos? He would probably have choked on his fish and chips.
But if ever there were a European city where a Little Englander could feel at home, this is it. The Anglo-Portuguese connection goes back a long way; it is more than the love of port that has bound together the two countries.
One of the squares boasts a magnificent statue commemorating the victory of the Luso-British forces over the French in the Peninsular War. The British lion is pounding the life out of the French eagle, which looks very much the worse for wear. It would bring a lump to the most Eurosceptic throat.
In the restaurants, the warmth extended to foreign visitors was palpable. Language barriers were enthusiastically swept aside. One middle-aged maitre d' made a series of bleating noises to indicate that the dish of the day was lamb. It would never happen at the Savoy.
At another restaurant, the English translation of the menu was so dire that it was a choice between the 'selfish cocktail' and the 'fish kettful'. I went for the kettful and was rewarded with one of the most sensational dishes I have ever tasted - a steaming bowl of monkfish, potatoes and peppers cooked with saffron. It cost less than a tenner, would have fed two and it kept my mind off port for a full 15 minutes.
But not much more than that. To come to the home of port, and practically marinade in the stuff, was the real treat. The memories may be hazy, but the haze is the colour of deepest ruby.
Enthusiastic Victorian botanists
It was the coming of the Cook family in 1856 that truly transformed Montserrate into the extraordinary.
Francis Cook was a textile millionaire of Cook & Son, a St Paul's drapers. More than 2,000 men worked for five years reshaping the house - work described by the writer Rose Macaulay as 'barbarous orientalism... constructed in a Moorish delirium' and brought over the head gardener at Kew to advise on landscaping.
Plants, trees and shrubs were brought to Montserrate from all over the world: Australia, New Zealand and Mexico and other countries of the New World that were yielding up exciting specimens to a new generation of enthusiastic Victorian botanists.
Kaurie pines from New Zealand, for example, Norfolk Island pines, more than two dozen varieties of palm trees, seven species of native Portuguese oak.
The gardens extended literally as far as the eye could see: the wealthy Viscount Cook had bought the view as far as the distant horizon. The result of these endeavours was a house and gardens as wonderful as Stourhead, as fantastic as Hearst Castle in San Simeon and as richly stocked as Kew Gardens.
Montserrate remained with the Cooks until the Second World War, by which time a slump in the textile business had deprived the family of the bulk of its fortune.
But for most of the time of its ownership, the house and gardens continued to be improved. The garden, for example, boasted the first lawn in the whole of the Iberian peninsular.
Hard, granite-paved walkways snake through the gardens - running beside the pavements is a gravity-fed irrigation system of breathtaking-ingenuity which now looks as if it has been fully restored.
Maintaining the gardens was a massive enterprise: during Montserrate's heyday in the Twenties it needed a full-time gardening force of 72 people. All this for a house which the Cook family would visit for just two months a year.
After the house was sold by the Cooks to the Portuguese government in 1946, the gardens quickly got out of hand. The intricate irrigation system blocked up, conduits spilled water on to the granite pathways, washing many away along with the elaborate terracing.
Even worse, the trees grew out of control, depriving the ferns and creepers below of sunlight. The huge waterfall vanished behind a tangle of undergrowth, the ruined chapel disappeared under a thicket of bamboo.
Last weekend I was at last able to see the park as it must have looked in its heyday - very beautiful and very quiet with only the occasional bird call disturbing the silence.
Thirteen years ago the big house was garlanded in bougainvillea and fringed by superb Bird of Paradise flowers. Now, it is finally undergoing restoration and is garlanded in scaffolding.
We've never forgotten that first serendipitous visit to Montserrate - and it's wonderful to see those original plans for its restoration have now been realised.
TRAVEL FACTS:
Frank Barrett stayed at the Lapa Palace in Lisbon. Reservations through Leading Hotels on 0800 181 123 or http://www.orient-express.com
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| | | | Orange groves and carob trees
Within 10 miles you're in deep countryside. From Portimao, I headed north towards the mountains of Monchique, half-an-hour by car - a landscape of orange groves and carob trees merged into dense forests of cork oak.
Above the spa village of Caldas de Monchique I parked on the roadside and set off on a path among the oak woods. There I found my dream home.
It was an abandoned farmhouse with lemon groves and a gushing spring. It had sensational views down to the plain, with the towers of Portimao and the Atlantic glittering in the distance.
It might not be a match for Chris and Billie's, but it'll do for me.
TRAVEL DETAILS:
EasyJet (http://www.easyjet.com, tel. 0870 6000 000) flies daily to Faro from Luton Airport. TAP Air Portugal, Monarch, and British Airways all operate direct flights from London airports.
Accommodation: Quinta Do Rio Country Inn, Sitio de Sao Estevao, apartado 217 Silves (tel: 00 351 282 445 528): Run by a charming Italian couple, this farmhouse near the walled town of Silves offers rural tranquillity at a reasonable price. Six neat rooms, all with bathrooms. Italian dinners a speciality, courtesy of Signora Bullini.
Pensao Central, Termas de Monchique (tel: 00 351282 910910, fax: 910990): Fine modern hotel, one of the three or four options in this pretty spa village. Elegant public rooms, country-house-style decoration.
Hotel Quinta Do Lago, Quinta do Lago, Almansil 8135 (tel: 00 351 289 350350): The building is a classic modern 'stack' hotel. But the luxurious fittings and slick service of this big five-star palace more than make up for the architecture.
Where to eat: Marisqueira Praca Velha, Mercado da Ribeira (Loja 1), Tavira (tel: 00 351 281 325 866): Agreeable restaurant in the converted fish market. Great cataplanas, grilled fish and shellfish. Not the cheapest in town, but one of the best.
O Cantinho Algarvio, Rua Afonso de Almeida, Lagos (tel: 00 351 282 761 289): Portuguese cooking (grilled meats and fish, wild boar, rabbit casserole), in a friendly atmosphere.
Prone to nostalgia
Sadly it came pre-coated with a factory varnish that keeps it copper-brite for the tourists, and he hasn't yet managed to apply the elbow grease that will get rid of it and turn the pan into a proper cooking utensil.
Anyway, it looks lovely on the floor of his study.
Beyond Tavira, it's a short drive to the beach at Cabanas. This is a fairly well developed resort for the Eastern Algarve but it's still very low key.
None of the buildings seems to be more than three or four stories high and there's no beach out front.
You need to take a ferry to get to the beach - a 12-person launch with an outboard that whizzes you along the estuary a couple of hundred yards and deposits you on the other side of the sand bank.
You pass beachcombers looking for shells and fishermen standing in the estuary mud searching for clams and razor shells.
Nick said it reminded him of the North Norfolk coast in the mid-Seventies - all sea holly, samphire and maram grass. He is prone to nostalgia, so I ignored him.
Once off the ferry, a walkway leads you to the beach itself which is immaculately clean and busy, but not overpopulated.
The care that the Portugese government has taken to preserve the coast around here is fantastic; lifeguards on the beach, a cafe, toilets, sunbeds and shades (about £7 per day) showers and a first-aid centre.
And when you get down to the water's edge, the sea is clear blue and teeming with hermit crabs, sea anemones and guppies.
Paparazzi are almost unknown
One wonders what 19-year-old Billie makes of it all, now that even Rumours, the nightclub-cum- sports bar in nearby Almancil, has closed to make way for a trattoria.
Paparazzi are almost unknown here, and the local newspapers, such as The News and APN, tend to focus on property prices, nature walks and the current amateur production of Snow White And The Seven Vertically Challenged People at the Lagos Cultural Centre.
Here, Billie can work on her tan safe in the knowledge that no one is the slightest bit interested that she topped the charts at the age of 15, or that her husband is the most famous ex-DJ in Britain.
If they walk into the Melting Pot, the only thing Chris will be asked about is his golfing handicap, or whether his delicate skin is burning in the heat.
TRAVEL FACTS:
HOW TO GET THERE
Low-cost airline Go flies to Faro from London Stansted, Bristol. Visit http://www.go-fly.com or tel: 0870 6076 543. GB Airways goes to Faro from Heathrow and Gatwick. Tel: 0845 773 3377. TAP Air Portugal flies to Faro from Heathrow. Tel: 0845 601 0932.
WHO GOES THERE?
Golfers, pleasure-seekers, sunbathers, tennis players, watersports enthusiasts. Sophisticated and sporty, the Algarve is not a destination that attracts boozers, ravers and yobs.
As a keen golfer, Chris Evans can choose from three championship courses within the Quinta do Lago development. Billie, meanwhile, can shop for designer clothes at the Quinta Shopping Centre.
WHERE TO STAY
The Hotel Quinta do Lago. Tel: 00 351 289 350 350. The Bras de Alportel Pousada, close to the Quinta do Lago. Tel: 00 351 21 844 2001. The Tivoli Marinotel in Vilamoura. Tel: 00 351 289 303303.
Wentworth Travel offers a golf package to Hotel Quinta do Lago with B&B accommodation, flights, car hire and four green fees on Quinta do Lago course. Reservations, tel: 01344 844541.
WHAT TO DO
Play golf, of course. But the Algarve is good for families, too, with zoos, theme parks and waterparks such as the Slide and Splash near Lagoa, and the Big One, near Alcantarilha.
It is also good walking country. In the Ria Formosa Natural Park is the Sao Lourenço Trail, with rare species of flora and fauna, and the lakeside Quinta do Lago trail.
Posh shops in Porto
Lunch, a wonderful dish of lamb with peppers and potatoes in the pretty town of Mirandela, restored us all enormously.
More port tasting as we changed trains later in the afternoon put us all in an even more relaxed mood. This holiday was turning out to be far better than I could possibly have imagined.
Our last stop was Porto - City of European Culture 2001, and a place which deserves a trip all to itself.
This huge, battered city, is being almost completely rebuilt. Beautiful blue-tiled greystone cathedrals tower above the cobbled streets, while Art Deco shopfronts jostle with designer stores to rival Milan.
I was seduced by Rua De Santa Caterina, a pedestrian precinct of posh shops and cafes, while Joseph spent a happy hour in the shopping centre's creche, unperturbed by being unable to speak a word of Portuguese.
Feeling guilty, we returned to collect him - to find him in perfect bliss, being cuddled by the staff.
Travelling to the airport the next day, even I had a pang of regret that there would be no more trains.
But Joseph had the last word: 'Mummy, can't we get on the plane and start all over again?'
Travel facts: Clare and her family travelled to Portugal with PTG Tours. Tel: 0870 746 6400 or visit http://www.ptg.co.uk
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| | | | Barbecue was constantly lit
It was lovely to buy the kids little fishing nets with the prospect that they might, for once, catch something more interesting than raw sewage.
A short drive further along the coast, you'll find another beach resort, Praia Del Rey. This time, the beach itself is reached via a miniature railway that runs you through the hordes of scuttling crabs on the estuary mud to another spotless stretch of sand.
There are a couple of restaurants in a very tasteful little development here and we took our opportunity to enjoy the compulsory grilled sardines and cold beers at lunch time - excellent.
Again, the beach is buzzy and well serviced but not overcrowded. If you walk just a couple of hundred yards in either direction, you're practically alone.
Interestingly, the further you get away from the throng, the greater is the degree of nudity. If you're prudish, I'd stop after 250 yards or so because there's every chance you could encounter a bit of full frontal.
One thing you won't encounter is hordes of beer-swigging Brits. There's no throbbing club culture in the Eastern Algarve, it really is the perfect place to enjoy a quiet, old-style bucket-and-spade beach holiday.
If you travel westwards towards Albufeira things apparently get a bit livelier and you'll find endless water theme parks and such like to amuse the kiddies.
But the odd beach excursion was all we managed before retreating to the luxurious quiet of Fonte Das Flores.
Despite its genuinely secluded position, Fonte Das Flores has recently been blessed with a fantastic 'Intermarche' supermarket only a mile or so away, so the cupboards were never bare and the barbecue was constantly lit.
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| | | | Real cracker of a local
As usual, Nick tried to take a 14-day crash course in the local wines and discovered that the Lagoa Reserva was a very reasonable option at under £2 a bottle and the perfect accompaniment to the barbecued food he was churning out.
We occasionally let him leave the hot coals and go off in search of the local bar-restaurant.
At Fonte Das Flores, you are furnished with a real cracker of a local. Ten minutes' walk down the drive from the villa, Llagar De Mesquita is an eccentric, rustic affair that doesn't seem to open at lunchtime.
We trundled down to their pleasant terrace on our first visit to find a couple of dazed and charming waiters who appeared to have something to do with the place.
After lots of smiling and hand signals, we ordered beers and gin and tonics and were promised a dinner of 'lots of starters'.
While we waited for the dinner, Dylan and Molly played with the chef's son, David, and it was really idyllic.
Eventually, despite our protests, David was ushered away - apparently he had been playing with some tourist kids the week before and one of them had broken their arm.
The food here was always plentiful and very tasty - a kind of Portugese tapas consisting of endless unfamiliar dishes that no one really had good enough English to explain to us.
Every trip to Llagar De Mesquita seemed eventful in some way.
One night we arrived to be told that there was 'special party with wild boar and beans stew'.
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| | | | Low key and relaxing
The stew was wonderful comfort food, but the 'party' never turned up which was a shame because the dazed and charming waiters had been forced to wear what looked like monks' habits for the do.
Following the monks theme, another night we ate inside the restaurant and were entertained by the most extraordinary musical feast on the overhead TV projector.
I have not often eaten to the sound of a Gregorian chant, but I can highly recommend it.
Nick glazed over mid-mouthful and looked up at the screen where The Masters Of Gregorian Chant were performing modern hits in an ancient style while marching up and down Santiago De Compostella.
'Oh my God,' choked Nick. 'I think they're singing a Gregorian version of Vienna by Ultravox.' And they were. Truly outstanding.
The food was always good here, though not bargain-priced by Algarve standards and the service erratic but heartfelt.
They even let Nick use a phoneline at the back of the kitchen to access the Internet and |
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