the footsteps of Jose Saramago
Incredible! I have to look at the sun. The air is so bracing that my nose finds comfort in the tissue. Find out from the museum (except for a few things madonna with child "Polychrome granite" that, until he touches it, you do not believe ...). I woke at the usual time and I had breakfast in the restaurant. I came to meet a lower chamber, neither young nor old, saying that it was self service, then down again to speak at a table with a gentleman.
"And 'Mr. War?" I wanted to ask ... but then, if it was, what to do next? and if it had been, there would come a little uplifting comedy ... I mean I ate and I paid with VISA. Another waiter brings me my suitcase to the car.
It 'good to shoot on the streets of the cool look, but maybe you should go in the SE to better see the altarpiece of the main altar. The work is impressive, but lacking momentum. I should point out, hung on the windows, spider webs, black as night, is not an easy thing to remove them, in heaven above ...
Finally I sit still on the bench of a church, like the bums De Gregori , but without smoke. E 'SE of Torre de Moncorvo now Tras-os-Montes. A long way I did and I still have so much to do before nightfall. And 'perhaps the longest leg of this trip, certainly the most tormented, because of the curves, mountains and rivers.
This time the air in the vault is full of a secular Fabello (that shiny new and nice) expanded by a full hands Barefoot woman on the side altar which cleans everything quest'abbandono. If it looks clean a nonsense ... but it is not, try it.
Looking good, women are different, at least five and you are brave, that the church is great and a lot of dust. Then that smell, as well as do well to wood, it stimulates thoughts on uncertain and anomalous ways: what I wrote is proof.
This is a cruise power, supported by massive cylindrical columns. The three naves are the same height, to create a space for "big room" at all interesting.
I moved to the churchyard, where a long stone bench as a bench that goes all around the church.
The sun no longer burns more and I take this opportunity to recap the trip so far from view.
I went for Almeida, a city-fortress, now out of the world, as some villages by electric trains, with the post office, the immaculate facades, the clock tower on the square, the gardens, loggias with bar tables, everything perfectly clean and tidy, because its missing the train ...
I continued to Castelo Rodrigo, even abandoned, if not for the restoration and adaptation, but if this was better for him if they were forgotten completely.
Then I ventured to a small road between the fields to the monastery of Aguiar, where man has stalked me the key / escorted, shouting in his language, a lengthy commentary essential to the stranger, dressed up with many muy bonito, Just to be international. Are you expecting a prize, was disappointed: the traveler continued on his way.
To get here in Torre de Moncorvo I crossed and recrossed the Douro , mighty river that is missing in Italy.
The grim facade of this church is missing from us, with this huge bell tower that is the whole front, a long series of "pins" marks the seats of stone and could not, too, being made of the same subject.
It 's late, I have to restart for the final goal of Miranda do Douro and are perhaps only half way.
shame because the town seems interesting, with a life of its quiet rhythms and bland, but certainly different.
Mogadouro only has a stop for some photos to a donkey or a mule (the responsibility of the traveler is not up to the rural environment) that seek some green wire in the ruins of an old tower, the same as the painter-boy of English. In fact, even today there is a painter, who certainly is well once he was a boy, but I did not read it yet the episode and then add gloss to the rear.
The road is long and endless, then finally to a road straight up and down I decided, finally you get to Miranda.
Seeking accommodation and now I find it nice and cheap, and once more called Tourism. Usually with a shower and relax Superquark new for these parts. From outside come the goals for Portugal, which must have overwhelmed the Germans, judging by frequency of roars. I go out for dinner, but is in the old part (beyond the bridge) that there is no restaurant in the new open, and this evening is not to be picky or difficult.
Here in the mountains, the border area, moreover, the night falls early and fast, all adapt except the tourist who would like to find nightlife and attractions as if it were to Lisboa. Since however there are no other hobbies and everything seems dead, except for some light and joy at the victory decomposed football, the traveler, and sadly it back slightly in the room (No. 309).
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