Unexpected Portugal: A Journey of Contrast and Rediscovery

Nomadic Tales

As I look back through my photos and notes from Portugal, I’m struck by how few there are. The sparse documentation owes itself largely to the sensory overload I experienced during the seven intense weeks in Morocco. After the vibrant chaos and saturated colors there, the serene whitewashed towns of Portugal felt almost muted by contrast. I still remember the wave of disappointment that hit me as I crossed the Strait of Gibraltar, finding little that captivated me for days. It felt like a kind of withdrawal, and for nearly a month I struggled to stay motivated, with only a few places managing to reignite my curiosity:

Cádiz and El Puerto de Santa María - Both towns are deeply connected to the life and voyages of Christopher Columbus. Cádiz, in particular, has a park filled with South American plant species, including towering sequoias that some claim were brought back by Columbus himself. The city also impresses with an abundance of ornately decorated metal frame balconies.

Lisbon and Porto - These architectural marvels shine literally thanks to their dazzling façades of painted ceramic tiles. Lisbon’s vintage trams, Porto’s iconic Luís I Bridge, and the national obsession with azulejos (decorative ceramic tiles) are just a few of the reasons I could easily imagine living there for a while.

Seville - Another highlight, Seville boasts magnificent tilework and one of the largest Gothic cathedrals in the world. Its 105-meter-tall Moorish tower, the Giralda, was originally a minaret modeled after the Koutoubia Mosque in Marrakech.

In Portugal, I had to learn to pay closer attention to the nature around me to keep the journey engaging. The coastal natural parks in the south offered themed trails winding along cliffs and overlooking lagoons teeming with biodiversity. Using apps like Merlin (for birds), PlantNet, and InsectNet, I discovered the Atlantic coast could be an adventure all its own.

As I approached Lisbon and the increasingly crowded metro area, it became harder to find suitable places to camp. I tried to stay on the quieter eastern side of the Sado Estuary before crossing to Setúbal by ferry. I usually avoid arriving in cities in the evening because it adds pressure to find accommodation quickly, which can be stressful. Much of the land along the left bank of the estuary is a protected nature reserve of marine sand dunes, strictly off-limits and patrolled, with fences and signs warning of prosecution. So, camping proved difficult either because places before the reservation were still too far, or after the reservation crowds were heading toward the Atlantic beaches or picnicking along the estuary. I navigated sandy tracks back and forth, struggling to push the bike, but still found nowhere suitable to camp. Eventually, I gave up and crossed to Setúbal late in the evening, taking the first available accommodation. The reward? Pushing my bike up a ridiculously steep and narrow staircase to the upper floor.

One night, I pitched my tent at the edge of a tree farm, as far from the road as possible to ensure privacy and minimize traffic noise. Just beyond a line of trees marking the edge of the plot, a few rusted pieces of farming machinery stood seemingly abandoned. I had nearly finished setting up when a middle-aged man appeared out of nowhere. Dressed in ragged clothes, he looked like a vagrant. Despite the language barrier, we managed the usual exchange “Where are you from?” and “Are you sleeping here?” until he mentioned “cobras” while waving his arm like a snake. I panicked, thinking of the venomous snakes I don’t want to encounter.

A quick check on Google Translate calmed me down: cobra simply means “snake” in Portuguese, with no particular reference to the venomous king of snakes. But while I was distracted by my phone, the man disappeared without a trace, spiking my anxiety again. Given his appearance, I thought he must be sleeping near the machinery. I searched around the tractors and trailers, above and below, but he was gone.

Eventually, I spotted him in a nearby cornfield. What I hadn’t realized, thanks to a visual illusion, was that a small access road ran through the field about 50 meters away, invisible from where I had set up. He was just a farmer, sun-worn and dressed in rugged work clothes. But in the fading light and outside any clear context, he could easily have passed for a homeless man.

Portugal, Apr 2023

 

Unforgettable Sights & Hidden Gems

Azulejos: Hand Painted Tiles That Tell Portugal’s Story

Portugal’s fascination with ceramic tiles stretches back centuries. Introduced to the Iberian Peninsula by the Moors in the 8th century, these decorative tiles - known as azulejos - were widely used in medieval times to embellish palaces, churches, and monasteries. More than just decoration, azulejos became a vivid form of storytelling and artistic expression.

But their appeal isn’t purely aesthetic. Azulejos are also practical. Their glazed surfaces make them highly resistant to weather, particularly Portugal’s humid coastal climate. They protect buildings from rain and salty sea air while requiring minimal maintenance. Additionally, the reflective surfaces help regulate interior temperatures by bouncing sunlight away, an important benefit in Portugal’s Mediterranean heat.

Over the centuries, azulejos have evolved into a distinctly Portuguese art form, embodying national identity, religious devotion, and regional craftsmanship. Today, Lisbon’s National Tile Museum (Museu Nacional do Azulejo) offers a fascinating look into the history and evolution of this tradition. Yet, the city itself feels like an open-air painted tile museum - its streets lined with dazzling façades that turn everyday architecture into a public art gallery.

Roadside Hacks

Laundry on the road is always a chore, whether you’re washing by hand or using a machine. On cold days, it’s usually worth heading for the closest laundromat near me. Jackets and long trousers quickly fill up a washing machine, and without warm sun, an electric dryer becomes essential.

In summer, though, things are easier. A few t-shirts and pairs of shorts can be washed by hand, dry quickly in the sun, and it’s both faster and more economical than using a machine.

Coin laundry comes with its own set of challenges, beyond just adding to the cost. One major issue is not knowing how each machine works. Some require you to bring your own detergent, while others have automatic dispensers. If you have to add it manually, it’s often confusing to figure out how much detergent to use and where to put it. With automatic dispensers, there's always a risk they won’t work at all, leaving you with damp, unwashed clothes and wasted time and money. Sometimes, too much detergent leads to excessive foaming, noticeable with the front load washers, and even after rinsing, residue remains on your clothes.

Other common frustrations include arriving to find all machines in use, dealing with malfunctioning or outdated machines, or using dryers that are so clogged they don’t dry your clothes even after an hour of tumbling.

The best solution, at least on warm days, is to use a dry bag as a makeshift wash basin. Just add your clothes, water, and detergent, seal it, and shake or turn the clothes with your hand in a circular motion, just like a washing machine. Rinse 2–3 times, and you’re done. It’s low-tech, efficient, and perfectly suited for minimalist travel.