Victoria's Voyage

My first afternoon at Nutshell Cottage was a largely relaxing one. My auntie and I sat in the garden for a while catching up over a light lunch, before taking a short afternoon walk down a pebbly and dusty lane that had had the car practically bouncing several hours prior, talking all things travel as we did so. Hopes, dreams, experiences, her time in Africa.

Walking turned out to be a smart move, my energy slowly returning with the motion of actually doing something other than slumping around feeling all sleepy after my journey. And it brought us to another quick drink followed by preparations for a welcome meal out at a regular local haunt that I actually adored. Jogger shorts and an old t-shirt made way for a floaty dress and light cardigan, whilst makeup adorned my face for the first time since Friday. It was safe to say I very much looked forward to seeing what all the hype was about this place I’d heard talked about so much.

Located in São Martinho das Amoreirasasa, Casa Nirvana is another gorgeously decorated establishment, with a clear message and vibe of peace, tranquility and all-round goodwill – a trait which would soon be proven.

Pulling into the car park, we were met with a sudden, loud banging sound. What the hell was that?! We pulled up, stepped out of the car. What we saw was a small dent and lines of scraped metal along the bodywork, and a back tire already fully sunken into the scrubland beneath it. That car was going nowhere and we had a reservation to make. We resolved to ask inside.

Entering through Casa Nirvana’s leafy archway is like entering some kind of magical secret garden. Up a few steps and you reach the main entrance to what is a clearly well-considered space along with the calming aura they say they offer. We were seated by a lovely, soft-voiced young woman who assured us not to worry about the tire, to relax and enjoy, that they would sort it out once we were finished. This notion offered some relief, at least, that we wouldn’t be stranded all night. We ordered drinks and I finally had a chance to fully take in our surroundings. We were seated near the entrance, on a cosy little table for two. Draped effortlessly overhead were large square cloths with elephants and other intricate patterns. Around those were mismatched metal and wicker lampshades that gave off a slightly warm hue. To our left, a wall of lush greenery so dense that you would never believe you were sitting right by the main road.

The fish and chips was beautiful – albeit too large for either of us to fully conquer – and the slice of chocolate torte I sampled afterwards was even more divine. Nirvana does not serve any alcohol, so I opted to try a bottle of Raspberry and Thyme Soda. NOT disappointed! The fruity flavours accompanied the food perfectly. During the meal, we were approached several times about the car, until a kind gentleman named Krishna instructed us again to just relax, enjoy and ask for him before leaving. Then he would see if he could help.

By this time, the sun was already low in the sky. We hadn’t much daylight left so we paid the bill, thanked them all and headed back to our grounded vehicle. I stood watching, a little useless, as the car was jacked up and the wheel fiddled with. As you can probably tell, cars are not my forté! So far so good, until it came to actually removing the wheel. Krishna pulled and pulled and kicked and turned and pulled some more, but the pesky hunk of metal simply refused to budge. He shook his head.

“I need to get help. You just wait here.”

He was gone for quite some time. We stood around, paced in circles, watching the last remnants of daylight fade into the blackness of nightfall. What could be taking so long? The next moment was like something out of a movie. Another vehicle pulled into the car park, headlights blaring. I stood out behind the car where an array of tools and other belongings were still scattered on the ground to make sure they wouldn’t be accidentally run over. The car, however, stopped right in front of me and someone waved through the windshield.

Out poured the Casa Nirvana staff with tools, torches, strong arms ready to give it another shot. Our rescue team had come back for us after all, an assembly of hospitality professions turned enthusiastic mechanics for the night – probably not what they expected when arriving at work that morning. It was a prime example that genuinely good people do exist as they could have simply left us to call someone. But they didn’t; they went out of their way to help and their collective efforts paid off. Finally, the spare was firmly attached and we were good to go home.

“So, what are we drinking when we get back?” my auntie said with a light chuckle, as we made our way back towards the cottage.

“I don’t know, but I was going to suggest we’d need one after this!”

Monday morning, the sun shining once more, I had a slow start whilst my auntie drove down to the garage to see about getting her tire replaced properly. I found myself drawn back into the garden, where birds chirped, owls hooted, plants rustled and a black cat called Tony prowled. The perfect opportunity for a little writing time before starting our day properly.

A little later, new tire in tow, we visited the nearby town of Ourique. It was so typically Portugese, including the hills! My legs got a proper workout for sure, everything sweating! Up we climbed, higher and higher along a cobbled road lined with characterful whitewashed houses with coloured window and door trims, until a large stone archway loomed on the horizon, making way for a stunningly designed viewpoint area – Miradouro Ramiro Sobral.

All the vibrant leaves and colourful flowers weaving their way around their stone host structures created a beautifully romantic atmosphere, and made you feel as though you were somewhere truly special, maybe a palace or some royal gardens. Well worth the burning legs, I’d say. Up here also was a statue depicting D. Alfonso Henriques, Portugal’s first ever king. From here, we circled round and back down the hill, stopping in at a local cafe for a sandwich and drink before the short journey back home.

Driving back I think we were both ready for a little siesta. Following a long, tree-lined road we were surrounded by clusters of large stork nests atop telephone poles and treetops. I wished I could have taken some photos as the parents soared overhead, leaving and returning to care for their young. Still, a joy to see.

A spot of Queens tennis through the afternoon (watching, not playing!) and a homecooked meal later = day accomplished.