zhisou

We drove West.  Zamora behind us, Portugal ahead.   We climbed up and soon crossed the border.  It was a pleasing border, not just a line in the sand or a parallel decided by treaty: this was proper geography.  A huge wide gulley with deep valley sides.  The only way across by the sweeping viaduct linking the two countries.

I like borders to feel natural.  Like there’s a real cultural watershed – fall on one side and it’s not just Spanish speakers, but Spanish people, Spanish culture – like the land is somehow actually Spanishy.  The other side something genuinely different.  A distinction made by nature not man.

The road signs changed colour, from blue to green.  It looked different.  The road numbering system suddenly changed too and I realised that I should have maybe done a spot of research before setting out.

Bragança is isolated.  It was only in the 1990s that the single-lane A-road made it there.  Before that it was just windy country lanes for countless hours.  It was (still is) easier to get to from Spain than from Portugal yet no one speaks Spanish nor seems to be aware of Spain at all.   Menus have German and English translations, but not Spanish.  Hotel staff say they speak Spanish but they tell you this in Portuguese.

The citadel at the top of the hill is lovely. It’s what Portugal is supposed to be, castles and steep cobbled streets.   Ramshackle hotch-potch houses crowded into twee narrow alleyways.   The genuine medieval fair was in town, stalls sold genuine medieval stuff like bead necklaces and joss sticks. All genuine.  Some gypsies gave horse rides round the block for €5 – the girl, Margot, was lovely – long riding boots and Tank Girl top.  I stared.  I let my daughter ride round the block while I stared at Margot.  The horse trod on a boy’s foot, he cried.  I stared at Margot.  I nearly cried too.

We ate in a restaurant chosen from the Lonely Planet guide book (Lá em Casa).  It was perfect.   We ate beef with mushrooms, served with apple slices and rice.  I like the idea of putting fruit in savoury dishes.   It was wonderful.  They had homemade desserts.  We felt strongly that we deserved a homemade dessert after our lunch experience (here):  the chocolate mousse tinged with the sweet taste of justice.