River cruises offer a unique way to visit Portugal's hidden gems, including smaller towns like Coimbra and historic Salamanca. Photo / Kathy Lette
Australian author Kathy Lette explores the Douro River on a vibrant cultural adventure.
When Robert Louis Stevenson said that it is “better to travel hopefully, than to arrive” he had clearly never been stuck on a seven-lane sub-orbital ring road sign-posted in a foreign language with a car full of hungry, desperate people who are quickly starting to resemble the passengers on the raft of the Medusa.
Europe is stunningly beautiful and historically mind-blowing; the whole place haemorrhages history with a host of ghosts in every nook and cranny, but it’s also chocker-block. Roads are choked and trains are full.
Flying around Europe is equally stressful. Sharing one toilet with hundreds of people with varying and sometimes idiosyncratic approaches to personal hygiene is bad enough but there’s nothing like feeling the warm cellulite of a lecherous stranger pressing into your thigh during a turbulent takeoff to make you really appreciate boating life.
READ MORE: 15 of the best things to do in Lisbon
Without a doubt, the most enjoyable way to explore Europe and experience its wonders is by ship. Every major city in Europe is built on a river because, before trains, planes and automobiles, the continent’s waterways were aquatic superhighways.
The best thing about cruising is not just the fact that you only unpack once, but you also get to leave your emotional baggage at the gangway, i.e. – no arguments about map reading or why men would rather die than ask for directions (which is why they always include a woman on the space shuttle now, don’t you think?) Cruising means you can have endless adventures in exciting new cities, while umbilically attached to the mother ship for comfort and safety.
Keen to catch up with my antipodean girlfriends, we decided to rendezvous in Lisbon before taking a cruise up the Douro River. The first two days, which the Viking brochure described as our “land cruise”, we spent exploring Lisbon’s many architectural treasures from the imposing Jorge castle through the vibrant bohemian district to a cathedral so magnificent, I had to tilt my head backwards so that my eyeballs wouldn’t fall out in amazement. At the sight of the baroque mosaic masterpiece of Sao Roque Church, I let out a swoon worthy of an Elvis concert.
It was then onto the maritime museum which celebrates the Golden Age of discovery when Portuguese caravels, led by legendary explorers like Ferdinand Magellan, set sail in search of the new world. Magellan became the first person to circumnavigate the globe in 1520.
On day three we were chauffeured to our ship in Porto, via Portugal’s oldest university town, Coimbra. It takes a lot to silence a gaggle of middle-aged gals but all five of us stood in hushed awe amid the majestic library’s 300,000 books. I left school aged 16, so to me, “erudite” is some kind of glue. But in these hallowed halls, I could feel myself absorbing knowledge by osmosis. My thirsty girlfriends had to drag me away, as a port tasting in Porto beckoned.
Picturesque Porto’s multi-coloured houses cluster like barnacles up steep banks to a city summit bristling with church spires. After roaming the historic Sao Bento train station, with its iconic white and blue tiled tales of Portuguese history and a stroll through the Romanesque cathedral decorated with intricate carvings and layered in gold leaf, it was time to head down toward the river.
To be honest, I did have some reservations about our reservation. I mean, Portugal is the sardine capital of the world. Would this week-long cruise be like floating along in a cramped tin can, packed as tightly as sardines?
Our sleek Viking boat was moored beneath the stunning, arched, double-tiered bridge, which spans the wide stretch of water like a horizontal Eiffel Tower. Once aboard, I was delightedly relieved to be ushered into a spacious cabin with a wide, sunny balcony, perfect for lazy hours watching the stunning scenery roll by, while eagles soar overhead and deer and ibex forage in the forests.
It is only by travelling on the river you truly appreciate the mighty landscapes that the gushing water has carved out over time. The Douro River flows through narrow canyons, steep gorges, dappled forests and ancient towns.
Our journey took us upstream to the Unesco World Heritage-listed wine region, where lush vineyards cascade down the undulating hills to the river’s sleepy banks.
We Antipodeans have a sense of humour drier than an AA clinic, but it’s the only dry thing about us. We do love a tipple and in Portugal, it’s always wine-o’clock. Wine has been produced in the area for more than 2000 years. At one enchanting vineyard after another, we were taught how to distinguish the dried fruit, hazelnut, almond, and caramel notes from the cherry, blueberry, raspberry and blackberry tangs. We eagerly drank our homework too, learning to differentiate the marmalade, spicey, smoky ports from the coffee, toffee, and tawny range.
After soaking up the atmosphere of these vast, fragrant cellars, where oak barrels mature the wine in deep time, we lounged on sun-soaked balconies to sip various vintages till we were “thunker than we drunk we were”.
At one chic boutique vineyard, our new-found Muscatel expertise made us feel fabulously sophisticated – only we were too tipsy to pronounce it. At another, we dived head-first into the Grappa – a case of burn baby burn. One sip of this rocket fuel and I thought I’d sprouted chest hair. Honestly, it made my nipples twirl.
In many of these traditional family-run vineyards, the wine is still crushed by foot. This process involves 40 or so people doing four hours of barefoot stomping. The first two hours are comprised of military marching which then, after a thirsty glug or 10, descends into a squelchy dance-fest. “We do wash our feet,” the cheery vintner reassured us, “although I can’t remember if it’s before or after”.
In one deep, sleepy cellar we ogled bottles of port worth 16,500 euros, available at 800 euros per glass. We learnt that the 2% evaporation is called “The Angels Share”.
“Do you have any questions or curiosities?” another charming vintner asked, at the conclusion of her wine-tasting tour.
Well yes. 1) Why do men like their wine old and their women young? And, 2) As filtration stops the wine’s ageing capacity, why can’t we put that in a face cream?
As well as wine tastings, there were also daily visits to castles, palaces, cathedrals, monasteries dating back to the 10th century, enchanting formal gardens, cedar-lined, cobblestoned walkways, rolling hills and medieval fortresses all framed by stunning, panoramic views of the river, far, far below.
There was even a side trip through the Iberian countryside over the Spanish border to Salamanca. Spain’s oldest college town is known as the Golden City, due to the glow of the sandstone used to create its beautiful baroque buildings, crowned by the sumptuous cathedral.
A trip highlight, besides navigating some of Europe’s biggest locks, was a visit to a historic, artesian fish factory – the last factory where the sardines are hand sorted. Here we swapped wine for sardine tastings (cue much-canned laughter).
As well as exciting excursions and delicious wine quaffing, there was also much feasting. Succulent grilled prawns, fleshy mussels, cod cooked in smoked paprika and Iberian pork dishes followed by the most moreish Portuguese tarts and local, signature pastries.
Ah, yes, travel broadens the mind … but also the bum. Luckily our gourmandising proved guilt-free because at night, my girlfriends and I just danced off all those kilos at the onboard bar. Yep, the old disco diet kept all those Portuguese cake calories at bay.
There was excellent entertainment on board too, including lots of flamenco and fado. Fado is a traditional Portuguese musical style in which singers wail against life’s cruelties. “If you sing, you scare the pain out of your heart,” one passionate musician explained between piquant melodies.
“Well, that’s not all that would be scared by my singing,” I laughed.
“It doesn’t matter how you sing. Fado is a feeling of missing something you may not even have yet, like love,” she elaborated. “It’s a yearning, a longing, a way of begging fate to be favourable.”
When it was time to disembark, I stood on deck and sang my own Fado, to express my pain at parting and to beg fate to bring me back to this magical part of the world, where time seems to have stood still in the hills and the mighty river meanders and weaves its way to the sea, as if drunk on very wine grown along its sunny banks.
River cruising is all about going with the flow. Literally. You just sit back and drink it all in – while drinking. When your ship comes in – just make sure you’re not queueing at the airport.
As we bid goodbye to our charming crew, the captain quipped that he’d sent two sets of questionnaires to each cabin “because here on Viking, we believe that husbands have opinions too”.
Well, my girlfriends and I were of the same opinion – that we loved this escape into a gentler world so much, soaking up the history and mystery of this sea-faring nation … that we’re stowing away. But shhh … don’t tell the captain.
Kathy Lette’s latest best seller, The Revenge Club, is published by Bloomsbury.
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