Sintra, etc

There are going to be a lot of pictures of yesterday (Monday.)
I went to Sintra, a town about a 40-minute train ride away. First off, I confused the metro station for the train station so couldn't find it. I hate asking for directions, not because I think it puts me in a one-down position to the person giving directions, but because I have an idea that it taints my badass- independent-traveling accomplishment. The guy in the metro station told me the train station is in the same building as the Starbucks. I was very excited to hear there was a Starbucks. It's not that I love their coffee, it's that I want a big, American coffee I can walk around with. I want a coffee I can be ashamed of. (If anyone has a better adjective to describe someone/something from the US besides 'American,' I would be grateful.) Anyway, of course I get to the station and it looks like this:

Well, I get my ticket and the next train leaves in five minutes so no big coffee for me.
I get to Sintra, which has a number of historical sites. There were three I wanted to see and I managed to buy the correct combined ticket to see he correct sites. Then I purchased a bus ticket for a bus that does the circuit to all the sites; the ticket lets you get on and off where you want. At one point, I'd thought I missed one of the sites and would have to re-do the entire route (which is lengthy and winding) to get to all three, but luckily this was not the case.
The first stop was the Moorish castle. It was the emptiest of the three and necessitated the most climbing (my Achilles tendon was not happy with me afterwards.) There was a lot of traversing stone walkways next to short walls which acted as the only barrier keeping one from certain death. At one point a woman (from Australia, I think) informed her companions that several people die there every year. But I was not afraid, because I can walk straight. The castle had many look-outs with impressive scenery. Oh, and there was a cat. I call her Cat. She is obviously used to people (and appropriately negotiating Moorish castles.) A nice American (again, vocabulary help please) took my picture.

Next I went to Palacio Nacional de Pena, which was what I was most looking forward to, for obvious reasons. The wait to get into the actual palace was at least 1/2hour. It was crowded inside but not I-just-got-intimate-with-a-stranger crowded. The rooms were incredible. Ornate ceilings seem to be a common theme.

Last was Palacio Nacional de Sintra which is in the Village of Sintra. By this time it was a long day and the palace was filled with obnoxious French tour groups. (They weren't obnoxious because they were French, but because they were in my way!) I pretty much rushed through. So back to this theme which I have explored every time I go somewhere (and blog,) which is my having an experience vs consuming it. And I was feeling pretty bad about myself but then I realized, these sites are not set up for slowly meandering one's way through the halls, soaking up history and smelling old plaster. I kept trying to get ahead of the tour groups and was feeling especially rushed. There are so many people who come to these places that it's hard to experience them for what they are; I was as much experiencing the droves of people surrounding me. So I let myself off the hook on this one. (The next post will discuss how today's site avoided this conundrum. Hint: it involves baking in the sun for very long time.)
Oh, and check out (who I assume is) Jesus trying on some evening wear. I did a little shopping (very little.) There is also a picture of one of the little streets in Sintra.

This was the first day I had a good amount of energy, which I used to splurge on a (somewhat) fancy dinner at a place that specialized in port and Douro wines (wikipedia says Douro is a Portuguese wine region.) I ate calamari stew, sitting down with a napkin on my lap. Then I went looking for dessert. I went to a pastry shop (you can't spit without hitting a pastry shop.) I felt like the staff person was annoyed about answering questions so I got the 'apple' pastry. It was not 'apple,' it was 'an apple,' I can only imagine, baked with cinnamon and covered in dough. I ate all the dough; can't say the same about the apple.