After our tour to the Pena Palace, we took the bus that goes to the town of Sintra. We paid almost three euros per person, but the chubby driver wearing glasses and a mustache stopped at the end of the sloping cobbled road within two minutes.
Seeing him fidget and get on and off the bus constantly, we guessed it was the red car that stopped him from making the right turn.
With time passing, more and more cars were blocked on the slope. The driver suggested that we walk to downtown. I told Nana, "We buy the story with three euros. We have to wait to see how the story ends."
The drivers got off their cars to take a look. Even the lady that lives in the nearby house came to intervene. I sketched and gave her talk a voice-over in mandarin: You see, I kept telling Mr. Jones not to park his car there. He'll cause some trouble one day. Now he's not around to move his car!"
From the problem we could tell people's personalities. The bus driver looked furious, but he didn't do anything constructive. The owner of the car behind us, Mr. Red Hair who wore a T-shirt with FBI across the front, looked rather patient. Later a Chinese driver approached the crowd for a glimpse. Since he couldn't join everybody's conversation in Portuguese, he knocked on the window of the red car. The lady in the photo with gray hair said to us gleefully, "What an adventure!"
While everybody seemed to be stuck there, a battalion of athletic and energetic men rushed forward to move the small van determinedly. I was rather shocked in the beginning, doubting if they could make it.
These men totally changed my first impression of Portuguese men. In fact, before meeting them, we didn't know any Portuguese guy apart from our B and B owner Vitor, who is rather an exception...
After having removed the blue van, the valiant men moved onto the red car, and even Blackie didn't want to miss the fun.
"You can do it!" We didn't stop taking photos at all.
Done! Weren't they masculine!
At that moment the mean fat driver rode away, leaving me and Nana covered in dust. I really wished to ask for a ride from the most handsome man among them!
We two walked bitterly along the roadsides, cursing the fat driver at the same time.
I was so exhausted that I didn't feel like going into Quinta da Regaleira. But this is Nana's favorite.
I ate in a restaurant in the town centre. At that time the Portuguese football team played against Denmark. When the previous won, great cheering sounds echoed around the whole town from all bars.
I wanted to try Portuguese cuisine, but I ended up ordering Brazilian beef. Under the black beans was something like fried bread flour. I couldn't quite put a finger on the taste. Though the owner (or the uncle that looks like the owner) tried to explain. I still didn't figure out the mystery in the Portuguese food.
There is a palace-like building in Sintra, but my brain was numbed after a day of seeing nothing but palaces.
Sintra is a beautiful small town.