We sat tonight on the edge of the windowsill looking out over the rooftops in the medieval World Heritage site of Guimaraes, a place of narrow cobblestone streets and intricate facades, counting all the ways we have been lucky in the last two days. We see castles on the hills around us and two churches, one on each corner, playing dueling church bells by hand on the 15 minute mark.
Today we watched our third wedding of the trip sitting on a praca and then ate individual pizzas the size of large dinner plates for Euro 3 with Super Bock. There are two large sets of French doors that open off our room and the Residencial D’Avis Mestre has room for our bicycles!
All of this is the result of a lucky moment (LM!) that almost got us arrested. We had come to realize that with our time frame and the desire to stop and see all the sights that we were not going to stick with the original travel plan. We had done an average of 50 miles a day until deciding that it we would enjoy our ride more if we got to actually visit a point of interest instead of going by .
This in turn changed our loop into along wandering one way trip and we needed to find a return path. Bicycles however, are not allowed on buses and we had heard not on trains unless “bagged” which came with a wink and a nod. We stopped into multiple turismos and inquired on this point and even called the major train terminal via a tourism official to check that bicycles were allowed.
We decided, wink/nod, that we would not actually bag our bikes since we didn’t have bags but did have tarps and duct tape with which we could make one if necessary. We had ridden the local train from Cascais to Lisboa on a quick 20 minute trip with loaded bikes intact sitting next to us.
In Lisboa we loaded onto the train and unloaded our gear storing panniers in the baggage racks, our bikes tucked out of the way and strapped in. We had made it.
And then we met him.. bald and manscaped. Perfectly fitted, stiffly pressed suit and Italian watch which he tapped in an angry manner. You must leave the train. Bikes are not allowed. But I must wait for my merido (husband) I told him. Bikes are not allowed and you must leave, the train leaves at 2 and off he stalked, leaving myself and those around me agape.
What should I do I asked my neighbors in Portuguese as they shook their heads and wagged their fingers in a physical exhibition of my dismay, all nodding and shrugging their confusion. He is an angry man said the woman across from me as we looked down rows of seats in the almost completely empty train.
Upon Lowell’s arrival back it was with disbelief that I told him what had happened and then HE appeared again, tapping Italian watch in time with what one could only think was a tapping of his foot. The train leaves at 2 and if you are not off the train now I will call the police and have you arrested.
Regardless of explaining all that had been done to check that bicycles could legally go, there was no budging our man and he pulled out his handkerchief to pick up a bicycle wheel in disdain and hand it off the train.
Now we were done for. A change of route, bad information, 600 kilometers away from our plane home and not enough time to ride it. And there-in lies the lucky moment. We learn from the ticket person that bicycles are indeed allowed but only on a regional train and so off we went with our bicycles fully loaded on 5 different trains, drinking Super Bock and eating pastries that we picked up at each train change to arrive at our destination ..
Not only did we arrive but the conductor explained a stop several stops ahead that placed us at our campsite outside of Porto instead of a long ride negotiating unknown roads at 11 pm at night. And we learned that bicycles can be taken on all regional trains but not Alfa trains and so we arrived in an hour and a half today to another World Heritage site, Guimaraes, which we couldn’t have ridden to with the time left and sit on a roof sipping vinho verdes in pepsi cups and Super Bock, looking at castles and listening to dueling church bells.
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