Wine days in armenia for May holidays. Portugal's underground riches: Piggy bank cave with coins

Coimbra is an old university town, imbued through and through with a unique student atmosphere. The university, built in 1290, is located on a mountain, so it is perfectly visible from the embankment. History Center the city is a tangled web of narrow old streets, in which it is easy to get lost. However, the inhabitants of the town are very friendly, and more than a third of them are associated with the university. It should be noted that the University of Coimbra is the oldest university in Europe, and it operates to this day.
Among the many sights of Portugal, there are rare objects, which include the GrutasdaMoeda cave. The name is translated into Russian as "piggy bank with coins". This is a fascinating underground route that runs at a depth of 50 m in the middle mountain range Serra da Estrela. It was discovered in 1971 by local hunters, and a few years later speleologists joined the study of the natural phenomenon. Today, several spacious high halls are available for visiting, filled with bizarre stalactites, stalagmites, columns and fossils, transparent water of underground lakes, and stone patterns.
Important information:
The entrance and exit to the cave are in different places, so you should be close to the guide.
Fatima has been a famous religious center for almost a century. The events that took place in these places during the period from 1915 to 1917 are called the Catholic Church a genuine miracle... You will hear the story of how the shepherd children met the Virgin Mary, who introduced herself to them as the Angel of Peace and told about the upcoming events. Every year, pilgrims from many countries come to Fatima to see with their own eyes the place where miracles happened.

About the excursion:

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Bus excursions

Excursion type Group

Days of the event Daily on Tuesday 07:00

Duration 8.5 hours

Group size For a group of 1-15 people

Start place To be specified after booking

Lisbon is an atypical Europe, where grooming and tranquility are intertwined with temperament major port and Spanish traditions. Lisbon Tours Capture History great empire and stories about significant geographical discoveries. There are also many entertaining tours: gastronomic, evening, extreme. Russian-speaking guides will perfectly convey the atmosphere of this amazing place during group or individual walks.

Sightseeing excursions

You can get to know the city by bus or car. You will see how the centuries-old history perfectly coexists with modernity, and old castles emphasized by the cosmic lines of avant-garde architecture. Here are just some of the sights of Lisbon:

• Alfama.
• Old city.
• Observation platforms.
• Cathedral of Se.
• Commerce Square.
• Triumphal Arch.
• Baisha.
• Rossio Square.
• Belem.
• Jeronimos Monastery.
• Empire Square.
• Monument to the Discoverers.
• World map.

The spirit of Lisbon is best understood on walking tour in the Chiado area. Here you can meet housewives chatting across the balconies, or enjoy the incomparable fado performed by street musicians. The site lists all hiking trails and bus timetables. Prices start at € 20 per person.

There are off-site excursions from Lisbon that will reveal medieval Portugal and rural provinces with simple peasant life and magnificent nature in one day. The trips take no more than 8 hours.

Thematic excursions

The advantages of such tours lie in the personality of the guide. This is a friendly communication that is not only interesting, but truly immerses you in the culture, traditions and hidden life of the city. Go on a Soulful Tour of Old Lisbon, which received a huge amount of positive feedback, or other author's excursions in Russian. Check the booking conditions and cost with our managers by phone or online.

Good day! We would like to thank the DEVISU company for the excellent organization of the tour “Armenia in all its glory” from 06 to 12 July 2019! Thanks a lot to our guide Lie, who opened for us the history, culture and traditions of ancient and modern Armenia at the highest professional level! Her love for Armenia, talent, delicacy, subtlety, intelligence won our hearts! The trip was amazing and unforgettable! We wish the company continued success and prosperity!

Tatiana and Andrey Nechaevs, Moscow

Catherine, good afternoon! Thank you, went well, the room was what I wanted (with a view of the park and a bathroom). I was very pleased. Thank you.

The only thing - besides me, the transfer met women who were brought to Karlovy Vary and I had to travel from Prague to Marianske Lazne for 3 hours instead of 2 hours. It was certainly not convenient, they brought me in by the evening. Of course, it would be more convenient to fly to Karlovy Vary.

Larisa Perm

Hello Ekaterina. Our trip was a success.

The hotel is good. Renovation, furniture, plumbing, bed linen - in excellent condition, no comments. Very clean and comfortable.

Breakfasts were the same every day, but with a good assortment - so you could diversify your menu simply by choosing different dishes.

There is a kettle, tea, coffee, sugar, cream in the room. We enjoyed it. Tea was added daily. Linen and towels were changed twice a week.

The hotel is located in a quiet area, there is no noisy crowd. There are several direct tram routes to the center (to the railway station, to shopping centers, and to the main attractions).

The ride is less than half an hour. 2 stops near the hotel: one right under the windows, the other a 5-minute walk.

Lyubov Leonidovna, Moscow

Catherine, hello! I apologize that I didn’t drop you a couple of lines earlier: I was raking my cases, taking apart my suitcase - or vice versa.

We really liked our vacation in Armenia, organized with your help, everything went smoothly, without a single slip. Thank you very much for organizing the tour!

Special thanks and a deep bow to the host - "Armenia Travel". Drivers are beyond praise, guide Lia Bakhshinyan - real professional and a very sincere, sincere person. For a week of close communication, they became almost family.

And the next day we saw a completely different Portugal, serious, solemnly quiet, and this image was embodied in Coimbra, the main university city of the country and its very first capital. It began for us on the embankment near the station (a pretty building made of pink and white stone with a clock at the top). The old town is located on a high hill, running down from the top to the bottom of the steep staircase streets. Piazza Commercio, more like a rounded piece of a wide street, is located at the very bottom of the hill. From the old Romanesque, yellow stone church of Santiago, located on it, a steep staircase climbs to the wide street of Ferreira Borges, and from there, through the high gate-arch of Almedina (the remains of the fortress wall), a passage to a steep narrow street decorated with garlands of multicolored flags. The souvenir shops are colorful and elegant, there are a lot of intricately painted dishes, mainly in pale blue, light gray tones. So we moved up the stairs, then along the cobbled narrow passages (each street has its own pattern of cobblestones), between the closely shifted houses that parted on terraces. After a steep climb, we entered a small square in front of the Old Cathedral of Se Velha. The cathedral is austere, square, made of yellow stone, the cogs running along the top resemble a fortress wall. The entrance to the cathedral is covered with a cloth. A semicircular altar with carved wooden figures, a stone bowl decorated with carvings, a huge shell, walls lined with antique tiles with an almost worn pattern. Immediately behind the cathedral, there is a wide staircase upstairs, and we found ourselves at the top of a hill, in the middle of a wide area of ​​the university campus. On Sunday, August 31st, the town seemed to be extinct. By the way, the beginning of the academic year at the university is in mid-September. Through the arch we entered the courtyard of the university, and found ourselves on a spacious square, surrounded on three sides by the square of the old university, and open on the fourth side. Feeling of whiteness and spaciousness. Several trees, a monument to King João III, who gave his Royal Palace under the university and moved to Lisbon. White buildings with red tiles, in the corner - a bell tower, nicknamed "goat". They say the sound of her bells is like the bleating of a goat. The central building is very beautiful, with galleries on the second floor and a magnificent, solemn three-arch portal. Everything is like in the old days, when Saint Anthony of Padua still studied here. And until now, the university in Coimbra is considered the best in Portugal. The dictator Salazar until the end of his life in the questionnaires in the column "position" wrote that he was a professor of economics at the University of Coimbra and tried to attend academic councils.

On the occasion of Sunday, we did not get to the university library, but the university church of San Miguel delighted everyone. On the ceiling there are floral ornaments on a white background, an organ of stunning beauty (a red bowl trimmed with gold, black pipes), on the walls there are bright tiles.

Then, through a deserted town, we reached the New Cathedral - Se Nova, wide, white, solemn, with a wide square in front of it. And from him we scattered to the souvenir shops and met already below, in front of the Almedin arch.

Fatima. A huge square, a narrow and high, white cathedral with galleries open in a semicircle, a huge cross with a schematic crucified. On a marble path, people are crawling on their knees to the temple, some of them have foam rubber tied to their knees. Place of mass pilgrimage for the Portuguese. And, unlike academic Coimbra, it's crowded on Sunday.

In the spring of 1917, three local shepherd children, two sisters and their younger brother, had a vision of the Virgin Mary in this place, and from that day, May 13, she came to them every month on the 13th. The eldest of the girls, Lucia, heard her voice. They laughed at the children, their meetings and conversations with the Mother of God, but gradually more and more people began to gather in the meadow on the 13th and, indeed, saw a glow in the form of a female contour. The most massive gathering of people was on October 13, 1917, this time the Mother of God appeared in last time... She said to Lucia: "You will live a long time, and your brother and sister will soon come to me." And three more prophecies, known in Catholicism as "the three revelations of Fatima." The first is about the Second World War, the second is about the fate of Russia, the third is about the attempt on the life of the Pope.

All of Portugal was agitated by the incident. The initial reaction of the Vatican to these events was sharply negative, however, a thin stream of pilgrims and a small Portuguese village grew every year. After some time, ministers from the Vatican arrived in the village of Fatima, who interrogated local residents, and more than a thousand people confirmed to them that they had seen the apparition of the Virgin Mary.

The younger brother and sister soon died. Lucia became a nun and died quite recently, a little short of a hundred years. The assassination attempt on the Pope took place exactly on May 13, and after his recovery, John Paul II laid the bullet removed from him on the altar of the cathedral in Fatima. Then he met with Lucia, who lived at the cathedral.

Instead of a meadow, there is now a huge complex in this place: a square, a cathedral, houses for pilgrims. Huge candles (up to a meter long) are laid out under the canopy, people come up, put coins in the slot, take the candles and go to the fenced, I would put it, braziers, over which flames and black smoke rise. There, from this flame, you need to light your candle and, stretching out your hand through the intolerable heat, install it in one of the nests. The brazier impression is eerie.

The cathedral is light and airy. Modern stained glass windows, sculptures and drawings of children who saw the Virgin Mary. On the ledge is the girl Lucia, hugging a kid. All three are buried here.

Behind the galleries there is a park and souvenir shops with numerous statues of the Virgin Mary and crucifixes.

There are cork oaks with partially cut bark in the park. A strange impression - there is a tree on a thin orange leg. A white excursion locomotive rides around the city.

For Catholics, this place is now sacred. The Russian Orthodox Church has an extremely negative attitude to all these miracles of Fatima (especially to the prophecy that Russia will be punished for its apostasy, expressed in the summer of 1917). Also incomprehensible is the story of the icon of the Kazan Mother of God, acquired in the 16th century near Kazan. Several copies were made of the icon at one time, which were lost during the years of the revolution. In a strange way, one of these lists ended up in the Portuguese hinterland, all in the same Fatima. (I read in one of the sources that this is not a list, but the original icon stolen at the beginning of the 20th century from the Kazan Mother of God Monastery).

The surroundings of Fatima are hilly, the hills are covered with low spreading trees. Between them are little white houses with red tiles. And this landscape is very typical of rural Portugal: hills and neat white houses.

A short drive, and we are standing in the middle of a huge square, in front of the magnificent monastery of Batalha. Early Gothic, a massive yellow stone base and numerous gray turret spiers connected by a low lace balustrade.

The monastery was erected in the middle of a clean field in honor of the victory over the troops of the Spanish king in 1385. This battle was fundamental in the struggle for the independence of Portugal from the rule of Castile. On the square in front of the cathedral there is a monument to the commander Pereira, whose skillful leadership of the troops made it possible to win the battle against an enemy several times superior.

A majestic, monumental structure. Very beautiful stained glass windows. In the octagonal chapel of the Founder of the monastery - the burial place of the royal couple and the Infants. White high dome, converging in the form of a star. From the cathedral - exit (paid, 5 euros) into the courtyard of the monastery, the so-called Royal. The courtyard is incredibly beautiful. For myself, I called it "Moorish", then we were told that it was the "Manueline" style. Each arch of the gallery is "curtained" with an openwork lattice cut out of stone, of a variety of patterns: sometimes like woven ropes, sometimes like intertwined vines, interspersed with flowers and crosses. Stone lace rests on thin, carved columns, each with its own design. Along the balconies and along the ridge there is an elegant, light lattice. In the corner is a multi-petal fountain, bowl over bowl. The inner space is filled with tall, narrow thujas and low, trimmed bushes with cut labyrinthine passages.

The royal court and the Afonso V court are separated by a small weapons museum. At the tomb of the Unknown Soldier there was a guard of honor: two guys in camouflage and black berets. The courtyard of Afonso V is much more modest, there is no stone carving, but there you can climb the upper galleries and look at the surroundings from a low height.

Finally, we walked around the outside of the monastery. The same elegance and luxury, and on a wide area, it looked like a perfect creation in an open palm, one of the brightest grains of the golden fund of universal human culture.

The monastery in Alcobas, where we soon found ourselves, was also originally erected in honor of the battle won against the Moors, but it is known, rather, as a monument of love, which served as a burial vault for two lovers who have united here forever: King Don Pedro I and Inis di Castro.

For the first time, the Infante saw Inish in the retinue of his bride, a princess from Castile. The wife died shortly after the wedding, and the Infante secretly married a charming lady-in-waiting. Four children were born. However, his father, King Afonso IV, feared that the king of Castile through Inish would influence his son (Inish belonged to a noble Castilian family). In her palace in Coimbra, Inish was killed in front of the children. Pedro brutally dealt with the murderers. When, after the death of his father, he became king, he tried to appoint a son from Inish as his successor, but the courtiers objected to him that the child was illegitimate. Then Pedro ordered the remains of Inish to be dug up, publicly combined with the dead marriage and forced the courtiers to kiss the hand of their long-dead wife.

The cathedral of the monastery is very strict inside. The transept contains two marble, carved sarcophagus. The lying bodies of separated lovers surrounded by angels are carved on the surface of the sarcophagi. At Pedro's feet is a marble dog, a symbol of loyalty. Pedro and Inish are buried with their feet to each other, so that at the hour when the dead rise from their coffins, they rise and immediately see each other.

The monastery itself is quite long (from the bus we walked for a long time along the white, artless walls). The façade of the cathedral is beautiful, to which the same white low walls adjoin on both sides. The façade opens onto a wide city square. In the same place, on the square, directly opposite the cathedral, we settled down in a summer cafe for lunch. The local hit is considered to be "rooster in Alcobass", or "French in a pot" (as the Portuguese changed the French "cock in wine"). Indeed, each was brought a healthy clay pot, from which it was necessary to get the chicken baked in wine piece by piece. Tasty, like any chicken, but no more. I was all the more upset when those of ours came from the cathedral, who instead of lunch went to the museum and to the courtyard of the monastery. They said it was even more beautiful there than the "Moorish courtyard" in Batalha. Finally, we went to a coffee shop to try local monastic sweets. They are made by grinding hot yolk with sugar, and stuffed with this mixture into crispy waffle cones. Well, very luscious.

Again a small crossing, and still before dark we arrive in the town of Nazare, our place of lodging. Part of the city stands on a high cliff, the other goes down to the ocean. Fortunately, our hotel is located five minutes from the beach. At the level of our window, in the crown of a palm tree, loud, small birdies settled down, the palm tree simply swarmed with them.

Throwing our things, we immediately ran to the beach. The water was cold, however, everyone swam bravely. And before our eyes the sun sank into the water. Having changed our clothes, we went for a walk along the embankment. The night town was seething, all the shops were open, cafes were full, musicians were playing in the streets, a lively stream of people was moving back and forth. An ordinary resort life.

Breakfast was at the rooftop cafe and the sunny morning gave us wonderful views of the city, cliffs and ocean. The entire bay, from edge to edge, was filled with white houses under red tiles, on the right, the shore rose sharply, cutting off into the ocean by sheer cliffs, and the upper plateau was also covered with the same white houses. The upper and lower parts of the city were connected by a lift.

We spent the whole day in the vicinity of Lisbon, making short, about 20 km, journeys between attractions, and our acquaintance with the suburbs of the capital began from the fabulous town of Obidos, built in the 13th century, and so frozen in it. Obidos stretches along a steep slope in a narrow ribbon, surrounded on all sides by a high fortress wall. The main street runs through the whole city, from which steep, narrow streets snake up and down. As usual, the houses are white, with blue or yellow edging, all buried in flowers. Long lashes, strewn with crimson, yellow, purple flowers, burst from every crack, crawl along the walls, hang from above. We passed through the fortress gates, lined with blue and white tiles from the inside, walked along the lower street, from the church went up the stairs to the main street and came out to the ancient castle with many towers around the perimeter. There we all fled. I climbed the fortress wall and walked along it for a while. Directly below me, opposite the castle, was a decorative village of colorful houses. Having gone down, I went along the upper deserted streets. On the main street, I found almost all of our group. Obidos is famous for producing its own cherry liqueur, ginjna. It is customary to pour it into a chocolate cup, drink liqueur and seize it with a cup (this tasting costs 1 euro). After sitting in the coffee shop and tasting the liquor, we were in a hurry to get to the bus, when on the fortress wall, just above the entrance gate, we saw Luda from our group. "Come up here quickly," she shouted. Indeed, there was an amazing view of the city from there, especially if you walk a little up the wall: a narrow space, densely filled with houses and trees, squeezed by high battlements stretching into the distance. And a castle on the horizon. Once upon a time this city was presented by King Dinish to his bride as a wedding gift. Probably, they also climbed the tower, and the king pointed to the space stretched out in front of them: "And this is for you, darling!"

And then we went to the westernmost point of Europe, Cape Roca. The mountains became steeper, our bus climbed higher and higher, and gradually the mountain forest zone was replaced by vast fields of purslane - a local succulent cactus, of a very different shade - from red-brown to bright green. At the site near a small building, we went out and went to the stele, crowned with a cross. On the stele the inscription “Cabo du Roca Latitude 38 ° 47’ Longitude 9 ° 30 ’Altitude 140 m”. At the very edge of the cliff - a curb made of stones and to the very horizon - the rich blue of the ocean. To the right and to the left of the stele, there are paths trodden in the purslane. We walked along the cliff itself, photographing the sheer walls dropping into the ocean. The landscapes are very pretty, as everywhere there are rocks and endless water surface. In the building you could buy certificates that you visited the westernmost point of the mainland, for 5 euros - easier, for 10 euros - a folding one.

The next 20 km and we enter the city of Sintra, the former summer residence of the Portuguese kings. Even the Moors appreciated the beauty of these places, built a fortress on the mountain and a palace below. On the site of the Moorish palace is now the national royal palace of Sintra, and on the mountain, next to the fortress of the Moors, the Peno castle was built in the century before last, after seeing which, the Moscow rich man Arseny Morozov, the nephew of Savva Morozov, fired up a dream to build the same one in Moscow, and, indeed , "Based on" the Peno Palace on Vozdvizhenka, a Moorish castle was erected. In Soviet times, the House of Friendship of Peoples was located there.

The local aristocracy also built their houses and palaces around the royal palace; it was a luxury Portuguese resort. Even the phlegmatic and mocking Lord Byron was fascinated by the city. WITH ocean shore Sintra is connected by a 14-kilometer tram line.

Unfortunately, we were given very little time to explore the city, since half of the group also wanted to see the famous lisbon beaches Cascais and Eshkoril. I, of course, too. Therefore, those who did not go to the beaches managed to inspect the royal palace and climb the mountain to the Peno palace and the Arab fortress (they were in awe of the Peno palace). The main part of the group saw only the royal palace and walked around the city. Nina suggested that I immediately go up the mountain (she had already been in the palace on her previous trip to Portugal). The castle at the top looked very tempting, although I estimated that it was located quite high. Okay, let's go. For a long time we climbed the park overgrown with forest, serpentine after serpentine, and the road did not end. The rare cars that crawled upward did not stop for our voting. Finally, almost at the very top, one of the cars nevertheless picked us up. The two men in the car turned out to be Italians, residents of Venice. We went out on the square in front of the ticket offices. At the box office, you can buy both a general ticket to the Peno Palace and the fortress, or separately. I said that we are limited in time, where can we go? The young man replied that the palace needs more time, go to the fortress.

Along a steep path, in the middle of a shady forest, we passed the first watchtower and the guardhouse and finally found ourselves on the territory of the Kastelo dos Muorosh fort. Immediately at the entrance, at the lowest platform, there were stone supports that once supported cisterns for collecting water. From below, in different directions, there were paths and narrow stone stairs leading to the fortress wall. Along the fortress walls, we climbed first to the Royal Tower, from where there was a view of the Peno Palace, then to two opposite towers, from which Sintra with all its surroundings was perfectly visible. Towers with multi-colored flags, stone stairs snaking along a steep slope along the fortress walls among dense greenery, tourists making their way along the walls, resting on benches carved into the stone, taking pictures from the towers - everything looked like a child's game, and not a harsh impregnable bastion.

After running around the fortress, we began to descend. One of the downhill trails had a pointer to the Peno Palace, we chose another. After a while, I began to doubt. The square with the ticket offices, from where we started our journey, did not appear, I realized that we were going down to the other side of the mountain. We had to either go back or climb up the slope of about 200 meters. We decided to climb the slope. We repented of our decision very quickly, the slope was steep, overgrown with trees and vines. Finally I crawled out to the curb enclosing the area near the ticket offices, which turned out to be chest-high. People walked around the site and looked at me in surprise, standing in the forest behind the curb. I smiled at them politely. It was somehow awkward to climb over the fence in a skirt in front of all honest people. At some point, the square was empty, I jumped over the obstacle and, waiting for Nina, began to walk near the ticket offices. Finally, Nina's red and breathless head appeared over the fence, I dragged Nina, and we rushed down. Half an hour remained before our departure to the beaches.

On the way we met our comrades, who neglected the beaches and headed up. We told them what we could and went on. On the way back, a local bus passed us a couple of times. It turned out that the castle could be reached by a regular bus. And now we are on the steep streets of Sintra, making our way between closely spaced, multi-colored houses. Near the square in front of the palace, in the shade, one after another, the horses, harnessed to carts, stood patiently. The last time I take pictures of our fortress (how high is it, were we really there?), Get on a bus and go to the ocean.

First we came to the so-called "mouth of the devil". At this point, the coast, formed by tectonic outcrops, split, and a crack 20 meters wide juts out into the land. They say that when a storm rages, a roar is heard from this place. The coast itself is strange. Sintered black space, somewhere in an even stream descending to the water, somewhere in the form of heaving, surging lava, frozen in the most incredible figures. There are fishermen on the rocks.

The Cascais beach turned out to be not wide at all, sandy, with straw umbrellas and sun loungers placed along the coast. There were not enough swimmers. In the locker room we met a Russian woman with a child. "How are you resting?" - we asked. “Well, like, the ocean is cold, we lie and sunbathe,” the compatriot replied.

The first swim was not fun at all. Even vigorous strokes did not help to keep warm. And on the beach itself it was not at all hot. In general, in Portugal, compared to Spain, it was noticeably cooler. I shouldn't have worried that I would languish from the heat. When I watched the weather at home on the Internet, the temperature in Lisbon was always 7-9 degrees lower than in Madrid. We sunbathed, bathed again, and went to the coastal marishqueira, a cafe specializing in seafood. Preparing for the trip, I printed out what dishes people recommend to order in Marishkeira. And then I read the name to the waiter from a piece of paper. He nodded and walked away.

The third bathing was already quite comfortable, I got out of the water with practically no chills and ran to change. Soon they brought us the ordered dish: mussels boiled in white wine with cilantro and garlic. I have never tasted anything tastier than these mussels during the whole trip. We even drank all the liquid with shells (there were no spoons for the dish, only small forks). Around this time, our co-buses began to pass by our table from the beach to the park. The mountain of seashells aroused curiosity and questioning among everyone. Having finished off the mussels and paid (15 euros), we went to fetch our comrades, and soon we entered Estoril, an aristocratic resort where many celebrities came to rest and play roulette. The chess player Alekhine spent the last years of his life here, here he died an absurd, strange death on the eve of the match with Botvinnik and was originally buried here (later he was reburied at the Montparnasse cemetery in Paris).

We disembarked near the coastal park (rows of palms and pines stretching out to the ocean, canals and paths) and headed to the famous casino. The dark-skinned security guard looked very expressively at our motley group that spilled out of the bus, but did not move. In the casino - twilight, muted light of long red lamps, which lined the ceiling in squares. They are reflected in the mirrored black floors, and it seems that you are walking over a dark abyss, and far, in the depths of the abyss - red squares. Sensations strange and unsteady, to the point of dizziness. A huge room lined with tables, each with two croupiers in white shirts and red vests. Having quickly lost 5 euros each, we then just watched the players. Fascinating process. The girl from our group stubbornly bet on zero. At some point, tired of losing, she shouted to the dealer in Russian: “Well, make zero, you can! Show your skill! " It worked magically. The Portuguese threw the ball, it spun for a long time and finally froze at zero. Delighted, as if we had won ourselves, we went out of the black-and-red space into the daylight and followed our comrades to Sintra.

And now - Lisbon. Along the wide Avenue Liberdadi we leave for the embankment of the full-flowing Tagus River, we pass the 25 October bridge (the longest suspension bridge in Europe) with the figure of Christ on the other side. Christ is facing his Brazilian counterpart, as they look at each other across the ocean. The first stop is the monastery of Jeronimos (Jeronimites), a vivid embodiment of the Manueline style, the style of the era geographical discoveries spread during the reign of Manuel I. It was built on the site of a small chapel in which Vasco da Gama (Vasco, as the Portuguese pronounce it) prayed before sailing to India. Now it is a grandiose white building, surrounded by a balustrade and narrow spiers at the top along the perimeter. A magnificent portal carved from stone, directed upwards like boiling sea foam. The interior is spacious and majestic, with large windows letting in a lot of light. The walls and vaults are braided with ropes cut out of stone, at the intersection of the ropes there are crosses, coats of arms, sea knots, anchors. Even floral ornaments are woven with a nautical theme. Abundant stone carving. The columns are carved from top to bottom, and in an intricate drawing you can see now the face of a lion, now a tarantula, shells, birds, flowers. On one of the arches, a string of human physiognomies of different races is carved. The guide explained that in this way the sculptors, based on the stories and drawings of the sailors, tried to show the diversity of the peoples encountered by the sailors on their way. At the very entrance - the sarcophagi of Vasco da Gama and the poet Camões, also covered with carvings. A sailboat is carved on Vasco's sarcophagus, a lyre and a feather on Camões.

And then we walked across the green lawn to the Belenskaya (Bethlehem) tower, and an elegant white building (again I want to say "in the Moorish style", no, Manueline, of course) grew before our eyes. For centuries, caravels sailed past this lighthouse tower, some dissolved in the ocean space, others, laden with spices and gold, entered the port. And, like ships, time passed, century after century, and the Portuguese, dangling their legs into the ocean, looked into the Atlantic distances, from where wealth flowed and flowed into the country. And they thought it would be like this forever. And when the flow stopped, they took their eyes off the shining, unsteady surface, looked back and suddenly found around them a poor country, without factories and factories. In 1910, the monarchy was overthrown, but the republic did not last long. Fortunately for Portugal, the dictator Salazar, a professor of economics at the University of Coimbra, came to power, who for many years taught the country to live by his own labor, and not looted, created an industry, did not allow the country to be drawn into the Second World War. And in this the fates of Spain and Portugal are similar. One had Columbus, the other had Vasco da Gama, vast colonies around the world that did a disservice to the development of countries. In Spain, which remained without colonies, riots, terrorism, the flourishing of anarchism also began, and only under the dictatorial regime of Franco did the country come to its senses and began to develop at the expense of its own sources.

Monument to the Discoverers - a huge stone sailboat on the shore wide Tagus... Ahead - Heinrich the Navigator, on both sides of the sails - those who set off on dangerous journeys in search of new lands: sailors, merchants, priests, some with a sword, some with a cross and scrolls, some with a chest. The monument is very energetic, expressive, the figures are full of movement and in a single impulse are directed forward. And only a single female figure, at the very end of the uncontrollable stream of men rushing past her, knelt down and clasped her hands to her chest, froze in bitter anticipation.

The square near the monument is lined with paving stones of alternating waves of black and light stone (the same paving stones are found in the main square of Lisbon - Rossio). Immediately behind the monument, on the sidewalk, is a mosaic-laid map of geographical discoveries made by Portuguese sailors: continents and caravels sailing in different directions. The Jeronimos Monastery from here, through a square with thujas and a fountain, looks like a fabulous oriental palace.

Then we went to the famous old cafe Pasteish, where pasteysh cakes are prepared. The walls of the cafe are lined with azulejos, the paintings on the walls are also made of tiles. Paste are round, small, softest buns-cakes that should be eaten hot, first sprinkled with cinnamon and powder. Before that, I tried this delicacy in Fatima (delicious!) And Obidos, but they say that only in this cafe they prepare the "correct" paste, and the recipe is kept secret. In fact, I would be at a loss to say from what components it is made. The coffee was excellent (as elsewhere in Portugal).

Then we drove around the city again, drove to the ancient district of Alfama and went to the Commerce square, a wide area, bounded on three sides by buildings, and the fourth one overlooking the river. Across Arc de Triomphe went to the crowded, pedestrian street Augusto with light paving stones, lined with wide squares, and along it, past souvenir shops and cafes, past funny "living" sculptures, past the Santa Justa lift (a metal cabin on a high thin leg) we reached a cheerful, lively Rossio square. Fountains beat on the square, in the shade of trees, passers-by were resting on benches, in front of the theater building, on a high white column, there was a black monument to King Pedro IV, and black and white waves of paving stones scattered along the ground, so that it seemed that the surface underfoot too wavy. And nothing reminded of the fires of the Inquisition that once burned here (the palace of the Inquisition stood on the site of the theater) and the later bullfights - torrads.

From the station building we walked down the next street, and Vera showed us an inexpensive cafe. In general, we must pay tribute to her, she always showed us the places where you can eat inexpensively and tasty, and guided which dishes in which cities are considered traditional and what is better to order. As a result, we gained an understanding of local culinary traditions and spent significantly less money on food than we expected.

That was the end of the excursion and we went to the Gyulbekyan museum. Next to the Sant Justa ski lift we entered the Baixa Chiado metro station and drove 5 stops along the blue line to the Plaza de España. To enter the metro, you need to buy a cardboard card for one and a half euros, and you can use it to buy the required number of trips, half a euro for each. You insert the card into the turnstile at the entrance and exit.

Galust Gulbekyan, an Armenian by birth, was born in Turkey, studied in England and had English citizenship, lived in Paris for a long time, during the war years he moved to neutral Portugal, where he remained until the end of his life. He made his huge fortune on the shares of oil companies. He was a passionate collector and during his life he amassed the richest collection of art objects. Only from the Hermitage, the collection of which the Soviet government began to sell at the end of the twenties, he acquired more than 50 works.

The museum is one-story, but extensive, located in a small park. Ticket - 4 euros to the main halls, 7 euros - including current exhibitions and the library. I recommend taking for 4, there was nothing interesting at the current exhibitions.

The collection is astounding, handpicked with the greatest taste, and is composed entirely of masterpieces. Painting from the 15th century to the Impressionists, Egyptian bowls, statues, Persian carpets, ceramics and coins of different centuries and peoples, old bibles, carved iconostases, furniture, tapestries, Sevres porcelain, in the last halls - jewelry.

After the museum, we returned to the center and went to the cafe indicated by Vera (from Rossio train station, walk a little along the street parallel to Rossio Square, the entrance is opposite the shoe store). We got food (buffet, unlimited number of approaches), ordered beer. Everything was delicious. Our lunch cost 8 euros. In general, the Portuguese prices were pleasing after the average European ones.

After lunch we went to the Santa Justa ski lift. There was a small queue in front of the booth for about ten minutes. Tickets are sold directly in the booth - 2.5 euros. Climbing 32 meters, we went to the observation deck, from which along spiral staircase climbed to the next level. There is also a cafe. From above, the first thing that catches the eye is a massive, gray castle with battlements on the opposite wooded hill - the fortress of Sant Jorge (later it turned out that half of our group rushed there). The space between the two hills is filled with neat rows of houses stretching towards the river. All the same predominantly white houses (interspersed with azulejos) and red tiles. As a result of an earthquake in 1755 most of Lisbon was destroyed. The low-lying part was especially damaged, so they rebuilt it, adhering to a regular layout. The area over which we climbed is called Baisha, "lowland". Rossio Square looks beautiful from here with its two round fountains, a theater, rows of lindens and a column in the center.

From the observation deck, we crossed the bridge to the slope of the hill and found ourselves on the cozy, green Karmo square (small squares they call largo, large ones - praca) in front of the church destroyed by the earthquake (now there is a museum of archeology). From her we came to Largo Chiado, in the center of which, on a white pedestal, sits the poet António Ribeira (nicknamed Chiado, that is, “crafty”), with a perky smile on his face, with his hand raised, as if caught in the midst of a friendly, cheerful conversation. Another poet, Fernando Pessoa, who lived three centuries later, sat at a table in a summer cafe, right here, in the middle of the sidewalk. In an elegant jacket and hat, he casually threw a boot over the knee of his other leg, and on the other hand, new tourists sit at his table and sit down.

Right there, literally a stone's throw away, on the spacious Camoes Square, there is a monument to the third poet - Luis Camoes, a man of amazing destiny, full of adventure and great love, carried through his whole life. For the Portuguese, he means the same as Pushkin for the Russians (by the way, Pushkin greatly appreciated Camões). The day of his death, June 10, is popularly celebrated and called the Day of Portugal. A black monument to the poet with a sword and a book is erected on a white octahedral stepped pedestal, and at its foot there are eight figures of prominent Portuguese. Floating caravels are laid out on the paving stones around the monument.

We walked down the sloping streets of Lisbon to the observation deck of the Matador di Santa Catarina. For local youth, this site, apparently, serves as a gathering place. In any case, on this fine September day she was full of people, everything you could sit on was occupied: tables in a summer cafe, benches, stair steps, a high curb around the lawn. Those who did not get a seat just lay on the lawn. The views around were not very impressive. The bridge on April 25 is clearly visible, and nearby there is a variegated building of modern quarters.

The streets in this area are striking in their steepness. Sometimes they just go to the stairs. You look, and there, inside the hole, the house is still rising. It's amazing how transport travels here! Some facades are decorated with tiles, and there are some very nice ones. But there are also many that would be nice to clean from street dirt and soot. There are many dilapidated and dilapidated houses with inscriptions and drawings on the walls.

We went out to the poets again. We entered two churches facing each other next to Camões. And then along the Serpa Pinto street we reached the square of two theaters: São Carlos and São Luis (also facing each other). Past art museum The Chiado went down to Arsenal Street (the area is very deserted, dirty and unpleasant) and soon found themselves in Plaza Munisipiu with a white, three-story city hall and a twisted column in front of it. Concentric circles of black-and-white triangles scattered around the column on the cobblestones. A little more - and we are on the Commerce square, walking along the endless gallery. We went to the Sebolash square overlooking the river. Among the palm trees, a tram was briskly rolling along it. Opposite is a remarkable house, the palace Kaza dos Bikush (house with beaks), with unusual, asymmetrically located windows and a facade decorated with protruding pyramids. This is the district of Alfama, one of the oldest in the city, miraculously survived the earthquake. From the square, we walked up the lanes to the monumental cathedral See, rather like a fortress. Tall battlements extend from the back of the cathedral. Both bell towers also end in battlements. A tram jumped out from behind the cathedral and rolled down. The trams here are very cute: short, plump, bright colors.

A little further down the street is the church of St. Anthony of Padua (built on the place where Anthony was born). In front of the church there is a monument to the saint: on black arches, a saint stands with a book, a baby is pressed against him.

By eight in the evening we went down to the Commersio Square, where a bus was waiting for us. And we went to listen to the fado.

They say that in the soul of the Portuguese live 3 "f": Fatima, fado and football. We saw Fatima, we have an idea of ​​football, it remains to listen to fado.

The fado house, where we arrived, is low, from the inside decorated with luxurious azulejos and photographs of fadisht, fado performers. In the central hall in the middle there is a stage, from which long tables radiate out like rays. First - dinner (nothing remarkable, I remembered only excellent white wine). After the hot stuff had been spread, the lights were dimmed, and two couples of dancers in national clothes entered the stage and danced a local dance to the accordion, mischievously and with a twinkle. Then one by one the fado performers began to appear: three women and a man. The singing was accompanied by two guitarists, one on the classical guitar, the other on the Portuguese round shape. Fado are passionate, drawn-out songs in which initially the sailors, as well as the wives who were waiting for them, expressed their longing and pain from parting. In its modern form, more generally, complaints about a bitter fate. One performer succeeded another, but the last singer, a man, had the greatest success. After the last song had finished, the lights in the hall were turned on. Many women had tears in their eyes. Without even understanding the words, people were mesmerized by the pain and passion emanating from fado.

We returned to the hotel late in the evening. By the way, a Russian guy Anton worked at the reception there. In general, I was surprised by the number of Russians living in Lisbon. Both in the subway and at the construction site (when we passed construction workers in the Alfama area, they spoke Russian among themselves).

To be honest, I didn't like Lisbon too much, it seemed neglected and shabby, of course, interesting and peculiar, but devoid of the charm that emanated, say, from Coimbra or the lovely Obidos. And, in general, there was no regret that we were leaving him so soon.

If you plan to travel a long distance, you should remember a few simple but important rules: - carefully prepare your car for a long trip: check the level of engine oil, coolant, windscreen washer fluid, make sure that all lighting and other devices are functioning properly. - check the tire pressure. It is very important that it matches the pressure recommended for your vehicle. - prepare a spare wheel and a towing rope - no one is insured against a puncture of a wheel or a breakdown on the track, you should foresee possible troubles in advance and avoid them. - choose high-quality roads - this will extend the life of your "iron horse" and save your nerves. When preparing for the trip, think over everything to the smallest detail so that the trip leaves pleasant memories, and not a headache.