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We were advised by the fine folks on the Fodor's forum (www.fodors.com/forums)
that a good side trip when  driving from Lisbon to Marvao is Batalha, a
beautiful monastery and church north of Lisbon. We took their advice,
and made the two hour detour. It was well worth it, as the
extensive stone fretwork was like none we had seen before. The
church was built in 1388 to celebrate a victory against Spain. The
king of Portugal
prayed to God to save them from Spanish rule, and as a bargaining chip
he promised to build a church second to none should they
win.
After we
had seen the church and the cloister, the last site was the unfinished
chapel, started in 1435 by King Duarte to house the tombs of his family
and successors. Lack of funding led to these chapels being
unfinished, but they would have been something if they had been
completed. The work on the
door alone is incredible.
 We
bought a picnic lunch of bread, cheese, fruit and Pringles from a little
store near the exit to the church, and ate it in the square in front of
the church. I also mailed my first postcard, because Portual has
these cool Correiros everywhere that are automated so it was really easy
to do (assuming you have enough change). Now we were ready to drive
to Marvao, which is pretty close to the border with Spain.
Unfortunately for us, they were constructing a couple of the key roads
on our route so we were forced to detour. We got a bit lost on one
of the traffic circles (Mark and I had a disagreement about which
direction the arrow was actually pointing as it wasn't very clear--for the
record he was right and I was wrong) but we did make it to the correct
road, and went up the hill to Marvao.
Marvao is a tiny little town perched on a mountain. It was
established in the 9th century by an Islamic knight, Ibn Maruan, who
gave the town its name. The Portuguese government had always
wanted to hold Marvao as a defense of its borders, but keeping people
there wasn't easy. There wasn't running water or lands to farm. To
"encourage" people to live there, they allowed fugitives from
justice and other criminals to live there. Today there is running
water, and there are 185 full-time inhabitants.
Our reservations were at the Pousada de Santa Maria, and we got a lovely
room with a view of the valley. It's a good thing the Pousada had
a restaurant, because we were there well after tourist season and all of
the other restaurants were fechado. We walked around the town a
bit, and then we enjoyed a nice dinner.
The next day, while we were enjoying the  views
from the castle on the north end of the town, we heard a strange musical
sound coming from down in the valley. It was a goatherd
herding his goats, each of which wore a bell. I wish we could get
a recording of that sound, it was so cool!
I liked the castle at Marvao, but this seems like a good place for a
rant. Why do they not acknowledge when they restore/ rebuild
something? If you look closely at the picture, you can tell by all
of the precise right angles that no way was this castle built in the 9th
century. And yet that's the date on all of the materials and guide
books. I don't mind that they maintain their monuments and fix
them up, but please, would it be so hard to say "the castle was
built in the 9th century, and work in 1972 restored it to its original
state that you see today"? In all of Spain and Portugal they were
guilty of this lack of documentation--in one place we actually saw them
building a church to go along with the sign that said "Established
XIII".
Okay, enough of that, after we climbed all over the castle, and Mark
squished a few of the really cool beetles that  Monica
had just been admiring, we traveled completely around the town on the
restored wall. There's a lip a few feet below the actual wall that
was used by sentries guarding the borders.
This walk made us very hungry and thirsty, so we went to a taverna
and ordered a tosta mista, which is a toasted ham and cheese sandwich,
and a couple of beers. Then Mark noticed the tiny game room, which
contained an antique foosball table. Because they have foosball at
work (his nickname is Marky Mark, which is no comparison to his
colleague Pass of Death) Mark was eager to show off his skills.
Being the good sport that I am, I
agreed to play him even though I had never played foosball before in my
life. Sensing the lack of a challenge, Mark also recruited two
local children for our match. For the first game I was paired with the
boy. But after I missed shot after shot and lost the round for us,
he bailed on me like a rat from sinking ship the second my back was
turned to get more money for the next game. The poor girl who was
my next partner was a good sport, but I could tell at the end of the
next round that even her patience was wearing thin. Sensing that
my goodwill with these two hapless children was at an end, I convinced
Mark that what he really wanted was an ice cream, and gave my partner a
50 escudo coin so she and her brother? friend? could play with each
other without me messing everything up.. The squeals of glee as
they battled each other convinced me that this was the best money we
spent during the whole trip!
That night after a drink on the terrace where I amused myself by
watching the dogs on the patio next door and the family playing with
some gorgeous cats on the other side, we had dinner at the Pousada
again (for where else would we go in this town with maybe 10 other
tourists in addition to ourselves). And the next day we were off to
Cordoba!
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