Named by the Romans after Salacia, the wife of Neptune and the nymph who was the goddess of salt water, Alcácer do Sal is one of those Alentejo towns that is a sight for sore eyes, yet remains hidden from the gaze of mass tourism. Finding six of the best in Alcácer do Sal required a bit of head scratching as I think of the town simply as a particularly picturesque place to spend some time, mostly just wandering around soaking up the ambience. But there’s more than enough to draw the uninitiated.

Thanks to its strategic location toward the southern end of the Sado Estuary, humans have settled the area since the Stone Age. The Romans and Moors both occupied the town, using it as a trading post to transport salt between Europe and the Mediterranean. The Romans gave the town the Sal part of its name, whereas the Alcácer bit derives from Al-Qasr, the Arabic word for palace.

It’s an area rich in produce – salt, rice, wheat, pine nuts, cork – all of which were transported downriver (the Sado is one of the few rivers in Europe that travels south to north) on special galleons, until the railroad became a more efficient way to transport goods. Alcácer do Sal’s importance as a bustling trading centre fizzled out toward the end of the 18th century and, like many similar towns, it faded from view with the loss of its status. Although its riverside façade looks immaculate, wander one street back and the downturn in its fortune becomes more evident.

Still, it remains one of my favourite places in Portugal.

The Main Attraction – The Riverside Promenade

Alcácer do Sal’s location beside the Sado River is its crowning glory. The town is as colourful and pretty as many other historic Portuguese towns, and features the almost ubiquitous Moorish castle lording it over houses which tumble down to the water’s edge below. But I can’t think of another Portuguese town where the buildings only line one side of the river it sits on. It’s a feature which means that you get an urban stroll on one side, while a short jaunt over either a footbridge, or the Iron Bridge, whose span was designed to open to make way for river boats transporting wheat and rice, takes you to Alentejo flatlands and emerald paddy fields.

Blast from the past – Santuário do Senhor dos Mártires

Thanks to its rich history, there are remnants of past occupiers to be found all around Alcácer do Sal, from megalithic burial tombs and sections of Roman road to the crypt at the Pousada. There are also numerous churches, so plenty for history lovers and fans of religious architecture. One we particularly like is the Santuário do Senhor dos Mártires. Located on the western edge of the town, it was constructed by the Knights of Santiago and is one of the oldest Christian temples in Portugal. Inside are frescoes depicting Roman occupation, but what we sets it apart for us is climbing its tower till we are on a level with nesting storks to enjoy the views across the town to the rice fields beyond.

A Serene scene – Walk in the paddy fields

I have a thing about walking through paddy fields, finding something exotic about them, even Portuguese ones. A short walk from Alcácer’s town centre takes you through glistening rice fields, into cork forests, and beneath the emerald umbrellas of stone pines, all natural features which have contributed to the town’s economy. In theory, there are specific routes you can follow from the town. In reality, these aren’t well marked, and finding your way can be confusing. We used a Portuguese military map to plot our route and still had to get creative at some points. For a far more straightforward but still highly enjoyable walk, simply explore both sides of the river.

A taste of Alcácer – Cuttlefish butty

Unsurprisingly, seafood and rice dishes are specialities in Alcácer do Sal. There are a few riverside restaurants such as A Descoberta in which to try some hearty Alentejo fare and regional offerings like various fish and seafood stews. However, my guilty pleasure in Alcácer arrives served in a roll. I was introduced to a choco frito butty the first time we visited Alcácer, and find myself yearning for that whenever I set foot in the town. For something sweet look out for pinhoadas, little diamond biscuits made from honey and pine nuts. A quaint spot for picking up local goodies is the tiny market in a boat beside the tourist office.

Away from the crowds – Scenes of the Sado

The town has two converted salt galleons, the Pinto Luísa and the Amendoeira (not dissimilar to Porto’s rabelos), which are available for half or full day sailings on the Sado. Each hold about 35 people and can be booked through the council’s website – something easier said than done unfortunately. Nearly every time we’ve visited, the two boats have been berthed in the reeds on the opposite side of the river from the town.
But there’s no real need to take to the water for in search of tranquillity in Alcácer do Sal. The place has never been busy when we’ve been there, and once you wander away from the river, there’s even fewer people.

The quirk – The legend of the seamstress

I find the chunky iron bridge somewhat of an anomaly, but the legend of the seamstress is probably quirkier. Some people claim to hear the sound of a sewing machine working non-stop, even saying they can identify its pedal being worked. One story goes, there was a seamstress making a dress for her daughter’s wedding, but she died before the wedding and her ghost continues to work at the gown, still preparing it for the big day. Another version is an abusive and alcoholic husband forced his wife to sew continually in order to make money to feed his habit. The poor woman sewed so much her spirit continued whirring away at the machine even after she died. Personally, I think it’s just the high-pitched buzz of mosquitos from nearby rice fields.

Summary

It’s incredibly easy to sum up this delightful Alentejano town in one line. Alcácer do Sal doesn’t need attractions, it is an attraction.

Most beautiful towns in Portugal, Alentejo & south

Marvão

Marvão comes in at first position as it dominated our view for four months. Perched on a rock overlooking the golden Alentejo plains, this walled, Moorish town near the border with Spain is as stunning up close as it is from a distance. You can drive through the (incredibly) narrow old streets to park in the upper town, but it’s far more relaxing to park outside the walls and walk up the winding streets to the castle where the reward for the thigh-stretching stroll is expansive views across the white-washed town to Alentejo plains which seem to go on forever.

Castelo de Vide

Alentejo boasts more than its fair share of picturesque towns perched on hilltops. Another is Castelo de Vide, a town known for grain milling and wool weaving (its residents were known as cardadores because of this). Thanks to its proximity to the border, Castelo de Vide became a refuge for Jews expelled from Spain during the Inquisition. There are still many reminders of their influence to be seen around the old streets, like the Fonte da Vila in the old Jewish quarter. I enjoyed the best gazpacho I’ve eaten anywhere at restaurant A Confraria, located near the Igreja de S. João in Castelo de Vide.

Reguengos de Monsaraz

Alentejo again I’m afraid. Reguengos de Monsaraz is another peach of a walled, hilltop town with pretty, whitewashed houses, cobbled streets, and a castle. It has a more bohemian feel than the previous two mentioned, with lots of artisan shops and street art decorating its immaculate lanes. It also attracts more visitors, but that doesn’t distract from its obvious charms. Even on a sweltering June day, it didn’t feel too crowded (see photo). An added attraction is the view from the ramparts of cerulean lakes which add a burst of vibrancy to the green and gold landscape.

Mértola

This is the final Alentejo entry, honest. Mértola sits on a rocky outcrop above the confluence of the Guadiana and Oeiras rivers. The old town is reached via an exquisite arched gate which wouldn’t look out of place in Granada’s Alhambra Palace. While the old centre may not be quite as pretty as some other towns on the list, its location sets it apart. Instead of sprawling plains, the terrain undulates more, and the gentle hills are covered with olive and cypress trees. But it’s the river snaking below the ramparts which adds that special touch.

Most beautiful towns in Portugal, central

Sintra

Anyone who knows anything about Portugal will have heard of Sintra. There’s nowhere else quite like it in the country, and it’s easily accessed from Lisbon. It is a tourist magnet and a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and deservedly so. With its colourful flamboyant palaces, it reminds me a bit of Portmeirion in Wales, albeit on a far grander scale. Sintra owes its existence to Ferdinand II who, in 1840, transformed a derelict monastery into a palace with Gothic, Egyptian, Moorish, and Renaissance architectural features which he then surrounded with a vast park.

Óbidos

I’m not the biggest fan of the area of central Portugal just north of Lisbon, in the looks department that is. It’s a wee bit too urbanised. But historic Óbidos is another of Portugal’s walled jewels. The old town consists of typical whitewashed town houses whose sharp edges are softened by blue and mustard bands. It’s a good place to try the popular sour cherry liqueur, ginjinha de Óbidos, which is sold from numerous little shops at around €1 a shot. Incidentally, Pasto da Vila does the most delicious pão com chouriço (bread with chorizo embedded into it).

Most beautiful towns in Portugal, north

Costa Nova

Nearby Aveiro, Portugal’s little Venice, often appears on Portugal’s prettiest towns lists. But I don’t think it’s as appealing as Costa Nova, located on the flimsiest strip of land between the Atlantic and the Aveiro Lagoon. What makes Costa Nova so pretty is its row of unique, brightly striped, clapperboard houses which makes the town feel more like a film set. The houses were originally built as fishermen’s huts but, over time, they increasingly became used as holiday homes. With long, sandy beaches on one side and the calm lagoon on the other, it’s an idyllic place to spend sultry summer months.

Ponte de Lima

I hummed and hawed between Ponte da Barca and Ponte de Lima for the final spot. In truth, both are worthy of a mention – two historic towns sitting on the banks of the Minho River in northern Portugal. Ponte de Lima edges it because it’s the oldest town in Portugal, there’s more of its historic architecture on view from the opposite side of the river, and the Roman bridge which links the main town with a charming neighbourhood on the northern side of the Minho is prettier than Ponte da Barca’s bridge; it also forms part of the Caminho de Santiago.

The most beautiful towns in Portugal, summary

When it comes to writing lists of ‘the most beautiful places in…” they are always going to be subjective. Other people might include Tavira, Monsanto, or Tomar, a place which Portuguese friends rated highly but which didn’t work its charm on us. There’s only one town on my list which matches the seven we saw chosen on Portuguese TV back in 2017; although, I’d still argue the ones above are more picturesque. The point is, Portugal has a wealth of beautiful towns to discover.

Jack Montgomery is author of the travelogue Camel Spit & Cork Trees: A Year of Slow Travel Through Portugal.

“Lying between Alentejo and the Algarve” is a description that turns up a few times. It’s one which doesn’t make any sense, and has probably come about as a result of a translation from the Portuguese. There is nothing between Alentejo and the Algarve – definitely not a no man’s land where there’s a wildly beautiful stretch of Atlantic coastline.

Other descriptions have it as being Portugal’s largest protected natural park, or that it straddles two regions (Alentejo and the Algarve).

So why the differences?

There are three factors which combine to confuse the issue of where the Costa Vicentina is actually situated.

Costa Vicentina

The location of the stretch of Portuguese coastline called the Costa Vicentina is, ultimately, straightforward. It runs from Odeceixe on Portugal’s west coast, to Burgau on the south coast. Both are in the Algarve, meaning the Costa Vicentina is entirely within the Algrave region. But there’s a complication. Costa Vicentina is also part of a natural park called …

Parque Natural do Sudoeste Alentejano e Costa Vicentina

This protected stretch of coastline is over 100km long, stretching from just below Alentejo’s Sines (where we had the best leitão butty we ate in Portugal – from Pingo Doce of all places), to Burgau in the Algarve. This is where much of the confusion comes in. Some people think that because Costa Vicentina makes up part of the natural park’s name, it runs for the length of the park itself. It doesn’t. South west Alentejo and Costa Vicentina are two distinct parts of the park. But there’s another factor which can add to the confusion, and that’s the …

Rota Vicentina

The Rota Vicentina is a long-distance hiking trail consisting of a choice of routes. The main ones are the Historic Way and the popular Fishermen’s Trail. The more rural Historic Way begins at Santiago do Cacém and winds south, partly inland, whereas the Fishermen’s Trail begins at the northern boundary of the Parque Natural do Sudoeste Alentejano e Costa Vicentina and follows the coast all the way to Lagos, therefore taking in both the Parque Natural do Sudoeste Alentejano e Costa Vicentina and Costa Vicentina, plus a little bit more.

But, just in case you thought that more or less cleared it up, until relatively recently the Rota Vicentina ended at Cabo de São Vicente. An extra stretch has been added on.

In the end, these are all labels. What people who visit this part of Portugal are really interested in is being able to walk a stretch of untamed coastline which boasts desert-sized beaches, cliff-top paths, white-washed fishing villages, and storks on stacks, with the exuberant Atlantic as an ever-present companion. And that’s exactly what you get just about anywhere along Portugal’s south west coast, irrespective of what its official name is.

After 14 years in the Canary Islands, and craving adventures somewhere new, we swapped our settled life in the North of Tenerife for a decidedly unclear one in Portugal.

“The first sighting of a wooden post with the word contrabando etched into it is quite thrilling, prompting thoughts about the people who walked these illicit paths, some of whom still live in the neat white houses nestled into the valleys around us. The path climbs through a cork forest, their trunks stripped of precious bark leaving them looking naked and slightly, but not unattractively, odd…” – Walking in Smugglers’ Footsteps: Camel Spit & Cork Trees

Our quest to find the ideal place to live, combined with missions to create Slow Travel holidays, took us from the honey-coloured coastline of the wilder side of the Algarve to the verdant valleys of the Minho in the north, and from living beside a smugglers’ trail in Alentejo’s ‘beyond the back of beyond’ border country to a small farm next to a cork forest in the Setúbal Peninsula south of Lisbon; an area of fisherman and farmers where stork colonies squat on abandoned farmhouses and flamboyant flamingos wade through oyster beds.

“The back door is flimsy to say the least. Thankfully it doesn’t last long as just as it starts to get cold something starts to eat it from the inside. We bring Dona Catarina in to the house to listen to the audible chomping.
“Oh!” she cries when she hears the loud munch, munch, munch before covering her mouth and giggling.” – Warm Days, Cold Nights: Camel Spit & Cork Trees

As well as coming to terms with the idiosyncrasies of life in a different country, our voyage has been one of discovery, of gradually getting to know a fascinating country better – exploring a cape where the Virgin Mary was spotted riding a giant mule up a cliff-side; learning about a festa where young children are encouraged to smoke cigarettes; finding out why cork trees have numbers chalked on their bark; and being introduced to regional culinary specialities which included pigs’ blood rice and bizarrely-named desserts such as lard from heaven.

“We plonk ourselves beneath a TV where Sporting Lisbon are beating Basel in the Champions League, much to the disappointment of the locals (all Porto supporters), and let Vitor do the ordering. When he orders sarrabulho the waiter’s eyes flick towards us and back to Vitor again before he asks in Portuguese, “Are you sure?” He’s a man who has had previous experience of Brits being ‘surprised’ by the region’s speciality dish.” – Lazarus Roosters & Pig’s Blood: Camel Spit & Cork Trees

As it so often is when it comes to travel, the many characters we met along the way made the journey all the more interesting and enriching.

“Francisco finally appears, late (maybe he struggled to catch a taxi as well), looking exactly what we hoped a Portuguese Count would look like. He’s tanned and roguishly handsome with an unruly shock of silver hair; his eyes sparkle as he speaks; his hands flamboyantly accentuate every word; a smile permanently plays across his lips as though everything amuses him; and he’s wearing a green, collarless jacket which gives him the appearance of Christopher Plummer’s Captain Von Trapp.” – Dinner with the Count: Camel Spit & Cork Trees

Camel Spit & Cork trees is a travelogue which is partly about learning to live as a foreigner in Portugal and partly about delving under the skin of areas that aren’t so well known outside of the country. It’s about the land, the people, the food, the weather, the wildlife… and the insects. It’s also packed full of historical, cultural and quirky snippets we picked up during a journey which has not only been an education, it’s been a lot of fun… mostly.

So what’s camel spit got to do with anything? You’ll have to read the book to find out.

Camel Spit & Cork Trees, a Year of Slow Travel Through Portugal is available in both paperback and eBook from Amazon.

Alentejo is the least populated region in Portugal, its residents averaging the oldest of any in the country. It is an intriguing region in many ways, but after four months of staying in deepest Alentejo, right on the border with neighbouring Spain, it felt like a place which took an awful long time to get anywhere else from.

Jump forward and there now isn’t one vision, but many; all of them pushing and shoving each other out of the way to claim “I am Alentejo,” “No, I am Alentejo.”

These are ten scenes from the land beyond the Tagus to illustrate why.

Marvao
The town which was our architectural eye candy for four months. We couldn’t step outside the house we were renting without being treated to views of Marvao, the lord of the Serra de São Mamede Natural Park. Once a Moorish stronghold, now simply a joy of a place to a) look at b) have a wander around. Two years ago we described it as being one of the most beautiful small towns we’d visited. It still is, but now it’s been joined by a handful of Alentejano mates.

Évora
One of two towns in Alentejo which are UNESCO World Heritage Sites, Évora seemed like a cultural metropolis to us during our time in the wild plains. It was an hour and a half drive from the Portuguese border to Évora where we could catch a train to Lisbon, and the world beyond. The town is historically picturesque with some wonderful quirks – Capelo dos Ossos (Bone Chapel) – and it has a handful of excellent restaurants, some of which have menus which are tad more sophisticated than the generous, hearty and usually meaty traditional Alentejo gastronomy.

Castelo de Vide
Castelo de Vide is another pretty Portuguese hilltown with a relatively lively cultural scene. As well as having an attractive old centre with a maze of strollable streets, it’s home to what was our favourite restaurant within driving distance – A Confrario, mainly because they serve a sensational Portuguese gazpacho. It was also home to the nearest decent-sized supermarket and the source of free spring water gushing from lions’ mouths on a rather elegant fountain which is right next to the factory which bottles the same water, for sale in the area’s shops and supermarkets.

Costa Vicentina
South West Alentejo merges into the Algarve along the Costa Vicentina. But where the coast to the south is home to numerous resorts that have sprung up to meet the demands of sun-seeking tourists, the Costa Vicentina, like much of Alentejo, is wilder and lacks purpose-built tourist developments. Subsequently, the coastline has become highly popular with hikers, whilst its travel-magazine-cover-worthy beaches tend to feel more bohemian than those of the southern Algarve; being either virtually empty or populated by surfers and neo-hippies.

Elvas
The second Alentejo town which is also an historic UNESCO World Heritage Site, Elvas isn’t as well known as Évora, and it doesn’t feel quite as sophisticated. But it does have the capacity to surprise more; from the seven kilometre Amoreira Aqueduct which forces jaws open on arrival to the views from the largest star-shaped fort in the world across those golden plains to neighbour Badajoz. Elvas’ tiny British Cemetery is a poignant spot to contemplate what life must once have been like in this garrison border town.

Alcácer do Sal
On the opposite side of the country, near the western coast, the scene and scenery is quite different. I don’t think of Alcácer do Sal as being Alentejo purely because it feels like such a contrast to the land we experienced to the east. Sitting on one side of the Sado, more river than estuary at this point, Alcácer has many of the ingredients of your typically pretty Alentejo towns – hilltop castle, cobbled streets, whitewashed buildings etc. – but its riverside setting and the robust iron bridge which connects the centre with the opposite bank, combined with the surrounding paddy fields, give it a wildly differing vibe. It’s also a good place for choco frito butties.

Mértola
We’d never heard of Mértola before we drove into it whilst following a driving route given to us by the Pousada de São Francisco in Beja. Although an attractive old town, Mértola itself isn’t quite as pretty as Marvao. However, its location in the Vale do Guadiana, on a hill above the confluence of two waterways, elevates it to stunner status. The former trading post is located in what is described as Portugal’s hunting capital, and subsequently a good location for anyone who enjoys eating game such as rabbit and partridge.

Monsaraz
The day after we visited Mértola, we rolled into Monsaraz. Monsaraz and Marvao could be twins as there are many similarities between the two. Both boast an old castle perched at one end the town; pretty white houses with roofs of orange tiles huddled snuggly within the protective confines of ancient fortified walls; a lofty position looking out across endless flatlands – a wheat coloured patchwork quilt with green and silver flashes courtesy of cork and olive trees. But what Monsaraz has that Marvao doesn’t is the Alqueva Dam Reservoir. Covering 250 square kilometres, it’s Europe’s largest artificial lake. It is so immense it doesn’t look artificial at all, the aqua blue water amidst the golden plains adding extra razzle dazzle to the Alentejo countryside.

Comparta
By now a lot of people will have heard of Comporta because Madonna rides her horse along the beach there. To be honest, knowing this put us off. Not because we don’t like Madonna, but because we imagined a blingy resort. It’s an image that isn’t helped by those travel articles which describe it as the ‘Hamptons of Portugal’. Even a Tripadvisor Destination Expert for Portugal didn’t dispel this notion by advising it was “just a long strech of sand with expensive beach restaurants and bars…” It’s neither of those things. There is an endless beach where there are a couple of chic restaurants, but the main village is unmistakably traditional, albeit with a more bohemian side than most. It isn’t even on the coast. Anyone turning up in their Jimmy Choos expecting an upmarket coastal holiday resort is in for one hell of a surprise.

Carrasqueira
And then there’s Carrasqueira, a humble ramshackle fishing settlement on the southern banks of the Sado Estuary. With its dusty streets patrolled by packs of mongrels and the rickety network of fishing jetties which stagger into the estuary’s waters, it feels remote, really remote. It’s close to Setúbal and not far from Lisbon, and yet it could be on the other side of the planet. In some ways it reminds me of some places we visited in Chile; it’s a backwater which feels as though it belongs in a different time.

But then, that could apply to much of Alentejo where there are many places that feel as though they remain rooted in a previous age. That’s part of its multi-faceted and spread out charm.

Beja in deepest Alentejo is proving somewhat of a surprise, in a nice way. Our landlady, Dona Catarina, had more or less dismissed it as being just ‘okay’ when we mentioned we were staying in the town for a couple of nights. It’s more interesting and prettier than we expected. But we’ve come to realise the Portuguese have a glut of jaw-dropping, picturesque towns and villages, so anywhere less than picture-postcard perfect is only okay to them. It’s exactly the same with beaches.

It initially feels like a typical, traditional Alentejo town. Quickly we realise for a smallish town there’s a livelier buzz than is usual in this region. The iron rooster reveals there is also an arty side. Graffiti on peeling white-plaster walls informs us Beja is a “cidade anti fascista” (something which earns it instant brownie points) whilst a poster on an ornate old lamp-post tells us an indie rock band will be playing in the Praça da Rebública at 6pm. We make our way through the ubiquitous cobbled streets to a narrow, neat square (rectangle) lined by trees and smart, two and three-story town houses. There are a handful of bars around the praça. At one of them, A Pracinha, a rock band is tuning up beside tables and chairs shaded by Sagres and Superbock umbrellas – it’s an intimate little scene that oozes a bohemian personality. A Pracinha is exactly the sort of joint where you’d expect to find a healthy cultural scene – part deli, part bar it’s instantly welcoming, a place we’d spend a lot of time hanging out if we lived in Beja.

It’s a sizzler of a day, weather which demands something cool and refreshing. Andy asks the waitress for a Porto tónico, a too-easy-to-drink mix of white port, tonic water, ice, lemon and maybe a sprig of mint. The name betrays it as a northern Portugal beverage; although, we were first introduced to it in Alentejo so…
The waitress hasn’t heard of it but, following Andy’s instructions, happily makes a decent effort of putting a couple together whilst we chill out in the hot shade listening to promising jazzy, funky music as the indie band tunes up. The guitar player shouts something to the band’s sax player, and a refined English accent slices through the thick Portuguese chatter rising from the other tables which separate us. Stumbling across an Indie rock band in a square in a small Alentejano town is surprising enough, discovering said band has been imported from Britain makes it feel totally surreal. Beja might only be an hour and a half from the resorts of the Algarve but this part of Alentejo feels like a starship voyage away.

Just as the band looks ready to begin their set in earnest a musical gauntlet is thrown from the northern end of the square as a harmonious choir drowns out the building guitar riffs and sexy sax notes. The Brit musicians hit the brakes as three men wearing red cloaks and carrying metal staffs appear around the corner of the praça. The trio are followed by what looks like most of the rest of the town, the ones who aren’t occupying the tables around us that is. The penny drops that today is Corpus Christi. The procession slow-motion marches its way along the praça, pausing regularly to to allow a stretched accordion of ditherers at the rear to catch up. Its progress is interminably slow. The singing might be hauntingly beautiful but we want indie rock ‘n’ roll and the clock is ticking faster than the footsteps of those in the procession. With sadistic timing the stragglers leave the square just as we have to head back to the Pousada de São Francisco to meet up with friends who’d decided to give the indie rock concert a miss. Ironically, they would have loved the procession.

Today’s the day we haven’t seen a Brit band perform in a small square in rural Alentejo. What we have seen has given us an enjoyable taster of a town we’d never have ventured near had it not been a convenient halfway house in which to meet friends staying in the Algarve.

Beja is better than just okay.

A couple of weeks ago we spent a week in Tuscany, visiting Florence, Siena, and Pisa. It was hardly enough time too gain any sort of real insight, but heading back into deepest Alentejo provided the opportunity to indulge in a spot of compare and contrasting. Trying to find the ‘new Tuscany’ article again on Google, I noticed that since The Guardian article there had been a number of subsequent travel pieces referencing the same claim. Some attributed it to The Guardian, some to Condé Nast. Most said it had come from the New York Times. I’d read an excellent article in the NYT about Alentejo which had compared it to Tuscany but only in the following sense:- “As in Provence and Tuscany, food and wine bond families and strangers alike.”

Travel is subjective – one person’s all inclusive hell is another’s all inclusive paradise; historic streets lined by architectural delights can be magical places to wander, or a deadly dull destination with nothing to do. And classing Alentejo as the new Tuscany is most definitely subjective. To try to objectively explain why, I’ll set the scene with a couple of descriptions from external sources.

Tuscany according to Insight Guides
“From the glories of Renaissance Florence, with its wealth of artistic treasures, to the golden landscape and hilltop towns of the Tuscan countryside; from the terraces of the Chianti and Montepulciano vineyards to Pisa’s notorious Leaning Tower and Siena’s scallop-shaped piazza: this is a region that has fed the imagination and delighted the senses of countless visitors for many years.”

Alentejo by the official Portugal tourism website
“To the north, the pastures of the marshlands; in the vast interior, unending flatness, and fields of wheat waving in the wind; at the coast, wild, beautiful beaches waiting to be discovered.
The vastness of the landscape is dotted with cork oaks and olive trees that withstand time.”

Scenery
One of the above mentions a golden landscape, the other talks of fields of wheat waving in the wind. There’s a clear similarity. Driving for hours through an unchanging Alentejo countryside, we remarked how the land resembled an immense, golden quilt; thirsty, wheat-coloured dry grasses broken only by evergreen cork oaks, silvery olive trees, and occasional jade ponds where rusty cows and lithe horses gathered for water. On paper, Alentejo might share similar natural aspects with Tuscany – olive groves, vineyards, and even a few cypress trees. But on the ground the difference is as clear as the cloudless Alentejo sky. In the last couple of months we’ve stood on lofty battlements on numerous Alentejo hilltop towns, gazing in awe at plains which stretch to infinity and beyond. Where Tuscany’s soft-focus landscape could have been designed especially for an artist’s canvas, Alentejo’s is a vast, untamed wilderness mostly devoid of people. But, to be fair, at Elvas we commented to one another that one small section of the view from the castle looked Tuscan.

Towns
Historic buildings aplenty; a bewildering maze of streets careening anarchically around towns located inside protective walls; strategic hilltop positions. Yup, Alentejo and Tuscany share these features as well… but then they’re also found in other European locations, Provence’s villages perchés for example. However, even if you were drugged, blindfolded and dropped into the likes of Monsaraz, Marvão or Castelo de Vide there would be no mistaking any for Tuscany. Where Mediaevel Tuscan towns mirror the earthy shades of their surroundings, Alentejo’s are blindingly white; sunglasses essential protection for exploring their winding, cobbled streets. Both offer architectural banquets for the eyes, but ones with quite different flavours. Alentejo boasts some of the most outstandingly picturesque towns I’ve set eyes upon.

People
In Alentejo, flat caps and checked shirts are de rigueur for the men. In Tuscany…

Gastronomy
The travel article which may have instigated the comparisons with Tuscany focused on Alentejo cuisine and the richness of ingredients, touting it as a foodie destination. I suspect the Tuscany comparison was simply a travel writer’s ‘pitch’, hoodwinking an editor by presenting them with an angle which felt different enough to get given the green light. But the pressure to come up with a ‘new’ angle in the world of travel writing can occasionally mean some poetic licence regarding accuracy. There’s a very good reason gastronomic comparison with Tuscany might not have been written about before. Tuscan cuisine is sublime, rural Alentejo’s might be good quality but it is mainly unsophisticated, country fare.

In Tuscany we ate in traditional restaurants whose menus differed but whose dishes invariably included delicately seductive sauces; these were places we could go back to numerous times before we exhausted the dishes which appealed. When we stayed for four months in Alentejo we virtually stopped dining out after the first couple of weeks. We enjoy gastronomic diversity and like to eat meat only now and again as part of a balanced diet. Alentejo’s hinterland is a meat-eater’s paradise where the food is hearty, prices are low, and portions are generous. It’s a region which will satisfy the appetites of many visitors, but possibly not those ‘foodies’ the article was aimed at. This visit we ate out twice; the first notching up sarapatel, (seasoned offal stew), bacalhau dourado (shredded salt cod with onions, egg, and potatoes) and secretos de porco preto. There are Alentejana dishes we thoroughly enjoy, but only every now and again as the food is generally too heavy for frequent consumption. The second time we dined out was because it was our last night and we felt we should. It was good quality fare, but the hefty dose of meat (wild boar stew, Iberian pork steak) hung around like lead weights in our stomachs. When it comes to wine on the other hand, I prefer Alentejo’s to Tuscany’s Chiantis and Montepulcianos.

Ultimately, it isn’t fair to invite comparison between Italian cuisine and that of rural Alentejo. Both have their merits, but are universes apart.

And that’s where the problem of comparing regions in two different European countries fundamentally lies. Alentejo doesn’t need to be touted as the new Tuscany, it has its own strong and fascinating personality. Go seeking Tuscany and there’s a chance you’ll be disappointed. Travel there with an open mind and there are wondrous surprises to be uncovered.

One final comparison, travelling back to the coast from border country where Alentejo meets Extremadura, we paused at Elvas for an explore and a snack lunch consisting of a typically gigantic tosta mixta with a couple of drinks. We nearly ordered two tosta mixtas but the owner of the pastelaria talked us out of it, insisting one was enough. A similar lunch in Florence a couple of weeks previously cost a whopping €30. In Elvas I coughed up €4.70.

Alentejo is so not the new Tuscany.

Uncorrupted blue skies and the sun dancing across the mirror-calm surface of the estuary helped fuel a snowballing feel-good factor. Mid March and temperatures heading towards the mid 20s had us applying factor 50 sun-cream in a bid to prevent our faces taking on the same hue as the Coca-Cola adverts on the ferry’s wheelhouse.

It was the second time we’d made the crossing. The first was on the passenger ferry which deposited us at the soulless mini resort on the tip of the peninsula. We hadn’t taken to Troia resort, but an exploration beyond its boundaries to Roman ruins alongside a lagoon suggested there was more to the 18km narrow strip than its bling-tinged tourism development. We decided an interesting way to revisit would be to take the car ferry across and drive back to Setúbal, stopping anywhere which caught our interest along the route

The car ferry drops its cargo further along the strip, bypassing Troia, prompting us to ponder why the handful of other people were making the crossing. I guess the answer is that 25 minutes sailing is far quicker than driving 100km to reach what is ostensibly a remote part of Alentejo.

Although no distance as the crow flies, the transformation between bustling Setúbal and the sparsely populated, tree-fringed, white sands on the other side of the estuary was astounding. Within moments of disembarking we were on our own, driving along the one road which dissects the narrow finger of land, flanked by stone pines and cork oaks. Occasionally the flimsiness of the peninsula showed itself, views on one side revealing the benevolently calm Sado Estuary whilst, little more than a stone’s throw away in the opposite direction, high sand dunes obscured views of the friskier Atlantic beyond.

Within fifteen minutes we reached the first stop on our mini road trip.

Cool Comporta
Comporta made world news after Madonna rode her horse along its beach. Some people had told us it wasn’t the place it once was, too many holidaymakers flocking to its beach in summer had pushed prices up. I expected a smart resort.
It quickly became apparent the Comporta in my head didn’t match the reality of what was a small, traditional village surrounded by paddy fields. In March there were more storks lounging around on nests built on orange-tiled rooftops than there were people. There was no bling on show, but there were hints of a more bohemian vibe than is usual in a rural Alentejo town. The music emanating from the handful of cafes open out of season was a mix of cool jazz and world fusion. It felt down-to-earth, albeit in a casually sophisticated way; it was mostly local workers who populated the cafes and restaurants. We plonked ourselves in one, enjoying sounds which were a mix of reggae, country and what sounded like chocobo racing music from Final Fantasy VII. At €18.50 for sandwiches, drinks, and cakes prices were higher than the ones we were used to on the other side of the estuary.

The thing which surprised me most was Comporta isn’t actually on the coast. The beach itself lies a couple of kilometres away from the village. It is an exceptional beach, a world champion of beaches. And this is in an area which boasts as good beaches as I’ve wiggled my toes in anywhere. It’s the sort of endless beach associated with exotic, far flung destinations… if you’re northern European.

Seclusion at A Serenada
The idea had been to stay overnight in Comporta before swinging east. But a photo of an ‘I want to stay there’ room in a rural hotel further south had bewitched us. So we detoured to O Serenada near Grandola, a workaday town whose name is famous for its association with the Carnation Revolution.

Set on a hill, surrounded by vines and forest, and with views which swept all the way to the hills of Arrabida, O Serenada was another surprise; again feeling as though it belonged somewhere more exotic than western Europe. It reminded me more of a lodge in Africa than Alentejo. We were welcomed with a glass of their own crisp and distinctively delicious white wine, which we sipped from the comfort of decking beside a narrow infinity pool above a forest canopy as endless as the golden beach along the coast.

Once ensconced in our gorgeous room we would happily have stayed rooted to the balcony, hypnotised by the shimmering view, until it was time to check out. Except, in order to eat, we had to negotiate 1km of dirt track, 3km of single track road, and then 7 minutes on a ‘proper’ road to get to the restaurant we’d already booked a table at in Grandola.

Taberna d’Vila was the sort of restaurant we look for first wherever we travel – a place with a creative chef who reboots traditional dishes to give them contemporary pizazz. We worked our way through quite a few Alentejo menus when we’d stayed near the border with Spain, but still had to ask for assistance to explain some unfamiliar dishes on Taberna’s menu. As the starters sounded more interesting than the mains, we ended up with a quartet of them – steak tartare; mushrooms stuffed with presunto (cured ham) and quail eggs; morcela and apple in a pastry parcel; and, best of all, alcofa de cozido à Portuguesa which is a traditional stew (not Taberna’s version). Although overfull, we squeezed in lemon meringue pie (because it was there) and pine ice cream with sweet migas (because the waitress told us it was good).

Dogs and fishermen
I’d wanted to visit Carrasqueira ever since seeing stunning sunset shots of its rickety, wooden jetties at an exhibition. The town, separated from the estuary by rice fields, had a frontier, back of beyond air about it – air also filled with the aroma of fried fish from the handful of restaurants around its dusty centre. As well as fishermen, Carrasqueira was a town of dogs. Packs of them marauded, in a friendly manner, around the town, snuffling and generally doing doggy things. The jetties themselves were as intriguing and as ramshackle as I’d hoped, some consisting solely of old palettes stretching into the mud banks. Their central walkway had been recently renovated, allowing us landlubbers more stable access to the farthest point. It felt as though it belonged somewhere far removed from civilisation, even though we could see the port at Setúbal just across the estuary. Carrasqueira was one of those wonderfully quirky places which felt slightly out of kilter with the world around it.

On the river
Our penultimate stop was the one place on the trip we’d visited before – Alcácer do Sal, a perky, pretty little town which sits on the northern bank of the Sado River. On sunny days, the scene from the iron bridge leading to rice fields on the southern side of the Sado is resplendent, the town and castle above it reflected in the river’s waters. With restaurants lining the riverside promenade, and river boats berthed opposite, it reminds me a little bit of a mini Porto.

Lunch by the estuary
Our timing was slightly out for eating lunch in Alcácer do Sal – apart from it being too early we were still too full after breakfast at A Serenada. Instead, we continued to Pérola da Mourisca which is closer to home (10 mins). It’s one of the most popular restaurants in the area, so it was a lottery whether we’d get a table. But, despite it being packed with locals as usual, we got lucky. Really lucky as the one table which came free at the right time was beside the window.
Over a lunch which included salty, snowy-white sheep’s butter with chunky bread, choco frito (fried cuttlefish), and our first (but not last) tasting of arroz de pato (duck rice) we relived the highlights of our short road trip. We’d crossed an estuary and a river; travelled through a forest which had sprouted from the sand; warmed our toes on one of the most glorious beaches we’ve ever seen; stayed in a dream of a location; strolled through a vineyard; skirted rice fields populated by ibis, heron, storks and egrets; and wandered through the cobbled and dusty streets of historic towns and a quirky fishing village. We’d even spotted ostriches near a place called the Gambia.

That’s a bulging suitcase full of wildly contrasting travel experiences for just 100km of driving. As road trips go, this mini one had been quite phenomenal.