Portugal in early January felt like a fading sign—still lit, still legible, but no longer calling for attention. We picked that in-between stretch of the calendar for a road trip, loosely sketched with four open days and two open minds.
Castro Verde
All good road trips begin with an unnecessary detour, and ours was to a town called Castro Verde. Castro Verde is a small town (vila) in the Alentejo, set among wide plains and best known for its basilica, its role in the Battle of Ourique, and its long connection to pilgrimage routes crossing southern Portugal. On this winter morning, it felt quiet—almost rolled up—with the sense that everyone was taking a break after a busy holiday season.
We walked past Casa Dona Maria, an intriguing manor, and continued on to the Igreja de Nossa Senhora dos Remédios. Along the way, we noticed signage for the Caminhos de Santiago – Alentejo e Ribatejo, a reminder that even small towns sit along long routes.
We stopped at the Basílica Real de Castro Verde, paused at the Monumento Evocativo da Batalha de Ourique, and stood briefly outside the Edifício dos Paços do Concelho.
Tiles caught our attention throughout town—on houses and on benches—before we made one last stop at the Moinho de Vento de Castro Verde.
Óbidos
Óbidos is a compact medieval town encircled by stone walls, with narrow cobbled streets and colorful houses—one of those must-see places that’s typically packed with tourists in the summer months. As we neared, the medieval walls were outlined in white lights. Óbidos’s Vila Natal still had a few days left in its season, and people were braving the rain to take part.
A light rain escorted us as we climbed into the walled town and made our way to our Airbnb. Nearly every door was festively decorated, a small detail that added to the charm. We dropped our bags, picked up a recommendation for dinner and headed back out to explore.
We started at Vila Natal, stepping into a small scale Christmas market with stalls and rides for kids. It felt subdued—perhaps because we arrived near closing, or because the rain had thinned the crowd—so we didn’t linger long. Instead, we went to a tapas restaurant recommended by our hosts, then returned to map out the next day’s plans.
By morning, the sun was out. We walked along sections of the ramparts, a little less ambitious than usual, as the stone was still slick from the previous day’s rain.
Caldas da Rainha
Minutes away was Caldas da Rainha, famous for its ceramics, particularly the legacy of artist Rafael Bordalo Pinheiro. I was excited to step inside one of the factories, but when we arrived, two cats were waiting on the stoop and a sign on the door announced they would reopen on Monday.
We wandered through town instead, noticing that several other places were also closed or under renovation. Caldas da Rainha didn’t quite deliver for us. On trips like this, you don’t choose the adventure—the adventure chooses you. We drove on.
Alcobaça
By contrast, Alcobaça delivered immediately. We pulled in the town and instantly knew we hit gold. The monastery dominates the town in a way that’s hard to prepare for.
Inside the Mosteiro de Alcobaça, the sense of space was striking. The rooms were vast and spare, the light diffuse, the quiet uninterrupted.
Afterward, we stopped for tapas nearby—an easy, welcome pause after the scale of the monastery—before getting back on the road and heading on to Leiria.
Leira
Leiria is known for its castle overlooking the town and for feeling less like a destination stop and more like a lived-in Portuguese city. We parked easily and took a funicular up to the castle.
It was a wet day, and after seeing someone slip, we moved carefully—climbing only where there was added stability underfoot. We paused at the top to sit and take in the view through tall openings, looking out over the town below before heading back down.
Tomar
Tomar is best known for its Templar history, anchored by the Convento de Cristo and its castle, with the Aqueduto dos Pegões stretching across the landscape beyond town.
As we arrived, my eye was drawn to the center of a roundabout, where a tabuleiro stood—stacked loaves of bread topped with a crown and a bird, a symbol that reappears every four years during Tomar’s Festa dos Tabuleiros. I snapped a photo as we rounded the circle, already aware that everything in town seemed to point upward.
From there, it felt natural to head straight for the Convento de Cristo. Founded as a Templar stronghold in the 12th century, the convent is not a single building so much as a sequence of centuries layered together. Moving through it, the scale kept shifting. Some spaces felt austere and contained; others opened suddenly into light and air. The effect was less about grandeur and more about accumulation—history added patiently, one layer at a time.
At the heart of it all is the Charola, the original Templar oratory—circular, inward-facing, and unlike anything else in Portugal. I paused here for a long time.
I didn’t even realize the castle was closed for renovations until after I visited the convent. Here’s a picture of it.
After getting a view from Ermida de Nossa Senhora da Conceição, we wandered around town, where the Igreja de São João Baptista faces the main square, solid and familiar, while a watermill along the Nabão river sat quietly nearby.
It was Sunday and local families crowded the restaurants but somehow we were graciously slotted in the mix. This is what we ate.
After lunch, we drove out to the Aqueduto dos Pegões. Stretching across the landscape, it made tangible the scale of the Templars’ ambition here. Built to supply water to the convent, the aqueduct felt both practical and audacious—another reminder that Tomar was designed not just as a spiritual center, but as a carefully engineered one.
Seen together—the convent, the chapel, the aqueduct—the Templar presence in Tomar felt less like a chapter in history and more like a system, still legible centuries later.
Ourém
We were deciding whether to visit Fátima when something—call it divine intervention—nudged us instead toward Ourém. The entrance into town was one of those breathtaking, sphincter-muscle-twitching moments, with a steep ascent along a narrow road.
This turned out to be one of those I’m really glad we came places: a small hilltop town with a medieval castle and historic center, perched high above the surrounding landscape.
Nazaré
Nazaré is known for its powerful Atlantic waves, which in winter can reach 15–20 meters (50–65 feet) and, in rare conditions, climb even higher—up to around 30 meters (about 100 feet). With little daylight left, we headed to Nazaré. We caught sunset at the marina, then tried our luck at the Miradouro do Sítio—along with everyone else.
Queluz National Palace
On our final day, we had time for just one stop on the way home. Lisbon felt like too big and busy a note to end the trip on, so we took a side trip instead to the town of Queluz, in the Sintra district.
There, we visited the Queluz National Palace. I don’t know why, but I’d prepared myself for something rather dull. I was wrong—in a big way. It was: enchanting.
The chandeliers stopped me. Big and ornate, but never loud, they carried their presence with surprising restraint.
In the gardens, I lingered near a sphinx-like statue—a woman’s face on a lion’s body—and the nearby fountains, drawn to the mix of elegance and quiet oddity.
A fading sign
There’s a kind of clarity that appears only when the noise dies down. Traveling at the edge of the holidays felt like following a fading sign—less about where we went, and more about how we paid attention.
More Portugal
Read more about daily life, the embarrassing moments, and the process for having a long stay in Portugal. If you are more of a picture person, follow me on Instagram.
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