I’ve always wanted to get myself to a nunnery … and when I discovered that
there was one in Portugal called ‘Chagas de Cristo’, I thought with such a
name, this surely is the one for me.
Founded in 1514, the convent of the Wounds of Christ (for that is the
veritable translation) is some 80 or so miles due east of Lisbon, almost on
the border with Spain. The fourth Duke of Braganza had the place built next
to his palace in Vila Vicosa, specifically for his daughters from his second
marriage. Apparently back in the 16th century there was a dearth of eligible
young men from noble families, so for them it was the nun’s life of matins
and vespers, rather than servants and balls.
The convent was converted some ten years ago into a 34 bed hotel, and it is
one of 40 pousadas in Portugal, evenly spread throughout the country so that
another one is never more than a two hour drive away.
The government began the pousada concept of smallish hotels in interesting
buildings and distinctive locations serving good regional food back in the
1940s. There are four distinct categories: historic, architectural, nature
and charm, and you can plan a tour of each accordingly or even mix and
match.
Buildings, many of special historical or architectural merit (hence the
nunnery) were acquired and then sensitively adapted before being handed over
to a hotel group to run.
I sampled three on a recent fly/drive trip to Lisbon. First up was in Queluz,
less than half an hour from the airport just off the IC 19. Well signposted
from the motorway, the short and easy journey quells the faint panic that
may be felt when just off the plane in a new country and driving on the
wrong side …
The building with its distinctive clock tower and known as the pousada of Dona
Maria I was formerly used by the Royal Guard of the court who protected the
National Palace across the way, built by King Pedro III in the 18th century
as his summer residence.
The palace and gardens are worth the £2.50 entrance if you like baroque
theatricality with lots of guilt and gold and serried ranks of box hedges
and monotone green bushes – it’s like a faded Versailles, with the gardens,
in particular, in need of some TLC.
The staff were typical of all three pousadas – easy and affable; the room high
ceilinged and comfortable. The constraints of the historic building
accounted for the single small and high window which was a shame when you
wanted a big one and a balcony.
It faced towards a barracks, across a cobbled open space used as a parade
ground. The trumpet reveille each morning at seven was a nice touch, as was
the uniformed and armed guard in his (or her, as there were both in the
artillery regiment) sentry box. Queluz itself is but a dormitory for nearby
Lisbon with little obvious attraction, apart from the palace, which
accounted for the second day driving due west to the Atlantic coast.
A bracing walk around the Cabo da Roca, the westernmost point of mainland
Europe. Offshore a squadron of 15 storks was flying in line due south back
to Africa for the winter. Then an excellent seafood lunch at O-Pucaro
restaurant al fresco under the pines at Praia do Guincho – big barnacled
mussels in a cream sauce with lots of crusty bread and then grilled sole.
Then walk on the beach, the surf coming in from America with wet-suited youth
riding it to their hearts’ content, followed by reading and dozing in the
dunes, out of the keen wind, before a leisurely drive back along the scenic
coast road.
