Senora do Bom Sucesso to Castelo Branco

despite the clear skies we had at sunset. I worried that another cold front had moved through and we were in for a week of cold, wet weather. But the clouds broke up and the sun shone brightly be afternoon.

The first town we went through was a small old village and all the inhabitants seemed old too. The narrow streets were paved with stone. All the doorways had chains or beads hanging in them just like the bar in Valverdes. Groups of three or four old men sat at benches and stared at us. Dogs wandered around the streets.

Short old women walked around wearing long black dresses with their heads wrapped in shawls. Quintissential old ladies, like from fairy tales.

We stopped in a little coffee shop/produce shop and ordered two coffees. I had a little trouble getting through the chains with my big handlebar bag hanging on my shoulder. The room was near pitch dark. One of the fairy tale old ladies waited on us. The coffees were very small and cost very little (70 escudos). We also bought some pears, which had been so excellent in western Spain.

We knew absolutely no Portuguese. We didn't even know for sure what time it was.

Fortunately many words in Portuguese are the same as in Spanish. The trouble was we didn't know which were the same and which weren't. Amazingly, we were able to understand a woman's directions out of Aranhas.

After we left that town, I got my pocket translator out and we studied the numbers and a few basics - hello, thank you, how much? -- while we climbed the hills.

At the next quiet little town we saw a very large man cutting an old man's hair and shaving him. They were outside in an alley. I needed a haircut too but the big guy wouldn't cut my hair for some reason. I think he was probably cutting his grandad's hair.

The terrain rolled a lot. The land was farmed for olives and a few other crops. I saw a few men out cutting hay by hand with giant scythes. We passed horse drawn wagon with an old man driving and an old woman riding in back and men plowing with horse pulled plows.

In all the little towns, the main streets were paved with stone. Sometimes the stone paving continued for a few kilometers out of town. This got a little tiresome on the bikes but it looked good.

The character of the towns changed a lot after we reached the first highway. We had been on all back roads to that point. Near the highways the towns suddenly were much more modern. They still had an old section but healthy younger sections had grown up around them. They looked very different than the Spanish town just across the border. The cafes were even more inviting.

At Sao Miguel we talked to a man who had been a chef in Switzerland and now ran the cafe we were at. We told him about ourselves in French then he told the rest of the customers in Portuguese. Later one of the customers told us she had never left Portugal. And the border was just 40km away.

On the roads, like in Spain, we got lots of waves and thumbs up signals. If anything, we got even more support in Portugal. At one town on the way to Castelo Branco a few old men stood up and applauded as we rode by. I felt like I was in a victory parade.

Castelo Branco is a fairly large town. From the Michelin Green Guide, which we've since learned isn't very good, I had fairly low expectations. But is was a great place.

The tourist information office gave Joan some bad information, like telling her the campground was one kilometer away when it was really five, and telling her where to find internet access but not mentioning the place was closed for the holidays. So we had some wild goose chases right after we arrived but eventually we found the campground. Just as good, we also found a supermarket! And not a little supermarket but a really big one - an Intermarche like we found in France. We never saw a single one of these in Spain. The Spanish prefer small markets I guess.

I spent about 30 minutes walking around shopping and I loved every minute of it. I still remember being in Tibet and not being able to find anything except ramen noodles.

Our campsite cost 121 escudos (about 67 cents). We stayed for two days. The only trouble was all the bird shit that fell on our tent. But that wasn't the campground's fault.

Joan really needed to get on the internet while we were in Castelo Branco so I spent the day off searching the town. I went to all the usual places - library, post office, discos, "alternative" bars, upscale hotels, computer stores. But it was the Friday before Easter and most things were closed. Finally the two women behind the counter at the Best Western spoke fluent English and said they could at least fax. When we came back later with the Newton, they let us hook it up to their phone line. And it worked! First try even. That never happens. We were lucky to find such friendly people.

Actually, just about everyone I dealt with in Castelo Branco was very friendly. The town seemed young, healthy and thriving. We enjoyed just sitting at an outside table and having a beer.

The Michelin Guide makes a big deal about the gardens in Castelo Branco that date back to the 17th century. They're nice, but no big deal. Frankly, the shrubs could have used a little trim. I was more impressed with the supermarket.

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