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The Road Less Traveled: Extremadura Resists Change in Western Spain By
Byron Lutz The Spanish town of Valencia de Alcantara shows up in large bold type on my National Geographic Society map of Europe. It lies on the western border of Spain, the perfect place, it would seem, to cross the line into Portugal. I took a bus to Alcantara and asked the bartender at the cafe-bar bustop where I could catch the bus to Portugal. "No
buses to Portugal," he told me. Though he lived just ten miles from Portugal, the bartender had never crossed the international line. He bore no curiosity about what may lie over the hills from his ancient town, no desire for even a tiny look. He was satisfied to remain in Alcantara. Portugal by Thumb
I, however, was unwilling to spend the next six days in Alcantara.
The border was just ten miles away, so I would walk to the main
road and hitchhike.
It didn't take long to get a ride. Two farmers in a red Renault utility truck gave me a lift to the turnoff at the lonely customs checkpoint just four miles from the border. I stood there, my bag in my hand, waiting for a vehicle to pass. The sun began to set and the air began to chill. I realized after about two hours that the bartender was right; no one goes to Portugal. "You'll be lucky to see two cars cross the border tonight," I was advised by a customs official who eyed me with dull amusement as he crossed the road to his home. The two farmers in the red Renault utility truck were more amused to find me still standing where they had dropped me off, hitching a return ride to Alcantara where I had started. "No luck," I told them when they pulled over to the side of the road where I stood. "I need to find a hotel in Alcantara for the night." The driver took me to a nameless hostal that charged $10 for a clean room with warm blankets and a hot-water shower down the hall. The following morning I returned to the bus stop to catch the next bus out of town. "What
time is the next bus?" I asked. It was Saturday, so I was back on the main road, hitching a ride not toward Portugal -- where nobody goes -- but toward C ceres, the closest Spanish city with a proper train and bus station. In Extremadura, the province where I found public transportation too infrequent to meet my needs, I learned that many residents grew up, lived and died within a 50-mile radius of their birthplace. I wasn't upset that getting to Portugal was proving more difficult than I imagined. It made the journey more interesting and it comforted me to find a strong regional pocket of people who resist the intrusion of outside influences. "They are impossible to do business with," a well-dressed banker in Madrid told me, which gave me an even greater appreciation for the people of Extremadura. Ride to Caceres
Three or four cars stopped as I stood alongside the road with my
thumb out, but they were farmers only traveling a few kilometers
to a finca down the road.
Finally a young man pulled over to give me a ride in a small Spanish-made Seat. He was studying law enforcement at the university in Caceres and went out of his way to give me a ride to the train station once we arrived in the city. I was interested in traveling to Portugal for two reasons. First, I was there several years ago and liked how far my dollars stretched. I came away enchanted with the friendly Portuguese and confident that Portugal was one of Europe's best travel bargains. Second, I was anxious to see what changes, if any, had occurred since Portugal entered the European Union. From Caceres, the rapidly-expanding capital of Extremadura, I took a train south to the border town of Badajoz (US$11.25) which offered a $3 train ride to Elvas on the other side of the border with Portugal. No Change
I arrived with no local currency, only dollars and Spanish pesetas.
No banks were open on Saturday afternoon, so a taxi driver led me
to a small cafe-bar where the owner agreed to change pesetas
into Portuguese escudos at a very good rate.
I thanked the taxi driver by hiring him for the short ride into town instead of taking the bus. It was a good decision. For the price of a few dollars I was given a pleasant ride combined with a brief travelogue on the city. Elvas is one of those picturesque towns that burns itself into your memory forever. The largest aqueduct in Europe, the Aqueducto de Amoreira built Roman-style in the 1500s, offers a striking introduction to the walled city, which is overseen by a military fortress. The narrow winding cobblestone streets and clay-tiled roofs were laid down centuries ago. Visiting the Cathedral
I had an hour to kill before my bus was scheduled to depart for
Evora, so I hiked up the hill from the bus station to the two small
cathedrals built during the time of Chistopher Columbus.
A cathedral guide beckoned me inside the smaller Igreja de Nossa Senhora da Consolacao, a beautiful compact church built in the early 16th century for the monks cloistered there. I figured the tour guide was trolling for donations, since a bowl filled with escudos and pesetas was featured prominently at the entrance, but I was mistaken. He had another agenda. The guide's narration was excellent as we toured the church, spoken in Spanish instead of Portuguese for my benefit. He showed me to the top of the cathedral where a rooftop view afforded a spectacular vista of the town and countryside. As we descended from the sunlight into the dark, winding staircase I felt the guide's hand where it shouldn't be, an act which suddenly shed light on his true intentions. I try to maintain a sense of humor in such situations, so I said "Por favor, senor! No soy catolico," which asked him to excuse me because I'm not Catholic. He was a pathetic little man, not threatening but persistent. Would I reconsider? No, I said, it was time for me to catch my bus for Evora. As I walked out the cathedral doors the guide's voice trailed after me, ending the tour as if nothing had happened. "There are many fine cathedrals in Portugal," he said. Higher Prices
I was disappointed to find that prices have risen dramatically since
Portugal entered the EEC. In Evora, a city famous for its medieval
and Moorish architecture, I found restaurant prices as high or higher
than in Spain.
"We came here expecting bargains," a couple from San Francisco told me, "but we haven't found any big ones, yet." It's not that Portugal is expensive, because by European standards it's not. The point is that Portugal is not the great bargain it was a few years ago, except for wine drinkers who can enjoy a great bottle of wine with their meal for less than what they'd pay for a cheap glass of red California table wine back in the U.S.A. A good typical meal at a nice restaurant with table cloths and waiter service runs about 2,800 escudos (about $19) per person with wine. Portuguese beer is quite good, Sagres or Super Bock being common brands. Expect to pay about US$1 a glass at a cafe, $1.75 at a nice pub. Common table wine remains cheap, ranging in price from 55 cents to 90 cents at a cafe-bar. In a restaurant a half-bottle of house wine costs about $2.75 with your meal, amazingly low by our standards. Table Temptations
The Portuguese like to tempt diners by placing plates and dishes
of appetizers on your table while you wait for your meal to arrive.
They aren't free; you pay a premium if you decide to snack on any.
Each tiny plate runs $2 to $4, which adds up if you nibble off several
of them. The best policy is to politely decline the temptations
and ask the waiter to remove them.
A good bargain at small informal restaurants is the one-half frango (roast chicken) with fries. An order costs about $3 and is usually piled so high on your plate that you can't finish it all. At one nice small restaurant in Faro on the Algarve coast I ordered an a la carte lunch of feijoda (a typical bean, vegetable and pasta porridge) along with a basket of wonderful crispy bread, a tomato-onion salad and a half-jug of wine (four glasses worth) for just 800 escudos (US$6). Modest Hotel Rates
In Faro I stayed at the Hotel Santa Maria (Rua de Portugal,
No. 17, 8000 Faro. Tel. 089-824064), which offered a special off-season
rate of $23 for a nice large room with telephone, heat and private
bath.
A night earlier, in Evora, I paid $16 for a clean sparse room with bath down the hall at the Pensao O Alentejo (Rua Serpa Pinto, 74, Evora. Tel. 2 2903). Both hotels were adequate, but not memorable. Hotel and hostals, particularly on the Algarve coast, have low occupancy and are priced are substantially lower during the winter season. The capacity swells to full during the sunny summer tourist season, with higher prices to reflect demand. Americans won't find many clothing bargains in Portugal. A pair of Levis jeans that sell for under $30 in the U.S. are priced at $85 most places. |
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