Portugal, Spain, and back to France.

We've left Portugal and headed across Spain, back into France, doing a couple of marathon (for Europe) drives.

Our last three or four days in Portugal were fantastic, with some incredible food, sights, people, and roads.
We stayed a couple of nights in Costa Nova, which was quite touristy, but had a nice beach on the Atlantic, and some great seafood, before heading off to spend the day in Porto. Porto is famous for it's Port (big surprise), with stacks of cellars doing tastings, but we were there fairly early in the day, so sorry no Porto Port report!
We did however have some great food, including another lunch where we ordered one thing, were told by the waiter we had got it wrong, and given something else. Turns out he was right.

After rolling out of Porto, we headed up into the mountains toward the Spanish border, stopping above a Hydro lake in a Hotel with the most amazing views down the valley. After a swim we headed off for coffee and a look around before tea, which turned into a bit of a fang on narrow twisty mountain roads. We decided to look for somewhere to have tea at about eight, but everywhere appeared to be shut!
We were consistently turning up for tea early in Portugal, most places not starting service until eight, but were worried with it being so remote, and in the mountains, they may have changed the rules. Only one thing for it then, I went into Targa driving mode, and the navigator, instead of calling corners, was calling the status of eateries!
The monologue from the nav went something like this, "Bar on right, no, shut. Restaurant on left in 200. The bastards are shut as well! Next village 5km. Can't you drive any faster you poofter!?"
Eventually, with a glowing turbo, smoking brakes, and shagged tyres, we slid backwards into the carpark of a restaurant named Pedre Verde, where we had one of the best meals of the trip so far. We started with goats cheeses and bread, including garlic bread and a locally made(ie. the downstairs kitchen!) chorizo sausage, followed by a pork chop and potatoes, and the star of the night, goat stew with spuds, yum! By the time we got through that lot we were chockers, and declined the owner/waiter's offer of dessert, which he ignored.
Owing to our paltry attempts at plate cleaning in Portugal thus far, I asked if the portions we got were 'normal', and was told in very poor english (still better than my Portugese!) that yes they were, but the locals only have a light breakfast and lunch, saving themselves for tea.

Epic fail. For my first travel advisory: don't have a huge breakfast and lunch, snack all day on local specialties and treats, and then belly up to the tea table and try to put away a Portugese dinner!

At the end of the meal Deena asked about the ingredients of the dessert, and the owner told us that 'his' honey was in it, which prompted me to ask if he kept bees himself, and he does! Once we had managed to establish that we were both bee nerds, we spent the next hour or so talking about bees and honey, which led to a tour of the kitchens, honey tastings (on an already abused stomach), and a trip into the backyard to have a look at one of his hives. All very enjoyable, and Deena was ecstatic to be able to watch me talk in sign language, and pidgin Portu-english about bees!

The next day saw us in Spain, this time on a mostly motorway blast on the way back to France, lunching on sausage cooked in red wine and chips, and stopping short of the border with France, where Deena was thankfully able to sniff out some fresh cooked churros (thank god, we almost went half a day without some!).

Our return to France was heralded by torrential rain, which caused some localised flash flooding for the French, and a clean Renault for the Whites. We stopped two nights in Bordeaux in a lovely hotel right near the centre, with a resident beagle, and the most comical bathroom so far.
Tea the first night was at a brasserie around the corner, where I had Andouilette sausage, a strongly flavoured sausage made from pig stomach, intestines, and other bits. It had a rather strong odour, reminiscent, according to Deena, of dog shit. I tend to agree on the odour thing, but have to say that if you don't smell it too closely, it is rather tasty. Highly reccommended.
Does make you fart though.

After another couple of days travel we've ended up on the Normandy coast, visiting Omaha beach and a D-Day museum in Bayeux (of the tapestry fame) which was the first town liberated by the allies. It feels a little surreal to be driving along narrow hedgerow lined lanes on such a lovely day, after standing in a war cemetry full of headstones.

I've got a ton of photos to put up in the next couple of days, heaps more food porn, and some boring scenery shots, but until then, au revoir, Dave.