There are more locks on the Douro than remain on my head, and they’re certainly longer. This morning we passed through the Lock of Valeira on our way to Barca d’Alva. I went on deck to experience our ascent al fresco, as the ship entered a narrow cement canyon with the sky far above. As the lock filled with water, the rubber bumpers protecting the ship did their best imitation of humpback whales, singing hauntingly and bringing to mind “Farewell to Tarwathie,” a reference that will be lost on anyone who (due to poor taste or ignorance) is not a Judy Collins fan.
This afternoon’s tour took us to Castelo Rodrigo, the ruins of a castle dating to the 16th century, when Portugal lost its independence to Spain as the result of an ill-considered marriage. In fact, the castle earned its ruin-hood not through the forces of nature, but through a fire set by Portuguese revolutionaries in the mid-17th century to make clear to the Spaniards that their future presence would be neither required nor tolerated.
Castelo Rodrigo also was one of the spots where, following Spain’s Edict of Expulsion, Jews were permitted to cross from Spain to Portugal. Of course, Portugal, too, soon was caught up in the convert, leave, or die craze, so today’s Portugal is filled with Catholics who can trace their ancestry back to the “conversos.”
Alas, while the rain in Spain may fall mainly on the plain, today the rain in Portugal fell in wind-driven sheets on Castel Rodrigo, so our group unanimously voted to avoid the risk of drowning and return to the ship. After donning dry clothes, I found that two glasses of Balvenie warmed me up nicely. They also prepared me to join the flamenco dancers who entertained us this evening for their last dance (along with a dozen other passengers). YOLO, and I’ve already confiscated all the videos!
PuffinlessTravel 