Escape from Lisbon

The second-to-last day of our trip was dedicated to a day out in Sintra – Cabo da Roca – Cascais, a perfect escape from Lisbon’s busy city atmosphere.

The morning clouds rolled in once again and the forecast wasn’t promising, but we stayed optimistic. At Rossio railway station, we caught the train and set off toward the fairytale town of Sintra, just over 30 kilometers away.

Geography Is Everything

When the Atlantic crashes into Europe, the landscape stays almost completely flat all the way to Lisbon. Almost. Right here, out of nowhere, rises the Serra de Sintra — a mountain range that acts like a natural wall. Barely ten kilometers long, yet high enough to completely reshape the weather around it.

Winds from the ocean bring moist, cool air, and when it hits the mountains, it starts to rise. The air cools, the moisture condenses, and a thick mist settles into the forests of Sintra. Pleasant temperatures and this unique microclimate attracted kings centuries ago, who built their summer residence here. It was their “escape from Lisbon” long before the phrase even existed.

The municipality of Sintra is considered one of the wealthiest in Portugal, with a population slightly larger than Ljubljana. But what draws nearly two million visitors each year lies high above the town — because up here, as we’ve already discovered, nothing is ever at ground level.

Ferdinand the Romantic

Pena Palace sits at 500 meters above sea level, which means getting there by bus or taxi from the train station is more than recommended. If there’s ever a place where buying tickets in advance pays off, it’s here — and aim for the earliest slot, ideally the very first one at 09:30. Why? Because not even two hours later, all that’s left are long queues. And once you enter the gates, there’s still about a 15-minute uphill walk to reach the palace.

And then you see it — a palace straight out of a fairytale.

A bit red, a bit yellow, blue and grey — with clouds in the background like a theatre backdrop. A true manifestation of imagination. As if someone just made it up. And someone did — a German. Ferdinand II was a German prince who married the Portuguese queen. He was a romantic. The Sorrows of Young Werther and all that.

Romanticism says that emotions matter more than reason. And how better to express that than by building a palace on top of a five-hundred-metre hill, constantly wrapped in mysterious Atlantic mist, and painting it in the brightest colours imaginable?

A royal visit — and a kitchen worthy of a Michelin star

The interior is a perfectly preserved world of the 19th-century Portuguese royal family: bedrooms, salons, dressing rooms, a dining hall and a chapel. Everything is arranged as if they never left. So instead of feeling like you’re walking through a museum, it feels as though you’re visiting someone’s home — and that any moment now, they might serve dinner in that beautifully prepared grand dining room.

The path, where you slowly waddle along behind other tourists, leads you out onto the palace terrace. The fresh air and a bit more space instantly lift your mood. The view from up here is lovely — one might even say, almost romantic.

A few more rooms and reception halls follow, and eventually you descend into the medieval kitchen — which was truly impressive: huge copper pots and perfectly preserved cooking tools that look as if someone might start using them again at any moment.

Step outside and you're met with a thousand tiny balconies, mini terraces and whimsical turrets — a photographer’s playground. The path to the exit was already filling with new visitors, so we wrapped up our tour of the palace.

Lost in the Jungle

When you try to continue, things get pretty confusing — signs point left and right, and the more you look at them, the less you know where you're supposed to go. We wanted to reach the Moorish Castle, which from the palace looked as if it were just around the corner. Well… it wasn’t. After wandering around for a while, we finally figured out that we first had to walk out of the park.

Then you follow a narrow forest path, and suddenly you realise you’re in the middle of a jungle. Ferns all around you, bamboo, something that looks like cypress trees, moss everywhere, and a small stream flowing on your left. As if someone had gathered plants from all over the world and planted them right here.

And that’s exactly what this German did — besides being a romantic, he was also a botanist. Around his fairytale palace he planted a true botanical garden. The microclimate here makes it possible, so it really feels like you're deep inside a jungle. You're half expecting something to jump out of the bushes at any moment.

We stopped for a moment to admire this botanical mix when our old acquaintance returned — the rain. We had already descended far enough that going back up to the entrance was no longer an option, so we kept going.

We did eventually find the Moorish Castle, but the desire to explore it disappeared as the rain grew heavier. On this side, there was no trace of tourism or transport — only a few municipal workers fixing something. With a bit of Portuguese, some Spanish, broken English and universal hand gestures, we figured out that our only option was to head down the hill back toward town.

An hour later, after slippery stone steps and countless encounters with other lost tourists, we finally reached the first houses. I no longer remember whether it was Nara or Nia who said it, when I was grumbling about the rain and the signposts:

“Dad… this is part of traveling, too.”

And they were right! Sometimes things don’t go according to plan — and those are often the moments you remember even more than the “pretty” ones. We grown-ups tend to overthink everything. Kids, on the other hand, have an incredible ability to simply accept the moment as it is.

As we continued along the stone wall, we came across a sign saying that Hans Christian Andersen had lived here for a while. The greatest storyteller in the world lived beneath the most fairytale-like castle on earth — something we would never have discovered had we not gotten lost.

The End of the Fairytale

When we finally stepped back into civilization, I stopped a taxi right in the middle of the road. A police car was right behind him, but I think they're used to tourists who simply fall out of the forest onto the street. We took a short break in town, enjoyed a coffee and a fresh juice, and then continued.

Just as the paths on the hilltop had been confusing, the bus timetable and stops were equally chaotic. But we figured it out — this time thanks to Anja. It was 1 p.m. when we boarded a small bus and began our journey toward the end of Europe. The only annoying part? The bus stopped at every possible stop, so after half an hour we were still in the same town.

From the bus window I could see that Sintra offers far more than just Pena Palace and the Moorish Castle. Along the way were several beautifully maintained villas and churches. And soon after, the flat landscape returned — the same plain over which the Atlantic winds charge before rising to create Sintra’s misty magic. Those magical mists will remain fairytale-like for us today, because they apparently forgot to appear.

Then came a right turn — and in the distance, you spot that red lighthouse.

Where the Land Ends and the Sea Begins

Cabo da Roca is the westernmost point of mainland Europe. You stand 140 meters above the Atlantic, which crashes against the rocks below. The wind never stops. It may not be as dramatic as the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland or Los Gigantes in Tenerife, but there is a very special feeling when you’re standing at the edge of a continent.

We simply had to get the official certificate — something to hang on the wall as a reminder that we once stood at the very end of Europe.

An hour is more than enough for the views and a short walk. There was a restaurant up there, but it was closed — so the coffee at the end of the world would have to wait…

There is only one bus that runs the Sintra – Cabo da Roca – Cascais route. To avoid going back the same way, we continued south.

The Place Where We Met Ronaldo

Cascais is a classic seaside town, with beaches tucked between houses and cliffs. We were already a bit tired from the long day, so we stopped for lunch. This is also where I had the most expensive beer of the entire trip — €5.5. Then came a walk along those familiar wave-patterned pavements that have followed us all the way from Porto to the train station.

Somewhere along the way, we finally found him — standing there in his iconic pose.

Since he didn’t have much to say, I simply asked them to wrap him up to go.