Escape to Ponte de Lima
- Lisa Tisdale
- Sep 23
- 9 min read
Fleeing a two day rager in search of small town peace
With Braga’s two night, all night rager of a festival closing in on the city, I packed my bags and headed to the nearby town of Ponte de Lima before my apartment was rendered uninhabitable. I had been looking forward to the White Night festival for months. However my excitement ended as fast as a child’s after their balloon pops when I noticed construction starting on one of two main stages just below my balcony.
While I love a good festival, I have never wanted to experience one essentially living on the stage that was rumored to be bringing the noise until 5am. This isn’t Mardi Gras and I don’t have history class Monday morning.
Hard pass.
To Where Should I Make My Escape?
When considering my escape options, the easiest choice was to break down and finally go to Ponte de Lima, a town I’d been avoiding like the flu.
On a past trip to Viano do Castelo for an immigration appointment, many people I met there urged me to travel to nearby Ponte de Lima. They spoke with such passion as they described a visit there was like going back in time to a medieval village with a Roman bridge that must be THE Roman bridge to end all Roman bridges, the way they spoke of it. The over-enthusiasm they had made me envision a town that reeks of overtourism. I imagined it was quite lovely back in the day but now resembled a Disney reconstruction of a medieval village. So I skipped it and stayed in Viano do Castelo.
However now, the Disney version of medieval Portugal seemed like a reasonable escape from sleeping on the stage of a two-night rager.
Preparing for My Escape
After I booked my hotel, I reflected on the fact that my impressions of Ponte de Lima were solely based on the descriptions of others as I had done no research on the town outside of how long of a bus ride away it was. This was a highly unusual move for me, a researcher by trade. The weekend had a low bar for success anyway as I’d consider a couple of night’s sleep without the interruption of strobe lights and a late night DJ a win, so I made a pact with myself to do no research. I would let the town reveal itself to me slowly and in its own time.
After a quick half hour bus ride, I arrived to find the room I’d rented was better than the photo. It was spacious, comfortable and so clean you could eat off the floor. However, while reviews had warned against the restaurant downstairs being noisy after 9am, I was not prepared for the entire block to be full of restaurants and cafes which, while they closed by 10pm, started setting up every morning at 6:30am. Maybe I should have done just a touch more research.
My Taste Buds Got Hi-Jacked at the Bakery
As a treat, I bought a chocolate doughnut and afternoon galão from the cafe under my window. I figured if I was going to have to listen to a bunch of people squawking below my window in the room I’d rented to find some peace, I was going to eat a huge sweet treat and a second coffee.
Generally, Portuguese sweets don’t really do it for me. I struggle to find doughnuts I enjoy here, often finding them more like the Dunkin Doughnuts version in the US where the doughnut is, well, a doughnut. I am a Krispy Kreme girl where the doughnut is more of a thing that exists to be dipped in sugar.
OMG. I could feel my teeth decaying as I bit into that sweet, sweet, doughnut. My initial plan was to eat half and save half for later as it was a monster doughnut. However, after that first bite, I could not stop myself.
Oh how I savored that doughnut. I slowly enjoyed every sugary bite. It was an experience in bakery wonders as it had layers of sweetness. Underneath the chocolate that formed the top layer there was a clear layer of some super sugary, syrupy sweetness that together rendered the cake part of the doughnut useless except as a sugar delivery method.
As I slowly enjoyed every bite, pausing occasionally for a sip of coffee, I watched others consuming huge pastries. Most left some of the pastry on the plate. Not me. I was no quitter.
Ponte de Lima’s “Old Man Bar”
That evening, I sat outside at one of the many tables spilling out onto the square. I ordered a glass of wine and enjoyed the weather and the view of the old Roman Bridge lit up at night. So far, I was enjoying myself. Not one person dressed up in a medieval costume had jumped out at me and asked for money to take a photo together. It was simply a quaint, medieval village with a few shops that sold fridge magnets. I could handle that.
As I drank my wine, I noticed at nearly every table around me, people were working hard at scratching lottery cards. There wasn’t a DJ in sight so I was feeling lucky. I went inside and bought a couple of cards and joined everyone in the effort to change our financial fortunes. After I realized my fortunes were simply 5 euros lighter, I shared a disappointed look with a lady at the table next to me and went back to my wine.
The next morning I returned to the cafe on the square. I loved it for one main reason. There were only Portuguese people there. While I absolutely love the comfort of my American friends, I grow tired of places that become overrun with English speakers like cockroaches when you turn the light on in an abandoned building in the southern US in July.
It was a foggy, cool morning so I headed inside hoping to find a table. The cafe was buzzing with activity, and was definitely what I would describe as an “Old Man Bar”.
I adore old man bars. Those bastions of old-school atmosphere, where the paint may be peeling off the wall and the decor is usually from a time before I walked the earth. In these places, no one cares about such things. They just come in for a coffee they could make at home to have a chat with their neighbors. This was an excellent “Old Man Bar” and I loved it.
The Bands Follow Me As I Walk This Earth
After my morning galão and a little Portuguese language study, I headed out to walk across the old Roman bridge. My morning was going great! While my friends had been sending updates about all the fun I was missing at White Night, I focused on exploring the peaceful corners of Ponte de Lima.
Wait. What was that? A BAND? You have got to be kidding me. I looked off in the distance and indeed, a band was marching proudly across the old Roman bridge, waking up whoever had the audacity to sleep in on a Saturday. While bands can appear randomly for a little practice and to drum up some weekend beer money, a display like this can only be tied to a festival.
As I stood waiting for them to make their way across the bridge, I stared up into the sky and wondered if in a previous life I had wronged the God of Portuguese Festivals. How can I make amends? Please, universe, send me a sign! I am ready to do what it takes to make things right.
As the band members marched past me and into the square, I could tell by the looks on their faces they were very excited to be up early and storming the town of Ponte de Lima. They obviously had not been awakened at 6:30am by a cafe setting up below their window. I broke down and threw some coins in their tip bucket. After all, they were a good band and it was not their fault they were pawns in a cruel effort by the God of Portuguese Festivals to slowly drive me mad.
Finding Peace at the International Gardens
When the bridge was once again free for foot traffic, I crossed, headed in search of a garden on the other side of the river that I’d read about in a brochure in my apartment. It was called the International Garden and was divided into plots. Landscape architects and gardeners from all over the world, were invited to submit their ideas annually, for how they, if given the chance, would create a garden in their plot given the theme of the year. This year’s theme was Peace, as ironic as that was turning out to be.
When I arrived, there was no one at the gate. I waited and finally a woman appeared and I handed her the 1 euro entrance fee. She tried to give me a guide to the gardens but I pulled out the one I’d found in the apartment, happy I’d made the small environmental effort.
As I wandered the gardens, I was grateful to the 12 international groups that had taken the time to create such thoughtful spaces in this little corner of the world. It was such an unexpected delight to find these beautifully designed, thoughtfully planned gardens tucked away in a peaceful spot outside of the tiny town of Ponte de Lima. I explored every one, reading the vision each group was trying to create and wandering through their area.
As I wandered each space, I often thought I’d found my favorite, until I came to the last one which brought me to tears with its heartfelt depiction of empathy for children who are victims of today’s wars. I thought of these children and what horrors they must be living through in this same moment as I was standing there full of happiness and peace. It was overwhelming.
As I was leaving the gardens, I bought a book that had several photos of all 12 of this year's creations. I wanted to be able to visit these peaceful places again when my future days needed a little hope.
It’s Game Day Baby!
Later, back in Ponte de Lima, I needed to focus on the important task at hand: finding a place to watch Portugal’s next World Cup qualifying game. Granted, they were playing Armenia so there was a strong chance that Portugal was going to clean the floor with them, but I’ve had my football heart broken by lesser teams.
I did some research online and found a place that claimed to be the “Sports Bar” of Ponte de Lima. On the way to confirm that with my own eyes, I passed a local, no-frills place that had a TV in the back. I confirmed they would be showing the game so I had a backup plan. It was a small place and I was not sure how that would work if many people packed in there so I headed on to find the “Sports Bar”.
As I was getting closer to the street the “Sports Bar” was supposedly located on, the area was becoming more residential. However, I did see what looked like it might be the “Sports Bar” right after a burger joint at the end of a one way street without much else going for it.
As I approached the run-down looking bar, I was careful not to make assumptions. I’ve been in my fair share of dive bars and had many a good time. There was a man out front washing big plastic buckets with a water hose in a dusty lot. I tried to ask him in the best Portuguese I could muster, if he would be showing the Portugal game. He looked confused and after several attempts to re-phrase my question, he said he’d have to go ask the two men sitting inside.
After consulting with his colleagues, he came back out, shaking his head, saying there was no Portugal game. By this time, I knew I was heading to the smaller place back in civilization, but I could not resist. So I went online and held up my phone with the details of the game including what local channel it was airing on. Surprised, the man went back into the “Sports Bar” which I now realized could only have earned that name if these gentlemen got a card game going there from time to time. Happily he came back to confirm that I was not insane and there would be a game coming on in twenty minutes. If I could come back then, he would put the game on their TV.
Sure buddy. I’ll be back in twenty.
Meanwhile, Back in Civilization
I headed back to the small bar and things worked out perfectly. It was a great atmosphere, with Dads bringing in their little boys who acted like they were watching a replay of their goal in the Pee Wee league when Ronaldo scored.
While I watched the game, I ordered a sandwich which I expected would be your basic toastie but instead was a culinary sandwich masterpiece which I cannot even begin to describe adequately. It was a heavenly mixture of pork, cheese, arugula topped with some sweet balsamic drippings that really put it over the top. The existence of that sandwich along with the doughnut will bring me back to town if only for a day trip to eat that combo.
After Portugal easily won the game, someone told me about a band that would soon be performing. On the square. Half a block from my apartment. Until at least midnight.
So much for a peaceful weekend. I headed to the old man bar, grabbed a table outside and enjoyed the music.
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