To Lisbon or not to Lisbon?
Lisbon 2026 so very nearly didn’t happen. I am waiting (as for the last four years) for a hospital date, for my back operation. As always, it doesn’t come through, so I agree, last minute, that I will attend the Most Travelled People (MTP) ‘Grandmasters’ Annual Lunch, near Lisbon. Just as I am hovering, with my cursor, over the EasyJet website, ready to book, with a few extra days for sightseeing, all the flights on offer disappear. A transport strike called in Portugal for June 3rd. To coincide with a holiday on June 4th. So the workers get five days off in a row, if the play their cards right. (This is all explained to me later, by a cab driver.)
To cut a long story short, I end up booking a flight to Porto, in the north of Portugal. The only one going on June 4th. Charles, the co-owner of MTP says he will give me a lift from there to Lisbon. Sounds good. Charles is very keen for me to come and has been WhatsApping me relentlessly. They are hoping to break the world record for the largest number of people who have been to every country in the world, in one place.
Then, of course my operation date, comes through. It's in two weeks. I fit my pre-op consultation into my journey to Gatwick. The jitters seem to have got to me. Over the day it transpires that I've queued for the bus, when I drove in my car, have handed the nurse a urine specimen containing vitamin D capsules (she said they might affect the result) and forgotten to pack my make-up, swimsuit and phone charger.
Getting to Lisbon
The plane leaves late and there's a long queue at immigration, for the new Schengen area checking and fingerprinting. It seems to be moving reasonably fast however, until all the men down-tools and disappear to the staffroom. Fifteen minutes later they're all back again. And I'm out. No fingerprinting. My taxi driver has capitalized on the fact that my booked driver has embraced the holiday spirit and not turned up and combined two bookings into one. It's after midnight. But I'm here.
Charles messages. He's arranged for me to travel instead with Jaime, who has been to every country in the world, both poles and space.
Jaime messages. We are going straight to Lisbon. No stopping. He has a meeting. O good. Very little time to revisit Porto (read about my last visit here). But plenty of time to hear all about Jaime's adventures. This Panamanian has done plenty. He’s even commissioned a film crew to follow him around. They're making a documentary, which they hope to show at Cannes. He sent them home yesterday, so I won’t be featuring.
But we do stop off at the giant Lisbon Aqueduct, to pose for a picture. The eighteenth century Águas Livres Aqueduct (it survived the earthquake almost intact) is one of Lisbon's best-known landmarks, extending nearly nine miles (it's part of a 36 mile network of canals, galleries, reservoirs, and distribution systems). One of its arches is the Arco Grande, one of the tallest pointed masonry arches in the world, but sadly, I'm not sure which one it is.
The Hotel Fenix Music
This time I have an extremely well located hotel, right on the Praça Marques de Pombal. It's a nice hotel too, with views over the Edward VII Park and the jacaranda trees and some snazzy features. The blinds automatically go up and down, as I leave or enter the room.
This will be my base for my excursions around the capital. Read more about my explorations in Lisbon itself here.
The Most Travelled People's Mega Meet Up
Luis Amaral is the co-owner of MTP and he lives in Azeitao, south of Lisbon. For the last few years, he's been holding a lunch annually, at his house, for folk who have been to all 193 UN countries. They're called Grandmasters, in MTP. Last year, I was in Pitcairn. This year, Charles and Luis are aiming to break the world record for the number of Grandmasters in one place. I almost wrote palace then instead of place, thanks to the predictive text, but palace might be a better word. Mansion at the very least. It's a stunning house, with a huge terrace, quirky swimming pool, manicured gardens, (scattered sculptures by recognised artists throughout) and a vineyard stretching to the horizon.
But, I have digressed. There are 103 of us Grandmasters, plus others, amounting to not far shy of 200 persons altogether, massing on the terrace for speeches, wine, cocktails, (amazing bar) hors d'oeuvres (with oyster station) and mingling. Then, lunch in the grounds, at a table which is 100 metres long. We're served, from a smoking barbecue, by a scurrying Sardine Crew, until we can't possibly eat any more. The food is delicious. I doubt Buckingham Palace could have done any better.
MTP have definitely achieved their record and Euronews are here too, reporting. We are photographed collecting certificates and commemorative globes and in every conceivable group, including drone footage of us forming the 103. So many people, it's hard to have meaningful conversations, but it's lovely to meet folk I've only seen on Facebook before. There are also several familiar faces from Azerbaijan, and it's very good to catch up.
Monastery Hopping Around Lisbon
Not content with a sumptuous banquet, Luis of MTP has also arranged tours for us. Lisbon is magnetic, but its real magic lies in the loops you can trace just outside the city limits. Today, it's a bus trip, for forty or so, of us, to three UNESCO World Heritage sites, to the north of Lisbon - the monasteries at Alcobaça, Batalha and Tomar. (Known as The Three Monasteries Loop.)
Alcobaça: Cistercian Minimalism
The Monastery of Alcobaça (Mosteiro de Santa Maria de Alcobaça) is touted as a masterpiece of Cistercian Gothic art. It was founded, in 1153, by Portugal's first king, Afonso Henriques. It famously houses the Tragic Royal Tombs: the intricately carved, spine-to-spine (across the aisle) tombs of King Pedro I and his murdered mistress, Inês de Castro. Legend says that, positioned this way, the lovers will look at each other immediately upon resurrecting, on Judgement Day. But they were only moved there, to these prominent positions, last century. Some of the limestone panelling on them was destroyed by Napoleon's troops - they say. (But they say that about the Sphinx too.)
The church is the largest Cistercian Gothic structure in Europe and the longest church in Portugal (106 metres), boasting soaring, minimalist white pillars that form a dramatic, light-filled hall.
The monastery was built on land granted in return for support for Portuguese independence, from the Cistercian monks. They chose the area as there is an abundance of water from the two rivers Alcoa and Baça (guess how the town got its name?). Later, they built in a channel which diverted the Alcoa directly through their kitchen, to provide fresh running water and live fish, direct to the cooking monks.
The town is charming, with the rivers gurgling through the centre. And there's even a nineteenth century market, necessitating full costume dress from the stall holders, in full swing.
Batalha: Flamboyant Gothic meets Manueline
If Alcobaça represents quiet monastic withdrawal, Batalha is a loud assertion of military triumph. Erected to mark Portugal’s 1385 battlefield victory over Castile (who had tried to impose their own king), this complex celebrates a country actively reinventing its identity. The church interior remains solidly and traditional, the most complete Gothic building in the country - narrow, towering, and lit by fifteenth-century stained glass. It holds the tomb of King John I (who commissioned it) and his English wife Philippa. On the north side are the monks old living and working areas: the cloisters (the largest in the country) and the Chapter House.
On the other side, the chapels are a very different matter - they're known as the Capelas Imperfeitas (Unfinished Chapels) for a reason. Frozen in time - a collision between two royal construction projects. The thick, plain stone pillars and the outer structure are rugged, functional medieval masonry, left behind from the original 1430s layout. The first attempt at building the chapel ceased when first King John and then his architect died. The chapel was left roofless. Decades later, Manuel I brought in a new architect to update the space using the hyper-detailed Manueline style. But then he pulled the architect (and his funds) out, midway through the project, to concentrate on his Belém Maritime Monuments. The building was left half-carved, with deeply chiselled stone lace, sea ropes, and royal emblems, while the upper halves abruptly strip back to raw, bare medieval building blocks terminating sharply against the open sky.
Tomar (Convent of Christ): An Architectural Layer Cake
The Convent of Christ in Tomar abandons monastic peace altogether, in favour of military and occult history. It was founded in 1160, as a headquarters for the Knights Templar and as an impenetrable Romanesque fortress, to defend the young kingdom's borders.
The Knights Templars had developed the first sophisticated international banking system for travellers, become wealthy and loaned money to royalty. That led to their downfall. Philip IV of France had borrowed astronomical sums from them, to finance his costly territorial wars, against England and Flanders. Unable to repay his massive debts, Philip decided to eliminate his creditors instead. On the morning of Friday, 13 October 1307 (hence unlucky Friday 13th) , he launched nationwide, dawn raids, to arrest the Templars across France, on fabricated charges of heresy, fraud, and sodomy. He destroyed the order and forced Pope Clement V to officially dissolve them, in 1312.
King Denis of Portugal however, had a more pragmatic view. He recognised that attacking the Tomor stronghold (already proven to be impenetrable) would trigger a catastrophic civil war. The Templars didn't just fight; they were major land developers. They took over war-torn, abandoned territories, brought advanced irrigation systems to river valleys, and built fortified towns. as they answered directly to the pope (and not to the local church) it was a bit like having a private army. So, King Denis negotiated a loophole with the Papacy: in 1319, he officially rebranded the Templars as a brand-new Portuguese organization called the Order of Christ (Ordem de Cristo).Under this new name, the knights kept all their original property, wealth, and secrets, staying safely on Portuguese soil. It was this saved wealth and maritime knowledge which later funded Portugal's Age of Discovery.
The physical structure of Tomar documents Portuguese power, beginning with the initial Romanesque period, which produced the outer defensive battlements and the iconic Charola, a 16-sided round church modelled after the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, explicitly designed so medieval knights could attend religious mass on horseback.
Phase Two (1420–1460) shifted the fortress into a functional launchpad for global exploration under Prince Henry the Navigator. He appointed himself Grand Master and added the austere, pointed Gothic Cemetery and Washing Cloisters to house his expanding court of astronomers and cartographers. Henry did not go out to sea himself. Instead, he used the Order of Christ's treasury as a private venture capital fund, to design the revolutionary caravel ships, To show exactly who was paying for the voyages, the sails of every single Portuguese ship were painted with the large, iconic red cross of the Order of Christ
As maritime wealth poured into the kingdom, from new global trade routes, King Manuel I commissioned Phase Three (1510–1515), transforming the medieval site into an imperial showpiece, in the Manueline style (of course). That's when the famous Chapterhouse Window (stone sea ropes, anchors, corals, and armillary spheres) was added, together with the explosion of colour, gold leaf, and carvings, in the main church. The final era of Tomar's construction shifted away from the maritime and saw King John III order a massive physical expansion, completely outside the original medieval castle walls, with Renaissance geometry replacing Manueline flourishes.
The South Atlantic Loop - A Day of Microclimates, Mountain Monsters, and Salt Air
Today, I'm trading the city streets for a curated loop that climbs through misty mountain peaks, drops onto the western edge of Europe, and flattens out into a sharp, bright beach town. All it takes is a window seat on a tour bus, a winding ribbon of tarmac, and a willingness to be thoroughly windblown.
The Edge of the World: Cabo da Roca
Our bus turns west, leaving the urban fringe behind, as the concrete valleys give way to low, wind-battered scrub. The road to Cabo da Roca clings tightly to the granite cliffs. Then, the land simply run out of options. The bus doors hiss open at the cape, and a cold, heavy gale hits immediately. Cabo da Roca marks the westernmost point of mainland Europe and that's just how it feels. There is a lonely red-domed lighthouse, a stone monument marking the coordinates, and then… nothing. Just sheer cliffs dropping 140 metres straight into a churning, frothing ocean. Walking the dirt coastal paths away from the main lookout, the air is fierce, freezing, and tastes entirely of salt. Looking west, there is a distinct, stark reality to knowing that the next stop across that horizon is North America.
Sintra: A Mountain Monster and a Plethora of Palaces
We pile back into the bus (after waiting for the stragglers - already) and head inland, leaving the exposed coastline for the dense, fern-choked forests of the Sintra hills. The tour drops us right into the old town centre of Sintra. Sintra is dominated by a massive, jagged granite ridge which rises abruptly from the surrounding plains, a mountain monster, trapping a dark, damp microclimate right over the town. The misty landscapes have led to a great variety of flora and the planting of eucalyptus, for use in the paper industry. It's a very dry wood and it also causes a lot of fires.
Long before it became a tourist hotspot, the Romans designated these misty peaks as the 'Sacred Mountain' or the 'Mountains of the Moon'. By the eighth century, the Moors had taken took control, building heavy stone fortifications high on the rocky crests, to guard the agricultural valley below. When Christian forces retook the region, during the Reconquista, in 1147, they didn't tear down the Islamic structures; instead, Portuguese kings adapted them. Plenty of Moorish influence, such as glass tiles, remains. And, the castle still stares down at us,
Because Sintra’s mountain air stayed cool, while Lisbon baked in the summer, the town slowly evolved from a military outpost into an exclusive aristocratic retreat. Monarchs built their summer residences directly on top of the old Moorish foundations. When the railway connected Sintra to Lisbon, in 1887, the wealthy bourgeoisie flocked here to construct increasingly elaborate estates, turning a rugged mountain into a playground of architecture. It's still a celebrity magnet, with famous residents ranging from Hans Christian Anderson, to Strauss, to Madonna.
Today, the historical centre of town is a dense maze of steep, narrow cobblestone alleys. Pastel-coloured buildings lean over the roads, in turn packed with small independent shops selling local embroidery and tiny bakeries venting the sweet smell of travesseiros - the local almond pastry.
Dominating the town square is the National Palace, its skyline dominated by two massive, thirty-metre-high white conical chimneys, rising above the royal kitchens. Down the road, sits the bizarrely extravagant Town Hall, featuring a clock tower topped with green, blue and white glazed tiles. To be frank, I'm not overwhelmed. It's not charming or enticing. Just a touch clinical. And packed with tourists.
Quinta da Regaleira - The Mystical Palace
Quinta da Regaleira is a prime example of architects being 'overly playful'. From the centre of Sintra, it's an uphill walk (sadly) along mountain roads, (with streams of other tourists) to reach this estate, engineered around early twentieth-century mysticism and occult symbolism. Though it looks medieval (from a distance), it is actually only 116 years old, completed in 1910. The palace is a Neo-Manueline creation, covered in stone-carved sea monsters. Stepping inside reveals heavy, dark grandeur: heavily carved woodwork, royal portraits, and a top-floor laboratory, carved with hidden Masonic and alchemical symbols.
But the real attraction here is out in the dense, vegetation draped, gardens. The Initiation Well involves more tramping up hairpin slopes, past sundry turrets, bastions and other mock medieval paraphernalia. Join the queue and then descend the spiral staircases, as if inside an inverted Tower of Pisa. It's not really a well at all. Symbols of the Knights Templar and hidden masonry cues are built directly into the walls, fountains, and grottoes at every turn of the 27-meter drop. There are nine landings, which some theorize represent The Nine Circles of Hell, in Dante's Divine Comedy.
The wealthy owner, António Augusto Carvalho Monteiro, was fascinated by secret societies, Freemasonry, and the Knights Templar. He worked with Italian architect Luigi Manini to design the well 'as a physical, architectural metaphor for a spiritual journey of death and rebirth'. This journey ends with an exit via a network of 'secret' dark, damp tunnels, carved through the bedrock, to reach a small waterfall.
Pena Palace: An Opera Set in Stone
The bus grunts up the vertical switchbacks, hugging curves so tight the pine branches slap the glass. At the top of the hill (above the Moorish Palace), surveying Sintra, sits Pena Palace. If Quinta da Regaleira is odd, Pena is extraordinary. In the 1500s, King Manuel I built a quiet, isolated monastery here, for 18 silent monks. After the great 1755 earthquake reduced it to ruins, King Ferdinand II bought the entire hill, in 1838. He took the ruined monastery and added another palace, 'transforming it into a wild, romantic summer retreat', intentionally designed to look like an opera stage set.
No mist today, but patches of sun, illuminating mustard-yellow towers that collide with cherry-red battlements. These are guarded by stone tritons and other mythological monsters, carved into the doorways. Terraces are topped by merlons, which look as if they’ve come off a Christmas cake. Pena is the second most visited monument in Portugal (it's packed with visitors today) and there is no polite way to describe it. Garish and tacky. Las Vegas's Excalibur meets Portmeirion meets Toy Town.
The palace rooms are, for the most part, surprisingly intimate, compared to the bombastic exterior. They're filled with heavy carved wood and intricate porcelain, and the walls are covered in glossy tiles. Preserved time capsules from 1910, the year the Portuguese monarchy fell and the royals fled into exile. From the windows and open terraces, unobstructed views (well if you don't count all the tourists in the way) down, across the valley.
This is the 20 Euro experience - self guided. For 75 Euros I would get an Official Palace Guide and a comprehensive, 90-minute guided walk through the entire palace interior (both the old monastery and new palace sections), the outside terraces, and the surrounding park grounds and chalets. They're highly exclusive I'm told - only five a day - capped at a maximum of (only ?) 25 people per group to 'keep the experience intimate'. OR, for just 150 euros, a 'Theatrical Visit to the Palace'. This is an exclusive (of course) evening tour which includes a live historical performance re-enacting the dramatic escape of the last Queen of Portugal from the palace.
Cascais: The Pearl of the Portuguese Riviera
Leaving the mountain forest and the odd cork tree, behind, the bus turns south toward the coast. The rugged, cliffs slowly smooth out, opening up into the wide, pale sands of Guincho Beach where kite-surfers actively seek out the gale. Past the Boca do Inferno ( Mouth of Hell) cliff viewpoint, before we are dropped us off in Cascais.
Cascais is a complete shift in pace, built entirely around the tension between its two distinct histories. For centuries, it was a humble, fortified fishing village facing the open Atlantic. That changed in 1870 when King Luís I designated its old fortress as his official summer residence, instantly drawing the Portuguese nobility, who built extravagant nineteenth-century villas along the waterfront. During World War II, neutral Portugal turned the town into a luxurious sanctuary for exiled European royalty and international spies (The Palace Hotel in nearby Estoril is famous spy hang out). This history of wealth earned it the nickname - 'The Portuguese Riviera'.
Here, once through the modern shopping streets, there are cobblestone lanes are lined with bright bougainvillea vines, luxury yachts sit tied up in the marina, and the crowd lounges on the sand, under the clear afternoon heat, enjoying the slow, easy hum of beach life. Tavernas with proper written menus on blackboards ooze a more sophisticated lifestyle. for me, a scoop of basil-and-strawberry gelato, a seat on the stone sea wall, and a view of the colourful fishing boats, bobbing on the tide in the harbour.
The Victory Lap
The coastal road back toward Lisbon doesn't just run near the water - the tarmac traces the exact edge of the Tagus Estuary shoreline, winding past the numerous forts built to keep out those pesky Spanish.
I've packed a lot in today, but bus tours are undoubtedly hell. Once more, never again. Seats with the smallest pitch possible. No chance of extracting my bag if I put it by my feet. Waiting for explanations in all the different languages and dozing off before the English comes round again. Waiting for people who are late. Waiting for the bus to arrive. Waiting for the transfer bus. Too many effing people everywhere. All stepping into your photo, as soon as you press the shutter.
The Golden Heart of Alentejo: Évora's Ancient Echoes
So, today, I'm planning my own tour, though it's still by bus, and taking myself east to Évora. Getting to Évora is also fraught. The Metro is fairly straightforward; you can just tap in using your credit card. And there are only two lines here, at Marques de Pombal, so only three possibilities for going wrong.
But arriving at the zoo is quite another matter. Where is the bus station? Google's directions are unfathomable, once again. I ask a man in a booth, who points me up the road. No signposts. There's a bus station car park entrance. So I keep going, up the hill. Now I'm looking down on the buses. Back down the road and into the car park entrance. A little man at the ticket counter sells me a ticket. Google has the times of the buses wrong too, thankfully. But my little man doesn’t tell me the seats are reserved. He's put me in the aisle. Fortunately, I'm there first and the guy who's been given the window seat doesn't seem to mind.
Over the Vasco da Gama Bridge and into Alentejo. This is is a vast, rural region in south-central Portugal, stretching from the Tagus River down to the northern borders of the Algarve. Known for its slow-paced, rustic lifestyle, rolling plains, and culinary heritage, the area is defined by endless cork forests, vineyards, and medieval hilltop villages. Lisbon's fresh, coastal air disappears, replaced by the dry, baking heat of the southern plains, as my bus heads inland.
Évora is the capital of Alentejo, a museum-city enclosed within ancient, intact medieval walls. Left entirely undamaged by the catastrophic 1755 earthquake, its historic centre is a preserved time capsule, where Roman ruins, Moorish alleyways, and grand Gothic towers share the same cobblestone streets.
Praça do Giraldo
This is very different to the clammer at Sintra. Steadily up hill (again) through the solid city walls, along almost deserted streets for ten minutes (overly warm already) and into the Praça do Giraldo, the central heartbeat of the city - it has pretensions to being lively. Arcaded sixteenth-century buildings overlook outdoor café terraces, where locals sip espresso, beside a massive, white marble Baroque fountain.
The Ancient Core: Évora Cathedral and The Roman Temple
Google strikes again, as I attempt to locate the correct turning for the cathedral. This is a narrow alley, lined with souvenir shops, most of them selling the ubiquitous cork, in one form or another. It's uphill, of course, to the city's highest point.
The Cathedral of Évora is the largest medieval cathedral in Portugal. Built right after the Christian Reconquista, its fortress-like stone towers (more stolidity) blend Romanesque and Gothic styles. You can only see inside, however, with a five euro ticket. And the first challenge is climbing the 135 narrow steps, to the open stone rooftop. The second, is staying upright, as the vertigo inducing roof slopes slightly, threatening to send me hurling over the crenellated edges, large gaps between the merlons beckoning, as I teeter. The signs warning of danger aren't helpful. But there's a good close up view of the Disneyesque towers (two at the front and the Gothic lantern tower to the rear) and it delivers a panorama over the golden, olive-grove-dotted Alentejo plains.
Right next door, in the centre of its own square, is the The Roman Temple, often (apparently incorrectly) called the Temple of Diana. Erected in the first century BC, to honour Emperor Augustus, fourteen of its original Corinthian columns remain perfectly intact.
Underneath the Arches: The Água de Prata Aqueduct
Another battle with Google, incapable of giving unambiguous directions and still taking me uphill, for another ten minutes, despite the fact I'm supposedly at the highest point. Northwest, toward the edge of the historic centre and the Água de Prata Aqueduct (Aqueduct of Silver Water). Finished in 1537, by royal architect Francisco de Arruda (the same man who designed Lisbon’s Belém Tower), this massive, 18-kilometre limestone structure was a marvel of Renaissance engineering. It originally carried clean mountain water directly to the main square.
The aqueduct slices through the city walls and it's clear that no space has been wasted, in these tight urban streets. Over the centuries, locals have built their houses and shops directly into the tall granite arches. Living rooms are framed by 500-year-old bays, front doors are cut straight between the massive pillars, and chimneys peek out from the top of the stone channels.
Alentejo Flavour
The temperature climbs as the day progresses. The narrow, winding Moorish alleyways offer much-needed shade. The walls are whitewashed, painted with limestone, an ancient Arabic technique designed to disinfect the stones and reflect the scorching southern sun.
The tavernas offer. Alentejan cuisine, heavy, rustic, and very distinct from the coast. Black Iberico pork and garlic-and-coriander bread soup is typical
A Confrontation with Mortality: the Capela dos Ossos
At last, a descent, towards the southern wall of the city, to the Igreja de São Francisco. The main church is another soaring example of Manueline-Gothic architecture, but its most famous (and paying) feature is the attached Capela dos Ossos (Chapel of Bones).
Above the heavy stone doorway, a carved warning reads: 'Nós ossos que aqui estamos, pelos vossos esperamos' (We bones that are here, await yours). Inside, the air is cool, dim, and completely silent. Franciscan monks, in the seventeenth century built the chapel to solve a practical space crisis - 43 overcrowded local cemeteries were eating up valuable city land. The monks exhumed an estimated 5,000 skeletons and carefully arranged them into the architecture itself. Skulls, femurs, and ribs are stacked like bricks, forming the pillars, arches, and walls of the room, a visual memento mori on the fleeting nature of material wealth.
Upstairs is more museum: artworks, religious artefacts and a collection of bad taste nativity scenes.
The Green Retreat: The Jardim Público de Évora
Right next door, the less disturbing atmosphere of the Jardim Público de Évora (Public Garden). This ribbon like nineteenth-century park, is built directly over what used to be the royal vegetable gardens of the adjacent palace.
It's a shaded (if dusty) oasis of exotic trees, rose gardens, and a classic old bandstand. It is also home to a huge flock of resident peacocks which casually roam the lawns, calling loudly and perch on top of the Ruínas Fingidas (Fake Ruins). These are a collection of Manueline window frames salvaged from demolished historical buildings around the city and rebuilt here to look like a romantic, ruined castle tower. Also tucked into the greenery is the Palácio de Dom Manuel, a hybrid royal pavilion where explorer Vasco da Gama was officially given command of his historic expedition to India, in 1497.
Return to Lisbon
Time to wrap up a day that feels entirely removed from the fast pace of Lisbon. Decanting, back at Lisbon's Sete Rios Bus Station I find a direct route back to the Metro via a main entrance. I'm not telling Google about it.
And Home
At Lisbon Airport (Humberto Delgado). I've arrived three hours before as instructed. And I'm glad I only have carry-on, as the check in desk doesn't open for another hour. Words fail me. Except for rude ones that is. Through security and then to passport control. Here, I have to proceed to an electronic booth and scan my passport, to be told I have to go on, to a manual checking desk. Well honestly. Why don't they just send you there? In the event, there's hardly a queue at all. 'Have a good one', says the immigration officer, not at all ironically. I've not been fingerprinted in or out or stamped in or out. I suppose that’s both good and bad.
The international departure section is narrow and uncomfortable. Snaking lines of passengers trying to get out of the terminal are clogging it up. Long queues for the few eateries and even fewer toilets. The cramped layout here reminds me of Gatwick. But wait, they’re both managed by Da Vinci Airports.
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