Two Days In Nazaré.
© Mandy Hanson Reid
Not quite halfway up the western coast of Portugal sits an idyllic fishing town in the region of Leiria called Nazaré. In recently years, it has become one of the surfing capitals of the world, claiming The Guinness World Record of biggest wave ever ridden at eighty-six feet high. Prior to us visiting, Kyle and I had watched “100 Foot Wave”, a six part docu-series on HBO set in Nazaré, and were beside ourselves with excitement to see where it was filmed.
Coming off the high of our visit to Lagos, we were itching to be near the coast once again. We booked a last minute stay in the town centre, and packed a quick overnight bag. The drive to Nazaré from Lisbon is charming, and only about ninety minutes, give or take.
Unbeknownst to us, the town was in full swing celebrating Carnival. You could feel the charged hum of energy in the air, as people lined the streets in full costume, toting sleeping toddlers in strollers. Musicians atop open air buses, bellowed song after song, encouraging people to dance in the middle of the streets.
It was lunch time, and naturally we gravitated to a local run Tapas restaurant with a panoramic view of the Main Street and ocean. Ordering our usual faire of Portuguese queijo, pão and carnes (cheese, bread and meats), we watched the parade of people dance into the distance. Striking up a conversation with a Nazaré transplant from Switzerland, we peppered him with questions of what it was like to live in the town.
Nazaré is legendary for it’s colossal waves. From where we sat, a good two hundred feet from the shore, we could still hear a crash of water colliding with sand, like an explosion of matter booming in the distance. We were told it was a calm day, which makes me wonder what the ocean would be like when she was feeling moody.
Brilliant blue, cloudless skies beckoned us to the shore, with an invitation to play. We watched the waves dance, with music thrumming in the distance, as if it was instinctively a character in the towns celebrations.
Near the boardwalk, elderly women in traditional Nazaré dress; seven layered, colorful skirts, woolen knit scarves wrapped snuggly around their heads, and feet shod with mule heels. Open for business, they were selling sun dried salted cod, laid out on wooden stretchers.
Sunset was at our heels, and we headed up the cliffs to watch her settle into the ocean. Farol da Nazaré sits up top of the cliffs, with a bright red lighthouse at its point. You can park on the hilltop of the town, and take a short hike to the several lookouts over Praia de Norte. Once a year, this is also where you can witness daredevil professional surfers competing in the famous Red Bull Nazaré Tow In Challenge.
This time of day is humming with locals and tourists alike, hoping to catch the last moments of light. We parked, grabbed the cameras and drone and followed the others migrating to the cliffs.
It feels a little trite to keep writing about how Portugal takes my breath away, how the beaches are stunning and I have never seen beauty like I have here. But, banality be damned, there aren’t enough words for what happens next.
Kyle and the girls were too quick for me, as I easily get distracted by sights and sounds to stop and explore. A street musician strumming on his guitar. The way the long beach grass whispers in the wind. A perfect moment in time to stop and capture with my camera. Trying to catch up with Kyle and the girls, I rounded the corner, and then I saw Praia de Norte in all her glory. Waves violently crashing into cliffs, colors playing with the remainders of light; orange, then pink, magenta, then navy blue. Ocean lovers perched just barely at a safe distance from the breaking point of cliffs. My heart caught in my throat, as tears sprung to my eyes. What a moment this was, and how I was profoundly moved by it.
Earlier in the day, Kyle had mused how two years ago, he didn’t even know this town existed. Now we have the deep privilege of standing in the midst of its celebrations, witnessing the festivities come alive. This observation made me think. How many more idyllic towns, cultures steeped in rich traditions, and bustling cities exist outside of my clumsy knowledge of the world? Plenty, I know. The sad realty of social media, and sloppy news cycles makes the world seem intrinsically small, known and controlled. When in reality, it’s quite the opposite. Maybe it’s the failure of our education systems, wrongful nationalist tendencies to believe our nation the greatest, or individual omission and responsibility.
How could I go thirty some odd years and not know these stunning places, with its beautiful people and customs exist? It lights the fire in me to travel more, more, more. To fill up my children’s thoughts and imaginations with different cultures, food, and experiences. To make sure we dance on every side of every ocean. To never assume we hold the answers or have nothing to learn. What substantial tragedy it would be to think we are the experts on anything, when there is so much world to take in.
After the sun was tucked in deeply and the sky had turned dark, we headed back to town. We found an Irish-Portuguese pub, where the adults ordered drinks, and fish and chips all around. Looking at Kyle, I asked him if he’d ever been to the ocean at night. We paid our bill, and took off running to the shore, cloaked in darkness.
It was cold, and no one was within a hundred feet of us. We slowed down as the sounds of crashing waves drew closer. We couldn’t see where the water began, but we could hear, we could feel it. There was a pause, a swelling of energy, a crack like a whip, followed by a release of waves crashing on to the shore. Sometimes the swell was higher than our heads, which made me keep urging the kids to hang back on the dry sand.
Kyle kept inching closer, closer, watching shadows of waves etched in moonlight. Considering his own personal journey coming here, I studied him. He was becoming more alive than I had ever witnessed. You could see the joy resting easy on his shoulders; how his heart was lighter and more awake, curiosity and openness in his gaze. Taking the leap is our families story, but there are individual ones also tucked inside. A story within a story. Kyle and my story orbit and weave so closely around one another, as we daily compare stories and notes. It’s beautiful, and it’s been hard work to co-write a real life tale.
But, here we are, standing blindly in front of a wild ocean, happily poised for what scene life writes us into next.
The following day was windy, cold and wet. We took to the cliffs, hoping to re-live the magical moments of the previous day. But the weather had a different idea, and we resigned ourself to the clifftop food trucks, selling cheap beer and food that appeals to hungry surfers. Testing their independence, the kids ran off with euros in their fists, to order from a separate food truck than ole’ mom and dad.
Popping the tops of cold beers, Kyle and settled into a wooden picnic table overlooking the cliffs. We ordered spicy burritos, and between bites, laughingly lamented how much we missed spicy food. The girls returned with hotdogs larger than their heads, and made ketchup messes like they did when they were toddlers.
The clouds were threatening rain, and it was just cold enough to be uncomfortable. But sitting on the cliff top, I remember feeling perfectly happy. These were the moments I had dreamt about when I was overworked, underpaid and starving for adventure. When my life revolved around clients needs and wants, and left me reeling. My life was slipping through my fingertips, lacking all the substance I dreamt of.
Sitting on a picnic table in an old fishing village, drinking a beer with the one I love, I felt life restoring itself in my bones.
X.
-Mandy In Lisbon
Note: All photos are copyright of Mandy Hanson Reid, with the exception of the last photo of herself. Do not use without permission. Several of the photos featured are limited or open edition prints available for purchase upon request. Inquire at mandy@mandyreid.com . Travel Manifesto x Mandy in Lisbon t-shirts will be returning to the shop soon. Thank you for your support.
