Choosing a fart joke over a UNESCO site

Coming to the end of the backblips soon, you’ll be glad to hear.
 
Awoke to the sound of Mrs. Ottawacker heading out for a walk on the beach. Ottawacker Jr. and I followed down with the deflated ball we had managed to find, no pump to be seen, and I took some shots at him. It wasn’t entirely satisfactory for either of us, as the ball was little more than a hunk of rubber really – it might never have been inflated – and the sand was very wet. Every time I tried to kick the ball, my foot sank into the sand and I slipped like David Beckham taking a vital penalty. The light was magical, though – hazy and brilliant, and it turned everything golden. Except for my penalties. But, not even “Goldenballs’” penalties could have been made to look better by it.
 
Back to the cottage for showers, and then into Praia Paredes da Vitória, a nearby town, to catch the photo of the trip, which we had somehow neglected to take yesterday on our mad rush to see the non-existent giant waves of Nazaré. Quite who names their restaurant “Farticos” is beyond me. I mean, it is a brilliant name to attract attention, but a chicken restaurant trying to sell its wares might want to do a little research. How do they market it? “Farticos… cooked au gaz naturel”? “Farticos, we cut the cheese so you don’t have to”? Anyway, for someone with the maturity of an 11-year-old, this was the photo opportunity of the trip, and it might have been for Ottawacker Jr. too. All good things must come to an end, however, and so we headed for Batalha. This, apparently, is the most visited tourist site in Portugal, and as we had done a number of monasteries already, I wasn’t really overly keen to do it. But who knows when we will come back again? So, carpe-ing the diem, we headed off.  

First impressions: it is easy to see why this is the most visited site in Portugal. It is another one of those UNESCO World Heritage sites – and deserves the accolade, most definitely. The Dominican monastery of Santa Maria da Vitória has pretty much become known as Batalha, which is the name of the town in which it is located. Batalha means “battle” in English, and it was at the Battle of Aljubarrota, fought on a plain 9 miles southwest of the town, that João I of Portugal defeated Juan I of Castile in 1385 and secured the independence of his kingdom. The abbey was probably founded in 1388 to commemorate the victory. (As an aside, João I is probably my favourite king of all time: he is known by several other names, including João the Bastard, and João the Grande. Were I to ever be chosen king – stop scoffing, might happen – I would style myself after João, and be known throughout Christendom as Ottawacker the Bastard, and Ottawacker the Grande.)
Where was I? Oh yes, Batalha. There are a number of impressive things in the monastery. The cathedral space was amazing, for example, and apparently it took almost 200 years to complete. I’m not sure if Gaudi was the architect. There is also a Founder’s Chapel, in which the tombs of João the Bastard and his wife Philippa the Lascivious are to be found, oh sorry, that is Philippa of Lancaster, can’t read my own handwriting there. There is also the really impressive Capelas Imperfeitas (Unfinished Chapels), which are, as their name suggests, unfinished. There is no roof, so you get to wander around in the rain (like we did) and then sit in a square box to take in the wonders of what it might have looked like had it been finished. It was really nice – a great place to have seen, and probably a fitting final site to have visited.
 
But. I much preferred Alcobaça. And Tomar. And Jerónimos too, if I am honest. It might just have been monument fatigue – but it all seemed a bit flat. There was so much to look at and so much to remember… and I am not sure I do. Mrs. Ottawacker felt the same. Ottawacker Jr. said he had a headache (this is a variant on the “I need a pooh” excuse, which is used when he doesn’t want to go anywhere else, and probably doesn’t need to be taken too seriously). So, I might have to come back earlier on in a subsequent trip, and revisit more earnestly. At least it had a gift shop though, so I was able to buy a book about the place (you’ll be shocked to know I haven’t read it yet) and to get some apple brandy to sample back in Canada (you’ll be even more shocked to know I have already finished it).
 
We decided to head back to the cottage at Água de Madeiros via Intermarché, to which I was becoming seriously addicted. I made dinner of Portuguese beef and mashed potatoes, finished all the wine I had opened, packed up for tomorrow’s departure, and then made it upstairs to bed without too much in the way of stumbles.