Amarante

The town of Amarante in northern Portugal lies astride the River Tâmega. The two sides of this very picturesque community of about ten thousand are joined by an old stone bridge of great charm, though its narrow width can at times be disconcerting when shared by cars and pedestrians.

We had a fine lunch at a restaurant that was nestled against a rock wall that might once have been part of some fortification. Portuguese meals are hearty and healthy, but on the other side of the coin are the great variety of sweets and cakes that can give you cavities just from admiring them in the windows of the confeitarias, of which every street seems to have one.

We stopped in at one sweet shop called Doçaria Mário, run by twin sisters. In back of their shop is a small café and a terrace with a grape arbor. Sitting there as the sun began to set over the distant hills, looking out over the river with tendrils of evening mist forming over it, while trying many different cakes and pastries to the accompaniment of classical music and excellent coffee, was an experience for the memory book.

And then off to bed at the Casa da Calçada, where rose petals had been strewn over the sheets.