Portugal beyond the coast
Pastoral charm — and a five-star boutique hotel — cast a sweet spell in the heartland of Alentejo
Five years ago, Portugal still felt like a secret. I was lured by whispers of crowd-free surf, fairy-tale-worthy castles, 300-plus days of sunshine a year, hillside vineyards and irresistible food, all for the sliver of the cost of neighboring Spain and France. Like most visitors, I flew into Lisbon — a European San Francisco, with its steep streets, trolleys and even a mini Golden Gate Bridge — then headed straight down the coast to explore the wide stretches of beach in the Algarve.
The white sands of Praia de Albandeira, tucked between tall red ochre rocks, still felt wild and undiscovered. The endless tidal pools at Praia do Amoreira were like marine treasure chests harboring brilliantly colored starfish and urchins. And the glassy waves at Praia do Amado were free for the taking, shared by myself and just four other surfers one quiet morning.
Portugal had won me over, and so I returned later that year and in the years to come. A true Pisces, I always gravitated to the coast. My first trip back, I shared my favorite beach with a handful of couples from Lisbon. But by my third return, in the off season, I was battling for a slice of sand with dozens of Portuguese families, as well as German and American tourists. All paradises are ultimately discovered, and the Algarve was no longer talked about in whispers — it was making headlines. Since 2015, air capacity between Portugal and the U.S. doubled, and this year, the country expects to welcome around 900,000 Americans, most of whom follow the same city to sea itinerary down the coast to
what travel guides tout as some of the world’s most beautiful beaches. I was about to write Portugal off as another Iceland or Thailand — irreversibly tarnished by overtourism. But then I recalled a conversation with a chatty cab driver in Lisbon. “The interior is Portugal’s real surprise,” the gentleman interrupted as I blabbed on about the Algarve’s beaches. I hadn’t given much thought to the beauty that might lie in Portugal’s heartland. And so this fall, I ventured to Portugal’s rural center, Alentejo.
It makes sense that if you want to avoid the crowds, you should head inward to the countryside. Populations gravitate around the coast, and although Alentejo is Portugal’s largest region (as big as Belgium), it’s also one of its most sparsely populated. Much like the heartland of America, there’s a pastoral charm here that casts a different spell than the salty breeze of the seaside. While there are quiet beaches to be found in the Algarve, it’s the region’s rolling vineyards, olive groves, farmland and forests of cork and holm oaks that captivate visitors.
The pace immediately slows when you arrive in Alentejo, and there’s a noticeable sense of community. Even as an outsider, I’m immediately embraced. Four locals I meet on the train from Lisbon insist I cancel the cab to my hotel and join them for lunch in Évora, the region’s UNESCO-listed capital. “How is it possible you have not tasted our bacalhau assado,” asked my astonished new friend, Gonçalo, referring to a classic dish of roasted cod. Lunch in the Algarve is an affair, and for the majority of the afternoon, I am schooled in the region’s traditional food at Restaurante Fialho, a legendary, family-run spot that dates to 1945. The people in this region take pride in tradition and have a deep respect for the past. I’d heard people describe Alentejo as “trapped in time.” At first glimpse, I can see why. The area is riddled with archaeological wonders.
En route to my hotel, my new friends detour us just outside of Évora to see the Almendres Cromlech, a collection of 95 8,000-year-old stones that resemble a gigantic graveyard
home for the next few days, São Lourenço do Barrocal. This eighth-generation farming village could easily have turned into a place time forgot. But instead, thanks to the efforts of José António Uva, this farm-stay-turned-five-star-resort exemplifies the preservation of Alentejo’s past and its reinvention for the future.
This 1,927-acre estate has been in Uva’s family for over two centuries. The former investment banker spent 12 years transforming the property into a working winery, farm and a boutique stay that opened in 2016. Pritzker Prize-winning Portuguese architect Eduardo Souto Moura is responsible for the classic design of the 40 rooms, suites and apartments, each decorated with Portuguese textiles and furnishings sold in the hotel gift shop.
The property feels like a living museum that honors the land and its agricultural past as well as Uva’s family. The spa, an outpost of Austrian skin-care guru Susanne Kaufmann’s eponymous wellness empire, once housed the 50 families who worked the farm estate. The shop, where guests can purchase estate-made
wines, farm-fresh produce and designer artisan goods, like handmade reed bags by Toino Abel, was the old chicken coop and the farm-to-table restaurant the kennels. Even the décor tells stories from the past. In the lobby, boxes of yellowed handwritten letters hang from the walls. “Everyone thinks they’re love letters, but they are from the accounting books we found in our family archive,” confesses Uva. The black-and-white photos that hang in the spa are of Uva’s great-grandparents’ ski trips to the Austrian Alps. My visit coincides with harvest, and there’s a wonderful hint of fermentation in the air. I wander down to the winery, its floors stained a deep purple. Vineyard tours and tastings are available by request, and the wines, crafted by Spanish-born winemaker Susana Roupeiro, are poured at the on-site restaurants. Meals are a highlight at São Lourenço do Barrocal. Nearly everything is sourced from the property’s bountiful orchards, gardens and olive groves. I dine my first night in the main restaurant, which has both a shaded patio and a cozy dining room with a curiosity-cabinet-inspired back wall showcasing everything from framed butterfly wings to vintage ladies’ gloves. The freshness is evident in every bite of my zucchini flower salad, spiked with Padrón peppers and drizzled with the property’s honey and the estate-raised veal carpaccio. Hortelåo, a new garden-front al fresco restaurant, is all about simplicity — local seafood, like head-on grilled shrimp and just-picked garden veggies cooked to order on the grill. You could easily spend your days on the estate lounging by the pool, indulging in yoga and spa treatments, and cycling or horseback riding the path that circles the property. But Monsaraz castle looms in the distance, and its whitewashed village is worth exploring, either via a short drive or a hilly, but doable, bike ride. If you choose the latter, request a basket for souvenirs. After you visit the old bull ring, browse shops like Mizette, known for its gorgeous, striped, handwoven carpets and blankets. The ceramic shops are plentiful, but hold off and visit the master potters of nearby São Pedro do Corval. Portugal’s largest pottery center is renowned for its extraordinary terra-cotta pieces. I ask Uva if he worries that Aletenjo is fated to suffer the same overtourism as its southern neighbor. He gives me a pained look as he contemplates my question. But after a moment he concludes, if families continue to move back here from the city and view this region as their home, then they’ll continue to treat it like a home.
“It’s a home in a way a house in the city couldn’t be,” he tells me. “That is priceless and worth protecting.”