It was one of those chance conversations that all adventurous foreign house-hunters might have: “You could live in my grandparents’ old guesthouse, which hasn’t been used for many years. You’d just need to put a bit of work into it.” That was music to at least my ears, if not Mrs Munson’s.
With three young children, including a fairly new baby, we were stuck in another ‘chance conversation’ home that really wasn’t working out. That a near-derelict old B&B looked preferable tells you a lot about the frying pan we were in.
Taking the Bandeira brothers up on their kind and timely offer, I was the advance party, blitzing this 80s-heyday Alojamento Local with white emulsion to make it liveable once more. But this week’s missive isn’t about the house; it’s about the town, the place that had friends and family believe we’d moved to South East Asia. “North or South?” they would ask. “No, it’s Curia, not Korea!” we would say.
Turning off the IC2, made quieter by the newer, nearby A1, you’re met with a dramatic change in energy. As the grimy truckers’ road disappears behind you, an impressively long avenue of plane trees unburdens you of any travel stress, setting the stage for vintage grandeur, just as it would have for those arriving in the early 20th century.
Those travellers would have experienced the Curia Palace Hotel at its absolute best. First opened in 1926 and designed by the architect Norte Júnior, it’s usually described as Belle Époque with Art Nouveau and Art Deco touches, a jewel of the “Golden Twenties” created by hospitality visionary Alexandre de Almeida.
In its ‘roaring’ days, it had a barber, a manicurist, a chapel, a ballroom for 600 people, and a grand pool opened in 1934, all set in a 12-hectare park. Somewhat tired now, but still well worth a visit, it was recently one of 147 sites shortlisted for the New 7 Wonders of Portugal.
See in the lobby the old switchboard, and take the legendary lift, which still works exactly as it was built. On its way from Germany, it was apparently sent to Korea by mistake. Film-makers love the place too; for at any moment, you wouldn’t be surprised to see Hercule Poirot walk past.
Walk out of the magnificent driveway, tipping a nod to the black swans, and turn left towards the heart of the village, where you’ll be made curious by the eccentric stony entrance to the Termas Hotel and Park. Legend has it that a visiting Frenchman cured himself of an illness in 1863 by bathing in the local waters. In 1902, King D. Carlos granted a royal charter to exploit the springs, and from the 1920s the elite of Portuguese society gathered here regularly for health purposes.
The Hotel das Termas stands inside the 14-hectare Parque da Curia, where you can still rent, on a good day, a pedalo. Like the Palace, the park has clearly seen better days, but its past glamour and secrets still whisper from the woods and walls. One lady who grew up nearby, when I pointed to the old nightclub remains by the lake and asked, “Did you have a good time here?”, replied with a glint in her eye: “Oh yes, too good!”
Curia’s casino had stunning concert halls, gaming rooms and reading rooms, with gambling going on despite it being banned. A 1927 decree made Curia a temporary gambling zone, but as the spa declined, 1958 legislation killed its Vegas-like inclinations.
What a picture it must have been when Portugal’s great, good and glamorous stepped off the train to take the waters, splash their cash, and promenade around and boat upon what was then thought to be one of the largest artificial lakes in the Iberian Peninsula. Now massive untroubled fish and dabbling ducks enjoy themselves where the hordes once did.
Currently glorious is Curia’s wine shop, which has made its home in the old station waiting room. It’s a key stop on the Rota da Bairrada, and even the Alfa Pendular, Portugal’s fast train, will stop if enough passengers want to get off for a tasting. This is Luís Pato country too, the maverick wine producer you can also visit.
We really enjoyed living in this now peaceful village. We made friends at the bank, at the local deli and in the cafés. They remember us, and we remember them whenever we return on a stop-off, perhaps driving to Porto. And what always occurs to me is what an incredible retirement village Curia would make, with its blessing of hotels, beautiful park, flat topography and excellent, off-the-beaten-track location.
Its three big hotels are, in all honesty, desperate for custom. Any retirement village developer looking for a site would struggle to find somewhere as good as this.
I can easily picture American visitors, or retiring expats choosing Curia, believing themselves to be wandering about on an Agatha Christie film set. All that 1920s style, the promenading potential in the balmy night air, and genteel calm, with just a short train journey to the delights of Coimbra and Aveiro. Curia’s crowds may have thinned out over the years, but the stage is still set, and it’s just waiting for its next cast.
Read Carl Munson’s previous article: Leiria, I’m sorry