There’s too much to say about Leiria district, a foremost Portuguese administrative division, hugely impacted and still sore after the devastation of Storm Kristin, which sometimes feels forsaken. It’s Leiria city I’m apologising to, and not only for the West Side Story treatment, but for invariably going to the Leiria Shopping mall instead of spending time, and money, in the city itself.
Recently, I decided to do the latter, and convinced the family that we could forgo the dry environment of the mall on a somewhat drizzly day to go and wander around the city itself. This we did, and I’m so glad. We parked in an old and very beautiful part of town that I wasn’t familiar with (but happy to be now) and walked a little way along calçada-cobbled, terraced streets of three-storey buildings, and fascinating businesses, the kind you only really notice on foot, if at all, when wandering the great cities of Portugal.
Over a glass bridge, a modern imposition on a delightfully-vintage neighbourhood, we walked over the River Lis to be greeted by a majestic heron perfectly balanced on one leg, ready to spike a fish in the shallow water. Always an auspicious creature for me, and an un-ending delight, as I felt once more. Not far from the heron were many ducks, mallards going about their comical business, and huge fish in the shallows. I can’t tell you the variety, but they looked very healthy and, to be quite honest, incredibly edible – grilled maybe, Portuguese-style?
Further along the glass bridge, somewhat wobbly but presumably safe, there appeared a white egret, also fishing, and then suddenly, from the foliage overhanging the shallows, the blue flash of a kingfisher. My daughter and I were breathtakingly elated, catching the electric blue flash as it crossed from one side of the river to the other. Mrs Munson, somewhat disappointed not to see what stunned us, waited, and was blessed with the return flight, though only as far as an unsuspecting submerged prey, as the kingfisher plunged into the water not far from its brief resting place, flashing what looked like a red belly, to all of our glee. A mall-free blessing and vindication of the day’s life choice.
Leiria, even in its busy centre, is clearly blessed with so much wildlife; a water rat, too, on our urban safari. Not exactly enthralled by this dubious creature, but a bonus nonetheless, to see it scurrying along the bank.
Off the bridge, we went through alleyways, passed dilapidated and abandoned buildings with the obligatory graffiti, and, I have to say, not in a bad way. These old, abandoned abodes are, to me, wonderful keyholes for history and culture, adorned by more recent scrawlings and spray-paint, that offer social and political backstory.
Then downhill and into the park area by the river, which anyone who knows or has visited Leiria may remember, not least for its seemingly random Beechcraft C-45 Expeditor plane, a twin-engined aircraft given to the Portuguese Air Force and installed in the park in the 1970s. This is why locals apparently call the spot ‘Parque do Avião’. The park, which offers a wide range of play equipment for all ages, is currently undergoing a major revamp. The aircraft was sadly damaged during Storm Kristin and had to be removed for restoration work.
This is indeed an official ‘City of Play’, which I didn’t know about until I saw a sign later this same day. In this river valley complex, children can enjoy incredible play facilities, including a very innovative swing that will accommodate a parent and a child, great cafés and restaurants, as well as a basketball court and skatepark.
Pause here, look up through the plane trees, and you will see the city’s majestic castle on the hill. For us, this national monument brings back memories of our early days in Portugal: climbing up the long and winding road to what was SEF to get our immigration affairs in order. There, we nervously dropped our phone onto the unforgiving ceramic floor, smashing its screen, before making a little bit of progress towards our official residence in this, our now beloved home. Yes, above the rooftops, a magnificent castle with an amazing history, once SEF, and now AIMA, defending the country in a new and contemporary way.
Memories too arose of visiting IMT, the country’s driving authority, to exchange our licences in those early days. We recalled wandering into a packed and hot office, peak-summer, to be whisked past locals to get our mug shots done. Not knowing then about the take-a-ticket-and-sit-down system, or indeed our good fortune, in this scene-a-like from ‘Twelve Angry Men’, with people mopping their patience-tested brows with soggy handkerchiefs.
We were, thanks to our choice to put curiosity over convenience, blessed to re-realise that Leiria is a wonderful city, with so many enchanting and fascinating nooks, crannies and details. And I’m glad we chose to walk its streets rather than be trapped in a cut and paste, air-conditioned and chain store-ridden maze that would no doubt have been exhausting after the first half hour, and expensive, once the ‘food’ court had been visited.
I should add, and not to be too judgmental or gloaty about the inevitable dining experience that we dodged at the mall, that we did visit what I think is a serious contender for the best McDonald’s in Portugal, and there are a few! This one we call the McDonald’s with a slope – a most ingenious and characteristically Portuguese use of space. And in re-rediscovering it, we noticed many other playgrounds along the way, one of which we visited before our exit from the city.
Full of warm and fuzzy Leiria vibes, we headed home, noting how easy it is to take the nation’s wonderful cities for granted, heading instead too quickly to the mall, especially on a rainy or damp day when all we seek is some dry warmth and an escape from seemingly endless rain and bone-reaching humidity.
May I suggest then, instead, to wrap up warm in these cooling times, get ready to put your shoe leather on granite cobbles, inner-city gravel and grass, and experience local and authentic diversity of architecture, food and commerce, while we still have it?
Read Carl Munson’s previous article: The dark glass that’s now a window