We have stayed in the hotel in Estoril a number of times and have always managed to secure a room with a view over the sea; there are some rooms with an unexceptional view over the roundabout on the land side!! This time we had a room, number 230, right at one end ….. with a connecting door. I wasn’t really sure whether this door would take me to Narnia or whether I should have tried the real wardrobes in the room. Tempting to open it; no doubt faced with a locked door!  Have you ever tried the door already knowing that your friends or colleagues are in room 233 and not next door in 231?

During ‘Covid’ times we had stayed here and been subjected to all sorts of rules and regulations …. ones that we were obviously happy to go along with! One was the lack of a breakfast buffet. I am sure you have stayed in hotels or Bed & Breakfast places where anything you want has been laid out on long tables? Generally they are covered with items like juices, cereals, milks of various types, yoghurts, grilled fish (especially in Norway), hard boiled eggs, all sorts of fruit, ham, cheeses, cold meats, brioche, pain au chocolat, croissant, bread for toasting etc and you watch other guests piling stuff onto their plate, either suggesting they didn’t eat the previous evening, or that they are going to forgo lunch so need to stoke the boiler or that, faced with a lavish spread that they feel they’ve paid for, just need to get their money’s worth. Most are unworried if they have a cough, the snivels, or runny nose and that the odd dribble wouldn’t matter.

Then Covid came along and everyone was recalling that graphic UK government NHS campaign aimed at reducing the spread of influenza, where someone in a crowded lift sneezed and, switching to slow motion for maximum effect, the green coloured vapour spread across the occupants, across the walls and across the handrail – and of course if you put your hand anywhere in a lift, it is on the handrail or on the buttons!

You certainly didn’t want anyone near the breakfast buffet. It disappeared and actually I sort of hoped it was gone forever, as it’s never an example of good food hygiene. But now it’s back and why can’t people put the spoons provided for you to have a dollop of scrambled egg, or slices of bacon or a couple of sausages or a spoonful of tomatoes or a hash brown back properly? It’s as if say ‘I’ve got mine …. and I subconsciously couldn’t care about the others!’  

The scanning of the Dinner menu has stayed as an improvement to a physical one – but I like to leaf backwards and forwards, looking at this potential main and, if I had that. would I have a pudding and, if so, what that might that be or should I have a starter and a main and forgo the sweet offerings and feel good about it but then know that when the time comes my heart will overrule my head and that Tiramisu or Crème Brûlée will just have to be ordered!

Between the hotel and the sea lay the pool.

Diogo, Miguel and Bernardo spent their days walking from the pool bar/café to the customers and back. Every item of food came from the hotel’s main kitchen so there was a 30 minutes delay and it required Diogo, Miguel or Bernardo to go and collect it. Cocktails and drinks were always available. And I get cross: “Another towel? No problem!” “Thank you and would you mind moving the sunbed for me as I am so weak/helpless/entitled and that’s your job anyway?” Simple observations!

Hotel pools are a magnet for guests, some like Mr & Mrs Brown from Huddersfield, both pale and overweight; then there was Giles Davis from Dubai posing by the pool for a selfie or 10, uploading them to his social media accounts and having loud  conversations with distant chums; Mr & Mrs Benson from Atlanta and their offspring, who think they are entitled to do what they want and not a care about the others around the pool; Ms Samantha Boyes, obviously an Influencer (note capital I), and maybe the first time I have consciously seen one of this new breed of human, taking care with her selection of clothes, make-up etc.

The International Fitness Summit took place in Lisbon and some of the attendees were staying at the hotel – the swimming pool their opportunity for selfies and posturing in their speedos, miniscule bikinis and with their obligatory tattoos. Mind you they were nothing like the Russians in Sicily.

In PC 134 (The Largest Mediterranean Island October 2018) I wrote: “Any ‘group’ is bound to dominate a small place but these people had no respect for others, demonstrating a lack of understating of acceptable behaviour; and because there were 8 of them they became a real nuisance. Their second morning they occupied more than 50% of the sun deck (tut! tut!) and plugged their USB into a loudspeaker; there was nothing quiet about this Russian playlist!! One of the men was a real comedian, or so he thought, as after everything he said he screamed with laughter and his chums joined in too; a nightmare if you’re trying to concentrate on a story!! After a couple of hours I asked the pneumatic blonde whether she could turn her loudspeaker off. She turned questioningly to this head of family. He rose up to his full 1.9m height, his belly extending way over his trunks: “Wot? You no like music?”  

Back in Estoril the hotel lies along the shoreline, separated from the sea itself by the Cascais – Lisbon railway and the pedestrian/cyclist promenade (actually this should only be for walking although if you use it as a verb, you can of course drive/cycle/ride/walk providing you are doing whatever you’re doing to be seen by others!)

Monte Estoril station

To get to the promenade you pass the station of Monte Estoril and walk through a pedestrian underpass. The curve of the railway track here is such that as the train departs for end-of-the-line Cascais the wheels create a banshee loud enough to wake any sunbed snoozer!

          I never did open the connecting door.

Richard 16^th June 2023

Hove

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