I had a strong desire to see a real estate listing we randomly found in Portugal's North. Yet, we had no idea what the area was like, nor was anyone willing to let us see it.
Image: Caminha's Town Square
07 August 2021
There was this farmhouse-like villa posted on a Portuguese real estate site, and I immediately felt connected to the imagery. The stone walls, the courtyard, the gracious windows flooding the bright interior with light. It was the right price, but, we had no idea about its location near Caminha, on Portugal's northernmost frontier. My many guidebooks mentioned NOTHING about the North of Portugal outside of Braga and Geres National Park. The region of Viana do Castello, and Caminha, specifically, was just omitted entirely.
Moreover, I couldn't get the real estate agent representing the house to chat to me (nor speak with the consultant I had hired to help with scheduling listing appointments).
I decided to take matters into my own hands: When we arrived in Porto, I marched right into that realtor's office with a printed picture of the house in my hands, and stated that I wanted to see this house, TODAY!!
THE 'HAMPTONS' OF PORTUGAL
Luckily, I was readily welcomed. The realtor was, in fact, from the Viana do Castelo province herself, and started painting a dreamy picture of the area. She said this was the area to which the wealthier families of Porto escaped in the summer months and on the weekends. I began having escapist pictures of the Hamptons in my head, long before it was discovered by everyone.
a gloomy day
The next day, we were driving one hour north of Porto to see the house. It was quite a dreadful day, even though every other day we had spent in Portugal so far had been cloudless and beautiful. This day, it was raining. It was cloudy. Fog obscured our vision down the highway. My husband kept saying how much he disliked the unusually gloomy weather, and how I was leading us on a 'wild goose chase.'
We first visited Moledo Beach. Despite the misty weather, I was surprised to see a wide, sandy, Atlantic beach, just minutes from the house we were about to visit. Walking down the cobble-stoned streets of the town of Caminha, we noticed details that intrigued us: street signs were cast in bronze; a modernist library stood proudly juxtaposed against the older stone structures; huge hydrangea blossoms stood in churchyards; women strolled about town in heels and Chanel suits. This--I thought to myself--is a NICE town!
Just over a mile away, we met the realtor at the house.
Even before we got out of the car, despite all of the earlier complaints, my husband abruptly uttered: "I hate you." I thought it was yet another grumbling about the day. He continued, to my surprise: "THIS is the house! I love it!"
The house indeed was even better than I had imagined it. The steps and foundation were solid granite, as if they had been carved right from the Earth. The proportions of the rooms were great, there were excellent ceiling heights and large windows. This was a far cry from the overwhelming palaces and utter ruins we had seen previously. There was a wine press and wine barrels in the basement. The property through overgrown, was full of lushly blooming flowers, almost as if they were teasing me to stay a while: Morning glories, lillies, Queen Anne's Lace, fresh mint...I was lost in the potential of this magnificent garden left untended. And then, there was the view of Spain from the windows. The fog had lifted just enough for us to catch a glimpse of the Spanish mountains beyond the River Minho just steps away.
The search was over. And every house we saw thereafter just paled in comparison. We submitted an offer by the weekend. And it was accepted with no negotiation. We were about to be homeowners in Northern Portugal!
Photos from that gloomy day: A foggy Moledo Beach on the Atlantic Ocean; Caminha's cobble-stoned streets; the modernist library intervention in Caminha; a view of Spain across the River Minho through the fog.
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