Buddha Eden

 A sad day to be British - we went to bed on our lovely rural Spanish campsite as Europeans and woke up as Brits.  And yes, we voted to stay in Europe - organised proxy votes before we left.  Feel close to tears as I post this . . .

Note - we are about two weeks behind with the posts:

We were ambitious enough to hope to be able to reach Buddha Eden, near Óbidos the same afternoon, aided by a Google map tile downloaded the previous day.  This, it transpired was the best (and sometimes only) way to navigate the Portuguese non motorway road network as our map, an up-to-date Michelin, was sadly inadequate, a problem encountered by other travellers we spoke with, who had the same issues with their new AA map.  Further investigation revealed a country in which a third of the land is of unknown ownership, which may help explain our difficulties a little.

We arrived at the Buddha Eden park around 2pm, with four hours ahead of us to explore this fabulous tribute to the destroyed Buddhas of Bamiyan in Afghanistan, blown up by the Taliban in 2001.  The park consists of replica buddhas and a terracotta army (painted cobalt blue) alongside more modern sculptures and works of art from Europe and Africa, all set in marvellous parkland with lakes and ponds.

The park is the brainchild of a local wine producer, Bacalhóa, who funded and created the park.  For just €3 entry, you can happily while away the hours wandering past lakes, buddhas and modern art installations, through an African jungle populated by wonderful sculptures of men, women and beasts.

The hours flew by and by closing time we had just about walked the entire park but were left feeling that we could have happily spent an entire day.  Lunch here is also very good we’ve heard.  Even the pathway to the exit is beautiful, lined with tiled representations of the history of wine.

With our imaginations buzzing from all we’d seen, we exited through the gift shop, picking up four bottles of wine from the estate.

It had been a long day and we were tired, so we retired for a cuppa to a nearby picnic area or ‘parque de merenda’, Bom Jesus, that we’d passed on our way in.  Leafy eucalyptus sheltered us from the sun and the park was peaceful once the afternoon picnickers had gone, save for two amiable stray dogs who soon ambled off as well, and then it was just us, a small church, the twelve stations of the cross and a fabulous night’s sleep  . . . Even the chime of the church bells every 15 minutes didn’t wake us.

Next stop, somewhere on the beach!

J.