quinta das amendoeiras, portugal

If you were to tell me that home is where you make it I might have thought “what a load of wank”, after all I pay a hefty mortgage and criminally-high council rates that constantly remind me precisely where my home is.

Our next journey takes us 2 hours East of Porto to a homestay at a working Quinta. The drive is equal measures stunning and terrifying, as we wind our way through clifftop roads that are scarcely wide enough for our sporty little Seat Ibiza. It is, however, entirely worth it. The path we take skirts vast olive groves and uninterrupted vines belonging to the world’s oldest demarcated wine region. As the Douro opens beneath us, and with barely a soul in sight, it’s hard to believe we are only 2 hours East of Porto.  

We make our arrival at Quinta Das Amendoeiras, and I start to think I could subscribe to this adage after all.  

To me, a home has 4 non-negotiables:

1. Good food
2. Better company
3. A comfortable bed
4. Tranquility, both around and within you

The above is delivered in spades during our time here.

Reminiscent of summers along the Murray River, we spend our days reading in the shade of the fruit trees, swimming lazily and kayaking on the river. We bask in the sun before quenching our hot skin in the cool outdoor shower – literally rinse and repeat.

Afternoons are spent watching the daylight fade on the terraced hills as scorching days give way to pleasant nights. Evenings are a special time, as we share a table with other guests and our hosts Catarina and Maria. We indulge in beautiful home-cooked food – much-needed vegetable-forward meals – and imbibe on locally made vinho tinto and branco.  The nights are late and filled with deep conversation, laughter and music (not half bad music either if you ask me).  

Despite the remote location of our stay we are joined by another Australian couple (typical) – any rivalry is quickly squashed over footy chat and requisite banter. The Dutch couple are just like us, though I don’t know if they realise how lucky they are that I wasn’t throwing endless Goldmember quotes at them – on more than one occasion I had to physically restrain myself from telling them that I don’t speak “freaky deaky Dutch”. It made the experience so much richer to share it with others and to find common ground.

For me the best parts of Portugal, and any trip really, are in the intimate moments that you share with locals just going about their day, whether it’s sitting side-by-side for a meal, taking in a landmark together or stumbling through a conversation where you don’t fully understand each other but you persevere anyway. In this sense we can’t thank Catarina and Maria enough, both for their endless hospitality and for sharing their lives with us and letting us do the same.

We revelled in learning what makes them tick, digging into the things they love and loathe about Portugal past and present, and it’s amazing the parallels we can draw to our own culture and homeland. We spent hours together discussing music, art, culture, films, and sharing life’s highs and lows – and despite all our differences, it's the similarities that are the strongest.

The vistas here are amazing, but it was the people that made it so special – ones that will hold a special place in our hearts. And when our heads hit the pillow each night, we did so in the complete comfort and peace that only a home can provide.

 Hannah’s thoughts:

Our stay at the Quinta was nothing short of unique and amazing. I was apprehensive at the start thinking it could be incredibly awkward staying with people we don’t know, eating around a dinner table with them and not speaking their language (I speak for myself here, Jesse has been told his Portuguese is quite good!)

However, it quickly became like a second home, helping ourselves to the wine and food in their fridge, lounging on the hammocks and learning new card games together. These people who I was apprehensive about very soon became close companions, we had endless conversations about relationships past and present, love, loss, and women’s health issues, pepper this with The Beatles sing-alongs and it was as if we had all known each other for years. On the last morning, albeit a bit hungover, I turned to Jesse and said with sorrow “wow, I can’t believe we have to leave this place”, I hope the next one is just as great.