Estalagem de Monsaraz, part of the Inns of Portugal group, is just outside the walls of the old, very small town. Run by an interim manager, who said he was taking a sabbatical as a favor to his friend, was a civil engineer. He and the friend, an architect, rebuilt the property about 20 years before as a PhD (architect) and master's (engineer) project. The current manager previously worked to bring and develop hotel chains to Portugal, most recently the Choice group (Comfort Inns). He and his wife were running the inn, but would, with their 12-year old daughter, relocate in about a week to Brazil, where he would work on another project in the southern part of the country. The manager rued that fact that he'd had to sell his motorcycle because Brazilian fees would have made the importation cost prohibitive. As well, buying a new one in Brazil would be too expensive, so he thought he might have to forgo this passion. He spoke about the problems with the Portuguese economy. Now that most of the young people are better educated, he speculated that many would leave to seek jobs in other countries, find spouses, and never return to Portugal.

    Dan had trouble walking this first day of his injury (though driving was not a problem), so we had to take it easy. There wasn't much to see in Monsaraz itself, though the views across the plains and to the lake, created by damming a river were stunning. We had both lunch and dinner at Sabores de Monsaraz, a little restaurant across from the inn, with a lovely view of the plain and reservoir from the windows. The restaurant was run by two older women (hard to guess their ages, they could actually have been in their 50s or 60s; one's daughter and grandson, about 3 years old, had dinner on the patio behind the restaurant). The women prepared the food, with the grill and sink next to the dining area. The food was good and unpretentious, with cheese and sausage for lunch, and lamb stew for dinner. We treated ourselves to a delicious dessert of a dense cake made of grated squash (we think) and honey.

    Monsaraz within the walls has just three parallel streets with little connectors. Many of the houses are unoccupied and those that are seem to have a few artisans, shops, and restaurants. The castle was closed, but we'd seen plenty of castles by then, and Dan was not about to climb up any more stairs than necessary. We bought a few items from António Villar de Souza, a painter/ceramicist who worked with his wife.

    Returning to the inn, we climbed up the uneven stairs to our rooms and changed for a swim in the pool overlooking the plain. Had Dan not been hobbling, the stairs would have held more charm, but we were amused to see a sign for handicapped accessibility on the front door! How a person in a wheelchair could possibly have managed the inn or the town are a mystery. Had Dan not been limping, we might have hiked down to the plain, as it appeared there were farm trails down and around the base of the mountain.