Braganca is located in the remote Tras os Montes area of northern Portugal. Once the seat of the Dukes of Braganca its walled citadel dates from 1187 and was built by Joa the first who created the duchy, his son Alfonso became its first duke and the house of Braganca became a power to be reckoned with. The town itself existed as a habitation since the 7th century. Its Celtic roots are evident in its name: Brigantia. Despite being ancient, there are modern sections and a modern main square, which was thronged with lively youth. I didn’t see any McDonalds, but I did notice a Kentucky Fried Chicken and a plethora of pizza places. The charm of this center lies in the medieval fortress that rises above the town. We had driven from Salamanca and arrived around 3pm, but since it was Sunday, most places were closed. We found a small hotel at the foot of the citadel--I didn’t take photos of the hotel, but I will add details at the end of the entry. It was a small, well-run place with all the amenities one would need, and at $50 per night including a buffet breakfast, it was worth it.
Braganca is a city of churches, but the two finest are Sao Bento and Igreja da Santa Maria.{Separate entry}. The old cobblestone streets leading up to the walled citadel are daunting; the ramp-like streets lead straight upward, and they are so narrow and not meant for today’s traffic--definitely horse-and-cart roadways. Inside the walls are ancient dwellings, some still inhabited. Many have been restored and house upscale restaurants and artesian shops. The military museum can be found here; it houses memorabilia from African campaigns, traditional costumes, some sacred art, and macabre torture instruments. Close by the Santa Maria church stands the old municipal building. The 12th-century building is pentagonal in shape and is one of the few Romanesque civic buildings still in existence. Initially, it was used as a reservoir its water cistern can still be seen below the floor covered with iron railings. Around the sixteenth century, the building was converted for civic use. Stone steps lead to a tiled roof chamber, and benches run around the sides. There are no walls, only a succession of rounded arches seated upon stout pillars. All citizens holding up the city fathers to complete and open government could hear all discussion in that chamber.
From the top of the old ramparts, we looked down over the range of mountains and the beautiful valleys exposed, as they must have been centuries ago to the sentinels who once patrolled these walls whilst protecting its inhabitants. Braganca is a good base for visiting the 70,000-hectare national park. Surrounding this area are typical villages where strangers are still curiosities. You may find yourself sharing the road with oxcarts piled with produce or see shepherds tending their flock, as they did centuries ago.
We had trouble with the ATM machine, so my husband decided to go to the main bank. It was 8:30am, and already there was quite a crowd. I remained in the car a block away and close by a school. I watched the parents taking their children to class. Many parents were driving, and it was chaos outside the gates; one driver blocked the gate and nonchalantly deposited his child at the door while in the meantime, horns were blaring, as no one could exit or enter. I continued to people-watch and glanced across the street, where a row of stone houses stood. Suddenly, the top half of a door opened outward, followed by a torrent of soapy wate; unfortunately, at that moment two well-dressed office workers walked by and were hit by the gush of water, completely soaking them. A tiny, frail-looking old lady exited the doorway; she was dressed in black from head to toe, but she didn’t even glance at the angry couple; instead, armed with a long scrub brush, she proceeded to scrub the sidewalk and seemed completely impervious to the angry gestures of the soaking-wet pedestrians.
Neil returned an hour later and described this experience at the bank. There were five lines of at least 10-15 people per line. The lines moved slowly but adding to the delay a teller would suddenly close the wicket causing clients to dodge into the next line. One old lady dressed in black, wearing a beautiful mantilla and leaning on a cane, pushed her way to the front of the line. After examining her documents and several bank tellers later, a senior bank official produced a large black box containing rubber stamps. The teller removed two stamps and, with emphatic gestures, indicated how the document stamps should be placed {vertically and horizontally} once the document was completed to the official’s instruction, and the old lady signed. Then, out of the box, the teller brought a large stamp pad, grabbed the old lady’s frail finger, pressed it on the pad and then on the check, and once the fingerprint was done, she was sent to the back of the line to wait. Ten minutes later, she left the bank with her cash and a big gummy smile. Oh yes, Neil did get his checks cashed, and he wasn’t fingerprinted.
Do visit Braganca; it is not hard to get there, as a new highway connects from Porto and is around a two-hour drive. I do advise a car if you are visiting this region.
Tourist office: Avda Cidade de Zamora. Phone: 273 381 273. Will provide maps and has information on Mountain bike rental.
Museum: Open Tues-Fri. 10am-5pm. Weekends: 10-6pm; free admission on Sundays, otherwise €2.
Our accommodation: Residencial Sra da Riberia.
Travessa do Hospital Velho
5 300 Braganca
Telephone: 273 30 05 50/51 Fax 273 30 05 55
Amenities: TV {satellite}, A/C. Well-run, spotlessly clean, small bar and breakfast room. Located close to town center and walking distance to citadel