Our last morning in Portugal started with two alarms going off at 6:00 a.m., which we immediately snoozed until 6:30. It felt less like waking up and more like admitting defeat. We had arranged private transport to the airport, and thank goodness we did. Our driver was a very nice lady who spent part of the ride halfway trying to convince us to move to Portugal. After two weeks there, this was not the hardest sales pitch in the world to sit through. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 12:20. We dropped our bags at 9:07 and made it through security around 9:30, which made us feel like we were doing great. Then we found the passport line. It was one of the longest, most chaotic lines we have ever been in. An hour and a half across what felt like the entire airport. It was Vatican-level long. The kind of line where you keep turning corners and hoping you are near the end, only to discover a whole new civilization of people waiting ahead of you. A charismatic guy jumped the line and joine...
Our latest day sleeping in yet. We slept until 9:15 and barely made it in time for breakfast. This felt scandalously late compared to the rest of the trip, even though it is probably still a respectable vacation wake-up time for normal people. The first item on the docket was getting rid of our rental car. We did not want to deal with parking in Sintra, and we definitely did not want to deal with returning it at the airport, so we dropped it off first thing in the morning. Goodbye, tiny car. You served us well. You also made several hills feel more dramatic than they probably needed to be. From there, we got an Uber to Sintra city center. That turned out to be the wrong place to go, but our driver seemed to know what we were actually looking for and helped point us in the right direction. We walked around Sintra for a bit, then bought a bus ticket to check out the attractions. It is amazing that buses are able to drive on those roads. They are crazy steep, crazy tight, and somehow...