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Pousada de Arraiolos Sra da Assunçao
The Pousada is an example of perfect harmony between the traditional and modern concepts of Portuguese architecture
By: Mary Gostelow
The village of Arraiolos, 90 minutes' drive north-east of Lisbon, Portugal, is a cluster of terracotta-tiled buildings, whitewashed with the occasional highlight of cornflower blue.
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The adjacent hilltop is crowned by the 13 foot-high stone walls of an ancient fortress: in its football field-sized centre is a disused church, again white with blue highlights. You head past the hill, away from town, and down a steep single-track cobblestone drive, flanked by wild grass carpeted by an unbelievable array of bright yellows and purples, more wildflowers than you have ever seen before. After a few hundred yards you arrive at the 16th century monastery that is today the Pousada de Arraiolos Sra da Assunçao - it is white, of course, with a tiled roof.
To reach reception you first go past the open doors of the working church. You gasp: the interior, commissioned by Francisco Pereira and his wife Isabel after a visit to India in 1547, is entirely lined with azulejos, blue-painted Portuguese tiles. You continue, on into the glass-lined open cloister, now an immaculate garden with heavily-laden orange trees. At the reception desk, a welcome plate of bite-sized Belem pastries (egg custard in brioche-type pastry) waits under a glass dome.
Tania, one of the area managers, showed us up 25 original and much-worn granite steps to suite 103 (the only one to have such a large terrace). It is oak-floored throughout, and masses of white paint cover the walls and barrel-vaulted ceilings. Windows have single-plank oak shutters, and natural-linen Roman blinds or drapes. Furniture is oak, or covered with natural linen. The foyer leads up two steps to a small sitting area, or, at right angles, into another sitting area and on to the bedroom, dominated by a California-sized bed with oak headboard. You go on into the interior bathroom, completely covered, to a height of seven feet, in big slabs of grey and white marble from nearby quarries in Borba. White robes have the Pousada logo, a sun and landscape view seen through an arch, on the pockets. There are two large dark brown oils over the bed (which is made up with Pousada linens, with the company logo embroidered in white on the pillow cases) and a fixed ceramic dish on the mantelshelf over what was once the abbot's bedroom fireplace; other art works are small framed prints, and there are local hand-stitched Arraiolos rugs on the floors. The mini bar includes a half bottle of Louis Roederer, there is a safe, and toiletries are the Pousadas' own (they look rather like Contemporel, blue in clear plastic). The fruit bowl comes with white Vista Alegre china and Cutipol cutlery, with such finesse-look handles you feel you could stab more easily than eat. We go out on our terrace, about 640 sq ft total, with peripheral inset stone benches on which the abbot must have sat so many times - we look out today, over a car park filled with the black cars that are seemingly ubiquitous in Portugal and, beyond, to hillsides dotted with assorted squat trees, and carpeted with more of those wild flowers. As well as the wind, the music comes from distant cowbells.
A request for tea brings a fresh pot and additional jug of hot water, and I check email - the long cord for broadband works instantly, with wireless available in some public areas. After that, we hike back up to the castle and
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then brace ourselves for a swim: the pool is around 20m long, spotlessly clean and, at that time of year, not surprisingly empty, as are the sunflower-covered white loungers around. The bar is welcoming, and we go on through to the restaurant, an L-shaped room in the new block, added in 1997 to give a second two-floor courtyard with additional bedrooms (there are now a total of 33). The dinner-part of the restaurant has three all-glass walls, looking back into that courtyard, across a small decorative pool and also across a side terrace, minimalist and granite, with a ship-like end rail and, beyond a hillside dotted with local cream cows. Lots of lit candles, inside and out, give marvelous reflections as darkness falls. Music comes from a 30-strong French group, none of them talking too loudly. Tables have large blue or red floral underclothes, white uppers, and places are set with silver chargers bearing white plates, and white napkins held in silver rings. There is a pink daisy in a glass, and a lit nightlight.
As with all Portuguese meals, it seems, a copious selection of preludes makes the meal itself almost unnecessary. Tonight we have cold cuts and olives, and dark green oil, and then a caprese salad with local goats cheese and then shredded wheat-covered prawns and smoked salmon rolls. The breads are delicious, and warm. My actual ordered meal is a checkerboard of cooked baby mushroom on green asparagus, and then a pair of salmon shapes on a potato mound in an olive oil puddle (my man had ordered from the rustic menu, which always produces quantity - he had enough stewed male lamb to feed the Portuguese football team, and push them to victory). The dessert buffet offers a tasting of local specialties, all of which, as the waiters are quick to point out, seem to include cream, sugar and eggs and all are delicious... with all this we had a bottle of local Marquis de Borba red. As some other guests had spilled bits when taking the buffet, a waiter neatly lays napkins over the soiled cloth.
By keeping one window's wood shutter open, I awoke with dawn to look out at a brilliant purple patch of wild flowers set in an all-green landscape. No one could have lain a-bed any longer, I was up immediately, and out for a run, following a signpost that led off the main drive and via a stone-sided path up into the hills, around past a farm with a pair of ostriches running in a field, past lots of rabbits and, 15 minutes later, back to the pousada's pool.
Other such paths, I discovered later, led to the equestrian centre, used in high summer, and to the main garden. Down at breakfast, the other arm of the L-shaped room came into action, handy for a long buffet that included well-labeled juices (loved the peach, pear and gorgeous fresh orange), assorted cheeses, cold cuts and breads, and the coffee was strong enough even for me. Our new French friends seemed to prefer the croissants, with juice and coffee. www.pousadas.pt
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