Not the best introduction to Portugal, the underground carpark at Lisbon airport, but Hades turned into Kafka when the rep proffered three separate maps and diagrams for getting to the hotel on the Estoril coast. Nothing could be simpler, she insisted: just watch out for unmissable landmarks. These turned out to be cloned petrol stations and anonymous shopping centres. But at least they were visible, which is more than signs for Estoril were. Add the late afternoon rush hour: a labyrinth of flyovers, underpasses and junctions, idiosyncratic Portuguese driving, and the panic meter soon rises.
In a despairing moment, when it seemed easier to get to El Dorado than Estoril, the equally magic name of Sintra flashed by on an overhead gantry. It seemed better to head there instead, and come back to the Estoril coast, and the Tagus estuary leading up to Lisbon, later in the trip. The car agreed and drove itself as though summoned to a lost domain.
The Serra de Sintra (in which the small town of Sintra lies) is so unlike the surrounding countryside, it must have been formed by the gods taking a dollop out of a weird green planet and dumping it a few miles inland of the little right-angled corner formed by the Atlantic and Estoril coasts. This green lumpy goo settled, solidified and fissured to form verdant valleys, sprouted flora, extruded rocks and peaks. On top of these, conquerors, kings, aristos and eccentrics have glued all manner of architectural follies which, far from spoiling Sintra, enhance its natural drama.
Fanciful? Only a little. The Moors who occupied this part of the Iberian peninsula from the 8th to the 13th centuries felt Sintra was special. The shell of their crenellated fortress still hogs a hilltop overlooking the town. Portuguese royals built palaces here. Byron was bewitched, and referred to Sintra as a "glorious Eden" in Childe Harold's Pilgrimage.
It's a bit like, and no bigger than, a spa town in the Peak District, or a hill station in Darjeeling. It's healthy, steep, woody and walkable. There are perhaps too many shops selling souvenirs, not quite enough patisseries (to cater for the fabled Portuguese sweet tooth); there are comfortable hotels (from the old-fashioned Central to the newly-opened Lawrence, in a renovated historic building). But these are sideshows and looking at buildings, gardens and landscapes is what Sintra is all about.
Not a lot of distractions at night - except the soundtrack of tourist voices in the outdoor cafés, and keys being turned in big old locks by locals. So an early start next day is easy.
Right in the town square is the National Palace. Pevsner would be hard put to make sense of its style, but Disney would whoop with joy. The core dates from the 14th century; an earthquake in the 1750s meant substantial reconstruction, and the result is a joyful hodgepodge. Two white-walled Kentish oast houses turn out to be kitchens with mammoth chimneys.
Really, it's best not to get too fussed about dates, dynasties and decoration. A bracing zigzag walk up a hillside will, within an hour, take you to the shell of the Moorish castle; further along is the Pena Palace - a Hollywood creation conjured up in the 19th century.
The circuit through the Serra, on to the Cabo da Roca (a must see: it's Europe's most westerly point), back along the Estoril coast and the Tagus into Lisbon could be completed easily in half a day. But don't rush. In the car, heading towards the village of Colares, the road is drenched in every shade of green. Off it, indicated by the discreetest of signs, are the quintas : the country houses, some with land attached, some just bucolic retreats with formal gardens.
Unlike most stately houses in Britain, the quintas naturally dovetail into their rustic surroundings, rather than dominate them. Sadly, most aren't open to the public. A few owners do B&B and a small number are now hotels. During Sintra's summer music festival, some stage concerts.
There are two properties you can visit, however. The Quinta Regalia has a 19th-century house, a bit like a magnificent hunting lodge, but more interesting are its huge grounds. These are both stunning and spooky: an early owner was obsessed with the rituals of both Freemasons and the Knights Templar. There's a well with a staircase spiralling down to its depths. Its purpose was the initiation ceremony of some semi-secret order. Nuff said.
The gardens of Monserrate, another quinta further along the same road, are even more exotic. The English lawns are the least surprising feature. Re-fashioning the landscape was, for a posh 19th-century owner, the equivalent of today's DIY. Except that Sir Francis Cook, a London textile merchant, who built Monserrate (the house is OTT Moorish and currently being repaired) had 1,000 men to fulfil his arboreal fantasies.
This whiff of fading aristocracy is something you notice in the coastal towns as well. Estoril itself - a pleasant little resort, though its neighbour Cascais is livelier and jollier - is dominated by a grand casino.
Once this grand gambling parlour and the ranks of high-fenced villas, were favoured by the second-rank royals of Europe. If they're still around, they're keeping their heads down. Or maybe they're rentiers, living on reduced incomes in flats in Lisbon. It's only 30 minutes away on a dinky train that follows the banks of the Tagus into the capital.
As for the families who own historic quintas , maybe they disguise themselves as gardeners, tending the topiary work. Or maybe they tog up as butlers and waiters to serve foreign holiday-makers, or Portuguese wedding parties. Heritage weddings are big in these parts. The church in the picturesque village of Colares is regularly thronged with bridal processions.
"They come from Lisbon, from everywhere, to get married here," the owner of the bar said. And driving out of the village square on a Saturday afternoon, I got caught up in a motorcade of guests. Only the white pennants, fluttering from the aerials indicated this was no ordinary chaos, as they revved and hooted on their way, no doubt, to a reception at some stylish, hospitable quinta . The driving, by the way, was as carefree as on that motorway from Lisbon airport.
The practicals
John Cunningham was the guest of BA Holidays (0870 2424243). A two-night stay for two people at the four-star Via Gale in Estoril (car hire included) costs £405 per person from April 13 to 24; and £269 per person between April 25 and June 30.
