"Why do you spend so long on the computer?" asks Liv "I'm writing my journal" "What's that? Some kind of Blog. I don't think I'd like anybody knowing what I'm doing" "Well not a blog, a journal is different" I rebut "It follows events of my day. A blog is where someone writes their opinion on a subject. Sometimes I may write my opinion on a country I'm in, or part of my cycle-tour, but generally a journal is recording what happens. You're right, it takes a long time with much effort and sometimes I feel like just packing it in. Its rewarding though when someone somewhere in the world whom I've never met contacts me via the guestbook commenting on something or other in my journal"

I have limited food it being Sunday. I bought carrots, onions and wine in the small shop open in the old town and with what I've already got, I offer to cook for both of us. Liv says she has an egg plant to offer. As I make a sauce for pasta she insists on helping by standing over the saucepan stirring it. I'd rather she wouldn't as I need the lid on to steam the carrots. But she's young and when Is her age I too knew nothing about cooking. I insist she places the lid firmly on until the veg cook in the liquid. Later I get her to taste and see how it is going. And as I'm serving the Singapore girl Paulina turns up. There's enough to go round three. Paulina is really hungry and finishes out the pan of pasta. They seem to like my cooking and its good having female company for dinner.

Monday: Cycling away from the hostel back to the town centre, the way is a narrow steep uphill street and happens to be oneway coming down, so I've to dodge into the side a few times to let cars pass. Then the problem is finding a road out of town north the way I'm going. The only road shown on the map is A9, a motorway. At a roundabout I see a sign for Mafra to the north, so there is a minor road.

Momentarily a stout bald man sees me looking lost, stops and volunteers directions in Portuguese. I nod and smile. A lot of what he's saying is like Spanish so I get the gist, but he mentions too many left and right turns at roundabouts to remember. Also it follows the coast and is I think he says "muy linda"

Somewhere along the way on the modern urban spread of Sintra I stop at Lidl with foreboding for what the weather will do. Dull sky and dark cloud close in on the grey tenement blocks around. Thinking the rain would soon be on I'm glad to see it has remained dry when I return out of the supermarket.

The road for Mafra as far as I see has gone onto the motorway A9, with a pye no cycling sign barring me. I'm at a lost which way to take. I take an exit from a roundabout by Lidl thinking it may lead somewhere, but leads downhill into an estate of tenement blocks, then swings round and up and back to the roundabout where I started. Then take another futile roundabout exit to a place called Mem. Eventually I ride back uphill to Sintra, where I find minor road N-247 with Ericera signposted, on the coast to the north on the Michelin map.

247 turns out to be what I'm looking for: relatively low level traffic and it swings along the coast for a fair bit of the day, though with rollercoaster steep ups and downs. The sky mellows with warm sunshine by early afternoon. The down side is later towards dusk when traffic become steady rushhour race zipping by me toward a large town ahead. Also to the side are brassica crops: fields of cabbages with muddy after recent rain edges. The lease ideal scenario for stealth camping, but as always I come to, in this case an open grass field with a stand of canes to hid my tent, just at nightfall.