We’re in Portugal for a long weekend, somewhere near the westernmost point in Europe, looking out at the ocean. The weather around this part of Sintra changes quickly and frequently, Vincent tells us. There’s a little microclimate here. Pressed up between the hills and the Atlantic, it's cooler and more humid than Lisbon, somehow almost tropical, swept through with lush vegetation. It’s the kind of climate that rewards layering and adaptability in its garments, you’re never quite sure what’s coming so should prepare for everything.
Shorts and a loose pullover that work well in the shade of one of the eucalyptus trees, or something hard working that will look better for a thin sprinkle of salt air deep into an unhurried afternoon, or a jacket that can move between coffee and a swim and dinner on a terrace without asking too much. It’s a beautiful part of the world, and Imogen, Vincent, and Lark, their playful and noble Borzoi, are our tour guides for a few days rest by the coast.
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