While officially in the middle of a train strike, we head to Rossio station full of hope. There appear to be at least some trains running. We have decided to visit Queluz, Portugal. It is close enough that if we have to find an alternative route home, we will be able. Queluz is not an advertised destination. I only noticed it as an afterthought in a travel booklet. We don’t know what to expect, but it will be nice to get out of town for the day.

We have trouble finding any signage to tell us which way to leave the train station. The pastry vendor in the terminal is not helpful. We shrug it off. We will find our way. There are dozens of stairs that lead over the train tracks. We don’t want to climb down the wrong direction and have to backtrack. We make a decision that proves correct. Feeling confident, we step out of the train’s shadow. Now there are signs pointing the way.

We walk through town, and past the social services center where people are lined up for assistance. We pass restaurants and shoe stores and abandoned buildings. It is definitely not a tourist town. We finally see very large blue buildings. The signs are no longer visible. We are not sure where to go. It looks large enough to be a palace. It is Portugal after all, I don’t know why we were expecting signs. So we just approach random doors until we find the ticket counter.

The palace is huge and we are the only people in the place. I think I see one other visitor in a far hallway. There is a hall of mirrors. There is priceless furniture and fine china. As usual, I have a neck ache from staring at the painted ceilings. I am shocked at the majesty and charm of the place. Why have I never heard of Queluz? I imagine myself at a soirée in the music room.

We talk about the beauty of the palace and wonder why no one is touring. Surely this has been a movie set, we muse. We compare this palace to Versailles. It is not as grand, but it also does not have the oppressive crowds. The intimacy of the chapel and the sitting rooms is endearing. The lack of other guests means that we can take our time to read and gawk.

The throne room is testament to colonial conquest. Oriental vases, parquet floors, and murals representing the colonial empire fit together in an impressive display of power and elegance. I imagine a ball in this room with the king and queen enthroned on one end of the room and the infantas enthroned at the other.

When we think we have seen the palace, we find another wing. Here are the nursery rooms and private quarters. The king’s bedroom sits at the end of the corridor with views of the formal gardens. Murano glass chandeliers and painted mirrors distract us as we end the tour of the palace and exit into the gardens.

The exterior of the palace facing the gardens is beautiful. It seems a very different look compared to where we entered. I don’t know where to look or where to go. The gardens are vast. Hidden statues and fountains surprise us around every turn. There is a canal that used to be filled so ships could sail through the gardens.

We walk past water tanks and lakes. There is a stable and a riding arena. We stroll past orange groves and forest. Further along the canal, is a tropical garden. There are hothouses growing beautiful pineapples. There is an ancient tennis court and hedge mazes.

At the carriage entrance, the avenue leads to the palace. Nearby, a man made waterfall rises at the gardens edge. Its rock and archways defy description. Photos can not capture the visual impact. We linger, drawn by the sights and sounds.

Eventually we make our way back to the formal gardens in the shadow of the palace. Manicured shrubbery and whimsical fountains are carefully placed for maximum impact. The simplicity of the lines leaves a powerful impression.

There are sunken gardens and classical themes. Cherubs and dolphins spout water toward the sky. The sky is blue and the warm sun shines down. We walk and talk. An unexpected private experience in the loveliest of settings.

Why is this a secret palace? We can’t understand why everyone flocks to certain sites and others remain hidden. This place is high on my list of must see sites. It is spectacular. A favorite experience in the many places we have toured.

We reluctantly leave. Nearby, a small restaurant is crowded with locals. We take a seat with views of the palace exterior. We happily talk about all that we have seen and experienced. I search the menu and see what I think is listed as “a little girl”. My Portuguese is really bad, so I use google translate. It says little girl. I ask the waitress why a little girl would be on the menu. She looks startled and then giggles. After assuring me that it is fish and not actually a child, she brings us olives and bread.

And so, we linger in a town labeled unexceptional, over an exquisite meal. We fondly say goodbye to a palace that was barely mentioned in the tourist guides but captured our hearts. As we walk back to the train, we feel grateful that we took the road less traveled. To quote Robert Frost, it has “made all the difference”.