Photos

MY LAST PHOTO …

The strong wind pushes the clouds with high speed…
The sand is flying in my direction…
The weather is warm

THIS IS MY LAST PHOTO TIL THE END OF MY HOLIDAYS.

In my holidays I’ll take some photos to show you.

This one was taken from the Tamariz beach in the Estoril bay. In other side we can see magnificent apartments and a hotel closed, to do an improvements.

A few miles from Sintra lays Cascais, Estoril is a glamorous resort with beautiful beaches along the Portuguese Riviera. It is the perfect location for some of the Portuguese Aristocracy and some of the wealthiest citizens of Lisbon for their summer residences. A former residence of Juan de Borbón, pretender to the Spanish throne during the last part of the 20th century the famous Casino of Estoril is the largest in Europe. The remains of Roman mansions dating back around 2,000 years are other sites.
Considering it lends its name to an entire region, and has provided refuge to three kings and innumerable commoners fleeing a variety of European conflicts, Estoril is surprisingly small. No more than 55,000 live permanently in the town and its more sedate twin, Cascais, further along the graceful bay. They are connected to Lisbon by a fast train that can whisk the jaded city-dweller to the seaside in under half an hour.
The railway and highway head directly to Tamariz Beach, Estoril's principal daytime attraction. It is dominated, at one end, by a faux fortress doing a passable impression of Lisbon's celebrated Tower of Belém. Such architectural follies and fantasies are a feature of the coastline, constructed by the wealthy in the spirit of unselfconscious abandon that infects us all when we sniff the sea air.
As darkness falls, the focus shifts a short distance inland, across an orderly park of lawns, fountains and palms, to the elephant that has strayed into the living room: the largest casino in Europe. Las Vegas-style, its hulking outline is picked out by tens of thousands of lightbulbs.
For decades, these lights have attracted the continent's high rollers, but even if you arrive on foot, rather than by limousine, and adhere to no particular dress code, you are welcome to show the colour of your money. Unlit, the angular edifice looks more like a cultured concert hall than a den of clanging one-armed bandits with its hushed inner sanctum of baize roulette tables. A safer bet for gratification is to wander around the grandiose villas and hotels that flank the casino. Among them is the fabled Hotel Palácio which during World War II attracted numerous agents, crooks and fugitives taking advantage of Portugal's neutrality. In 1941, its guests included a certain British Naval Intelligence officer called Ian Fleming, whose first novel, Casino Royale drew heavily on his frequent visits to the tables.

I hope you enjoy it
.