OUR first afternoon in Portugal's hilltop mediaeval village of Ourem had probably been one of their year's liveliest and most exciting thus far. Barely settled into our very comfortable room, the sound of music and singing drifted over to the pousada from the ancient church directly across the cobbled lane.

What could be happening after 3 p.m. on Sunday afternoon? A baptism, wedding? So off we went to investigate, entering church just as a band began playing a lively version of

Turns out it was the 50th anniversary of the town band's formation and bands from other local towns had come to help celebrate. Everyone for miles around was there dressed in their Sunday best as they watched four colourfully costumed bands, musical instruments glistening, converge together marching down three separate narrow lanes leading off the access route up from the valley below.

Then everyone proceeded further up the hill in procession behind the musicians, eventually up steep steps, then clambering up a hillside, not only to the fortress at its summit, but actually inside it where a festival of food, drink and fun was about to begin.

This is no ordinary run-of-the-mill fortress . . . if indeed such a thing exists. Certainly not in Portugal, a country endowed with more than its share of such gems. (Bermuda should also count itself blessed with its impressive list of fortifications, a stellar attraction for any history-minded traveller).

This one was built by Counts of Ourem (as was everything else in the village, since they owned it) in the 12th century and was slowly mouldering away when we first ventured along the narrow, unpaved winding road up to that mediaeval hilltop hideaway. In a still saved 1975 , that historic still undiscovered site received just over four lines . . .

"Starting from Torres Noves (chateaux and beautiful churches) about 14 miles to the north one reaches the loftily-perched mediaeval village of Ourem, which is adorned with the chateau of the counts of Ourem and from which the view is magnificent."

Happily that lack of any major attention kept its secret, also keeping it unspoiled. At one point in my journalism career, I contributed to and wrote some guides. However, that kind of terse space limitation is one reason I stopped doing them!

Readers may find it restful, relaxing and very worthwhile to end a busy trip unwinding in just such a place. These are the last five days before beginning the long journey home and they're treasured. What kind of people seek out hideaways like this?

Meet the successful couple from California's Silicon Valley. "We're pursuing Wellington," confided the husband. "He certainly got around Portugal, didn't he?" . . . And so we share favourite itineraries where all our paths had crossed with the famous British duke.

"Can I ask where you found those beautiful bracelets?" inquired a Dutch tourist at breakfast. When I responded, "They're antiques purchased at Cairo's Egyptian Museum", she expressed delight.

"I was born 54 years ago at the American Hospital in Cairo and have a pair like them I also treasure." These are classic, traditional silver bracelets of a special design always worn in pairs by Bedouin women as a sign of affluence. They so intrigued me, they're practically welded to my wrists and I've managed to accumulate three pairs.

She was enjoying a short trip with her daughter before college began. Talking with informed residents of other cities like them is always both interesting and educational. This very "with-it" woman shared an interesting observation during a discussion of Europe's changing face because of illegal immigration.

"Rotterdam, my home, is changing very much. Holland has liberal immigration policies and during my lifetime, perhaps in 25 years, it will be 75 per cent foreign, mainly Moroccan."

Yet a third English-speaker from Scotland told us: "We collect pousadas, especially ones with historic flavour like this one. It allows a traveller to turn back the clock and enjoy another century, but take comforts of this century along with them."

Much as we enjoy lingering in Ourem, we're lured down to the valley in search of yet more tiles. Our route leads back through Fatima about ten miles distant. But this time on a weekday and the mood immediately around round the famous Roman Catholic shrine is tranquil, appropriately reverent and the massive crowds of Sunday gone.

I've read 10,000 pilgrims gather to hear mass each Sunday outside the basilica that can accommodate 900, which is why another church is now beginning construction to handle ever-growing crowds.

13 and October 13, anniversary dates of the first and last apparitions in 1917, are dates to avoid unless you don't mind truly massive crowds. Eighty-six years ago, an estimated 70,000 pilgrims witnessed the miracle of the sun on October 13 and far more than that now arrive for those special anniversaries.

For those not familiar with Fatima, apparitions of Our Lady of the Rosary delivered a message for the world to pray and change their ways or face being overwhelmed by wars and communism.

Like Lourdes, church-owned areas directly surrounding the shrine itself remain open, unspoiled. It's the adjacent area, an isolated shepherd's field at the time of the apparitions, that has exploded with uncontrolled private commercial and hotel development.

With what seems to be a total lack of zoning, that area is so overwhelmed that somehow the appearance of Circus Americanis comes as little surprise . . . but persistent ,aggressive gypsies involved in it begging just beside the small chapel marking the Cova de Ira apparitions site is definitely annoying. No doubt church fathers regret not buying all surrounding land to prevent such desecration.

Almost 30 years ago, we were there on assignment which included visiting nearby Aljustrel, a very poor village where the three young shepherd children lived. The oldest, Lucy, now a nun, is still alive and in her nineties. The others died very young and were recently beatified by the church, a step on the way to sainthood.

We visited their humble houses, interviewed some relatives and came away with the strong impression nothing had ever happened in their simple young lives to inspire any attempt at deception. The young innocents never altered their description of the apparitions, even when local authorities threatened to boil them in oil. Unfortunately, merchants have also invaded this once quiet village with the usual souvenir shops. But the children's very rustic homes containing their family's few meagre possessions remain.

So do the money changers. A word of advice. Local banks are to be avoided at all costs. Whether it's Fatima (the worst there was Caixa Geral de Depositos that extorted $7 for each $100 worth of American Express euro travellers' cheques cashed and was rudely abrasive besides), Batalha, or the modern lower village of Ourem, customers are treated with suspicion as though certainly guilty of some crime.

"It's partly because there is so much counterfeiting in the East," insisted one banker. All shared long lines of customers patiently waiting while staff stood around talking to each other, acting oblivious of clients' presence. I've never seen anything quite like it anywhere.

By way of contrast, a special money changer was on hand at Lisbon's Marriott Hotel efficiently cashing travellers' cheques with a smile and very modest fee. At the pousada, they happily accepted them at no charge to pay our $690 bill for five nights and meals with wine. Just imagine what a wonderful bargain that was!

GUESS it's gripe, gripe, complain time. Batalha, noted for its dazzling Manueline Church ? built as a spectacular monument to honour a victorious battle that saved Portugal from invaders and also became a royal tomb ? also continues to suffer from a haphazard, unregulated expansion encroaching ever closer on the great monument.

It's so sad to see some of these wonders being overwhelmed by excessive development. Don't these greedy tear-down and over-build types realise that what they're doing drives away tourists originally attracted by the unique character of a place? Apparently not.

Each trip a diminishing number of ceramic shops survive along the Batalha-Alcobaca road. These sell colourful ceramics for which Portugal is justly famed. Traditionally, Portuguese homes had tile scenes mounted on outside walls . . . but sadly that, too, is a disappearing custom rarely seen on new houses.

Is it a good or bad sign when a shop owner who hasn't seen you for two years immediately recognises you? Yes, it happened yet again in a shop where we ended up buying eight tile scenes ranging in price from $25 to $45 each.

The very colourful owner doesn't speak a word of English, we can't manage much more than hello, goodbye and thank you in Portuguese. But the amazing thing is we somehow manage to communicate!

Some paragraphs ago we talked about travellers who met at Pousada Ourem. We were about to learn about several other very colourful ones. On our last full day, finally our schedule coincides with limited hours of a small cliff-side museum beside a baroque pillory dating to 1620.

Actually, it's ground floor of the country manor of administrator of the House of Braganza, patrons of this town since the death of Don Afonso, fourth Count of Ourem, in 1460. We were barely through the doorway when our attention was riveted on a large bronze Ethiopian cross protected in a glass case. Very similar to a large silver one I'd purchased from an Ethiopian refugee in Cape Town, South Africa, I asked the museum director how it got there.

"It was presented as a gift from Emperor Haile Selassie's grandson when he visited here." With that for starters, we got so involved talking about village history, we were still there at closing time.

Somehow the name of Father Guilbert Mariani entered the conversation. We'd met this delightfully unique priest two years earlier. A successful fiftyish California businessman, he had turned his back on that life and entered a new, but very traditional religious order when his wife died.

His pedigree of titles is almost as long as this article . . . a chaplain to the Duke of Braganza, Knight of Malta, and a whole paragraph of other "grace and favour" distinctions, as he modestly labels them.

"He's here in Ourem, you know."

"Here? What, visiting?"

"No, living in what used to be the Braganza's Royal Hunting Lodge. He's running it as a guest house."

Incredible. We'd walked past it one afternoon, wondered about the sign that read Casa Alta Guest House and meant to ask about it. With an extraordinary hillside location, it's next to one of the ancient gates and beside a chapel where Good Friday processions pause to pray.

Sitting just below the more than slightly overwhelming fortress and castle, it was newly gussied up and its bright garden a bloom like a small botanical garden. This obviously deserved investigation. Father Mariani is one of those unique people who have a "presence", a dramatic flair and if he was involved in this, we had to know about it.

Back at the pousada I called and left a message with his staff. Could he join us there for dinner? He called back, enthusiastically insisted instead we come over for cocktails or after-dinner drinks because he had a full house of dinner guests and couldn't leave.

On one of those gorgeous, quiet moonlit nights, we walked along cobbled lanes past borders of oleander, bougainvillea and crepe myrtle and entered a setting impossible to describe in moderate terms. It's understandable if visitors at first glance feel they've entered a premiere antique shop. Everything is a treasure, one-of-a-kind conversation stoppers put together with great panache.

"The order asked me to open and operate a retreat house for priests visiting Fatima. But we don't have a lot of money, so to make it work, it functions as a guest house the rest of the time."

occupying four elegantly decorated rooms complete with fireplaces, antiques and en suite were enjoying dinner when we arrived. All were Canadians, non-Catholic (Father Mariani is very ecumenical) and remarkably each had sailed previously on Wind Surf.

Yes, it's just what you'd expect a royal lodge to be, and then some. After all, you wouldn't expect the heir to the throne of Portugal to settle for less . . . and he was arriving with his Duchess as guests within days to celebrate Braganza's 600th anniversary in Ourem.

"Unlike many European ex-kings, this royal family resides with honour in their country, with semi-official diplomatic duties, running foundations and hosting visiting dignitaries," Father Mariani told us.

If available, I'd opt for Duchess of Braganza Suite at 85 euros per person ($105). That's if there's space between such guests as Grand Duchess of Russia and various Italian nobles who have discovered its charms. A rooftop terrace above it offers out-of-this-world views . . . all very reminiscent of a most elegant private home. We've not even scratched the surface of regional wonders to visit . . . everything from haunting Knights Templar churches to wilderness national parks. More after our next visit there!

: Pousada de Ourem: Tel. 249 54 09 20/79, fax 249 54 29 55; www.pousadas.pt. Casa Alta: Tel. 351 249 543 515, fax 351 249 543 530 or e-mail marianiguilberthotmail.com. Rooms from $80 per person. English breakfast included. Meals at reasonable prices.

4 Start your travel New Year right