Journey to Portugal by José Saramago

Fortunately the traveller's not one to catch colds. But when he awoke next day the morning was already half-gone, so perhaps he was worn out by so much climbing up and down. He took a turn around the narrow and crowded streets in the lower part of the city, made one more pilgrimage along the steep slopes of the upper city, gazed upon the Mondego and, whether he wished to or no, he departed Coimbra. Strictly speaking, leaving Coimbra when, like the traveller, you take the main road for Beira, means following the riverbank, until the said road forks either to Penacova or to Lousã. Until this point the place names are still evocative of Coimbra: like Calhabé or Carvalhosa. Seen from the north of the river it could be said that Coimbra lies between Mondego and Mondego.

The traveller travels with no clear idea as to his destination. He feels equally claimed by the Mondego riverbank as by that of the Ceira. He refrained from tossing a coin, and decided for himself: Ceira won. But men are made in such a manner as to regret being unable simultaneously to climb the steep slopes of the Lousã Serra and to skirt those of the Bucaco. In order not to travel divided between being here and there, for that's the worst division of all, he made a vow, on arriving at Penacova, to at least go down the Mondego to the Foz do Caneiro. Having thus concluded his deliberations, his doubts were allayed and he was free to pay attention to the countryside.