Distinct Instincts
Vasco & Vera Cunha Mendes

Words Ruby DaviesImages Maximilian Mair

Vasco and Vera are finding their own way forward, building on what came before without losing sight of what made Comporta special in the first place.

Rice fields, cork oak forests, Atlantic beaches, and family memories. This was the Comporta that Vasco and Vera Cunha Mendes knew before it became one of Portugal’s most talked-about coastal escapes—and before they started inviting guests to experience the traditions of this distinctly Portuguese beach town.

The brother-and-sister duo is the second generation of creators in the family, inheriting an approach that puts regional landscapes and local craftsmanship at the center of everything. They’re keeping that alive at Spatia Comporta, a sprawling countryside resort they opened on farmland their father bought in the early 2000s, where buildings are oriented to preserve existing trees and Portuguese musicians soundtrack dinners designed to build connections.

But they’ve also put their own stamp on this tranquil retreat, allowing it to evolve while actively resisting trends.

Before Spatia, before any of this—what are your first memories of Comporta?

Vasco: Comporta actually means “gate”—the lock that was used to hold back water in the rice paddies. The name itself comes from the landscape and its history.

Growing up, our family vacations were always in the Algarve, so Comporta was a break from tradition. I remember coming here with my father and feeling that it wasn’t a resort. It was somewhere people actually lived.

On those first trips, we went to a small restaurant in Grândola and had incredible lamb chops from a producer in the Serra de Grândola. I am still searching for that flavor.

What drew you to Comporta as the place to build something of your own?

Vasco: I started coming here more regularly with my father when we decided to invest in the area, initially drawn by family friends. The more time we spent in Comporta, the more we felt something special in it.

“Spatia” is Latin for space. What does that mean to you both personally?

Vera: It’s both physical and emotional. Physically, it’s privacy, proportion, and the distance between buildings. Emotionally, it’s having a day that isn’t already planned for you.

What we’re really offering is mental space—time to read, walk, or have lunch without checking the time. For us, that’s the essence of Comporta. It’s less about thatched cabanas or sunset parties and more about this particular way of living by the coast.

Who shaped how you think about hospitality—or space, or beauty?

Vasco: We always wanted to create a place that felt like the Alentejo. I’ve been coming here since I was very young, visiting farms with my father and pretending I was a bullfighter chasing the cows around. There’s also a particular way people receive you here—with simplicity, patience, and genuine care. That has shaped how we think about hospitality at Spatia.

Vera: My background shaped me through design rather than traditional hospitality. While practicing architecture, I also worked in jewelry design—an intersection that taught me to appreciate scale, precision, and the innate beauty of materials without relying on decoration. I was deeply inspired by Adrian Zecha’s early Aman resorts and the architects who shaped them, where architecture sat at the very heart of the guest experience.

Pine forest, rice fields, Atlantic dunes—which landscape has the strongest pull on you personally?

Vasco: It’s the combination. Within 15 minutes you can go from a montado de sobro—the ancient cork oak woodlands—to an endless Atlantic shoreline. Having these contrasting environments so close together is what makes the area extraordinary.

You have distinct roles—strategy and guest experience versus design and architecture—but where do those lanes blur?

Vasco: Quite a lot. I oversee the hospitality and residences sides, so I set out the main operational needs, but we develop the concept together. Vera then leads the design, and we come back together throughout the process to fine-tune things.

Vera: Those roles blur very quickly. Even the position of a window is both an architectural and operational decision because it determines what a guest sees and experiences. We’ve had real arguments over finishes and layouts, but usually we’re just solving the same problem from different directions.

How do you navigate the pressure of being second-generation creators, especially as siblings?

Vasco: We still work with our father and none of this would be possible without his knowledge and experience. There’s pressure in inheriting a way of doing things while also finding a way to make it your own.

Vera: Being siblings actually makes things easier. We don’t really manage each other, so if something’s wrong, I’ll say it. Vasco might want a change for commercial or operational reasons, and I’ll resist because I think the building will lose something. Neither of us is necessarily wrong—we’re responsible for different things. But we agreed early on: don’t chase trends, don’t overbuild, and don’t dilute what makes the place special.

What were you trying to give guests by dissolving the boundary between room and landscape?

Vera: We wanted the room to feel less like a container and more like a viewpoint. The glass brings the landscape and changing light into the room, but that only works with real privacy. Guests should feel immersed in the landscape, never exposed to it. As Vasco puts it, “The private terrace captures the idea in its simplest form. There’s nothing to operate and nowhere you need to be.”

How do you think about food as part of the Spatia experience?

Vasco: We’re very involved in the intention, but the day-to-day creative decisions belong to the chef and kitchen team. The important thing is that it tastes like Comporta. Fish is a major part of the local cooking, something you see at places like Sal Restaurante, alongside the generosity of Alentejo cooking and whatever is in season.

The Monday BBQ captures it best. We light the grill and invite Alentejo musicians to sing. Guests arrive not knowing each other and end up around the same long tables. It’s probably the most Alentejo thing we do all week. We think of the restaurant almost as another room—it just happens to serve food.

Was there a decision that felt risky at the time but turned out to be exactly right?

Vasco: The density limits that came with the land. We could have seen them as something to fight, but we didn’t. You only have to look at the high-rise developments of the Algarve to understand why.

Spatia ended up with one hotel and 65 homes across the entire estate—modest by development standards. At the time, you could argue we were leaving value on the table. In the end, that restraint became part of the value.

Comporta has always attracted a creative, understated crowd. Has that changed?

Vera: Comporta is definitely more diverse now, and naturally there are places that attract a newer crowd. But I think there’s room for all of it. Different lifestyles can coexist here without necessarily losing the character of the place.

What does running Spatia ask of you that you didn’t expect?

Vasco: Probably the same discipline it took to build it—maybe more, because nobody applauds you for maintenance.

What we really underestimated was service. We opened as a four-star operation and quickly realized the architecture and setting were promising something the service wasn’t yet delivering.

Vera: So, we rebuilt that side of the experience—more people, more training, and a different level of attention. That wasn’t in the original plan. In a way, the building was finished long before the hotel was.