Summer Time

I was up around 5 am today, for the usual reasons, waking up from a dream about – a wedding reception in space? – and noticed the light of a new day out of the bathroom window. Light that has that certain twilight look, reflecting the fact that the sun is about to come up, like a big bald head. (I checked, sunrise was at 5:17 this morning, so I woke during civil twilight.)

At that blurry moment, it occurred to me, who’s bellyaching now about Daylight Saving Time? If we were still on Standard Time, sunrise would have been at 4:17 and civil twilight would have started at 3:43. Who would want that? Sure, early March might be too early to start DST – late April, as it used to be, would do.

At the other end of the day, June twilight lasts until just past 9 pm. Not everyone has a back yard or a deck, but I do, and I appreciate the daylight at that end as I sit outside. It’s called Summer Time in other countries for a reason.

Squirrels vs. Garage Bottles

The squirrels have been evicted from our garage. Or so it seems. As part of obtaining a new roof for that structure this spring, holes that had allowed squirrels access were plugged. But that wasn’t quite enough, since I spotted one clambering around the shelves before we left town last month. So I bought one of those electronic boxes that emits ultrasonic annoyances for rodent ears, and it has been running ever since. The creatures have made themselves scarce as a result.

They made their own special messes in the garage, of course, including tearing up paper and cardboard — a lot of it — as part of their nesting efforts. Even more annoying to me is that they acted as agents of chaos out in the garage after I spent time last summer cleaning the place up and arraying my bottle collection.

Maybe not “collection,” but the bottles that have accumulated over the years, partly from successive gabfests.

The squirrels broke a few of my bottles by knocking them down to the hard floor, but I’m glad that Monty Python’s Holy Ale and Leninade survived. And my Woop Woop ’04 verdelho, an Australian wine I bought when it was fairly new.

Félicette

Another gabfest has come and gone: the 10th anniversary event, since the first one was held on June 14, 2014. This should have been the actual 11th event, but it was only the 10th, since we skipped 2020. Or maybe I should consider it the 11th event anyway, like how the Olympics still regard the canceled Games (1916, 1940, 1944) as numbered Olympiads (VI, XII and XIII, respectively).

This year, rain came on Saturday afternoon, so for the first time, we stayed indoors, and I cooked the hamburgers and sausages inside, though I cooked inside in ’17 because of high winds. We had the same good old time, with old friends eating and drinking and talking, without reference to any hand-held electronic communications gizmos.

The main beer drinker didn’t come this year, as he was ill, so what little alcohol we drank consisted of white wine. With cat astronauts on the label. Today the weather was better, so I posed the bottle outside on the deck table.

The wine, which is French, is called Félicette. After a cat that the French shot into space in 1963.

We all know about Laika and Ham and Enos, and even Pigs in Space, but not Félicette. Could be she’s more famed in the French-speaking world. Good to know. Might even be a Trivial Pursuit answer. When was the last time I played that? Not since sometime in the 20th century, I think.

The Lüneburg McDonald’s

It’s a minor travel habit of mine to visit a McDonald’s in each country I visit, if there is one. Not as a source of comfort food, particularly, though I knew other gaijin in Japan who treated it that way.

Instead I’m curious to scope out any differences, such as the bouncers at the Moscow location, the availability of alcohol in various European locations (including Portugal), the occasional item that far exceeds anything at a USA McDonald’s – the wonderful McTeriyaki in Japan – or even tiny distinguishing details in something otherwise like a domestic restaurant. The one I visited in Australia might as well have been in the Midwest, except for the sign that said that 100% Australian beef was used, with notes to that effect on the boxes and wrappers.

The first non-American McDonald’s I visited must have been in Lüneburg, West Germany in 1983. I don’t think we went to one in the UK, though we did eat at a Wimpy’s, nor in the Netherlands, before our arrival in Lüneburg. But I know I did once we got there. The first visit wasn’t planned.

June 12, 1983

I discovered today that Frau Horsch probably isn’t going to supply us borders with toilet paper. An unpleasant discovery, this. At 9:45 in the evening I went out seeking that paper by which we all live and found it – where? – the public WC was closed, locked! Argh. McDonald’s was open, and I accessed its facilities for the price of a soda to go.

I went back a time or two for a fuller meal, though it couldn’t really compare with the chicken shack where you could get roast halb hähnchen mit pommes frites nor a number of other spots in Lüneburg.

I checked my envelope of paper debris from that trip, and remarkably found this (which was a little larger that the scanner bed). Or maybe not so remarkable, considering my idea of an interesting souvenir.German McDonald's place mat 1983

Through the marvel of Google Maps, I’ve determined that that location – which I think was near the Rathaus and the Marktplatz – doesn’t seem to be there any more. These days, you need to visit the main bahnhof or a 24-hour location north of the town center near (I’m not making this up) Hamburger Straße. Of course, that isn’t so odd when you realize that the road is named for the city of Hamburg, which isn’t far away.

Portuguese Mix

Early last year, I ordered a number of 4″ x 6″ tabletop flags from an online vendor that doesn’t happen to be Amazon. I have pocket change and postcards and tourist spoons and all kinds of bric-a-brac from the places I’ve been, so why not flags? One for each nation I’ve visited.

So I ordered a Portuguese flag last week, to add to the collection. While Macao was still administrated by Portugal when I visited in 1990, it was too much of a stretch to say I’d been to Portugal, until last month.

Something I never noticed on the flag – behind the shield of Portugal, which has a lore of its own – is an armillary sphere, a model of objects in the sky. A navigators’ tool, among other things, which fits Portuguese history nicely. A cool design element.

We saw other representations of the globe — terrestrial or celestial — at Pena Palace in Sintra.

This one at Jerónimos Monastery.

For sale at the Cod Museum, canned fish. At fancy prices.

For sale at a Portuguese grocery store, canned fish. At everyday prices.

In case you didn’t buy enough canned fish in the city, at the airport there’s a branch of Mundo Fantástico Da Sardinha Portuguesa, a sardine store on the Praça do Rossio.

For once, the Google Maps description is accurate: “Souvenir shop showcasing fancy tins of Portuguese sardines in a wacky, circuslike atmosphere.” You can even sit on a sardine throne.Mundo Fantástico Da Sardinha Portuguesa

The “Beer Museum” off Praça do Comércio seemed more like a restaurant and bar, but anyway you have to have a beer at a place like that, and I did. A Portuguese brew whose name I was too much on vacation to remember.Portuguese beer

I wasn’t awed by the beer, which was good enough, but I was awed by this display. That’s one artful wall of beer.Portuguese beer

We didn’t make it to the castle overlooking Lisbon (Castelo de São Jorge), so I can’t comment on the view from there. I will say that the roof of our hotel offered a pretty good one.Lisbon vista

Looking up at the city is another kind of vista. There’s a ferry port (and subway station) on the Tagus near Praça do Comércio. Step outside there, and some of the city is visible. The stone tower is part of Lisbon Cathedral.Lisbon vista

We emerged from the subway one morning and spotted this.

Monumento aos Mortos da Grande Guerra. I had to check, and found out that about 12,000 Portuguese soldiers died in WWI, including in France but also fighting the Germans in Africa. The memorial is on Av. Da Liberdade.

Europe, in my experience, is pretty good at putting together leafy boulevards.

That’s a tall order for a sandwich shop. We didn’t investigate the claim, either the number of steps, nor the state of mind.

At Basílica de Nossa Senhora dos Mártires, we encountered this fellow.

Rather Roman looking, and I mean the ancient Roman army, not “prays like a Roman with her eyes on fire.” At first I thought he might be Cornelius the Centurion, but the key clue is HODIE (“today”) written on the cross, meaning he’s Expeditus. I don’t ever remember seeing him depicted in a church. The patron of urgent causes, among other things.

We saw a flamenco show in Barcelona last year, but no fado in Lisbon. We did see a fado truck, however.FADO TRUCK, LISBON

We ate at the Time Out Market Lisboa twice.Time Out Lisboa Time Out Lisboa

There was a reason it was crowded. Everything was a little expensive, but really good. Such as this place, whose grub was like Shake Shack.Time Out Lisboa Time Out Lisboa

The last meal of the trip wasn’t at Time Out Lisboa, but a Vietnamese restaurant with room enough for about 20 people. It too was full.

Spotted at one of the subway stations we passed through more than once. Alice in Wonderland‘s fans are international in scope.Lisbon subway rabbit

On the whole, the Lisbon subways are efficient and inexpensive, and the lines go a lot of places. Even so, elevator maintenance did seem to be an issue. There were times when our tired feet would have appreciated an elevator, but no go.

Scenes from Parc Eduardo VII, which includes green space and gardens but also elegant buildings.Edward VII Park, Lisbon Edward VII Park, Lisbon Edward VII Park, Lisbon

There was an event there that day, at least according to those blue signs, that had something to do with the Portuguese Space Agency. I didn’t know there was such a thing. I’d have assumed Portugal would participate in the ESA, and leave it at that. But no, the Agência Espacial Portuguesa was founded in 2019, and is looking to create a space port in the Azores.

We didn’t investigate the event any further, but we did look at the tiles on the building. Nice.Edward VII Park, Lisbon Edward VII Park, Lisbon

Among the kings of Portugal, there was no Edward VII – only one Edward, who reigned from 1433 to 1438 – so when I saw it on the map, I figured it was for the British monarch of that regnal name. Yes, according to Wiki: “The park is named for King Edward VII of the United Kingdom, who visited Portugal in 1903 to strengthen relations between the two countries and reaffirm the Anglo-Portuguese Alliance.”

Lisbon manhole covers. Maybe not as artful as some of the other street details on Lisbon, but not bad.Lisbon manhole cover Lisbon manhole cover Lisbon manhole cover

I saw S.L.A.T. a fair amount. Later, I looked it up: Sinalização Luminosa Automática de Trânsito – Automatic Traffic Light Signaling.

Museu Calouste Gulbenkian

On the day after much climbing around the Sintra hills, that is, Friday, May 17, the idea of visiting the Calouste Gulbenkian Museum and the surrounding Calouste Gulbenkian Garden had a lot going for it. A reportedly great collection of art, for one thing, in a vivid green park. Just as important, it was walking distance from our hotel. A fairly short walking distance, with the interlude of a leisurely brunch on the way. Our last full day in Portugal was going to be leisurely.

The brunch. Mine anyway.Portuguese brunch

There are pancakes, as you might find in North America, but under the meat and eggs, a position that’s less common over here. Good pancakes too. Considering the cost of living in Portugal and the relatively strong dollar vs. the euro, we enjoyed high-quality breakfast food at IHOP prices.

Much has been written about the oilman Calouste Gulbenkian (d. 1955) elsewhere, for feats of industrialism and a colossal amount of philanthropy. Then there was the matter of collecting art, which he did with both hands.

Apparently he liked Lisbon a great deal, and who wouldn’t, especially after Paris got too hot in 1940. Much earlier, he and his family escaped Ottoman persecution, so while you can’t call such a wealthy fellow a refuge, he did feel the need to flee occasionally, along the way evolving into a shadowy British-Armenian billionaire with a massive art collection. These days, his artwork is in the museum named for him in Lisbon, developed by his posthumous foundation.Calouste Gulbenkian Museum

“When it comes to sheer diversity enhanced by the highest of standards, then the Gulbenkian Museum in Lisbon is in a category of its own,” the NYT reported in 1984. “Its collections range from art of the ancient Greeks to the Impressionists, from Iznik faience to Jacob armchairs made for Marie Antoinette, with a goodly complement of carpets, coins, tapestries, ivories and illuminated manuscripts thrown in…

“Unlike most other museums (the Frick is a significant exception), the physical plant has been designed to fit the collection, rather than the other way around. There are vast halls for carpets, and small rooms for silver, vitrines designed so that objects can be seen from every side, and all in such a way that nothing ever looks crowded. The light, too, is unusually good.”

The description is still accurate. The variety doesn’t hit you until you’re past a half-dozen galleries, but then it hits all at once. The aesthetic appetite of this oilman emulator of Le goût Rothschild spanned centuries and continents, and he had the means to act on it.

Among other things, I spent quality time with his ancient coin collection. Gulbenkian had examples from all around the Greek world in the first few centuries after the invention of coinage in Lydia. He had some from Lydia itself; some of the first coins ever.

A good number of Near Eastern carpets were on display, some near the floor lying flat and lightly roped off. To my eye, flawless works. They gave me the opportunity to pass along the idea (to Ann) that certain carpet markers of yore, perhaps Persians, deliberately included a small imperfection in their work because only God is perfect. Something I heard years ago, I don’t know where, and I can’t vouch for its accuracy, caveats that I also passed along. I’m not the only one to wonder.

The Gulbenkian Foundation complex, including the museum, didn’t open until until more than a decade after his death, and pretty much screams 1969.Calouste Gulbenkian Museum

The garden, lush in an Iberian May, takes some of the edge off the brutalism.Gulbenkian Museum Gulbenkian Museum Gulbenkian Museum

We visited the museum first, then strolled the garden afterward.Gulbenkian Garden Gulbenkian Garden Gulbenkian Garden

The museum includes an indoor-outdoor cafe, where we stopped for pastries late in mid-afternoon, sitting outside.Gulbenkian Garden

Note the birds. They were not afraid of people.Gulbenkian Garden Gulbenkian Garden

Not at all.

Sintra: The Moorish Castle

Pena Palace and the Moorish Castle (Castelo dos Mouros) aren’t very far from each other up in hilly Sintra. So close you can walk the narrow road for a few minutes to get from one to the other. Even if it starts to rain on you. We visited in the drizzle after our tour of Pena Palace.

Both sites were inspired by Romanticism, they say. But different takes on the ideal.

Pena Palace: Fancy Colorful Halls, The Romanticism of Kings.

Moorish Castle: Stony Ruins on High Hills, the Romanticism of Abandonment.

Romanticism guided the 19th-century quasi-redevelopment of the Moorish Castle, a ruin from Islamic times, modified after the Reconquista, abandoned and decaying by the time King Fernando II took an interest in 1840.

From the Sistema de Informação para o Património Arquitetónico on the Moorish Castle, machine translated:

“Military, medieval and romantic architecture. Castle with an irregular plan located on high ground, formed by two belts of walls, with the interior reinforced by five towers and several cubes with a quadrangular and circular plan and vertical elevations. The list includes a Visigothic chapel, rebuilt in the Romanesque period…

“The Moorish Castle, due to its geographical situation and robustness, was considered, together with that of Santarém, one of the main points of the military structure of Belata – a Muslim province that more or less corresponds to Ribatejo and Estremadura. The property underwent extensive renovations over time, with the character of a romantic ruin predominating…”

The rain added to the Moorish Castle’s romantic appeal, both in the poetic sense, and the sense that stirs amorous couples. If there were any couples around, that is; there weren’t many, or anyone else. Off the beaten path in this case turned out to be stony and steep and wet. Even so, worth the effort.Moorish Castle Moorish Castle Moorish Castle

On the way up, we passed a mossy tomb.Moorish Castle Moorish Castle

Its sign said (in English, below the Portuguese): “The works promoted by King Ferdinand II damaged part of the Christian necropolis located around the church. A small tomb was thus built to lay the remains that been unearthed. The head stone bore the engraving of a crescent and a cross with the following epitaph: ‘What man has assembled only God can set apart,’ alluding to the fact that it was impossible to distinguish whether the human remains were Christian or Muslim.”

The climb continued. Where were those hiking poles when I needed them? At least one. Back in Illinois, that’s where. But we made it to one of the hilltops, with me trailing about five minutes behind.Moorish Castle Moorish Castle Moorish Castle

That flag was one of a number flying over the ruins, and I believe it was the 19th-century flag of the kingdom, possibly as a tribute to Ferdinand II. The flag over the highest peak — we didn’t make it all the way up there — seemed to be the first banner of the kingdom, associated with the first king of Portugal, Afonso Henriques, who also happened to take the castle from the Moors.Moorish Castle

We were tired on the return from the castle, but I have to say that even the stone path and the forest below had its romantic charms, even in the rain. King Fernando was on to something.Moorish Castle Moorish Castle

More of a light drizzle most of the time, except for the downpour waiting for the bus back out near the road. The various tuk-tuks and other for-rent vehicles that came by looking for business were tempting, but in the end the bus didn’t take that long. That was the only rain we had during our Portuguese days.

Sintra: Pena Palace

Sizable rain and cool air to welcome June on the first day of the month. But June in northern Illinois isn’t one for too much cool air, and temps came in very pleasant today. That means deck time.

I’m glad we saw the interior of Pena Palace (Palácio da Pena), up in the hills of Sintra. Otherwise I wouldn’t have made the acquaintance of this fellow.Pena Palace

A little context.Pena Palace

It isn’t too often you see grotesques that are that grotesque. Looks like that tree growing from his head gave him a screaming headache, and those fish tails for legs couldn’t be that comfortable, either.

He’s just a cast member at Pena Palace, which is an eclectic riot, a hilltop thrust of colors and fanciful towers.  There are more than a few visitors on any given weekday in the spring.Pena Palace Pena Palace Pena Palace

Looks like a crunch, but it was anything but an ugly crowd. They were in a good mood. They’d come because they heard this is a place worth going to see. It is? Yes. Yes it is. They knew they wouldn’t be disappointed, except for those (few?) who are disappointed in everything.

It’s best, I think, to start by looking up at the palace, which luckily is how all visitors approach the architectural extravaganza.It's best, I think, to start by looking up at the palace, which luckily is how all 21st-century visitors approach the architectural extravaganza. Pena Palace May 2024 Pena Palace May 2024 Pena Palace May 2024

The palace was built on the site of a ruined monastery, abandoned since – you guessed it, the 1755 earthquake. Surviving elements of the monastery were incorporated into the palace design, especially the cloister.Pena Palace May 2024 Pena Palace May 2024 Pena Palace May 2024

In other parts of the palace, you see kingly things. Such as the king’s office.Pena Palace May 2024

The king’s dishes.Pena Palace May 2024

The king’s state-of-the-art telephone.Pena Palace May 2024

The king being Carlos, sometimes styled Carlos I, though he was the only one of that name in Portugal. Carlos came to the throne in the late 19th century. His grandfather Ferdinand II got the ball rolling on development of the palace earlier in the century, tapping mining engineer, explorer of Brazil, and amateur architect Wilhelm Ludwig von Eschwege to design it, but Carlos was the last king to spend much time there.

Wiki lists Carlos’ cognomens as The Diplomat; The Martyr; The Martyred; The Oceanographer; The Hunter; The Painter King; The Obese. Quite a selection. Martyr points to Carlos’ fate, gunned down in Lisbon by anti-monarchists in 1908, along with his son and heir-apparent, Luís Filipe. It was a dangerous time for monarchs. And, as it turned out, a dangerous time for monarchy itself in Portugal.

The king might have had all those things above, but the queen – Queen Amelia, Carlos’ wife – had a terrace built for her. It probably got as crowded on the terrace during occasional events at the palace as it does now, but everyone would have been more formally dressed at those long-ago, long-forgotten gatherings.Pena Palace May 2024 Pena Palace May 2024 Pena Palace May 2024

When you take in the view, you forget about the crowds.Pena Palace May 2024 Pena Palace May 2024

The monastery chapel also survived to be incorporated into the palace.Pena Palace May 2024 Pena Palace May 2024

Inside are marble and alabaster works attributed to one Nicolas Chantereine, a French artist who did well for himself in 16th century Iberia.

There’s always more detail, especially in stone — more exuberant detail, wherever you look.Pena Palace Pena Palace Pena Palace Pena Palace

Wonder how often or whether Carlos wandered around the palace, with no crowds around, pondering the detail. Maybe as a way not to think about affairs of state or what to do about the rising tide of republicanism.  Was there so much even he would discover bits he hadn’t noticed before? I can’t say for sure, but that’s entirely possible.

Sintra: Parque de Pena

Forty minutes west by train from the sweeping 19th-century Rossio Railway Station, formerly Lisbon’s main train station, is the municipality of Sintra, which is at the end of one of the lines from Rossio. The cost to get there is modest, €2.30 each way, plus €0.50 one-time for a magnetic card, and the trains come often, since it counts as a commuter line.

Like any modern city, Lisbon sprawls out from its center, including in the direction of Sintra, and people used a number of the intermediate stops. But maybe nine out of ten riders on the mostly full train to Sintra were tourists going to the end of the line. Or at least that happened mid-morning on May 16, a Thursday, when we joined them.

Besides suburban-ish districts – which in a Euro-context means apartment blocks and small shops close to stations – we passed an inordinate amount of graffiti on the way. Every manmade surface you could see from the train window seemed to be covered with it – concrete walls, signs, small towers and other fixtures. Mostly tedious signature-style graffiti, not depictions of any kind, though if you spend enough time in greater Lisbon, you can find enough of that. Either a few Portuguese graffiti makers have a lot of time on their hands, or many young (I assume) Portuguese try their hand at it. Or, for all I know, Portugal attracts taggers from around the EU.

As a settlement, Sintra isn’t a function of modern sprawl. People have been in the Sintra hills since Paleolithic times. More recently (on a scale that includes the Paleolithic), members of the Portuguese upper class, whatever the form they’ve taken over the centuries, made the place their own. That includes, most importantly for the purposes of attracting travelers, Portuguese royalty. The kings are gone, but their visible legacy lives on in the form of palaces and other structures, which packs ’em in, in our time.

One in particular is an enormous draw: Pena Palace.

“Around 1840, Ferdinand II turned a ruined monastery into a castle in which Gothic, Egyptian, Moorish and Renaissance elements were displayed,” UNESCO gushes just a bit about the palace, since the district is another of Portugal’s World Heritage Sites.

“He surrounded the palace with a vast Romantic park, unparalleled elsewhere planted with rare and exotic trees, decorated with fountains, watercourses and series of ponds, cottages, chapels and mock ruins, and traversed by magical paths. He also restored the forests of the Serra, where thousands of trees were planted to supplement the oaks and umbrella pines which made a perfect contribution to the romantic character of the Cultural Landscape of Sintra.”

Pena Palace is quite the sight, even from below.Palace Pena

We got to that view via a municipal bus that circles the hills, stopping at the train station and then a number of sights, and which comes every few minutes; and then a small bus belonging to the palace for a few euro more, to climb up the steep hill toward the palace. There were lines for each of these modes, but not a lot of waiting, so efficient is modern Sintra at shuffling around tourists.

One thing we’d been warned to do – I had been warned, via online guide sights – was reserve a time for the palace. I made no attempt to do so until the evening before, when the only tours available online were the last ones of the day. We weren’t sure we’d still be in Sintra then, so we didn’t book for then. A tramp around the grounds and a look at some of the other sights ought to be enough, we figured. But we did ask at the palace ticket counter around 11 if anything was available that day. Yes, 2:30, she said.

So we got to see the palace. But not before we had time to visit the garden – forest – Romantic greenery around the palace. The Parque de Pena. Which meant going down, since the palace is on a hilltop. Down lush hillsides.Palace Pena Park Palace Pena Park

But not always down.Palace Pena Park Palace Pena Park

Note the handful of people. This was in great contrast to the crowds waiting to get into the palace. Later, we also waited to get into the palace, so I don’t begrudge their massing at that place. Just pointing out that not far away, the crowds are gone.

Signs pointed to a number of features and how many meters you had to walk to reach them. We picked the High Cross. That name might have been a hint of the climbing that was to come. Admiring natural beauty might be a precept of the Romantic movement, but none of the Romantic poets (that I know of) dwelled much on how accessing said beauty might involve a tiring walk. Unless the original title was “Lines Written a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, and Boy Am I Tired.”Palace Pena Park

The climb was entirely worth it, I have to add. Eventually the path narrows and you reach the cross.Palace Pena Park Palace Pena Park

Later, when we had a view from the palace, we saw that the cross is at the highest point in these hills. As such it offers good views, though partly obscured by foliage and that day by haze.

Looking back at Lisbon.Palace Pena Park

The Atlantic Ocean’s out that way, I think.Palace Pena Park

Returning meant going down hill from the cross but eventually uphill again, to reach the palace. The visitor center cafeteria was open, and we had time to eat and especially drink before our mid-afternoon tour. It was a satisfying repast. We had no bad meals in Portugal, not even at a tourist cafeteria.Portuguese tea and coffee

It was cool and cloudy the day we visited Sintra, but climbing the hills was still thirsty work.

The Jerónimos Monastery

If the Belém Tower and the Monument of the Discoveries were about Portuguese ventures into the world, the nearby Jerónimos Monastery shows one thing they brought back: immense wealth. Taxes needed to be paid on the incoming wealth, of course, and a certain large part of those levies went to build Mosteiro dos Jerónimos. The Hieronymite monks who lived there for a few centuries were tasked to pray for the souls of successive kings of Portugal and to minister to those leaving on ocean-spanning voyages.

Money well spent, I’d say. The monastery is the extraordinary work of a number of hands, beginning with architect Diogo de Boitaca and including a succession of other architects, designers and sculptors. Together with Belém Tower, it is a World Heritage Site.

The outside of the monastery church, Santa Maria.Jerónimos Monastery Jerónimos Monastery Jerónimos Monastery

The monastery grounds include other large museums, such as ones devoted to Portuguese naval history, and an archaeological museum, both of which would surely be worth the time. But we focused, as most visitors do, on the monastery church and the cloister next to it.

These structures are considered class-A examples of Manueline, a style particular to Portugal during the Age of Discovery and with an emphasis on elaborate stonework. Sturdy work, too: the earthquake of ’55 didn’t do a lot of damage to the monastery.Jerónimos Monastery Jerónimos Monastery Jerónimos Monastery

Some Portuguese royals, namely the go-getters of the Aviz dynasty who oversaw worldwide Portuguese expansion, are entombed in both transept chapels. Note the elephants supporting the tombs.Jerónimos Monastery Jerónimos Monastery Jerónimos Monastery

Quite the ceiling.Jerónimos Monastery Jerónimos Monastery

Vasco da Gama, as mentioned previously, has a tomb near the church’s entrance. Across from him is the Portuguese epic poet Luís Vaz de Camões (d. 1580), whose best known work celebrates the voyages of da Gama.Jerónimos Monastery

The poet might not actually be in the tomb. His original resting place was disturbed by the 1755 earthquake, and by the time of his entombment in Santa Maria in the 19th century, finding his remains was a matter of guesswork.

Santa Maria church, I’m glad to say, charged no admission, though I was happy to donate a few euros to its upkeep. All you have to do is wait in line, which took about 20 minutes.

The cloister, on the other hand, sold admissions, though at a fairly reasonable 10 euros. It was busy, but not so crowded that we couldn’t buy admission right then. Anyway, it was entirely worth it.Jerónimos Monastery Jerónimos Monastery Jerónimos Monastery

One is allowed to peer into the courtyard, but not enter it. I believe that that’s actual grass, not Astroturf.Jerónimos Monastery Jerónimos Monastery Jerónimos Monastery

Endless details carved all around.Jerónimos Monastery Jerónimos Monastery Jerónimos Monastery

A large refectory includes the sort of tilework that Portugal is famous for.Jerónimos Monastery
Jerónimos Monastery Jerónimos Monastery

Including a depiction of an emotionally distressed horse. Jerónimos Monastery

That’s what it looks like to me, at least. Some of the tile artists apparently appreciated the fact that such a horse’s lot is little but work, work, work.