Down in Belém, On the Shores of the Tagus

Posted on May 29, 2024 by admin

Even as the longest river on the Iberian Peninsula, the Tagus doesn’t come with much in the way of associations, at least in the English-speaking world, unlike the Thames or the Rhine or the Danube or even the Vistula or the quiet-flowing Don.

Still, when the River Tagus reaches Lisbon, and reaches the ocean, it has an impressive width. But there’s more to it than that. This was a disembarkation point for the wider world for the seafaring Portuguese, and did they ever disembark.

The view is from the Belém district of Lisbon, at the western edge of the city. The Metro doesn’t go out that way; the mass transit option is a streetcar (tram), which we took early in the afternoon of May 15, riding out first to see Belém Tower (Torre de Belém).

A sturdy relic of the time when Portugal was out remaking the world, and from a time (the 16th century) when stone fortresses offered some protection against invasion by sea. An impressive work, and impressively popular.

So popular that we decided to take a stroll by the river rather than wait in that line.

Vendors set up shop near the tower, even if that only meant putting down a rug and one’s wares. If I’d been in the market for a hat, I might have bought one from her. The sun that might have inspired business for her was mostly behind clouds that day.

Other, more formally organized vendors, had vehicles or carts.

A few minutes’ walk east of the tower is the Monument of the Discoveries (Padrão dos Descobrimentos), which is a lot newer than the tower. In fact I’m almost as old as the monument, which was erected in 1960. So more a relic of the Salazar dictatorship than the far-flung Portuguese maritime empire. Still, as concrete (and rose-color stone) goes, it’s an impressive bit of work.

Two rows of Portuguese notables from the Age of Discovery line either side of the monument, including some well-known figures, such as Afonso de Albuquerque, Bartolomeu Dias, Francis Xavier, Vasco da Gama, Ferdinand Magellan and Pedro Alvares Cabral. Others I had to look up: Pedro Nunes, for instance, a mathematician who worked on navigation, and who sounds like he ought to be better known outside the world of mathematics.

Who leads the line of statues looking out to sea? At 26 feet tall, Prince Henry the Navigator, of course.

Museu Arqueológico do Carmo

Posted on May 28, 2024 by admin

The cat at Museu Arqueológico do Carmo in Lisbon wasn’t shy. This was his territory, after all. Tourists, such as ourselves, were just passing through.

A descendant of cats who did mousing duties at the Convent of Our Lady of Mount Carmel (Convento da Ordem do Carmo) centuries ago, including the sizable Gothic church associated with that long-gone convent? I like to think so, but in any case the cat seems to have the run of the place, a museum formed from the stabilized ruins of that church.

The green strips running the length of the nave-shell aren’t covered with grass. It’s something like Astroturf, if not that brand itself. For some reason, I found that amusing.

Surviving bits are on display under the roofless nave.

Including St. John Nepomucene, a sculpture by created in 1743, back when the 14th-century Czech martyr had recently become a saint (1729). Was getting a trending new saint a consideration for the Carmelites as they decided which saint statue to commission?

Looks like the sculpture survived the 1755 earthquake, which not only destroyed the church, it ended the site as a monastic community. The museum dates from the 19th century, through the efforts of the Association of Portuguese Archaeologists. But history wasn’t done with the site, museum or not: the former convent was a brief focus of activity during the Carnation Revolution.

The roof remains, or was restored to, the transept and the sanctuary, which now house other artifacts.

Such as a number of elaborate tombs original to the church, or relocated from other places where they were being neglected. This is the 14th-century tomb of King Ferdinand I (d. 1383). Apparently his remains got lost along the way, or at least are not in the tomb any more.

More tombs.

Or more likely, former tombs, now exhibits illustrating status, even in death. As if we needed even more reminders of impermanence in the ruins of an enormous church.

A Lisbon Ramble

Posted on May 24, 2024 by admin

Rain and wind sometimes but sun and warmth other times this week here in northern Illinois. Had breakfast on the deck most of the days since we returned. Lisbon wasn’t quite as warm as expected, with cool evenings – a little below 20° C. – evolving into warmish days, maybe 25° C. or so, followed again by cool evenings. We were rained on only once, more about which later.

Back to posting on Tuesday, in honor of Decoration Day, even though that’s next Thursday. I’m all for three-day weekends, or four or five, but we ought to acknowledge the heart of the occasion.

We arrived tired in the early afternoon of May 14 at the smallish but popular Praça Luís de Camões, emerging from the artificial lighting of the Metro into broad sunlight on the warmest day during our near-week in southern Portugal, just shy of about 30° C as they reckon things.

At once the dulcet sounds of these three gentlemen captured our attention, and we joined the loose ring of those listening. A good thing to do while sitting around getting ready to catch your second wind.

They played their versions of jazz standards and more recent songs. Sweet versions, each of the musicians taking the tunes aloft in distinctive ways. I didn’t see their names posted, even when I got close enough to drop in one euro each, so they’ll just have to be the Musicians of Praça Luís de Camões.

They had an enthusiastic audience member. He danced around on his feet for a while, the lay on the plaza tiles and “danced” around in that position.

We’d have listened longer, but we needed to obey our thirst, to use the ad phase that’s too good just to be that. Facing the square: McDonald’s. We each had a cold drink.

That’s my idea of a good souvenir, and I took it as such.

We headed down a busy retail street, R. Garrett, a thoroughfare with the likes of Ale-Hop Rua Garrett, Stradivarius women’s clothing, Gardenia shoe store, bbnails, Happy Socks, Livraria & Cafe, a book store, and the Percassipt quilt shop. A handsome street at spots. And under development.

Basílica de Nossa Senhora dos Mártires, the Basilica of Our Lady of the Martyrs, also rises on the street.

Before 1755 there was a different church on this site. As a Christian site, its roots stem back before Moorish domination of the Iberian peninsula.

Reinaldo Manuel dos Santos designed the current church, and of him Portuguese Wiki says: “Reinaldo Manuel dos Santos (1731-1791). Arquiteto e engenheiro militar português, foi um dos maiores expoentes da arquitetura e do urbanismo pombalinos,” which I believe is clear enough except for that business about pombalinos, a building and design style distinctive to Lisbon after the earthquake.

Now that’s a ceiling for the ages.

At R. do Carmo, a pedestrian street, Yuriko and Ann went to examine a particular clothing and other item store, while I took a wander.

People seemed to be paying attention to something.

They were right to take pictures. Stand just off the street was Elevador de Santa Justa, a Machine Age lift connecting two parts of the city, each at a different elevation.

I’d read about it, but didn’t make a particular plan to see it. But there it was. The work of one Raoul Mesnier du Ponsard, who is known for this structure and others like it. We didn’t get around to taking a ride, since time is short and Lisbon’s destination list is long, whoever compiles it.

Jardim Botânico de Lisboa

Posted on May 23, 2024 by admin

On the map, the Lisbon Metro station Avenida looks fairly close to the Jardim Botânico de Lisboa. It is, but it turns out to be close to the walled-off backside of the garden. Some serious uphill walking is between you and the Lisbon Botanic Garden’s public entrance, via a twist of small streets and a sizable public staircase.

Not a bad thing, necessarily. We got an up close look at the neighborhood: the tilework, apartments and small shops (including one selling tile to builders), and some of the enormous amount of graffiti that Lisbon sports.

We passed by a few of the many construction projects in the Portuguese capital. Development goes on, despite a recent drop in residential sales in response to higher interest rates, because Lisbon residential properties fetch more than twice what they did 10 years ago, according to Cushman & Wakefield data.

The faux façade draping over this site was amusing. That’s what it will look like, we promise!

A larger development, also apartments.

A redevelopment — tear down — opportunity along the way.

The view from atop one of the public staircases along the way, which is a pedestrian continuation of the street below.

So some effort was expended to get to the garden, but it turned out to be worth it.

That’s how to get off the beaten path. Just a little lateral movement from that path.

Not a lot of the masses of overseas visitors to the city seemed to be at the Lisbon Botanic Garden. The place wasn’t empty, but you could enjoy pleasant walks through the lush springtime greenery without much in the way of crowding. For some reason, we heard more German at the garden than anywhere except Sintra later in the week, where one can hear many European and non-European languages.

It won’t be much of a botanic garden without lots of plants to examine.

Artwork is nestled among the greenery. Or sometimes on the bare patches or in the fallen timbers.

A favorite: ants overrunning a picnic. Really big ones. If ants were actually that big in Portugal, the country might not be such a tourist destination.

“Ants Picnic” by Tara E. Bongard, an Anglo-Portuguese artist.

Toward the end of our visit, I noticed this.

Araucaria Heterophylla: The mighty Norfolk Island pine.

Funny-looking tree, straight up like a pole with ridges. Not true pines, as it happens, and not native outside the South Pacific.

I don’t remember when I heard about them, but hear about them I did, years ago, maybe in one of the histories of Australia that I read. I didn’t think I’d seen one before with my own eyes. There it was. There they were, since the gardens include more than one. Everything else was very nice, but that really made my visit. (Just my visit, no one else was impressed.)

Knickknacks, An Expatriate Scotsman & St. Anthony of Padua – Rather, Lisbon

Posted on May 22, 2024 by admin

Souvenir shops usually don’t make much of an impression, though there are exceptions, such as Bronner’s Christmas Wonderland in Frankenmuth, Michigan.

Another exception: the small shop facing the small plaza just downhill from the Sé de Lisboa and in front of the Church of Saint Anthony of Lisbon (Igreja de Santo António de Lisboa). The place, Gaivota Citadina, was wild with tiles and other high-quality souvenirs.

Look carefully, and you’ll see cork in the pictures, too. Cork souvenirs come in the form of coaster bottoms, but also wallets, bags, neckties and more, though not all of those were at this shop. Cork, incidentally, lines the backs of seats in the Metro cars. If you go to Portugal, you will see cork.

As far as tourist souvenirs goes – the knickknacks offered in countless small shops worldwide that exist to sell just such knickknacks – many Lisbon stores rate highly, carrying an unusually distinctive and good-looking stocks of items. Tiles and cork, but much more than that. Best of all, many of them still sell postcards, often for 50 euro cents each, and not just the usual pictures of the absolute most famous sites. Interesting postcards at popular prices: something we can all get behind.

While Yuriko and Ann were poring over tiles at Gaivota Citadina, and I’d already picked out a selection of cards, I had a short chat with an English-speaking fellow who seemed to know the proprietor, or at least the people running the shop that day. A Scotsman, he turned out to be a resident of Lisbon. I asked him how long.

“On and off for about five years now. I came on holiday once and just stayed.”

As if anticipating a next question, he then told me that other parts of Europe aren’t as pleasant or hospitable as Portugal these days.

“France, Germany, those places are on fire,” he told me. “Literally in the case of France. It isn’t like that in Portugal.”

Actually, he was wrong about literal wildfire; Portugal has suffered some recently. Regardless, though he didn’t quite put it this way, he said that the Portuguese have an underappreciated talent for living well. And leaving well enough alone.

Could be. I’d only been there a day at that point, and had (and have) no way to assess his feelings on Portugal. But he did seem enthusiastic about the country even after five years.

Later, I parked myself on the plaza’s only bench and watched people throw coins at a statue of St. Anthony. The goal seemed to be to land the coins on a flat part of the statue. The saint’s open book, as it turns out. Tradition, according to the museum behind the statue.

That was hard, but this fellow in red (not the Scotsman, someone else) was able to do it.

The baroque church itself – a replacement for the one destroyed in 1755 – rises where St. Anthony was said to be born, as Fernando de Bulhões, in 1195.

In Lisbon, he isn’t Anthony of Padua, since they claim the popular saint as their own. Anthony of Lisbon, and don’t you forget it.

Sé de Lisboa

Posted on May 21, 2024 by admin

Uphill from the flat Praça do Comércio – a lot of places are uphill in Lisbon, its seven hills famed, at least among tour operators – is the storied Lisbon Cathedral. Or in full in English, Cathedral of Saint Mary Major. In Portuguese, Santa Maria Maior de Lisboa or more simply, Sé de Lisboa.

Parked in front of the cathedral are tuk-tuks, motorized rickshaws. Rather than being a form of ordinary transport in Lisbon, they take tourists to tourist destinations. That isn’t a surprise. There’s some horse-drawn transport in Chicago for the same purpose. The surprise is that they’re called tuk-tuks, same as in Bangkok, where they are more ordinary transport, or at least were 30 years ago.

The Sé is cavernous.

So while the cathedral attracts a fair number of visitors, it didn’t seem crowded, except maybe in the narrow staircase leading both to an exterior balcony overlooking part of Lisbon, and to an interior balcony under the rose window.

Unlike some large churches, the side chapels at the Sé were well lighted and generally not behind bars. Tombs, in this cathedral’s reckoning, shouldn’t be dim places.

Dimmer was the second-floor Baroque Treasury, which displays antique silver, ecclesiastical vestments, manuscripts and relics of Saint Vincent. Low lighting must count as a conservation measure for the treasures.

One question: Where was the sign or memorial or marker noting the spot, or at least pointing to the spot, where a mob tossed Bishop Dom Martinho from a cathedral window in 1383?

The people of Lisbon defenestrating the Bishop D. Martinho de Zamora during the 1383–1385 Portuguese interregnum. Illustration by Roque Gameiro, in Leonor Telles (1904).

Maybe I missed it, but you’d think the cathedral would want to point out something like that with some prominent plaque or sign – like in Prague Castle, where you can see the very windows where the Defenestrations of Prague occurred?

A grim fate for the bishop, if Wiki is correct in citing an early Portuguese chronicle: “In 1383, to celebrate the acclamation of King John I, it was ordered for all churches of the realm to ring their bells. However, upon the lack of any ringing coming from the capital’s cathedral the populace of Lisbon revolted and rammed their way inside the building. Bishop Dom Martinho of Zamora was accused of treason by the populace for being Castilian and schismatic and was, therefore, defenestrated from one of the bell towers.”

Only the Fool in His Heart Says There is No Cod

Posted on May 20, 2024 by admin

One of the sweeping plazas in Lisbon is Praça do Comércio, with an entrance marked by a sizable arch populated by allegories and historic individuals, all in stone. The plaza’s centerpiece is an equestrian statue of King Joseph I of Portugal, the Reformer. Ringed on three sides by long structures, the praça otherwise stone-tiles its way down to the Tagus River.

Jose I (d. 1777) had the misfortune to be king when the 1755 earthquake struck. The plaza was once home to Ribeira Palace, residence of Portuguese kings since the early 16th century, but the earthquake and fire took it down, along with most of the rest of the city. The disaster reportedly spooked Jose so much that he preferred to live in large tents afterward, and for the rest of his life.

Terreiro do Paco (Ribeira Palace Yard) by Dirk Stoop, 1662

In our time, the crowd makes it way to the riverfront. As we did last Monday. As well we should, to take in the views of the wide Tagus, along with buskers and other entertainment, such as a fellow building sand sculptures in a narrow strip just off the plaza stones.

After 1755, the plaza took its current form, with its ring of buildings sometimes occupied by government offices, but more recently restaurants and bars catering to tourists. And the Centro Interpretativo da Historia do Bacalhau.

That was a find. A museum devoted to codfish. We lucked into it.

Above the ticket desk: depictions of drying cod. Life-sized? At first I thought no, but later saw photos of enormous cod filling small boats, so maybe so.

The Portuguese love their codfish, have for centuries, and you should too, the museum insists in subtle ways. It didn’t take a lot of arm-twisting for us to agree that codfish were manna from the sea. At least it is in the hands of the Portuguese cooks whose fish we sampled during our time in Lisbon. Just a small sample, but a delicious one.

The place is part maritime museum, with models of the cod fleets and fishing tools; part cooking museum, with cod dishes illustrated and videos showing cod preparations; and part devoted to the geopolitics of countries along the Atlantic coast of Europe during the 16th and 17th centuries, as they affected the North Atlantic and its fisheries.

A detail from 20th century poster glorifying Portuguese fishermen hard at work feeding the nation. Apparently that notion was something the Salazar regime encouraged, even though the industry was diminished from its glory days a few centuries before.

Cod isn’t just integral to Portuguese history or essential to its cuisine, the museum says.

It’s a fun fish, too.

Lisbon ’24

Posted on May 19, 2024 by admin

Recently I took a small survey among family members about Vasco da Gama, for reasons soon to be obvious. Namely, I asked Ann whether her U.S. elementary school education, about 10 years ago now, mentioned the Portuguese explorer and his voyages. Yes, she said. I asked Yuriko whether her Japanese elementary school education an ocean away and some decades earlier did so. Yes, she said.

I should have guessed it. Da Gama didn’t go all the way to Japan himself, but paved the away – was a maritime pathfinder – for other Portuguese, who arrived in 1543, bringing firearms and Catholicism to the Japanese archipelago at a time of civil war.

Fifty years ago in South Texas, I also learned about Da Gama, the stuff of textbook paragraphs and illustrations in the chapters on the European voyages to Asia and the Americas – and in the same league as Leif Ericson and Columbus and Magellan and Drake and Hudson and Cabot. Other kids might have been uninterested, but not me. What better than accounts of exploration?

So he’s taught in American and Japanese schools across recent decades. Quite a posthumous feat.

Last week, we stood in front of Da Gama’s tomb, in the Belem district of Lisbon.

That was a moment during our recent six days in Lisbon, except for a day trip foray to Sintra, which these days seems to be a far suburb of Lisbon. We returned yesterday.

History certainly brought us to Portugal. For a smallish country, it punches above its weight in history. Including more recent history.

But that’s not all. We had some idea that the food was really good. Really, unbelievably good. It was. Pastries and pastas and seafood and sandwiches and many other true delights on our plates; coffee and tea and lemonade and beer in the glasses. We didn’t have a bad meal in Lisbon, or even mediocre.

Flour sifters decorating the ceiling of an unpretentious cafe in a mid-Lisbon hotel.

At an entire museum in Lisbon devoted to Portuguese cod fishing and cod as a staple in the Portuguese diet, you can pretend to take a small boat out on choppy waters.

I don’t know that Lisbon has the greatest parks in Europe, but it’s got swatches of greenery.

Portuguese tiles – azulejos – decorating buildings large and small, draw your attention often enough.

You look at the azulejos for their beauty. The stone sidewalks, which were extensive on the many blocks we walked, demand attention for another reason. Their surfaces are reasonably flat. Mostly. But more than occasionally there will be damaged, irregular patches just waiting to land the unwary on their bum, or worse.

With the launch of the Age of Discovery, Lisbon embarked on becoming an international city. That might mean different things in the 21st century than it did when Prince Henry the Navigator schemed to further Portuguese exploration, but so what. The world comes to Lisbon.

The world comes in the form of millions of people every year from many corners of the Earth to this distinctive, aesthetic corner of that same planet. We were glad to join them.

Eclipse Leftovers

Posted on May 9, 2024 by admin

Time for a second spring break. It isn’t really spring unless you can squeeze in two. Back to posting around May 19.

Today didn’t much feel like spring, anyway. Cold drizzle. Not that cold, really, but it felt that way after a run of warm days.

I’ve read about people who become eclipse followers. There’s a word for it, at least according to Time: umbraphile. (Time is still a thing?) It’s an impulse I appreciate, but I don’t know that I’ll join them.

On the other hand, Pamplona (say) on August 12, 2026 sounds good in all sorts of ways, so we shall see. I’m not counting on being unshuffled when it comes to this mortal coil on August 12, 2045, which is the timing of the next North American total solar eclipse.

Last month, we passed through Farmington, Missouri, which is the seat of St. Francois County.

The courthouse, fourth on the site, dates from the 1920s. “Innuendoes about fraud led to a grand jury investigation; the solution to the architect’s questionable procedure apparently was resolved by closer supervision,” says the University of Missouri about Norman Howard of St. Louis, the architect of the current courthouse.

There’s a story in that line, the details of which may be lost to time.

Who can you see outside an antique store on the main street of Potosi, Missouri? Betty!

Who can you see on the wall of the Laura Ingills Wilder Home in southern Missouri?

A young Rose Wilder Lane, Laura’s daughter and a writer herself, and apparently a foremother of modern libertarianism.

Spotted in downtown Nacogdoches.

That’s a nicely designed memorial plaque. Showing the nine flags over Nacogdoches; the usual six in Texas lore, plus three more localized ones raised during various rebellions.

Did I make note of the landmarked building? It was nice enough, but not memorable. Lone Star Feeds, on the other hand —

A pet food plant, about 50 years old now.

For sale in Logansport, Louisiana.

“Vintage oil tank,” yours for $200, as of April.

One of the murals I saw in Shreveport was prominently signed.

Your tax dollars at work: funding by the National Endowment for the Arts. Actually, that strikes me as a good way to spend a minuscule amount of federal dollars.

A redevelopment opportunity in Hot Springs, Arkansas.

That would take some serious coin, but maybe it could work. Step one, hire that structural engineer to do a report.

If you have the urge for barbecue in Hot Springs, this place will satisfy. Cookin Q since ’52.

The sort of place with license plates on the wall.

All that is window dressing. The ‘cue is the thing, and Stubby’s has lasted so long for a reason.

On the side of the road on highway Arkansas 7, part of a wayside park.

The plaque reads:

Dedicated to the workers of the Arkansas Farmers Union Green Thumb whose efforts made this park possible so that others might enjoy the beauty of the state of Arkansas. January 1966 to December 1969. Lewis Johnson, Jr. State Director.

Green Thumb?

“Green Thumb was the first nonprofit organization to run a jobs program for disadvantaged rural Americans in response to the War on Poverty,” the union says, beginning in 1966, employing low-income rural residents to build things, something like the WPA or the CCC did. By the ’80s, Green Thumb had vanished.

At Uranus, Missouri, off I-44, Yuriko was driving and I happened to have my phone handy. We were too tired to stop.

I’d driven by Uranus a few times, but not stopped. Something like the Snake Farm on I-35 between Austin and San Antonio. Clearly, I need to visit sometime. Uranus, that is. Maybe the Snake Farm, too.

“Beyond the appeal of what [Uranus owner Louie Keen] insisted was very good fudge, Uranus enticed travelers as a kind of dysfunctional, self-contained utopia, like South of the Border and Da Yoopers,” Roadside America says.

“Uranus, said Louie, was the kind of place tourists want to find on a road trip, with life-size dinosaurs, cheesy photo-ops, ridiculous souvenirs, two-headed freaks, the World’s Largest Belt Buckle, and various shops and attractions such as a hatchet-hurling venue named The Uranus Axehole.”

Oakton College

Posted on May 8, 2024 by admin

We’re in that rarefied period when neither the heater nor the cooler kicks in much. You could say God is my HVAC. It won’t last.

How many community college campuses have enough outdoor sculpture to qualify as a sculpture garden? Say, a dozen pieces or more. It’s an odd question, but it occurred to me at Oakton College in Des Plaines as we walked around recently, taking in the fine spring day and an assortment of outdoor sculptures on that campus.

That online search didn’t take long. If you wanted to figure out which community colleges have sculpture gardens, looks like the International Directory of Sculpture Parks & Gardens would be your go-to source. For all its insanity, the Internet continues to amaze.

Copses of trees and bushes ring the college’s wide parking lots, giving its small cluster of buildings a semi-suburban feel. A small creek runs through campus, and signs next to a small bridge over it say Turtle Xing, with turtle silhouettes on the yellow traffic signs to remind us to watch out for shelled reptiles in easy-to-smash spots. Not sure I’d ever seen one of those kind of warnings before.

The sculpture isn’t off in some field. A representative is right there in your face at the edge of a parking lot.

A little more subtle, but just as close to the parking lot.

Closer to class buildings.

“Pink Hydrant 15” by musician and sculptor Irwin Hepplewhite.

Never mind, I made that up.

“Silver Oak” by Barry Tinsley (1983). A Chicago artist, still apparently active. Glad to hear it.

I had to puzzle that for a moment. Chi-ca-guo.

Of course, Chicago, “wild onion,” a version of an Algonquin word for the weedy onion marshes where the Chicago River met Lake Michigan, pre-Fort Dearborn.

This was good to learn: a certified wildlife habitat.

I know there’s a nonprofit and good intentions behind that designation, but I can’t help but laugh a little. Where is this certificate posted, anyway? Can animals request a copy?

I know where it must be: in this building.

That’s a show-stopper: The Margaret Burke Lee Science and Health Careers Center, a 2010s addition to campus. Modernist glass blended with Prairie School (?) and I’m too dense to know what else, but there’s some exceptional design skill on display in the structure, which is perched next to the campus’ central pond. Maybe the other buildings, presentable enough but a little ordinary, envy Margaret for her green-tint good looks.

Design by Legat Architects, a regional practice. Nice work, Legat.

Been There, Seen That

By Dees Stribling