The Algarve (5): Lagos

Lagos, a Small Town in the Algarve, not the Nigerian Metropolis

Portugal

This year’s annual Algarve post is about a single town, a new departure, but I expect it will become standard. Lagos is not an out-and-out seaside resort, rather a small, pleasant coastal town,; we call in most years to visit the market, or drink coffee in the square. It is just the sort of place that deserves a post of its own, and now it has one.

Route finding in Lagos (October 2008)

So Where and What is Lagos?

The Algarve with Lagos ringed in red

Towards the western end of the Algarve’s south coast, just west of the city of Portimão, the little River Bensafrim reaches the sea on the leeward side of a small peninsula. It was an obvious site for a harbour and the last few hundred metres of the Bensafrim were canalised many years ago so that it enters the sea a much larger and more important waterway than would seem possible a kilometre or so inland. The canal provides access to the extensive harbour, once exclusively for fishing boats, but now also home to yachts and pleasure craft of all sizes and degrees of opulence.

The River Bensafrim reaches the sea, Lagos

Beside the river the long, palm-lined thoroughfare of the Avenida dos Descobrimentos (Avenue of Discoveries) defines one side of the old town,...

Avenida dos Descobrimentos, Lagos

...while the semi-circular city wall, still largely intact, defines the landward side. Lagos has long spread beyond its protective wall, but it remains a small town and the outer areas are sympathetic in style and tone.

Lagos city wall (October 2008)

The Praça da República

Henry the Navigator

Beside the Avenida dos Descobrimentos is the Praça da República with its statue of the Infante Dom Henrique, erected in 1960 to commemorate the five hundredth anniversary of his death. In front of Dom Henrique, (who almost disappears into the shadows on the right of the photo below) is a more recent fountain. Portugal is generally good at fountains, but this one needs attention, currently resembling a puddle beside a broken water main.

Praça da República, Lagos

Dom Henrique stares seriously across the puddle. He is better known as Henry the Navigator, but although he sent out Magellan. Vasco da Gama, and the other descobridors on their great voyages of discovery, he never personally navigated anything anywhere, but who would have remembered him if he was known as Henry the Facilitator?

Henry the Navigator, Praça da República, Lagos

The Old Customs House and the Slave Market

In the far corner of the Praça is the site of the old slave market which opened in 1444 and was Europe's first slave market since the Roman Empire. The local tourist authorities are quick to direct you to the slave market, and equally quick to point out that in 1750 Portugal was the first major power to abolish slavery. Visiting Korčula in 2012 we encountered the Statute of Korčula which outlawed slavery, if only on that one small Croatian island, in 1214.

They admit, in rather smaller print, that the old Customs House which now stands on the site had nothing to do with the slave market. Like most Algarve towns Lagos was destroyed in the earthquake and tsunami of 1755. The Customs House, though worth seeing in its own right, was built after the earthquake and long after trading in human beings had ceased.

The Old Customs House on the site of the even older Slave Market, Praça da República, Lagos

The Pedestrianised Main Street

From here we walked into the cobbled and pedestrianised main street of the old town.

A Pleasant, if Unplanned Meeting

This year's Algarve visit was marred by both a week of poor weather and the cold Lynne brought with her developing into flu like symptoms. Our fifteenth trip of this series and perhaps twenty-first in all was not our best. On the plus side we enjoyed two dinners with our friends (and landlords), Tessa and Malcolm (see Algarve 4), had lunch with my (admittedly distant) cousin Ricky and her husband Zeca (see Algarve 5), and, two days before visiting Lagos, entertained Mike and Alison - who appear on many of the walking posts on this blog – and their friends Steve and Jan to lunch. They were touring Spain and Portugal in their motor homes and were passing through the Algarve.

It was time for coffee and a pastel de nata, so we headed for the nearest café only to discover Mike, Alison, Steve and Jan there too.

Steve, Lynne, Jan, Alison, Mike
Coffee in the main street, Lagos

After our coffee, cake and chat (and this digression) we continued up the long narrow street. Lagos attracts many tourists and the town’s citizens do not want them to go hungry - almost every building is a restaurant. Most are Portuguese, but if you want a pizza or fancy the Indian or Chinese option, well that's available too.

Restaurants line the main street, Lagos

Praça Gil Eanes and O Desejado

The street ends in the Praça Gil Eanes. Lagos-born Eanes, a minor figure of the Age of Discovery, shares his surname with Portugal’s first democratically elected president after the Carnation Revolution ended forty years of dictatorship in 1974. The statue of Dom Sebastião by João Cutileiro dates from that revolutionary period and if the statue of Henry the Navigator, completed in the 28th year of the dictatorship of Antonio Salazar, is overly formal this, perhaps unsurprisingly, tends to the other extreme. Prince Sebastian looks like a skateboarder who has taken off his helmet to scratch his head.

Dom Sebastião, Praça Gil Eanes, Lagos

Dom Sebastião became 'King Sebastian I of Portugal and the Algarves' in 1554 at the age of 3. On reaching his majority he proved an active and able, if short-lived monarch. His popularity and his presence here are a reminder that the Portuguese, like the British, prefer glorious losers (Scott of the Antarctic, Henry Cooper, Sterling Moss) to out-and-out winners. Three hundred years after the last of the Moors had been kicked out of Portugal, Dom Sebastião got it into his head that he needed to conquer North Africa and convert the Moors to Christianity. He assembled an army of 18,000 (because you need an army to convert people to a religion of peace and love) and set sail from Lagos in 1578. His makeshift army encountered a far superior Moroccan force at Alcácer-Qibir and was annihilated. Much as I appreciate a hopeless quixotic gesture, taking 18,000 others to their deaths alongside you smacks of unhealthy self-absorption. Despite that he is known as O Desejado (The Desired One) and, like a Portuguese King Arthur, will one day return to save his country in its hour of greatest need.

Lagos Regional Musuem

Walking back down the street, we dropped into the Lagos Regional Museum, which is built round, and indeed contains, the Igreja de Santo António. St Anthony of Padua, the patron saint of those seeking for what they have lost, was a 13th century Portuguese Franciscan friar who devoted his life to the care of the poor. Born in Lisbon he spent the latter part of his short life in Italy and died in Padua. Immensely fussy gilded carvings cover every surface not devoted to paintings of the life of St Anthony. It is regarded as one of the most lavishly decorated churches in the Algarve, an area where decorative excess is the rule rather than the exception. The wood seems to hold the odour of incense, but it could do with some cleaning - a daunting job for anybody. I can't say the interior is really to my taste, but it is difficult not to admire it. Photography was not allowed but a 30 second YouTube video of the interior can be seen here.

Church of St Anthony, Lagos

The rest of the museum is an eclectic collection of stuff, most of it connected with or coming from Lagos. The hallway covers the period from the Stone Age to the Romans. There are some solid looking Neolithic tools, an impressive Bronze Age helmet, several reconstructed burials and a collection of oil lights and other pottery fragments. There are tableaux and some wonderful photographs depicting local life a century or more ago when the Algarve depended entirely on fishing and agricultural. There are models of all sorts, including a selection of sample pieces of furniture made and donated by a local master carpenter. There is a collection of banknotes and coins, old and new, a collection of religious artefacts and an art gallery containing local land and   seascapes.

With the exhibits captioned in English as well as Portuguese, there is something to interest everybody.

Ponta da Piedade

Ponta da Piedade (Oct 2008)

A short distance south of Lagos is the Ponta da Piedade, where the peninsula terminates in cliffs, caves and offshore stacks. You can wander the cliff paths and view the rocks from the angle of your choice.

Ponta da Piedade (October 2008)

The ponta can be windswept and the sea wild, but usually a gentle swell laps up against the rocks. A set of steps descends the cliff to where boatmen wait to take punters out to visit the caves.

Steps to the boats, Ponta da Piedade (October 2012)

A lot of people visit Lagos, some on large groups, whether on excursions from the major resorts to the east or from cruise ships docked in Portimão, but the small town manages to retain its charm and its sense of proportion. It is well worth dropping by if you are lucky enough to be in the area.

Algarve Posts

The Algarve: Delights and Depredations(2010)
Mexilhoeira Grande and a Long Lost Cousin (2013)
The West Coast (2013)
Lagos (2014)
Castro Marim and Vila Real do Santo António (2015)
The Boxes of Carvoeiro (2016)
Mertola and Alcoutim: Strongholds by the Guadiana River (2017) - Also under Alentejo
Silves, Former Capital of the Algarve (2018)
Drinking the Algarve (2022)
Eating the Algarve (2024)

The Gomateshvara Statue at Shravanabelgola and other Jain Temples

Jain Temples in Karnataka

An Unrealistically Brief introduction to the Jain Dharma

The origins of the Jainism, which has over 4 million adherents in India, are lost in the mists of time. Based on the teachings of the twenty-four Tīrthaṅkaras, humans who achieved liberation from the cycle of deah and rebirth and help others to do the same, Jains seek nirvana through personal wisdom and self-control. Mahavira, the 24th and last Tīrthaṅkar of the current half cycle was a historical figure who lived from 599-527 BCE.

The Symbol of Jainism (thanks Wikipedia)
The swastika was an eastern sign of peace long it was stolen and perverted in the mid-20th century

Jain philosophy emphasises non-violence to all living creatures, truthfulness and asceticism. Jains are vegetarians – many are vegans - who also eschew onions and garlic and sometimes all root vegetables. They give great importance to education - the literacy rate among Jains is above 95% compared with 74% for India as a whole.

Karnataka is in the south east, Gujarat and Rajasthan in the north east of India

[Update Jan 2020. I originally called this post 'Three Favourite Jain Temples', but in 2014 I hardly had three to choose from, All were in the southern state of Karnataka and all were visited in Feb 2010. We have now seen other Jain Temples including, in Rajasthan, the temples of Jaisalmer Fort and Ranakpur and in Gujarat Ahmedabad 's Hutheesing Temple and the magnificent Palitana Temple Complex. At least two of those would be contenders for anyone's top three, but I still think the best was our first, almost ten years ago now....

Shravanabelgola

Readers of the Times of India voted the statue of Gomateshvara at Shravanabelgola the ‘No. 1 Wonder of India’ - the Taj Mahal came third. I am not sure I entirely agree with their judgement, but the statue is undoubtedly a 'Wonder of India.'

The head of Gomateshavar at Shravanabelgola

We detoured to Shravanabelgola while travelling north from Mysore. Chandragupta the founder of the Mauryan Empire, the first empire to unite most of what is now India, abdicated in 298 BCE to become a Jain monk and died here shortly after.

The small town was full of pilgrims and as we pulled up, the car was surrounded by people trying to sell us socks.

As we walked to the base of the mountain the reason for the sock salesmen became obvious. In all Indian temples everyone is required to remove their shoes, but here you must then climb a set of steps cut into the rock face. We looked at the steps baking quietly in the hot morning sun and bought some socks.

Up the steps, Shravanabelgola

For the elderly and infirm there are sedan chairs, canvas seats slung between bamboo poles. Spotting a couple of (presumably) rich westerners they made straight for us. Sorry lads, we have already bought the socks.

Sedan chair, Shravanabelgola

We set off up the hill following a group of school children, two bus-loads of teenagers all dressed in 'English style' school uniforms, grey trousers or pleated skirts, white shirt with school tie and heavy woollen blazers. Predictably we had not gone far before encountering a prostrate thirteen year old girl, being looked after by a couple of concerned teachers. I assumed they knew what they were doing, but my advice would have started with 'take off your blazer and loosen your tie.'

‘Belagola’ meaning 'white pond' and as we climbed the hot rocks we could look back down to the pool that gives the town its name.

The White Pond, Shravanabelgola

Near the top we passed two women who insisted I take their photograph and were delighted when I showed them the picture on my camera. This happens surprisingly often and I usually delete the pictures, but I kept this one.

Two ladies, Shravanabelgola

Gomateshvara was the second of the hundred sons of the first Tīrthaṅkara. Arguing with his older brother, he hoisted him above his head and was about to dash him to the ground when he realised what he was doing. Placing his brother down gently he stayed where he was to meditate, standing so still for so long that the vines started to grow round his arms and legs.

Gomateshvara, Shravanabelgola

The temple is little more than a paved rectangle surrounded by a concrete wall. Gomateshvara stands by the back wall, ‘sky clad’ and 17m tall, with a benign half smile on his face as plants begin to twist themselves around his limbs.

Gomateshvara, Shravanabelgola

He is the largest monolithic statue in the world and has stood here since the tenth century. Every twelve years there is a major festival, scaffolding is placed round the statue so that monks can pour milk and ghee over his head and cover him with saffron and gold coins.

Refreshing coconuts, Shravanabelgola

We paid our respects to this symbol of peace and serenity and made our descent, rewarding ourselves with a refreshing coconut after our efforts in the hot sun.

The Badami Cave Temples

Three days later and a couple of hundred kilometres further north, though still in the state of Karnataka, is the small town of Badami, where the artificial Lake Agastya sits in a rocky canyon.

Lake Agastya, Badami

Its main function is to provide laundry facilities for local people…

Laundry in Lake Agastya, Badami

….but on one of the sandstone walls four cave temples have been hollowed out.

Badami Cave Temples

Few foreigners come this way, but there are plenty of Indian visitors….

Indian tourists, Badami Cave Temples

The lower three caves are Hindu, the fourth is Jain…

Jain Temple, Badami Cave Temples

….where, surrounded by carvings, Mahavira sits cross legged, serenely surveying the world he has left behind.

Mahavira, Badami Cave Temples

Karkala

About as far south as you can go down the coast of Karnataka before arriving in Kerala is the Hindu temple city of Udupi. Making an excursion to the north we reached the small town of Karkala. In the Hindu temple we received a long lecture about the ‘oneness of everything’ from an aged one-toothed priest whose thoughtful and gentle approach even impressed our driver Thomas, a devout Keralan Christian with a tendency to dismiss Hindus as idol worshippers.

The Jain Temple above the town was less interesting, being just a small copy of Shravanabelgola with a priest who seemed overly interested in obtaining a donation.

A much smaller Gomateshvara, Karkala

On the opposite hillside is the Chatamurkha Basadi, Karkala’s second Jain Temple. We did not visit, but it sits so spectacularly among the palm trees that I had to include a photograph.

Chaturmurkha Basadi, Karkala

Istanbul (4): Taksim Square and the Galata Tower

Istiklal Cadessi, Whirling Dervishes and a Genoese Tower

26-Aug-2014

Turkey

Our short flight from Batumi arrived in Istanbul in the early evening. Once through formalities Lynne rummaged in her handbag to produce the plastic bag containing the surplus Turkish lira from our 2012 visit. Discovering it contained 500,000 Vietnamese dong and 400 Thai baht, we realised that we had picked up the wrong bag and headed for the ATM.

Return to Sultanahmet

Stepping out into the warmth of an Istanbul evening we made our way to the taxi rank. The driver groaned when we gave him an address in Sultanahmet, the peninsula between the Golden Horn and the Sea of Marmara. The densely packed and always busy grid of narrow cobbled streets is understandably popular with tourists and equally understandably unpopular with taxi drivers, but he forced a smile, heaved our cases into the boot and we set off.

Sultanahmet - not a great place to drive round (photograph May 2012)

After a fortnight in Azerbaijan and Georgia, whose combined population is less than this single city, Istanbul’s size and bustle required some mental adjustment.

We arrived, checked-in to the Hotel Niles and went out for a stroll. Sultanahmet had changed since we were last here; hotels had been upgraded and everywhere new restaurants were spilling out into the narrow streets. August is high season, our 2012 visit had been in a surprisingly chilly May and that accounts for some of the change, but we were sure Sultanahmet looked not just busier, but more prosperous.

After a good lunch in Batumi and a meal of sorts on the plane eating did not appeal, so we repaired to the hotel's roof top bar to drink raki and nibble peanuts.

27-Aug-2014

The breakfast room - the roof bar in its morning clothes - overlooks the Sea of Marmara; we drank our juice surveying the ships riding at anchor, waiting to load or unload.

A slightly mist Sea of Marmara from the Hotel Niles breakfast room

After breakfast we walked to the nearest tram stop. We had explored Sultanahmet, the centre of the Byzantine and Ottoman city, in 2012 and although we had returned there (to the Hotel Niles where the staff were so friendly and helpful) we intended this time to visit the city’s modern centre. The tramway does not take the shortest route, circumnavigating Sultanahmet before crossing the Golden Horn by the Galata Bridge and running north beside the Bosphorus.

Taksim Square, Istanbul

The extensive waterfront development includes the Beşiktaş Football Stadium and the Dolmabache Palace (which we visited in 2012) but the Taksim area, the heart of contemporary Istanbul is on the higher ground behind. From the tram terminus, a funicular railway runs up through a tunnel to Taksim Square. Like the tram it is modern, cheap and efficient if rather crowded.

We emerged into the hot, bright sunlight of Taksim Square.

War Memorial, Taksim Square, Istanbul

Taksim Square, according to the Rough Guide is the central pivot of Istanbul ... a symbol of the secular Turkish Republic but I am not the first to observe there is something wrong. The square is vast enough, and there is an appropriate war memorial at is centre, but somehow it is less a city square than a hot, dusty vacant lot. Recent plans to construct a mall here resulted in rioting, as did the 1997 suggestion of building a mosque, but the unrest was more about the politics of the developments than any feeling that a much-loved square should be left unmolested. The Rough Guide calls it a failure as an imitation of a grand western plaza. A failure it may be, but there is nothing particularly western about the concept of a city square. Tiananmen Square may be a brutalist expanse of concrete, but it is the beating heart of Beijing, Imam Square in Esfahan, surrounded by a palace and two grand mosques, is as fine a city square as any in the world. Taksim, however, is not.

Taksim Square - 'a hot, dusty, vacant lot'.

Istiklal Cadessi, Istanbul

Our plan was to walk down Istiklal Cadessi towards the Galata Tower. Before our 2012 visit I wondered if Turks actually ate donner kebabs, or were they, like chop suey and balti, invented in the diaspora to feed ignorant foreigners. I had quickly found the truth, and as we stood on the corner of Istiklal Cadessi and Taksim Square that truth was hammered home. It would have been a better picture if I could have persuaded the chatting stallholder and his friends to move out of the way, but however long I was prepared to wait they were determined to talk for longer. It was too early to eat kebabs, they were just giving the spits an exploratory spin, but at any time I would have said no. It is a mystery why Turks are so keen on eating something fundamentally nasty (I try not to present personal opinion as fact, but sometimes…).

Kebabs, corner of Taksim Square and Istiklal Cadessi

Istiklal Cadessi is a pedestrian street, which is to say it has no cars, but you still have to watch the traffic as a venerable tram line runs down the middle.

Venerable Tram, Istiklal Cadessi, Istanbul

We passed Balik Pazari, the fish market, and took a brief look.

Balik Pazari, Istanbul

Churches of St Antony of Padua, and St Mary Draperis, Istanbul

A little further along is the Church of St Antony of Padua, a redbrick neo-Gothic basilica. The original, built by the Franciscans in 1725, was demolished in the early 20th century to make room for the tramway, and the current church dates from 1913.

Church of St Antony of Padua, Istanbul

It was open so we had a good look round....

Church of St Antony of Padua, Istanbul

... and Lynne felt the need to light a candle. The Church has strong connections with Pope John XXIII who frequently said mass here when he was the Apostolic Delegate to Turkey in the 1930s.

Lynne lights a candle, Church of St Antony of Padua, Istanbul

Nearby St Mary Draperis, between, a little behind and well below the Dutch and Russian consulates (the whole area is studded with consulates), is the oldest Catholic church in Istanbul. The first building on this site dates from 1584, its Ottoman era origins accounting for its positioning - only the minarets of mosques were permitted to break the skyline.

Church of St Mary Draperis, Istanbul

That building burned down in 1660, its replacement suffered from further fire and earthquake damage and the current structure dates from 1769 (or 1903 according to one source). Inside is an icon of the Virgin Mary, sole survivor of the 1660 fire. Sadly the church was locked and we only saw the outside.

Lunch on Istiklal Cadessi

Lunch time had arrived. I may not be a fan of donner kebabs but Turkey does have some delights to offer for a light lunch - though in terms of calories light is the wrong word. Turkish Delight itself has whole shops dedicated to it - and wonderful it is too - but for lunch, baklava seemed more appropriate. We found a pastry shop where we could sit and eat baklava and drink apple tea - another of Turkey’s many delights.

Now this I like - a whole shop full of Turkish Delight, Istiklal Cadessi, Istanbul

After St May Draperis, Istiklal Cadessi comes to an end and we turned slightly left into the road leading down to the Galata Tower.

Galata Mevlevihane, Home of the Whirling Dervishes

An unassuming doorway on our left took us into the Galata Mevlevihane, a former monastery and ceremonial hall of the Mevlevi sect also known as the Whirling Dervish.

Wudu, Galata Mevlevihane, Istanbul

Celaleddin Rumi, known as the Mevlana, was a thirteenth century Sufi mystic. His followers lived a semi-monastic life where contemplation and mysticism were important, but they were also able to continue with their ordinary jobs and to marry. He instructed his followers to pursue all manner of truth and beauty, avoid ostentation and practice love, tolerance and charity. He condemned slavery, advocated monogamy and encouraged women to take a higher profile in religious and public life. (Rough Guide) He was, in other words, an all-round good egg. The museum was very informative with a display of items used in devotion set in waxwork tableaux. Paying for the audio guide, though, was an error - it told us nothing we could not read on the well captioned displays. It is sad that a branch of Islam that opposes religious bigotry and approaches God through dancing and music should never quite have gained acceptance from the Muslim mainstream. It is equally sad that Europeans dismiss them simply as Whirling Dervishes, there is so much more to the Mevlevi. Having said that, the dervishes still whirl. If you turn up at the right time you cab see them, approaching God through giddiness, spinning in circles on the spot (with a nail driven into the floor grasped between the toes to keep the rotations centred.)

All sorts of hats in this cemetary, Galata Mevlevihane, Istanbul

Perhaps the most interesting parts of the museum were the graveyards, one for senior Sufis, the tops of their gravestones modelled on the hats which signified their status, the second for the most senior - where there was only one style of hat.

Only one sort of hat for the truly important, Galata Mevlevihane, Istanbul

The Galata Tower

Further down the road, and further below the top of the hill is the Galata Tower, built by the Genoese in 1349 on the site of an earlier tower constructed by the Byzantine emperor Justinian. Over the centuries it has been a jail, a fire tower and the site of some of the earlier unsuccessful attempts at human flight. The 61m tower is now used only by those who want to see the view or use the restaurant.

The Galata Tower, Istanbul

The modern tram round Sultanahmet and the funicular are good value, the much shorter ride up the Galata Tower is expensive - and you have to work your way through a lengthy queue and then, above the lift, there are still a couple of flights of stairs. The top of the tower was packed and we shuffled round in a clockwise manner – but it was all worth it, the view really is spectacular. The Galata Tower is not particularly tall as towers go, but it is built just below a high point and the combination of sea, city and sunshine is breath-taking.

The Golden Horn and the Sülemaniye Mosque from the Galata Tower

To the north is the Bosphorus, with the Asian half of the city beyond, to the south the Golden Horn crossed by the Galata Bridge to the bump of the Sultanahmet Peninsula with the outlines of the Blue Mosque, Aghia Sofia and the Topkapi Palace in its green parkland. Beyond that is the Sea of Marmara; as a viewpoint, the Galata Tower is among the world’s finest – indeed everything that Taksim Square is not.

Panorama from the Galata Tower

From the tower we walked down the hill to the Golden Horn and picked up another crowded tram back round Sultanahmet to our hotel where we headed for the roof to drink tea overlooking the Sea of Marmara.

Lynne walks down to the tram from the Galata Tower

In the evening there were plenty of restaurants to choose from and maybe we went back to one we used in 2012, but if it was it had expanded considerably and spread out into the street. A simple steak and chips for me and chicken for Lynne with a bottle of beer, then it was back to the hotel roof for a glass of raki. And that was the end of this trip as all we had to do the next day was head for the airport and start the long trek home.

Istanbul posts from May 2012

Part 1: The Blue Mosque, Haghia Sofia and the Bosphorus

Part 2: The Cistern and the Dolmabahçe Palace

Part 3: The Topkapı Palace and The Grand Bazaar