Saturday 12 November 2016

Nanjing (1) Sun Yat Sen, The Zhonghua Gate and Salt Water Duck: South East China Part 1

A Mausoleum, a Massive Defence, a Local Speciality and a Confucian Temple

'Do not saepk louldy'
(Slogan seen on a tee shirt, Hong Kong to Nanjing flight)

11-Nov-2016

Arriving in Nanjing


China
Staffordshire to Nanjing via Manchester and Hong Kong is a monstrous journey, fifteen minutes short of 24 hours door to door. It largely went to plan, though the thirty minute circumnavigation of the roundabout at junction 15 of the M6 was not the best half hour of our lives.

We met our guide, S, at the airport and Mr D, her driver, took us the 25km into the city along an 8 lane highway first past fields, then a forest of high rise apartments, a vast university campus with art gallery, library and gymnasium, and finally a Volkswagen factory before reaching the city walls. The traffic had built steadily as we neared the centre. Nanjing (‘southern capital’ - c.f. Beijing, ‘northern capital’) has some 8 million inhabitants and behind the walls were the towers of any major modern city. We worked our way through the traffic to our hotel in the city’s north-western corner.

Jiangsu Province in Eastern China

A Poor Hotel but Good Restaurants

We have stayed in many Chinese three star hotels over the years. In rural areas they can be spartan, though often the best available, while in cities they are usually entirely adequate good. Our Nanjing hotel was the probably worst we have stayed in. The décor was tired, our carpet was badly stained and it had an odd feature we have encountered once before - a transparent bathroom. There was a blind, but only half a door.

Our hotel room and its interesting bathroom
There was a blind to pull down, but who thought a glass bathroom was a good design idea?

S had indicated a nearby road which had, she said, many restaurants and after a short sleep we decided to check it out. Nanjing has a first world infrastructure, but at ground level it is more basic, and we found ourselves walking through what may have been a red light district. ‘Restaurant road’, though, lived up to its billing. There were dozens of them, from street vendors with various things on sticks, through scruffy holes-in-the-wall up to some smart fish restaurants.

We wandered back for more rest.

Since picking at an airline lunch we had eaten nothing and by 7 o’clock, although neither of us felt hungry, we needed to go out and do something.

A bit of Nanjing's city wall
I know its not a great photograph, but it is largely in focus and was taken from a moving car after being awake for 25 hours. I think that is an achievement of sorts

We chose a bright-looking restaurant largely for the picture menu on the wall. Only inside did we realised it specialised in hotpots, cook-your-own meals which require the diner to tick off their choices from a list – an almost insurmountable problem for us illiterates - and we could not reach the pictures without climbing over other diners.

Our waitress spotted the problem and quickly produced an iPad with pictures and prices of the non-hotpot dishes. This is the new China. Flicking through, we selected a dish of squid (we hoped), which looked big enough for two. It soon arrived and was both a good size and indeed squid (we once ordered pig’s trotters from a picture menu in the belief they were beef ribs) in a soy-based broth with angels’ hair noodles. It was simple, elegant and just what we needed. With two beers – Snow 'Draft’ (actually in half litre bottles) is a sad, feeble brew but was all they had - it came to under £8.

Nanjing within Jiangsu Province

12/11/2016

The Mausoleum of China's First Post-Imperial Leader

Our night’s sleep was hampered by bodily uncertainties about what time it really was. Morning looked cool and misty but was the mist just water or had each droplet, saturated with pollutants, formed round a nucleus of particulates?

Nanjing in the morning - it is probably pollution

Normally we like a Chinese breakfast but today we were offered little more than rice, noodles, bean soup, tea eggs, steamed buns and a choice of hot orange juice or milk; the Chinese drink tea all day but not necessarily at breakfast.

S arrived on time and Mr D drove us along where the northern section of the city wall had once been, to the railway station where we took delivery of our tickets for Monday. Obtaining a ticket, or even entering a station, requires the production of an identity card – or passport in our case.

Beyond the station, the wall reappeared behind Xuanwu Lake, originally a medieval reservoir, now the centrepiece of a park. We were heading east of the city to the wooded slopes of Zijin Shan, (Purple-gold Mountain); unfortunately so was everybody else. It was the first dry Saturday for two weeks and the whole of Nanjing was intent on climbing the 450m peak or visiting the botanical gardens, the Ming tombs, or any other of the district’s attractions. Turning left at the lights onto the narrow parkland road took an age, and it was slow going once we had got there. Chinese traffic jams are not helped by the local driving style in which consideration for others does not feature.

Mr D drove us to the car park of the mausoleum of Dr Sun Yat-sen, the biggest and most distant attraction. From here we walked through an avenue of plane trees to the mausoleum.

Through the avenue of plane tress to the mausoleum of Dr Sun Yat-sen, Nanjing

Having visited Sun Yat-sen's house in Shanghai in 2008 we knew he is treated with almost religious reverence, both in the People’s Republic and in Taiwan, so we were suprised it seemed much quieter here after the earlier madness. We soon discovered this was a false impression and the crowds were immense – it was not just a Saturday but also Sun Yat-sen's 150th birthday.

The entrance to the Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum park

The path inside is lined with snow cedars interspersed with osmanthus bushes. The fragrance of osmanthus had been a feature of our 2010 trip to Guilin and would have been here had we been a month earlier.

In January 1912, as the Qing Empire began to collapse, Sun was elected president of the provisional government in Nanjing. Unfortunately it was  Beijing's military commander Yuan Shikhai who had forced the emperor’s abdication, and having grasped power he was reluctant to let go. In March Sun resigned to avoid civil war.

In 1919 as war lords threatened to fragment the country, he co-founded the Guomindang – the Nationalist Party – and for the next six years worked to bring together the many disparate progressive groups, realising the communists must be included for there to be any chance of success.

He died in Beijing in 1925 aged only 58 and was buried in a crystal coffin. He had expressed the wish to be buried in Nanjing, so when his mausoleum was completed in 1929 his body was brought from Beijing. The plane trees were planted to provide a processional route for his coffin.

The mausoleum sits 392 steps up a hill. The 3 is for his three principles (nationalism, democracy and care for the people), 9 is the largest, hence most important digit and 2 represents the linked Communist party and Guomindang.

The pavilion after the first 100 steps

After the first 100 steps there is a pavilion from which you can look up and see the next 292.

Some of the last 292 steps, Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum, Nanjing

Nearing the top my legs began to wish he had fewer principles. Looking down, when you eventually arrive, the steps cannot be seen. This, apparently symbolises the good Doctor’s wish not looking down on the people. I do not understand; it is obvious to those at the top that everyone else is below them regardless of the visibility of the steps.

Looking down from Sun Yat-sen's mausoleum, all but the topmost steps are hidden from view

Joining the queue we filed round the great man’s statue and photographed it from the permitted location. There are always flowers here, but his birthday meant a bumper crop. Behind the statue is the mausoleum itself, which is not open to the public. Inside is a replica of the Crystal coffin, while the man himself lies several meters below in a more standard casket.

Sun Yat-sen in his mausoleum

The 1937 Japanese attack on Nanjing will feature in the next post, but as a taster we passed a shot-up urn on the descent.

Damaged urn, Sun Yat-sen's mausoleum

From the mausoleum an easier journey back into central Nanjing allowed time to ponder what might have happened if Sun Yat-sen had lived longer. Could he have prevented the Guomindang under the conservative Chiang Kai-shek (who was his brother-in-law) fighting a civil war against the communists? Hostilities paused during WW2 as they united against the Japanese but resumed afterwards leading to Mao's victory in 1949 and Chiang Kai-shek’s retreat to Taiwan where he set up the Republic of China. The ROC and Mao’s Peoples’ Republic of China glowered at each other across the Taiwan Strait, each claiming jurisdiction over the other’s territory. Supported by the USA, the ROC held the Chinese UN seat, including their permanent seat on the Security Council until 1971.

The Nanjing City Wall and the Zhonghua Gate

We entered central Nanjing through the wall. Although some parts are older, the walls were mostly built by Emperor Zhu Yuanzhang (r1328-98) the founder of the Ming dynasty. They were 36km long and unlike the rectangular walls of Datong or Xi'an they curved round a potato shaped city apparently dangling from the southern bank of the Yangzi.

The Zhonghua Gate is claimed to be the biggest city gate in the world. Looking through the tunnel you see four sections, each once protected by a substantial wooden gate. In theory once the attackers had broken through, a stone gate slid down behind them, trapping them and allowing the defenders to mop up at their leisure. With four such killing chambers the gate was considered impregnable – not that anybody was stupid enough to check that out, at least not until the rules of the game changed in the 20th century.

Looking through the Zhonghua Gate, Nanjing

There are steps to the top for men and shallower steps for cavalry - the walls were wide enough for six mounted men to ride abreast.

Model of the Zhonghua Gate, Nanjing

From the top we could look beyond the city. In the 1980s, when the population was under 2 million, Nanjing remained within its walls. The current 8 million inhabitants spill some distance into what was once the countryside beyond.

Outside the walls of Nanjing

And we could look back at the city inside, at towers of the business district….

The Nanjing business distict

…and the low rise buildings of the rebuilt ‘old’ quarter.

The 'Old' quarter of Nanjing

We walked a little way along the wall, which here is new. Of the original 36km, 21 are original, of the rest, some is missing, but parts have been rebuilt.

Along the Nanjing city wall near the Zhonghua gate

WW2 started in 1939, when Britain and France declared war on Germany over the invasion of Poland. But in Azerbaijan, it started in July 1941 when the Germans attacked the Soviet Union and in America everyone knows the correct date is December 8th 1941, the day after the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. In China WW2 started in July 1937 with the Japanese invaded. Conveniently, everybody agrees it ended in 1945.

The Japanese took Nanjing in December 1937. They came through the Zhonghua gate, though they did not need to take it, modern weaponry was sufficient to reduce the wall on either side to rubble. What followed is known as the Rape of Nanjing, which features in the next post and explain why the city has so few old buildings.

Nanjing's Confucian Temple District

Next we headed for the Confucian Temple district, an area of old style one or two storey buildings round the Confucian Temple. It looks like a recently built simulation of old China, because that is exactly what it is.

Lynne at the entrance to the Confucian Temple district, Nanjing

Salt Water Duck

We had previously discussed Nanjing's food specialities with S. ‘Duck is popular,’ she said. ‘There is salt water duck, which you might like to try and duck’s bloody noodles* which you probably won’t.’ We are made of sterner stuff, but thought it best to start with salt water duck - a reference to cooking method rather than habitat.

S took us to a small restaurant and stayed to help with the ordering, which was important as the system involved buying a card for an appropriate figure (we chose 100yuan) and then sticking your head through a series of hatches to select different parts of your meal, the cost being swiped off the card as you go.

The restaurant, Confucian Temple district, Nanjing

We chose salt water duck – it comes in slices and is served cold - and a vegetable salad. It did not look much so S insisted we needed a bowl of noodle soup as well. After indecision at the noodle counter S decided for us, though her selection, with its strong woodland flavour of wild mushrooms, would not have been our choice – had we been capable of making one. The duck was pale, very tender and full of bones; pleasant enough but (and I would say this very quietly in Nanjing) not a patch on Beijing duck.

Lynne with salt water duck, vegetable salad and a bowl of noodle soup, Nanjing

Lunch over, we returned our card, took our change and went out to explore the district.

The rebuilt Confucian Temple, Nanjing

The Rebuilt Confucian Temple and the Examination System

The Confucian Temple has been rebuilt and the city fathers are currently also rebuilding the examination cells. From the 9th century until 1905 advancement in the Chinese civil service was based entirely on examinations in Confucian principles. Those who passed at county level became local officials while the very best came here for the provincial examinations. Each candidate was allotted a cell just big enough for a desk which could be reconstructed as a bed at night. The examinations lasted a week and they had to bring with them all they needed including their food. The successful became provincial officials, while the very best went on to the Imperial examinations with the chance to really make it big and become a mandarin.

Rebuilt Confucian Examination Centre, with the cells down the left hand side

We walked round the nearby stalls. Everybody knows that beans improve brain power and The most efficacious are called ‘mandarin beans.’ The stallholder will bag you up a couple of hundred grams for 20 Yuan - a tiny price to pay for a life of wealth and power.

Want some Mandarin beans? Nanjing

Other stalls were frying ‘stinky tofu’ which has many regional variations. The Nanjing version is said to be mild though the cloacal pen and ink seemed strong enough to us. There were also Nanjing duck stalls, I attempted to photograph a pile of ducks, pale and unhealthy looking beasts compared to their Beijing cousins, but two passing ladies hijacked the auto-focus without my noticing. Still, they make a pleasing picture - and the ducks are there in the background.

Two Nanjing ladies - and a pile of salt water ducks

We spent some time in the temple quarter among the shops and beside the canal, but nothing is as old as it pretends to be.

Canal and dragon screen, Confucian Temple District, Nanjing

A Walk in the Park and another Restauramt Visit

We returned to our hotel in mid-afternoon. Our itinerary had included a drive across the world's longest double-decker road/rail bridge spanning the Yangzi a few hundred metres north of our hotel. The bridge was closed for repairs (road and a metro tunnels are still available) but S suggested we could get a good view from a hill in a nearby park. There was enough light left for this expedition but we failed to find the right route and decided to seek further advice tomorrow.

We failed to find the viewpoint, but it was a good walk in the park

Later we walked back down the street of a thousand restaurants to another restaurant with pictorial menus.

Nanjing's many tourists are overwhelmingly Chinese - we had seen four other westerners all day - and it is still possible to cause a stir here by marching into a restaurant in possession of round eyes and a big nose. The days when this might cause fear or even hostility are long gone and we quickly gathered four young waitresses round our table all smiling and eager to help as we leafed through the pictures. They made suggestions and shook their heads when we selected dishes that were unavailable. Eventually we all agreed on shredded pork, which arrived with sliced spring onions and pancakes - a poor man's Beijing duck - and a huge dish of morning glory with garlic, ginger, pork lardons and ample chillies. Half way through one of the dishes they had said was ‘off’ arrived. We pointed out the error (by mime) and after a conference they agreed and took it away. I hope none of them got into trouble as they had all been so helpful. Actually, the cubes of belly pork in a highly glazed sauce were beautifully presented and part of me wanted to eat them as well, but even gluttony has its limits.

And so (burp) to bed.

Nanjing at night

*Wikipedia calls it 'duck blood soup'.

Tuesday 11 October 2016

The Boxes of Carvoeiro: Algarve 7

Junction Boxes, Paint and Some Imagination

Carvoeiro
Not an unspoiled fishing village - there are none left in the Algarve - but a small town whose geography has helped it retain some of its character and charm

Junction boxes are everywhere but Portuguese towns seem to have an inordinate number of them. Drab and grey, they are magnets for graffiti and fly posting....

Boxes in Lagoa - drab as you like

... but not in Carvoeiro.

Fish, what would you expect? Boxes of Carvoeiro

The painting was the idea of Phil Francis a British resident of Carvoeiro for almost three decades. With the support of the local authority, he extracted permission from Energias de Portugal who own the boxes, teamed up with Helder José, a German/Portuguese professional graffiti artist and set to work at the end of last year.

A touch of the Jackson Pollocks: Boxes of Carvoiero

And they have been busy. I photographed 55 boxes in a hour's walk up and down the main streets and I doubt I got them all. Because of the way the paintings are juxtaposed it took me a while to spot the themes, but they are there. There is local architecture...

Local architecture: Boxes of Carvoeiro

...sometimes with a cat.

Local architecture with cats: Boxes of Carvoeiro

Traditional Algarve chimneys are well represented...

Traditional Algarve Chimney: Boxes of Carvoeiro

...as are azulejo tiles.

Painted tiles: Boxes of Carvoeiro

...and there is a series of local views, like this one of the beach.

Carvoeiro Beach: Boxes of Carvoeiro

Local characters also feature, like Tia Olympia (Aunty Olympia)...

Tia Olympia: Boxes of Carvoeiro

...and João Peludo (Hairy John).

João Peludo: Boxes of Carvoeiro

There is a series on local fauna....

Frog: Carvoeiro Boxes

....while other paintings relate to where they are, like this alembic outside a booze shop.

Alembic outside a booze shop: Boxes of Carvoeiro

I particularly like this one as the theme continues up the wall above and links across to the advertisement at the side...

Carvoeiro Boxes

....and finally (for a touch of controversy)I wonder if the placing of a Virgin Mother and a stork on adjacent boxes was entirely accidental.

No comment; Boxes of Carvoeiro

There are more, but that is a representative selection. I am indebted to Alyson and Dave Sheldrake's Algarve Blog for some of the information in this post.



Thursday 29 September 2016

Évora

A Roman City, now a UNESCO World Heritage Site and a District Capital

28-Sept-2016

Portugal

From Faro to Évora

This year's Algarve trip had a new twist; no sooner had we arrived in the Algarve than we set about leaving it.

After picking up our hire car we drove north across the coastal plain and its clutter of tourist developments to São Brás and continued into the hills behind. Winding up and down past cork oaks, many newly stripped, eucalyptus and old gnarled olive trees we saw few signs of human habitation but passed several of the ruined windmills that pepper the Algarve. They probably never ground corn, this is not arable land, but maybe once crushed olives.

Freshly stripped cork oaks

Barranco do Velha and Ameixal look important on the map, but there is little to either of them. Dogueno, the first village in the Alentejo, is even smaller but we stopped there for coffee at a tiny café frequented by those elderly local men who like to start drinking early.

After Dogueno the countryside changed. Much of Alentejo, is a plain dedicated to the production of wheat though in September only the stubble remains. Herds of cattle milled about in the harvested fields.

At Castro Verde we picked up the new IP2 which sped us to Beja where we stopped for lunch.

Our Journey through southern Portugal

North of Beja, vineyards started to appear. Alentejo is a major wine producer - much of the wine drunk in the Algarve comes from here - and the road signs were a wine list of familiar names, Vidiguera, Moura, Reguengos and finally the old walled city of Évora, our home for the next two nights.

Arriving in Évora

We found our hotel in one of Evora's tiny medieval alleys...

Hotel Santa Clara, Évora
It took me two attempts to get round that right angle bend - in a Fiat Panda!

... checked in and made the short walk to the Praça de Geraldo, the city's main square named for Geraldo sem Pavor (Gerald the Fearless) who took the city from the Moors in 1166. It was a good spot for David sem Cerveja (David the Beerless) to slough off that soubriquet and slake the thirst of a long, hot day's travelling.

No longer beerless, Praça de Geraldo, Évora
Évora

Whilst rehydrating, we watched gangs of 18 or 19 year-olds with painted faces being led round the square by slightly older youths wearing academic gowns. Later, when we went out to eat, the painted ones were on their knees in the square ‘worshipping’ their elders. Évora's university was founded in 1559 making it Portugal’s second oldest, though it closed in 1779 during the oppression of the Jesuits and in its current incarnation dates only from 1973. University initiation rituals are common in Portugal and there is a perennial worry that they might descend into bullying. This looked good natured enough to me.

We ate well in Évora, so our two dinners there have earned their own post (click here).

29/09/2016

Évora - A Walking Tour

Praça de Geraldo

Évora's Celtic origins are lost on the mists of time. History begins in 57 BCE when the Romans arrived and set about creating a major city. The Vizigoths filled the power vacuum after the Romans left but Évora was in decline until taken by the Moors in 715 CE. The 450 years of Moorish rule, which saw the city prosper and develop much of its present character, ended in 1166 during the Reconquista. Medieval Évora continued to prosper, becoming a favoured royal city and centre of the humanities. Another decline started with the closure of the university in 1779 and in 1808 the city was sacked by the French during the Peninsular War. After a difficult 19th century Évora has returned to prosperity, its fortunes based on agriculture and tourism as the city exploits its rich architectural and artistic history.

Around the Praça de Geraldo, Évora

We started back in the Praça de Geraldo which is lined with elegant buildings. Structures of all ages sit shoulder to shoulder within the largely intact city walls and even the most recent blend harmoniously. The medieval street plan has been largely respected, making Évora a pleasure to walk round, and a nightmare for drivers. There is a good ring road and ample free parking outside the walls, which we took advantage of.

The medieval streets of Évora

The 16th century church of Sto Antão is at the end of the praça.

Sto Antão, Praça de Geraldo, Évora

A long thin barn of a church, its many side chapels are filled with baroque altars, but the high altar is the most baroque of all. Admirers call the decoration ‘complex’, I call them ‘fussy’. 'It requires a lot of dusting,' Lynne observed. She is a keen, some might say fanatical, remover of dust, but I had to agree, and it looked as though the altars had not seen a cloth for years - the problems of dusting ornate carvings at height are almost insurmountable.

High altar, Sto Antão, Évora

Following the Aquaduto da Prata - the Silver Aqueduct

We walked north-east from the square up the inappropriately named Rua Nova. According to our tourist map parts of the Aquaduto da Prata that once brought water to the thirsty citizens can be found here. We looked in vain, before realised that the arches in the buildings were once part of the aqueduct, though later doorways had been cut through them. Gravity dictates that aqueducts become lower as they approach the point of delivery, but the floors behind the arches were below street level, so maybe the low arches were also the result of ground levels rising over the centuries.

The arches of the aqueduct, Rua Nova, Évora

Rua Nova ends in the Praça de Sertorio a small square dominated by the 19th century town hall. Our map claimed the square also contained the city's 2nd century Roman baths, but where were they? A poster advertising a recent exhibition hung on the town hall wall, but there was no other clue.

Town Hall, Praça de Sertorio, Évora

Inside we found office doors, waiting people and an unmanned reception desk. The remains of the baths, later reading informed us, can be viewed through a glass wall in the town hall, though there is, apparently, little to see.

We followed the line of the aqueduct from the square. Beyond the Roman stonework at the corner there was little to see, but a couple of turns through the narrow streets brought us to some higher arches….

The aqueduct is higher, Aguaduto da Prata, Évora

…which were higher again in the next road with dwellings built into them. It is fascinating how structures, like our hotel with its medieval façade, marble reception area and small but comfortable modern rooms, have been continually adapted, sometimes over centuries, to meet the demands of later living.

Dwellings in the Aquaduto da Prata, Évora

Evora's walls are largely intact except where the demands of modern traffic have punched holes through them. We made our way to one of these holes and over the ring road to look at the aqueduct crossing the wall. We had assumed this was a Roman aqueduct – so many are - but it has clearly been built round a pre-existing wall.

The aqueduct crosses the city wall, Evora

In fact the aqueduct was constructed between 1531 and 1537, designed by Francisco de Arruda, who was also responsible for Lisbon's Torre de Belem (which features elsewhere in this blog). Beyond the walls it crosses a couple of hundred metres of open ground to the Forte de Santo Antonio before swinging left towards its water source.

The Aquaduto da Prata heads off to the Forte de Sto Antonio, Évora

The So-Called Temple of Diana

Walking back into town we came to the so-called Temple of Diana. It is a Roman temple, but was dedicated to the Emperor Augustus and there is not a whole lot left. Since the Romans, Évora has been Moorish and then Portuguese (and sacked by the French). Muslims and Christians alike have been zealous destroyers of remnants of earlier idolatrous religions, so it is surprising anything has survived.

Roman Temple, Évora

It was now eleven o'clock, time to seek out coffee and pasteis de nata, the custard tarts that make morning coffee in Portugal just that little bit special.

The Cathedral of the Virgin Mary

That task easily and pleasantly accomplished, we returned to the cathedral, which sits just behind the temple. The Cathedral of the Virgin Mary, a 14th century enlargement of an earlier building is the largest Gothic cathedral in Portugal. Medieval cities are cramped and major buildings lack the space to express themselves externally, but inside its size is obvious and there is much to see. We bought our tickets, being given a 'senior's’ discount without asking. That hurt a little.

The Cathedral of the Virgin Mary, Évora

First we followed wide stairs, then a spiral staircase to the roof which gave us fine views over the city and the surrounding countryside...

Looking over the roofs of Évora to the Alentejo countryside
The cloister, Évora cathedral

... the roman temple...

The Roman temple, Évora

...the aqueduct where it crosses the Forte de Santo Antonio….

The aquaduct makes its way to and across the Forte de Sto Antonio, Évora

....and the cathedral's Lantern Tower.

Lantern Tower, Évora cathedral

The bottom of the spiral stairs gives access to the high choir - several Portuguese cathedrals have the choir and the organ in a balcony at the eastern end of the nave. Lynne sat in one of the wooden choir seats with the usual heavily carved back. Most of the carvings are hunting scenes, behind her is a boar hunt, while to her right a man hunts hares with a dog.

Lynne in the high choir, Évora cathedral

The carvers were not without humour. Above one seat hares have caught the hunter and are turning him on a spit.

Hares roasting a hunter, high choir, Évora cathedral

There is also a good view down the nave of the church, another long thin hall with a fussy baroque altar.

Évora cathedral

Outside we took a turn round the cloister…

Cloister, Évora cathedral

…pausing at the tomb of Bishop D Pedro who built the cloisters between 1317 and 1340.

Tomb of Bishop D Pedro, Évora cathedral

The cathedral’s school of music was of great renown and the choir boys’ boarding house is now the cathedral museum. Zealous guardians rigorously enforce the no photography rule so you will have to take my word for it that the chapel displays a piece of the ‘true' cross and a set of reliquaries containing body parts of saints major (St Thomas Aquinas) and minor. Upstairs the corridors and the schoolboys' cells are filled with religious art and artefacts, some beautiful, some curious (a model of the Virgin Mary which opens out into a triptych with scenes from her life) and others kept just because they are old. A display of reliquaries so old nobody can remember whose skin, skull or finger lies inside was rather sad.

After a long visit it was time to head for the Praça de Geraldo, a cold beer and a toasted sandwich. We took a leisurely break beneath a shady umbrella fanned by a slight but pleasantly cooling breeze.

Largo de Graça, Évora

Our main destination for the afternoon was the church of S Francisco and its famous oddity, but on the way we passed the tiny Largo de Graça. The 16th Igreja de Graça is somewhat off the wall.

Igreja de Graça (Church of Grace), Évora

The ‘robust Atlas-style figures… placed around the four corners… [represent] the four rivers’ (visitportugal.com). The locals call them, with justified irony, ‘the children of Grace’. The church was not open (have they something to hide?)

The Children of Grace, Igreja de Graça, Évora

The Largo and Church of S Francisco, Évora

The larger Largo S Francisco is a short step away. The church of S Francisco looked so clean and burnished I would have thought it was new had I not read that building started in 1475.

Church of S Francisco, Évora

There is no fee for entering the church, but there was for the exhibition and bone chapel so we paid up, but went to see the church first.

The main altar sits at the end of a stone canyon, though the row of shallow side chapels each has a grander baroque altar than the main one.

Side chapels, S Francisco, Évora

One of the side chapels was deeper and off it was the meeting room of the non-clerical society of S Francisco. The woodwork is impressive but the gap between table and bench looks a little large, so that whether it was your papers or your lunch you were attending to, it would be just too far away for comfort.

Meeting room of the society of S Francisco, Church of S Francisco, Évora

Upstairs is an exhibition of nativity scenes, the collection of a local retired military man. We had not planned to see it, but as we had paid and it was there we thought we might walk through.

It turned out to be an amusing exhibition with artefacts of varying degrees of sophistication, and none. It is fascinating the way the nativity is so often rendered in the vernacular of the artist, whether they come from Papua New Guinea, Southern Africa or Europe. I particularly liked this modern Portuguese version, executed with tongue firmly in cheek. We all know the wise men brought, gold, frankincense and myrrh, but what about the shepherds? Well, had they been Portuguese they would undoubtedly have brought olive oil, cheese and honey as these men have.

Olive oil, cheese and honey from the shepherds - and Joseph has a good grip on his bottle of wine
Nativity exhibition, S Francisco, Évora

The exhibition is in two parts connected by a walk across the roof with a view into the pleasant Largo de S Francisco.

Largo S Francisco, Évora

We visited S Francisco mainly for the bone chapel. It may not be unique, Faro even has two, but it was the first we ever saw (when we visited Évora in 1985) and is, as far as I know, the biggest and best. Sometime in the 16th century it became fashionable to empty monastic cemeteries and use the contents to decorate a chapel.

Bone chapel, S Francisco, Évora

The bones do not come from a disaster or massacre, they are the remains of ordinary monks set in the walls to remind us that such is our bodily future, so we had better look after the future of our souls. If I was dug up and my bleached tibia used as an interior design feature, I think I would be quietly chuffed.

Bone chapel, S Francisco, Évora

That finished our sightseeing in Évora. There is more to this small city, an excellent museum we have not seen, a venerable university to walk round, the palace of the counts of Basto and much more, but our time was up. Évora packs such a huge amount inside its medieval walls that maybe we will return.

We had an excellent dinner – see next post (click here).

30-Sept-2016

The Menhir and Cromlech of Almendres

Évora may be ancient, but the Alentejo has been inhabited far longer than humans have been city dwellers. Next morning we drove six or seven kilometres along the N114 to where the little road to the village of Guadalupe and the Neolithic sites of Almendres was well signed.

Guadalupe was larger than we had expected with rows of gleaming white modern bungalows stretching out from the centre. How the inhabitants make their livings this deep in the countryside in an age of mechanised agriculture is a mystery.

At Guadalupe the tarmac ran out and we completed the last few kilometres on a dirt road, enveloped in our own personal dust cloud.

We stopped in a pull-off where a sign pointed down a path to the Menhir dos Almendres. The design of the 3.5m tall menhir would have been familiar to Obelix, though it predates that fictional menhir delivery man by several millennia. A crook is allegedly carved into the upper portion, but we could not make it out.

The Menhir dos Almendres

The Almendres Cromlech is a further kilometre along the road. A group of 95 standing stones, some with rudimentary carvings, it is the biggest megalithic monument in the Iberian Peninsula.

Lost for many years, it was only rediscovered in 1966 when most of the standing stones were recumbent. They were re-erected after careful research.

Looking up from the bottom of the site through the double circle Alemendres II

Set on gently sloping ground the double circle of stones at the top (Almendres I) dates from 6,000BC. From here there is a clear view eastwards to the Alentejo plain from which our ascent had hardly been noticeable. A lower elongated double circle and central stones (Almendres II and III) were added later, though missing stones make the patterns difficult to see from the ground.

At the midwinter solstice the menhir and cromlech are aligned with the first rays of the sun. Like all such sites there are many theories but nobody knows their purpose.

Almedres Cromlech, looking east through the upper circle to the distant Alentejo plain

Awed by antiquity we left Almendres for the three hour drive south to Carvoeiro on the Algarve coast.

….immense.