12: Sintra: the Palace Tour

I'm going to start this blog on a bit of a somber note and talk about the current politics of this tiny little country.  Simply, Portugal seems to have a quality of changelessness about it.  No matter what is happening in the country or around the world, every day here is just like every other.  Several people have asked me recently, "How is Portugal dealing with their current economic crisis?" and its a little painful to tell them that they don't seem to care very much about it at all.  There are just as many people out taking two-hour coffee breaks.  There are just as many people in shops and grocery stores milling about.  The student life hasn't changed a bit: more parties, less studying.  There was even a university-wide strike to complain about the government cutting university scholarships.  It almost seems as if the people here don't really care to understand the situation or how it can be changed.  It reminds me of a film my Portuguese class watched back at Brown about the Carnation Revolution here, when Portugal finally rid themselves of the longest dictatorship in European history.  In that film there was a particular moment when the reporter was interviewing a woman about the changes.  But she didn't seem excited at all.  She said something along the lines of, "So we don't have a dictator now.  Who cares?  Nothing is going to change.  I'm still going to be poor, whatever government we have."  Has that mentality affected all of Portugal?  This sense of "Eh, what can you do?"  Maybe its just me missing Brown, but I would think that on a college campus there would be more outward feeling about such an issue than this passive acceptance.  If you are unaware of the situation, here's a quick intro article.  It's not the best, but the language on my Google has officially turned to Portuguese and it is rather difficult to find much in English after a quick search.

On a much lighter note, I managed to leave these contemporary metaphorical ruins for some much older ruins this weekend.  Sintra, very close to Lisbon, was the choice vacation spot of the rich and royal back in the times of Portuguese monarchy and now might just have the greatest percentage of palaces and castles per square kilometer (I may have made up this statistic but it very well could be accurate).  We've been wanting to travel down to Sintra since the beginning of the semester, when Helder, a friend of Tatiana's father, offered his vacation apartment to us.  And since housing is usually the second biggest expense of a trip (after food... at least for us college students), we jumped at the chance to have a cheap weekend trip. 

We took the train down on Friday afternoon to Lisbon, where Mario (a wonderful man who, with Tatiana's father, acted as our tour guides and program directors when we first arrived in Portugal) and his son Ricardo, a young engineer who was working on his post-graduate, picked us up.  I was delighted to see Mario again and so grateful that, once again, he was helping us tremendously.  We ate dinner at his house and then his son Ricardo drove us to Helder's apartment in Sintra, about 20 minutes away.

Helder's Apartment.  Lucky guy.

The apartment was incredible.  Maybe I had become a little too used to our apartment, with the ants, the flaking paint, and the shower that never ceases to make some sort of trouble, but this place seemed like paradise.  Wide-open spaces, comfortable bedrooms, a television, and three different bathrooms.  There were even tubs.  It was like we died and went to heaven... until we realized the hot water didn't work.  A little discouraged, we made plans with Ricardo for sight-seeing the next day.  It turned out that he was going to be our unofficial tour guide throughout Sintra, which was at first a little unexpected and strange but ended up being so incredibly helpful since Helder's place did not seem to have any easy transportation to Sintra proper.  The lack of hot water and, unfortunately, the worst reaction to lactose I have ever had in my life (Mario had made some sort of bacalhau/potato/cheese dish for dinner), made our first night a little less than perfect.  That seemed to be a theme for the rest of the trip: everything was wonderful except for one very small but hugely noticeable thing.

Tiles decorating the outside of the Palácio de Pena

The next morning Ricardo picked us up and brought us to Palácio de Pena, a 19th century fantasy castle.  It truly looked like it came out out of some zany Disney movie: yellow and pink towers, curvy lines, and much too much coziness for a "palace."  It was built by D. Fernando, the German-born husband of Queen Maria II, who built this residence out of jealousy of a nearby nobleman's home.  He actually was a huge patron of the arts and is known as "O Rei-Arista," or the Artist-King. 

Disneyland?

Posing, as usual.

I absolutely loved it, despite the fact that weather.com had predicted a 79°F day when in fact it was much colder, much cloudier, and much windier than that.  Unfortunately we couldn't take pictures of the interior (and even watched some tourists get booted out for doing so), so I can't show you the amazing little rooms where the king and queen lived.  The residency part of the palace was originally a monastary, so the rooms are very small and short.  Of course, the architect managed to dress them up spectacularly though.  The queen's bedroom was breathtaking.  I think I drove my friends crazy with the amount of times I whispered, "I want to live here!"

The fantastical trees in the park.

After this particular sight, we walked through the surrounding park, which was absolutely beautiful.  We hiked a little ways to "O Trono da Rainha," or the Queen's Throne, which was Queen Maria II's favorite belvedere (I've been using this word too much lately... I guess that happens when you travel excessively) and now has a cute little tiled seat where you can sit and look at the palace in the distance.  I took far too many pictures of trees (as usual) and flowers.  In the park there was a little row of man-made ponds, one with a real-life black swan that was terrifying and a duck shelter in the shape of a medieval tower.  It would not be the first time I would be reminded of Lord of the Rings that day.

Terrifyingly territorial black swan

The medieval duck shelter in the background.

After we left the park, we walked down to the entrance to the ruins of the Moorish Castle (Castelo Mouros).  This was far older than the Palácio de Pena of course, but apparently much of the ruins present were reconstructed by a Portuguese king who read far too much romantic literature.  One site, the ruins of an old church, included at the bottom: "Reconstructed into romantic ruins."

Steps at the Moorish Castle

The actual castle ruins were great, despite this apparent reconstruction (I'm certainly not one to complain about romanticism).  Rick Steves referred to these ruins as "the castle-lover's dream," and as I'm definitely a pretty avid castle-lover, I can say that this description is pretty true.  I'm sad to tell you that I definitely nerded out and started describing to Amy how the castle was more like Helm's Deep than Minas Tirith... I'm sure she appreciated all the detail.  At one point Ricardo demonstrated for us how the archers would shoot from the guarded tower tops (like I didn't know... ha!) and I almost compared him to Legolas in the Mines of Moria but... I was able to hold back on that one. Some things never change. 

Four flags leading you to the to

I loved climbing the steps to the different towers though, despite the fact that I was in a skirt and sandals and definitely had to watch my step and mind my balance more than once.  Each tower had a different type of flag waving in the very violent wind, which I figured were the flags of Portugal through the ages.  Definitely a very awesome site.

After the Moorish Castle, Ricardo took us into the town where we had lunch and he ordered special pastries native to Sintra called "travesseiros."  Unfortunately I ate mine too fast to take my own picture.

View from Cabo das Rocas

Having a Titanic moment

All castled out, we then proceeded to Cabo das Rocas, the western-most point in Europe, where the sun finally came out and we goofed around a bit.  They even sell certificates saying that you have officially stood on that particular western cliff in a little shop there, but I was satisfied enough with my photographic evidence.

We also stopped by A Boca do Inferno (the Mouth of Hell), which is simply a (famous?) rock structure on the coast.  The water was super violent there, though the place was covered in fishermen.  I still doubt that they had much success.

After this, Ricardo took us back to Mario's, where we had dinner with him and his daughter, son-in-law, and his 3-year-old granddaughter Maria, who was the cutest little girl ever.  We even got to practice some "bebê" Portuguese as she told us via coloring book pages about The Little Mermaid and the "bruxa feia" Ursula.  Adorable beyond words.  Dinner was again delicious, though I had to refuse the home-made cheesecake that Mario pulled out afterward... I don't know what kind of milk and cheese that man uses, but I certainly didn't want another episode.  Ricardo drove us back to Helder's place, where we watched "In Her Shoes" (the first time in a while that I've watched a movie or TV program on an actual television) and went to bed.

Outside the Palácio de Mafra

The King's Bedroom

The next day, Sunday morning, we finally had hot water!  We had a bit of a later start than the day before, as we had to wash all the sheets and towels we had used that weekend.  Ricardo picked us up again and brought us to the Palácio de Mafra, which was breath-taking.  Though the Palácio de Querluz is the one nicknamed the "Portuguese Versailles," Mafra definitely came close.  The architectural style was very similar, the rooms were massive and tall, and the rooms were gorgeous.  The palace had a full-size cathedral in the center, and the tour inside took us through a museum of the building's time as a religious infirmary, convent, and royal residence.  I loved this museum as well because it included little stories about the rooms as you went.  The Queen's Bedroom, for instance, was where Manuel II, the 21-year-old and last king of Portugal, spent the night before fleeing to Brazil during the Republican Revolution. My favorite room, of course, was the amazing library.  It might be the most beautiful library I've ever seen in my life.  Only the second time I've ever thought of "Beauty and the Beast" in regard to a library... the first time was the Joanine Library here in Coimbra. :)

I guess the royal family enjoyed hunting...

THE LIBRARY

Balcony in the Library where Belle taught the Beast to read.

Seriously, Beauty and the Beast, right?

After the Palácio de Mafra, it was time to depart back to Coimbra.  We stopped back at Helder's place and folded the sheets and towels we had cleaned that morning, then we hopped over to Mario's apartment.  Mario and Ricardo drove us to the train station, where we said goodbye and quickly hopped on the next train.  All in all, a fantastic weekend.  I mean, how could it not be fantastic after three castles?  Sintra definitely made a good impression.

7: The Conímbriga Ruins

02/20/2011

Get ready for a picture-heavy post! 

I had to edit my date above when I realized that most people reading this blog probably don't put the date before the month... I'm getting used to Portugal very quickly.

This weekend Amy took a extremely long bus ride to Spain and most of our buddies were off around Portugal, so Tatiana and I decided to do a day trip to the Conímbriga ruins.  According to Rick Steves (Who, if you didn't know, is the best travel book author OF ALL TIME), these ruins are impressive and second only to those in Rome.  Of course, reading that description, my Ancient-Rome-ophile mind desperately needed to see these ruins, and conveniently, they were only a 20-minute bus ride away from Coimbra.

The clock at the Coimbra A station.  At noon.

Public transportation in Portugal is, to say the least, a little worse than what we might be used to in America.  In America, for instance, we like bus schedules that are readable, expect buses to be either frequent or on time (probably has something to do with every single public clock having a different, and usually incorrect, time), and don't have the previously described circuit system that will either make your travel time seven minutes or an hour and twenty.   At least in DC, our bus drivers tend to understand a round-a-bout and don't almost get into accidents in any and every round-a-bout they enter.  Well here in Portugal, we experienced a whole new problem with buses: the width of roads.  While a little comparable to the roads in Annapolis, European roads are actually ridiculously thin.  If you aren't on a highway, there is a definite chance that your vehicle will be merely inches away from another vehicle passing in an opposite direction. Our bus to the ruins actually had to stop in the street because one driver didn't parallel park close enough to the curb and the bus couldn't pass.  We sat there for twenty minutes as the bus driver (who, in a fun aside, resembled contemporary Alec Baldwin) and the people in a nearby cafe tried to get in touch with the driver, and the cars behind us honked and honked.  Only in Portugal.

Finally we got to the ruins, and while it drizzled every now and then, the sights were incredible.  For only 1,60 € we were able to see the entire facility (I love this Euro26 program!).  

The swastika design

 
First, as Rick Steve's suggested, we saved the museum for last and started on the ruins.  The first area was what used to be a house with the most beautiful mosaic floors I've ever seen.  I could not believe that it was that well preserved, though I'm sure some restoration had occurred.  This house is referred to as a Casa da Cruz suástica, or the House of the Swastika, because there is a hallway with the design in the mosaic.  Of course, for the ancient Romans, the symbol didn't have much to do with Hitler, but was more of a symbol for solar restoration.

The furnaces for the ladies' bath

Right next to this was a small bath facility which they are still excavating.  I love how excavators can identify for what each room was used.  

The House of Cantaber (it goes on)

Down a little hill was this HUGE area where Cantaber, the main aristocrat of Conímbriga, had built his home.  The area was massive, even for modern standards.  Next to this was a home that had later been converted into a cathedral, but unfortunately the ruins had been pretty badly destroyed and they didn't know much about the church or its layout.

The Forum (now)

The original stone under the new

The Forum (then)

Then there was the Forum, which was highly reconstructed but still really neat.  I'm sure that many of the original stones had fallen over, but where original stone remained, the builders let it show beneath the newer white brick.  I loved that they did that.  They had even placed a few pillars on the side to give the tourist a better idea of what it had looked like.  In the museum, later, they had built a miniature replica of the Forum and the temple behind it.  

Indigenous ruins

Underneath the temple, the excavators had found all these destroyed structures from the indigenous people that the Romans had probably killed and replaced.  Two kinds of ruins for one!

The view from the Termas do Sul

The other huge area was the Southern Bathhouse (As Termas do Sul), which they have also started to rebuild a little bit.  It was massive and beautiful, and it has an amazing view of the valley and the river.  I could only imagine how nice it must have been to go there as a Roman.  

The garden of the House of Fountains

No matter what era, there will be fish in Portugal.

We walked back through the ruins and went to the "main attraction" of the ruins, A casa dos repuxos, or the House of Fountains, which was under a protective structure.  I had been so impressed by the mosaics in the previous house, but these designs weren't just geometrical.  There were gods, animals, and people in these floors.  Amazing.  Apparently there was some sort of fountain show in the middle, where the facility had planted a garden and flowers, but Rick Steves told us not to waste the money (you're the best, Rick).  

The (mostly) completely intact kitchen ware.

After a huge buffet lunch at the museum restaurant and some inspiration for a couple new dinner ideas, we made our way to the small but fantastic museum.  Such a well laid-out and marvelous collection.  Many of the artifacts that they found in the ruins are now housed inside, and the huge wealth of things that were in amazing condition was so impressive.  They had whole huge clay bowls and scissors!  The scissors absolutely blew my mind.  This is why I love going to see ruins and learning about history: because no matter how many centuries separate you and the people you are learning about, there are those little things that remind you that human beings are still pretty damn similar.

The scissors.  Blew my mind.

My new stone lion friend.  You know, because I have a lot of stone lion friends.

After the ruins and buying a few postcards, we went outside and waited for the bus.  The driver had told us that he was returning at 5 PM, but no bus came until about 6:30 PM (I'm adopting the "T.I.A." phrase from "Blood Diamond."  T.I.P.  This is Portugal).  At least Tatiana and I had a good time taking pictures and generally being ridiculous in the parking lot.  There was also a tour bus of young European guys who tried yelling to us from their bus in several languages to figure out where we were from.  Of course, each thing they yelled was along the lines of, "I love you!  Marry me, gorgeous girls!"  When they drove away, one of the guys popped out of this window and sang, "Goodbye my lover!  Goodbye my friend!"  After ignoring them for nearly half an hour, we couldn't stop laughing and I blew him kisses right back.  I think you have the guts to pull out James Blunt songs, you definitely deserve that.


That night we got back, made taco meat, black beans, and guacamole and watched Jane Eyre Part 1.  I might be becoming a little more European, but some things never change.