Camino Portugues
Centro
Saturday 9 November
This morning we woke up, had a slow breakfast and then got on our very light bikes to explore the city. First impression – the drivers are completely mad. To the point where one questions how they actually pass driving tests and if there are any such systems in place. One guy went straight through a red light in the centre of town even though he slowed down to stop but then clearly just decided he couldn’t be bothered. Another driver came within centimetres of a pedestrian who continued on as if nothing. On the way to Belem a taxi driver came within centimetres of Lisa’s handlebars.
We rolled gently, slowly down the main streets which had the feel of most other tourist cities but the sense of perspective was fabulous with the Arco de Rua Augusta showing the way to the Tagus River – Rio Tejo, this mighty river which we met in Toledo. The sun was shining and all of a sudden it became necessary to take off a few layers. We continued our way over to Alfama, the oldest part of the city, followed by a 9km ride to Belem to see the impressively intricate Mosteiro dos Jeronimos followed by the best Portuguese tarts we’ve ever had, thanks to a good tip off from Tonton Marc. Then it started to rain. Back on our bikes we got nicely soaked as we rode along the waters edge and took in the site of the cloud covered Ponte 25 Abril which sounded like a monster. A robotic growl created by the trains running underneath the metal grid road.
We made it back to the apartment, did a load of washing, juggled laundromat timing with shopping for dinner. Tonight a classic pasta dish. Only problem was that the produce here has resulted in the most tasteless sandwiches ever and the pesto pasta was not Pesto pasta but a green mash. Something else. It was edible but that was about it. Even the parmigiano didn’t taste like parmigiano. There will be no future attempts to replicate that dish.
The night finished with planning for the final leg of our journey. After tomorrow we will catch the train to Nazarre, ride from Nazarre to Coimbra via Alcobaca, Bathala and Tomar. Then from Coimbra to Porto we will catch the train giving us enough days to ride from Porto to Santiago de Compostela with the wind factor in mind which has and will continue to slow us down. That should then give us just enough days to catch the slow trains back to Geneva which we’ve realised will take us longer than the four days we originally planned for.
Our conversations turned to Xavier’s thoughts on his disappointment with the European devastation of all the natural beauty that once existed on this European continent. How he was hoping to see a wild Danube, a wild Po. But rather it was all surrounded by plantations, farmland and off course, people – constantly. He questioned what it would have been like if the Spanish, with their understanding of dry, arid countries, would have claimed Australia as their own. Would it have ended up like Spain with its thousands upon thousands of kilometres for millions upon millions of olive trees? It’s the Aboriginal people who are they key to making sure the rape of Australia doesn’t take place in the same way it has in Europe. Where the magic of nature, with all its brutal beauty is allowed to exist. Yes, Europe has many man made beautiful things to see and ponder but we shouldn’t forget that many of these things were realised on the backs of slaves, war, pillaged and sacked cities, and the brutality of the so-called civilisation condition.
Sunday 10 November
Getting news from home. Rita seems to be on standby for evacuation. We’ve been keeping an eye on the news and can see the place is burning! For the first time, Greater Sydney is in the ‘catastrophic’ category as more and more people and homes are exposed to the destructive nature of fire. The images look awful. The smog looks really heavy there, while we’re in temperatures of about 4 at night and 17 during the day with an icy cold wind coming from the Atlantic. Mother Nature is choking on all we’ve thrown at her since the Industrial Revolution and based on what we’ve seen – here and elsewhere, it will take a colossal shift in thinking worldwide but people just don’t seem to care enough to change. They are happy living their bubble-like lives convincing themselves that they are but one person and their actions don’t count. We’ve all failed the future generations in so many ways, it seems the younger ones have become as oblivious as their parents and grandparents.
On this side of the world it is cool, grey and wet. We barely cracked 16 degrees today. We went for a walk to the train station to buy our tickets for Nazarre and then spent the entire afternoon being blown away by the Calouste Gulbenkian Museum.
A building with a brutal yet minimalist architecture and simple, gardens that clearly articulated the season. It looked like autumn, smelt and felt like too. The collection was sublime – incredible coins, meticulously carved amber portraits presented in the size of a 10 cent pendant, illustriously formed and coloured ceramics, impressive manuscripts, Delacroix’s sketch book, perfectly preserved Islamic glass lanterns and an astounding collection of paintings and sculptures including the phenomenal painting by Pascal Adolphe Jean Dagnan-Bouveret titled Bretonnes au Pardon.
It was interesting to learn about the Carnation Revolution in 1974 in Portugal that delivered the country from a dictatorship that was in place since 1933 and the impact that it had on the creatives during that period. It is understandable why a city like Lisbon has attracted many artists over the years. It’s hard to see evidence of this, although it is felt in its edgy borderline energy. It is a city with a Turneresque light, gifted by the beautiful calls of the big Atlantic seagulls. The city is a diverse mix of older art deco style tiled buildings, new apartment blocks and large abandoned warehouses which give it a disorderly, organic yet lived in city that is continuously building in, on and around itself. There is a sense of potential. The lack of gentrification makes it an attractive place.
Monday 11 November
This morning we left Lisbon without really looking back but not before we went to the post and spent a bit of a bomb sending things back to Australia and Switzerland. We caught the train from Lisbon to Nazare but that wasn’t before we got a call from the apartment owner saying that we had to pay another 18 euros in tourist tax even though she didn’t mention that when we arrived. During the train ride we played Scopa and for the first time we tackled Briscola, which was really satisfying. We arrived 10kms from Nazare so we rode to the sea side to wash our feet at this most western point sea which was warm. For the first time since we left Sydney we heard the sound of waves crashing. The perfume in the air was life giving. The smell of the sea pounded into nothingness for the pure delight of our senses. Nostrils fully extended, in through the nose, measuredly, slowly filling the lungs. The rain dampened, salty air carrying a hint of sweetened eucalyptus muskiness feeding every iota – entrails and all. We walked in soft, brilliant crystallised sand. Our glistening feet seemed like they had been brushed with star dust. A magical place.
We got to the camp ground and Lisa cooked a pretty good dinner while the boys got our castle ready. It’s probably the last time we use the tent. It was cold.
After having popped a 50mg pill of voltaren, Lisa was off and went straight to bed while Xavier managed to do the usual cleaning the dishes and dealing with boys who refused to sleep.
Tuesday 12 November
Coming to Nazare was purely for the boys. It was a place that they flagged before we left that they really wanted to go to.
It was a dream come true to be at Nazare Faro this morning, which is where the best images of the monster waves that appear sometime between November and March are shot. We met the guy who took the iconic shot of the biggest wave ever caught by the Brazilian surfer in 2017. He owns a shop at the Faro which is why he was able to take the shot that has made this place famous. He explained that the shot taken on that day was nothing short of miraculous because big waves like that only come with bad weather, however, it so happened on that day back in 2017, the sun broke through the clouds and it made for the perfect storm. He’s since put that image on t-shirts, jumpers and other paraphernalia, allowing him to make a bit of extra money. He told us that they were expecting 15 metre swells this afternoon because of the storm out on the Atlantic sea. There were only three surfers being towed out by jet skies to catch what looked like 5-10 metre swells. It was already pretty impressive. As much as we would have loved to stick around for the big waves, we kept moving and made our way to another town called Alcobaca which had one of the most incredible kitchens in the gothic Monastery.
The chimney was some three storeys tall. You could stand under it and imagine the place crawling with people, smoke, perfumes, animals and the sound of water running in what seemed to be the extensive washing area with its water spouts, large basins and water channels. There was a 20cm thick stone slab positioned between the wash area and the chimney.
The most incredible story however, for which we will never forget Alcobaca, was that of a King Pedro and his Queen Dona Ines de Castro who the king’s father (Afonso) had assassinated because her Castilian family connections threatened his established power. When Prince Pedro became King Pedro, he had her body exhumed and ordered her killers and plotters to kneel in front of her immaculately dressed corpse on her throne and kiss her decomposed hand as proof of recognition as Queen. King Pedro is also said to have publicly ripped the hearts out of two of her murderers. It makes Romeo and Juliet seem like a warm up. Their detailed sarcophagi tell the story of their incredible love story and are found in the same area facing one another. After this strikingly unforgettable love story tainted by power, hate, fear, murder and tragedy, we rode on the bumpy roads and dirt tracks to Ceja.
Our stay in the nature guest house was very warm and welcoming. The hostess was very generous and bought us food and snacks, including Portuguese tarts and delicious home grown kiwis from the backyard which was also a mini farm with chooks, ducks and sheep. We can see the town of Bathala through our window which we will visit tomorrow.
We are already starting to talk about the trip as if it was done – much of it has been but its continual memory is entrenched in our bodies. In our muscles, our skin and in our characters. The resilience we started building in Nancy, the meditation we started developing in Les Enfers, the beauty we’ve inhaled constantly has become us. Within us. And we continue with it as it continues to grow within us. We can feel the end is near, but question if we can ever unbecome what has sculpted us into who we’ve become. Like all the old stone we’ve met, touched, cherished and honoured for all it’s memory, we welcome the opportunity to become marked forever by this time in the hope that it will inspire others to seek out the beauty, full of character, body, charm and texture of life. Their lives. We have been so incredibly fortunate to be able to do this. To have three boys trusting enough to go on such a crazy adventure. Lucky enough to have squirrelled away all those frequent flyer points. Lucky enough to have a workplace that allows their employees to live these experiences. We are indebted to so many, but none more than the boys.
Wednesday 13 November
We left Ceja and made a short trip to Bathala where we visited the World Heritage Monastery. The intricacy of the details in the beautifully considered architecture and gardens, make it easy to understand that it took seven kings, fifteen architects and over a century to build. The lace like touches at the outer edges of every part that almost remind you of a moorish aesthetic but the intent on replicating nature in the detail makes it something else, the fanning out of leaves carved from stone, the minimalist aesthetic of colossal gothic perspective in the nave – a conflation of concepts that would suggest cancellation, but no, it actually works and exists. The individual marking of each of the stone masons, the beautifully carved numbers, the ornate doorways replicating moments in nature – everything about it was spellbinding. The detail of the leaves, the detail of the wooden logs complete with branches that had been cut back. And then we start to get a sense of what may be meant by the architectural terms such as ‘flamboyant gothic’, ‘perpendicular gothic’, and ‘rayonnant gothic’. Particularly memorable was an unfinished area for one of the kings. Its openness to the elements gave it a type of mysterious aire that really did take you back to the 14th century. The internal ground water channel covered in moss, confusingly juxtaposed with highly decorated doorways which suggest an opening into an enclosed area that leads to a completely non-existant ceiling with the tomb of the king under the circular area in an open court. It was very mystical. What was no doubt considered a failure then is one of the monastery’s most breathtaking treasures.
We left Bathala and made our way through some hilly yet beautifully green terrain where we saw a group of sheep make a line across the road. We called them ‘the door bitches’. They had great attitude with one of them even stamping their foot like a bull about to charge. They were very funny. Sheep with attitude. It helped that one of them wasn’t white. We saw a fabulous bird – a kite- which threw us off for a while because it did not move at all. It looked like it was a kite on a very stiff piece of metal. It was only after a few minutes that we realised it was a real bird when it flapped it’s wings, moved into another position before taking up its precise hovering again. From that point we could see where we had been earlier and wondered if we could see the sea on a clear day from that point which was our highest point for the day. The sweet, dampened muskiness of the perfumed air continued to feed us.
After an apple from that vantage point, we continued on to Fatima. The landscape was beautiful. Hilly, dynamic, green even if overcast. We reached Fatima where we bought lunch and ate it in a place surrounded by these bizarre little booth like shops that were selling body parts made out of plastic or wax which people go and have blessed to heal their pains. As we ate Xavier explained to the boys how Jesus’ destruction of commercialisation was ultimately what led to his crucifixion. Lisa was not coping with the cold any longer. It was grey, cold and slightly windy so we decided to go into the church and then make our way to our destination tonight – Tomar. As we made our way to the church we saw people, at a great distance from the church, on their knees, draped with rosemary beads and praying intensely. Others, walking one moment, just dropped to their knees suddenly and would start praying. Others prayed loudly. It was strange. Cult like. The intensity of faith in such a small area was confronting, mesmerizing making you wonder if there was something you’d missed. Meanwhile the boys zoomed around the area on their bikes. We didn’t realise that the vast external area was an extension of the church that accommodated the 70,000 or so people that came here on 13 October to sight the Virgin Mary – therefore considered sacred. The images clearly explained the clever architecture of this application of this outdoor space, essentially rendering the colossal church into an altar piece in its vastness. Inside, the church itself was relatively small with the main attraction being the tombs of the three children that saw the Virgin Mary on 13 April 1917, although two of them died a year after, as apparently communicated to the children by the Virgin Mary, and the final person died in 2005 – also as planned. There was a strange energy about the place. The tombs of the three children were the cult. There was an eerie sense, almost like being around a ouigje board. The sense of believing was so potent inside, that the architecture of the external area became abundantly clear. There was enough energy here to fill the entire town.
After leaving we were riding along a road that was positioned on higher ground to the church, which we could clearly see from where we were, particularly its cross. At that exact moment, the sun was in such a position that the light hit the cross at a particular angle. It seemed like the cross had been plugged into a nuclear grade power source lighting the cross in fluorescent light. It was beaming. Ablaze. We could not ignore what we were experiencing, nor its synchronicity. It was like being screamed at by a deafening silence. Perhaps in the same way that a lighthouse screams out at sailors out at sea. We were all a little surprised by the experience, its pointedness, but ok with it, we carried on riding to Tomar.
The landscape continued to spoil us. We even had sunshine so the colours coming through were even more pronounced. The green of the many plants including the numerous plantations of eucalyptus trees which we learnt the Portuguese make paper out of, the red of the earth, the white of the houses. There was so much that reminded us of the beauty in Australia and particularly next to the snowy mountains and Blue Mountains. We ended up on dirt track for the last few 20kms and Xavier’s bag clips exploded. We’re very lucky he had the nouse to keep his old ones when we bought his new bags in Inglostadt because they have come in handy twice. Luckily for us, Xavier’s bag snapped just next to an older man who asked us in French if he could help us. It was so strange he was there, collecting olives to make olive oil. There were very few people on this road. We ended up chatting with him for a good 10 minutes but the sun was going down quickly and we started to get cold so we bid our farewells and were on our way to completing the last 15kms before reaching Tomar. The sun set was spectacular. The orange of the sky made even the ugliest red brick battered garden shed look like a gem. All these rich warm colours were picked up by the sunset and began to pulsate including the red and pink of the earth we were riding on. In contrast to the greenery and the blue sky, it was like being inside a painting and looking out of it from the inside. All the senses were alive.
Then just on the outskirts of Tomar – another fabulous Fellinian moment. We were riding down a seriously steep descent next to what sounded like Alahambra like running water, and in the low light of dusk, we noticed a huge construction of some form when we were out of the tall trees crowding the roadside. The tall arches supported what was an acqua duct. It felt like we had just discovered it and that it was there just for us to see, to be awe struck by. It was magical in that fading deep rose light. Like doing Roma at 6am. We found a piece of Rome again and were completely enchanted by the construction’s simplicity, grandiose beauty, silent wisdom and unquestionable strength.
We stopped on the road side to be bathed in this moment of incredible low light, rusty coloured dusk, but were spurred on when a car drove by with its headlights on. It was late and we needed to rest. Shortly after we made it into the main town and the apartment we were staying in for the night. Lisa made a quick carbonara, we ate and went straight to bed.
While waiting at the cashier before lunch today a woman walked in off the street all rugged up. Clearly warm, clearly comfortable, reached out for the dounas that were on sale. Seeking more comfort. That’s our biggest problem. As humans we are constantly seeking comfort, more comfort, better comfort, to the point that we don’t really know how to appreciate basic comfort because we don’t know and don’t want to know and fear a reduction of comfort and heaven forbid – discomfort itself.
The pleasure of being able to take a hot shower is not something that should be taken for granted. The pleasure of being able to walk into a building that protects you from the wind and cold neither, the sun that warms you up on cold days, the rain that falls to quench your thirst, the wheels that carry you. There are so many things we have forgotten to appreciate which is why we are in the disastrous global crisis we are in. We were in touch with Lisa’s sister tonight. She tried calling, which has put all of us on edge. The fires are getting worse with fire warnings at “catastrophic” for the whole of NSW. The air is thick and she’s finding it uncomfortable to breath. As she said “The haze from all the fires is bloody dreadful.” The schools were closed up there today and only essential services are allowed to be operating. The closest fire to them is Belrose and they have ash, burnt leaves and embers in the backyard. The closest serious fires to her are about 200km away. We share our stories in the hope that it takes her mind off the fires for at least a moment and that she can take advantage of the cooler, crisper weather but there is no doubt that what they’re experiencing is all consuming just like being in hell. We suggested going to stay with mum but it seems she has gone to the Blue Mountains!
Thursday 14 November
So we’ve had our 3rd most challenging day on this trip and are still in Tomar Portugal which is not the worst town to be stuck in and at least we’re not sleeping under a bridge like we did the last time we had a mechanical issue.
The day started out with a visit to the Convent of Christ, another world heritage site but it rained cats and dogs just as we were half way there. With nothing but big tree trunks along the roadside, we took shelter from the wind and rain by hiding behind the trees, waiting for it to pass. Like the monasteries of Bathala and Alcobaca, this place had another dimension and threw another layer on top of the many other architectural layers we’ve experienced. This time we understood the Manueline gothic style, similar to what we had seen previously but with an added layer of intensity on the repetition, depth of carving and accentuation of form, particularly folded, undulating or twisting forms. In a corner of the convent in an utterly non-descript location, was the most incredible linen twisted into a thick rope form – carved in stone. It looked so fresh, so clean, ready to be unravelled and dropped on a large bed. It was one of the most luxuriously twisted pieces of stone. This form was replicated in one one of the most astonishingly beautiful marble staircases. The scale was human, approachable, the carving was so sumptuous that all you wanted to do was run your hand along it on the way up and on the way down, only stopping to fall into its spiralling beauty. The circular Romanesque church was full of colour, texture, tone, shine, chiaro-scuro, micro/macro play on space – all in a small circular space. The sense of space and majesty created by the Templar Knights was glorious. The ceramic plates from the 16th century were of the most rustic, simple, beautiful practicality. You imagine the utensils that were held while eating out of them. What sound would it have made as all the Templar Knights congregated and ate together?
After visiting the convent, which was originally a castle for the Templar Knights, we went back to the apartment, picked up all our bags and were 300 metres into our 50kms for the day, when Oreste flagged a problem with his front wheel. We thought it was a minor issue that Xavier could easily fix. Xavier tried everything. He pulled the wheel apart while it poured on us. We had to relocate under some shelter while the workshop expanded only to realise an hour later that in fact the internal hub of the front wheel was completely done. Xavier was beside himself so wasn’t listening to a word Lisa was saying which was – “We’re not going anywhere let’s organise to stay here again tonight”. We had to wait until one of two bike shops in the town opened at 2:30pm to get a replacement wheel. Xavier came back from the hunt an hour later while the rest of us were waiting for the perfect sized truck with the old man with time on his hands that we could ask for a ride to the town we were meant to be in. Alas the old man and his truck we willed, never came. Xavier showed up with not the right wheel but a wheel nonetheless so he had to undo all of his front wheel and cables, gave his wheel to Oreste and then replaced his wheel with this racing bike wheel meaning that he doesn’t have a light anymore which is somewhat problematic given that it’s dark at 5:30pm. The adventure! We then tried to contact the owner of the place where we stayed last night but it was already booked for tonight. Luckily we found another cheap but descent apartment close by and were spared the thunder and lightning, pouring rain and the cold for tonight.
The most amazing thing about today was that not one single person came up to us to ask if we needed help or anything. Perhaps we scare them. Xavier looks like he’s walked off a 16th century Spanish Armada ship and just got dressed for the day.
Portugal has its moments but we’re not as sold as a lot of others are, particularly those who visit the Algarve in the summer. In the hell that has become Australia, Lisa is getting regular updates from her sister. Mother is doing fine even though, apparently making less and less sense. It will be interesting to see her when we get back, although she seemed to be fine when we spoke to her for her birthday. She seemed the same as usual. In the last few days both Xavier and Lisa have really noticed a change in the boys. Léon seems to have moved into another sphere. Arsène is painful but he continues to be as equally funny. He’s got a great sense of humour when he is himself. Oreste is going through a testosterone phase which is incredibly testing. We all just have to remind ourselves that this phase will pass as it did for the others. We’ve been able to take advantage of another hot shower tonight then off to bed for a good, warm nights sleep before an early wake up call and on our bikes to ride some 90kms tomorrow. Catch up.
Friday 15 November
This morning we left the Casa de Synogoga apartment at 8:50am. We were so concerned that we would not make it to Santiago da Guarda in time that we were all desperate to go.
It was a better day to ride today than yesterday. No rain at all but we had the wind hard against us yet again while going up and up with a few descents. Today was marked by long and multiple conversations with the boys and particularly Arsène about the state of the world and what can be done to fix it. It started with a catch up on the news this morning where we read that aside from Sydney burning, that Australia is already in the grips of high forty temperatures, Australian students in Hong Kong have been urged to leave as the riots worsen and students petrol bomb police with bow and arrow and the US is embroiled with questions of impeaching Trump.
Arsène expressed that talking about the problems made him feel better because it seemed like there are many solutions for a better world but old power hungry thinkers would need to roll over and make room for those people who genuinely acknowledge that we live on one planet and that we have to change in order to live on it.
We rode through landscapes again that were very similar to the Blue Mountains. With eucalyptus trees and pine trees dominating the landscape. When in the more suburban areas the roads were lined with people collecting olives. We’ve learnt quite a lot despite witnessing the practice of harvesting from our bikes. Many husband and wife teams with their green cloths under each tree pruning the trees while collecting the olives. We saw a farmer had cut his branches quite short only to put the branches through a machine that seemed to spit the olives out to one side and the branches to the other. We took a breather from the wind and stopped for lunch on the grounds of a church. We hid behind the wall that was bathing in sunlight so we could warm up our frozen feet and stay away from the cold chill. The temperatures have definitely gone down and we’re finding it hard to break out into a sweat these days. Xavier even put on his long johns for the first time which is saying something.
When we arrived in Santiago de Guarda it felt very cold. We’re some 300 metres above sea level and it feels like 6 degrees. Over dinner and in the warmth of the apartment where we’re staying the night, we found out that tonight it would go down to 2 degrees. Not surprising.
As we were waiting for the guy to arrive to let us into this council run house we received a message from the place we stayed in last night to say that we had damaged the place and that we had to pay 100 euros! Lisa called and asked what the problem was and apparently we scratched the walls with our bikes, which we know we didn’t. So we asked for photos, instead all we got was an sms message to say that we damaged the apartment and that we had to pay. Smells like a dodgy scam. There was a funny moment today when we stopped to get our directions right and there were two small dogs in a ute that were going mad at the sight of us, to the point that they were jumping on the steering wheel and started beeping at us. We thought it was very funny until we heard the car start. Xavier thought that the dogs had managed to turn the car on and we had a completely nutty Alice in wonderland moment of panic, imagining these crazy dogs were going to ram us with a ute! We were relieved to see that it was the car next to the ute that was reversing. The boys thought the looney scenario playing out in Xavier’s head was hilarious although there was a moment of disbelief about how quickly our world can become very strange.
We are so lucky that we chose to stay in Tomar last night because doing the ride we did today in the darkness, rain, wind and cold of last night would have been the ultimate disaster. Sometimes it is better just to cut your losses, not that we had many losses to cut in the first place. We were also lucky that the host agreed to shift our booking from last night to tonight at no cost. Strangely, it’s the first time we planned accomodation a few days in advance and it has been a major stress factor. You can handle problems a great deal more when you have less to lose. We didn’t book any of our accomodation more than 12 hours in advance for this entire trip and clearly that’s the approach we need to keep taking because you just never know when trouble is about to strike and it all goes haywire. Although we’ve only got 9 days left, we’ve vowed not to make that mistake again and just simply book the same day as we have been. Advanced booking on these types of trips is just simply too stressful.
Saturday 16 November
Happy birthday! The day started at 6am with a concentrated and military precision preparation to leave no later than 8am to make sure we could catch the train to Porto from Coimbra later this evening with 30kms to do between Santiago da Guarda and Coimbra. Lisa woke up feeling fluey. Sore red eyes, headache, cold, sore jaw again, feeling somewhat sickly in the stomach accompanied by diorehea and shots of pain in and around her head.There was no choice but to keep going irrespective. Overnight it got down to 2 degrees. We were very happy to be inside this old school converted into an apartment even though it was cold, even inside. We decided to all sleep in the same room to create more body warmth. Even though we got up to 12 degrees in the bedroom, it wasn’t a comfortable night’s sleep. We definitely should have put our sleeping bags over the bed sheets.
We set off at 8am as planned and it was freezing outside. We had as many layers as possible on – thermals, gloves, beanies, wet weather gear not because it was raining but to cut the wind factor. Lisa had to borrow Arsène’s second beanie to keep her head warm under the helmet. Stopping to pee along the way created moments of steamy fascination. We rode along beautiful landscape today. Some of it which included eucalyptus but we came across a section that didn’t and we had a sense that perhaps this is what the real Portuguese landscape looked like once upon a time. It was charming. A great deal more scrub like with shorter more bulky trees, many of which are pine, and a carpet of brown long grasses. There was a sense the landscape was able to breathe better and seemed balanced, more relaxed. In harmony. We had the usual uphills today but we did have more descents today than what has been usual, much to everyones’ delight. We were clearly on a Camino de Santiago track and for the first time on our trip in Portugal we saw about 5 or 6 cyclists. 15 kms out from Coimbra, Léon got a flat tyre which made us all a bit nervous given the wall we hit in Tomar but we decided to focus on the flaming red leaves on a tree just nearby and hear Arsène’s hysterical story about how ‘someone’ moved his watch intentionally to makes sure he would leave it behind – somewhere in the bedsheets in Santiago da Guarda. At least he too was able to laugh at it.
After 20 minutes of Xavier’s mechanical bike repair roadside angel work, we were back on our bikes and heading for Coimbra. It was clear that there was a great deal more money in Coimbra than elsewhere we’ve visited. The houses on the outskirts were larger, well kept with manicured gardens. Does this mean that people are confident enough here to put themselves into a higher debt bracket than others to afford these things? Or are they genuinely earning more in this part of the country? We glided into Coimbra. It was cold but like eagles gliding, breathing in deeply. Cruising at 30kms per hour down hill for some 3 minutes to a beautiful place gave rise to that warm, full, guttural, deeply rewarding and satisfying pleasure. Coimbra felt like a place that was comfortable, beautiful, dynamic, populated, open, historical, green with a generous, flowing large running river – Mondego River. On stopping in front of the station we all acknowledged how special that entry was and spoke about how it made us fell. Wallowing in the sublime and beauty, we went into the train station, bought our tickets for Porto and then went to a restaurant to celebrate a birthday lunch for Lisa who was craving a nice hot soup.
We found the perfect place who even offered to put our bikes in their garage. We had a wholesome meal and then were on our bikes to visit this town. We started with the Monastery where we visited to tombs of Portugal’s first King and his son. As we wove in and out of these deeply layered labyrinth of rooms, taking note of the ornately gold leaf framed mirror becoming the eyes at the back of your head. An opportunity to read the world behind your back, to witness secret whispers, telling regards or perhaps an opportunity to test the ghosts in the room. And there could be many. We stumbled across an empty room filled with fascinating features covered in dust and cobwebs. We may have missed the cathedral of bones in Evora but this certainly made up for it. In this circular room paintings hung framed by voids in which were displayed the bones and skulls of saints. Some of the glass panels these artefacts were kept behind were cracked or broken given the feeling that the room has not changed for as long as it has existed. The wooden frames were cracking. The circular paintings had a particular character to them where the people pictured seemed to be alive yet only momentarily frozen because you were looking at them. Their sinister regard made you not want to turn your back.
We continued on our exploration of the city and came across a peculiar fountain feature on our way to the university of Coimbra and another fabulous autumn tree of pure deep yellow. The boys slid down the double hand rails all the way down the long stairs much to their delight and to the surprise of all those around them. We rode to the train station ready to embark upon Porto.
One thing that has not ceased to amaze us is the bewilderment in peoples’ eyes when they see us. They seem to have the same look as the cows, goats and sheep we ride by in the fields with an added human dimension of bewilderment. It seems completely unbelievable that a conservatively numbered family of five ride their bikes as a team or ‘squadra’ as the Italians would say. Perhaps it’s the time of year that makes it even more unfathomable because it is indeed cold. But somewhere, there is a sense of annoyance in the bewilderment. We don’t represent something that can be assimilated into their understanding of the world and it seems to annoy them. Why are they doing this? Even the young guys busking playing the accordion while the chihuahua held the bucket for donations in its mouth didn’t really know whether they should expect money from us or us from them. The radical little community of squatters in the building block just up the hill was great to see. It was the first squat we came across in any town that was integrated into the town and openly a squat. It reminded Lisa of the squat she lived in Geneva in the mid 90’s that she shared with the beautiful yet tortured soul of Godard. Squats confirm an openness to and support for diversity. There is an acknowledgement of others less financially wealthy but richer in other ways, including the freedom and bravery to simply be without boundaries, to exist in a place where people can live out their unedited lives that illustrate the many facets of our human condition. As we realised yesterday, we were lucky we had that issue with Oreste’s bike when we did because we were spared the long, cold and difficult 50kms from Tomar to Santiago da Guarda under the thunderstorm and that we could find a wheel which would certainly not have been the case in Santiago da Guarda which was a tiny little town of only a few inhabitants.
We left the centre of Coimbra feeling like it was the most dynamic and most interesting town we had visited in Portugal so far. There’s no doubt that being a university city has a lot to do with that energy and coming across the young teenage rappers on our way out convinced us that there was a wealth of energy and potential here locked up in the unspent energy of its youth. We went to the train station and folded up Oreste’s bike. Léon and Lisa went into one wagon and Xavier, Arséne and Oreste into the other. On getting into the train, it was dark. After a game of Briscola with Léon, Lisa just passed out and was completely dependant on Léon telling her when it was time to get out. Luckily we arrived and only had 400 metres to go to get to the apartment. The sound of seagulls filled the night air. It was Saturday night and Lisa felt like we should be going out partying for her birthday but we all agreed that this Saturday night would be a quiet tisane party with freely flowing honey and wild lemon.
While Xavier went out to get supplies for our quiet party, Vero face timed us which was fabulous. She was so full of energy and great, positive vibes. She’s with us and is loosing sleep over us. Her energy has encouraged us to make it to Santiago de Compostela next week. It’s going to be incredibly difficult terrain in difficult conditions but that’s where we are. We can’t wait to see Vero, Remko, Tangy and Matteo in Paris.
