Sintra and Lisbon - Photo Diaries

Evora - In which a last second diversion becomes the best part of the trip

When planning this trip, I really wanted a time when we would just chill out, do very little, and sit by a beach. The Algarve rang out like a gleaming beacon of emerald seas with gorgeous caves a slow pace. Yet when our planned trip to the Algarve came around, so did the 50° weather, wind, and rain. What?! You can't sit on a beach, much less take a boat ride through rocky alcoves, with a frigid wind coming off the water. So with great regret and disappointment, Nick and I canceled our beach trip the night before we were scheduled to take off. But where else could we possibly go?

As usual, I turned to our Rick Steve's guidebook and found Evora, which Steve's described as a "sizzling, arid plain." Well, sizzling and arid it would not be, but at least it offered more to do when our beach weather failed to materialize. So we booked a last minute hotel, which ended up being our favorite place we stayed on our entire trip, picked up our rental car in Granada (a brand new red Mercedes which made both Nick and I sweat with the anxiety having never driven anything so fine in our lives) and took off driving into the planes of Spain. We only realized we had crossed the border when the street signs changed to Portuguese.

Not fond of driving a car through tiny cobblestone lanes initially designed for horses and people alone, we parked outside of the medieval city wall and hiked in with all our luggage on our backs uphill into the city center to find our hotel, the Noble House. When we got there, I asked if where we had parked was appropriate, or if we had to go pay somewhere. When the woman showing us our room heard we had walked here from the parking area outside the wall, her eyes widened and she said "No indeed, you have already paid." The room was airy and comfortable with a beautiful original fresco on the ceiling. There was also the famous Portuguese pastry, pastel de nata, waiting for us. I was at first wary that this would be the first custard tart that Nick would eat on our visit to Portugal, but I shouldn't have been. They were delicious, maybe the best that we had the entire trip. So far, this last second excursion was looking like it might be a success.

The road on which we found our hotel

We had made one fatal error, however, in that we had showed up around 3:00 and had not eaten lunch. Every restaurant we found had shut down until 7:00 in order to prepare for dinner, and we were practically dead on our feet. Although many people in Evora did not speak English, a chef at one of the restaurants we wandered by took pity on us. He jovially described to us where we might be able to find some food and chatted with us for a bit, and while he was very clear he could not vouch for the quality of the food we might find at this hour, we quickly found something given his directions (note: if you order a hamburger at a dive bar in Evora, the patty will be made of pork, not beef, or at least ours was). 

After we were thoroughly fed, we could truly appreciate how charming this beautiful little city is. The buildings in the city are all painted white, yellow, and sky blue, colors which help keep heat and flies away. The city also boasts roman aqueducts, a medieval wall, a Roman temple, a cathedral, and a chapel of bones. If this sounds like a number of other European cities, consider that this place is considerably smaller and less discovered, with a unique charm that left us feeling like we had the city all to ourselves. It didn't hurt that we wandered into Ervideira Wine Shop for some tastings before happily stumbling our way through the cobblestone streets.

The main square in Evora, Praca do Giraldo.

A gorgeous flower garden in front of the Roman Temple

We tended to play games with the sun the entire day: as long as we were inside, the sun came out and teased us. As soon as we were outside, especially if we were on a roof or a high viewpoint, the sky would cloud over, the wind would start howling, and we would be forced to duck under for cover. 

The cathedral in Evora is no more grand than any other cathedral you might find in Europe. However, the outside is beautifully decrepit, with moss, lichen, and plants growing out of broken shingles or cracks in the stone. Exploring the area surrounding this cathedral was one of our favorite parts.

One of the most unique parts of Evora, however, was the chapel of bones, or Capela dos Ossos. The words above the door to the chapel say, "We bones in here wait for yours to join us." Walking in, all the walls are arches are lined with the bones of people who were buried in various churchyards in Evora, then exhumed by three Franciscan monks who had grown concerned that the congregants in Evora cared more for earthly possessions and stature than their eternal souls. When you walk into the attached Church of St Francis and see the ornately decorated chapels along the sides, slathered in gold leaf, you begin to understand why the Franciscans, dedicated to simplicity, might have felt this way.

The chapel of bones

The best view of the city can be found from the top of the chapel. This was one of those instances where the wind began to howl and threaten to blow you off the roof, but the view was worth it.

Work being done in the cloisters

We also had some of our best meals in Evora. Our first evening we went to Taska Fina, where the owner welcomed us in and sat and chatted with us for a while, talking about Evora, his family, the variations in the pork and sausage on the menu, and of course Rick Steves. His children played in the back of the restaurant, and after a half hour his wife came in carrying some supplies for the evening's meals. It's a small place, and after the seven or so tables had filled up they closed the restaurant, leaving those of us in their to drink and savor and bask in the warm glow of this adorable eatery.
We not only found interesting history inside Evora but even older sites outside. There are several sets of megalithic monuments just outside the city, which were easily reached on our way to Lisbon. Although you can get here with a bus tour, having the rental car made this adventure particularly easy, although at times we ended up driving down dirt roads made entirely of muddy potholes that threatened to swallow the car. As we meandered our way through, cows watched us, chewing dully on just another day wandering between the cork trees. The landscape was gorgeous, and the monuments well worth some of the stress put on the rental. We first stopped at the Anta Granda do Zambujeira, a burial tomb dating back to 4000-3000 BC.

Anta Granda do Zambujeira

Next we visited the Cromeleque dos Almendres, from 5500 BC, making it 2000 years older than Stonehenge. While we were there, there was a man standing in the center of the ring of stones, recording himself reading a poem over and over again. He was our only companion, although to be fair we had just waited out a torrential downpour in the car before trudging through the mud to get here. The stones are believed to have functioned as a celestial calendar and served as a holy place for those worshipping the sun.

Cromeleque dos Almendres

Our trusty car made it through all our adventures

After that we were off to Lisbon. Although we hand't intended to come to Evora, it was definitely one of the highpoints of the trip, not only because it gave us the opportunity to slow down and explore an area with fewer tourists but also because we went into the city with few expectations. The people were incredibly friendly and kind, and while the overwhelming thrum of people celebrating Holy Week in Spain had left these two introverts a little on edge, Evora ended up offering a little bit of the quiet, restorative peace that we needed, even if it continued to rain as all the locals told us, "It never rains here!"

Spain Again - In which I return to some of my old haunts and find some new ones

Last summer, I was elbow deep in seawater on a daily basis, taking care of tiny little lobsters, trying to figure out the secrets of the universe. At times the job seemed to be 24/7, with hot summer breezes throwing off my experiment and hungry lobsters demanding daily feeding, and as I looked forward to graduating with my master's dissertation in hand, I decided to celebrate. I was exhausted and overwhelmed, so I wanted to go somewhere familiar, somewhere homey, and thus I decided to return to Spain.

Spoiler alert, I did not graduate with a master's and instead decided to stay for a PhD, but it was too late, the trip was already booked. So abandoning the last few weeks of classes, my husband and I hopped on a plane and flew across the ocean to return to my home away from home, Spain.

Arriving in Madrid

As with all these cities, I've been to Madrid before. While I enjoyed it and I love the museums, I had already visited a lot of the sites and was mostly excited to get to Andalucia for Holy Week. We really only used Madrid as a place to enter and leave Spain, but we had some of the most beautiful weather of the entire trip in this city, and we couldn't stop walking around and exploring. (To be fair, if we had stopped we would have fallen asleep). The first morning we found our way to a delightful little breakfast joint and wandered through the old part of the city into the Plaza Mayor. We did go to the Museo del Prado (Goya is one of my all-time favorite artists so I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see his Black Paintings again) but mostly we spent our time in the city people-watching. 

Ok, not just people-watching. We spent a good amount of time eating. Eating in little cafes, eating in restaurants, and eating in markets. Below is a photo of the Mercado de San Miguel, one of the first places recommended to you when looking for tapas. There are countless stalls, surrounded by beautiful glass walls and lots of natural light. There is something in this market for everyone, from sangria to vermouth to olives to fish to paella to bull's tail to empanadas. It is not the cheapest way to eat in Madrid, but it may be the way to try the largest variety of food. Plus, the place has a constant lively buzz that matches the city.

Onward to Cordoba

Needless to say I did not plan this trip as much as I maybe should have. I knew Spain is pretty busy during Holy Week, especially in Andalucia, where Semana Santa festivities are one of the highlights of the year. Flying into Madrid and finding our way to our hostel was a breeze, but getting out of Madrid proved to be a bit more challenging. If we had booked our train tickets to Cordoba ahead of time, we could have saved a lot of money and headache. We were sure to book ahead for the rest of the trip. 

However, I was so excited to get back to Cordoba during Semana Santa, when the streets are filled with the sounds of trumpets and children and the footsteps of men crawling beneath beautiful statues reenacting the scenes of Easter (or the many, many faces of Mary). When I studied abroad here, I was only in Cordoba for a couple days of Holy Week, so I was excited to get a second crack at it.

We decided to kick things off by going to the Cathedral in Cordoba again. I've been a number of times (I used to go to mass here on Sundays) but going never fails to leave me in a paralyzed state of reverence. From the elegant Moorish arches to the breathtaking ceilings to the patio filled with orange trees and fountains, I always end up on the verge of tears in this holy place. I mostly avoid the cathedral in the middle (I'm not a fan of baroque architecture, especially when it is crammed in the center of a startlingly beautiful mosque), but my husband loves the contrast between the two forms of architecture.

The cathedral has always been one of the best places to watch the Holy Week processions, but this year they decided to put up ugly red scrim and walls around the cathedral and sell reserved seating as one of the only ways to watch the procession go around the cathedral. I managed to snap the photo below by stretching my arms as high as I could above the temporary wall, but it was a shame to see what was once a festival for everyone in the community becoming more commercialized. I personally was quite disappointed in the changes and heard from a lot of the locals that they were not thrilled by it either. However, it was still possible to see the procession without these walls by going to the churches where they originated, and also by going to the orange patio inside the cathedral. 

When the processions come from a church across the river, they cross the old Roman Bridge. Below you can see two sets of candle-lit figures crossing to come to the cathedral.

Cordoba, almost as a rule, is generally hot and dry. However, when we were there it rained every day. This meant that almost all of the processions were canceled during our stay (the figures are not made to withstand any sort of moisture, so if there is even a hint of rain they don't come out). However, this gave us the opportunity to wander around the oldest neighborhoods of Cordoba, where the figures remained in the churches, lit by candles. The lines to get in the churches would wrap around each church, sometimes going for blocks, but locals filed through the churches quickly to pay their respects to the figures they watch go out every year.

On to Granada and the Alhambra

Granada is stunningly beautiful. While Cordoba is like a desert oasis, Granada is more like the stunning white hill towns that drape along the mountains of Andalucia. It is a joy to wander through the cobbled streets of the Albaicin neighborhood, getting lost between the whitewashed homes and the lush flowers spilling out over the walls. 

Plus the views of the Alhambra, Granada's famous Moorish castle, are stunning from a number of locations.

When we decided to go to Granada, I knew Nick needed to see the Alhambra. We almost missed it however! Last time I was in Spain, it was easy to get evening tickets to see the Alhambra if the daytime tickets sold out, so I wasn't terribly concerned. However, when we logged on to book our tickets two months ahead of the trip, every kind of ticket was sold out for months! We only managed to get into the Alhambra by booking an organized tour that would take us through the castle at night. Needless to say I was not thrilled, but when we got there we were told that the Alhambra was trying something new for Holy Week. They sold significantly fewer tickets for the evening, but those who managed to get into the Alhambra basically had the place to themselves. This ended up being a delight, and our guide was wonderful. 

Getting up to the Alhambra was its own kind of adventure. Right at the moment we decided to start the long hike up the lush hills of Granada, a procession from a nearby cathedral let out, leaving us battling throngs up people while tripping our way uphill. It was like we were salmon trying to swim upstream. Not wet enough? It was at that moment that the heavens decided to open up and dump the rain that had been threatening all day. Within minutes we were quite wet, panting, and slipping on cobblestones. As soon as we got the ok to go into the Alhambra, however, the rain blessedly stopped. This was not the first or the last time during the trip that we would get drenched.

The Albaicin and the Alhambra are not the only attractions in Granada. We had one of the most amazing meals of the entire trip at a restaurant in Sacramonte, where we savored delicious Moroccan food. This was also an amazing place to wander through the alleyway lined with scarves, elephant pants, silver jewelry, and Moroccan style lamps with stained glass beads. When it began to rain again (and it did, often), we would duck into a teahouse and feast on baklava. We also stayed in a hotel just a few steps away from the Carrera del Darro, where the funeral processions used to pass through Granada. While lined with some very touristy restaurants, it follows a small stream and a beautiful stone wall that is incredibly peaceful if you manage to get out before the rest of the tourists.
Both Cordoba and Granada are stunning cities, but by the end of the week I was ready to be away from the throngs of people. We originally planned to take the next couple of days in the Algarve, the sunny, southern coast of Portugal. However, the bad weather that had plagued us for the trip decided to stay, making our upcoming beach days rainy and 50°F. Disheartened, we decided to change our plans and go to Evora instead. While the weather there was not supposed to be particularly good either (the entire peninsula was stuck in an unusually cold and we weather pattern), the city nestled in what Rick Steve's described as a "sizzling arid plain" (if only) promised to have more to offer when the rain inevitably found us again. We picked up our rental car, drove into the west, and didn't realize we had crossed the border until we stopped understanding the language on the street signs. We were off for the next adventure, and this time, we had absolutely no idea what was in store.