Month: April 2023

From the Plaza de España, we had to walk a little way to our next objective, the Barrio Santa Cruz, and that gave us a chance to see a little of Maria Luisa Park and its environs.

In addition to the Plaza de España pavilion, a number of other buildings were constructed, some of them to house the exhibits of other countries participating in the Ibero-American Exposition of 1929; these were turned into consulates after the fair closed. Others were repurposed as government offices, museums, etc. One of the latter category was a striking building housing the Parks and Gardens Bureau of the Ayuntamiento (Municipal Government) of Seville. Another was a tourist information kiosk, the Punto de Información Turística Costurero de la Reina, on the Paseo de las Delicias. It is a castle styled building located next to a traffic roundabout containing a monument to Juan Sebastian Elcano, final commander of the first expedition to circumnavigate the earth. (Ferdinand Magellan, the original commander of the expedition, had been killed in the Philippines; only eighteen members of the original expedition made it back to Spain.)

In the Gardens of Catalina de Ribera, near the entrance to the Barrio Santa Cruz, we encountered a monument to Christopher Columbus. Columbus has had a bad press in the Americas in recent years, because of his oppression of Native Americans as well as his underlings, but he still enjoys considerable stature in Spain. The structure we saw seemed to be as much or more a monument to Ferdinand and Isabella, the monarchs who sponsored Columbus’ voyages, as to Columbus himself. It is 23 meters (75 feet) high and consists of a base and two columns, with a pedestal on top. On the pedestal stands a lion, presumably symbolizing the monarchy. Halfway up the columns are the bows of two caravels; on the sides, between the columns, are plaques with the monarchs’ names, one each for Ferdinand and Isabel. On one side of the base of the monument is a medallion with a bust of Columbus; on the other side is the coat of arms of the monarchs’ coat of arms.

A short distance away from the Columbus Monument we came across a venerable old oak tree which must have been growing for hundreds of years. Both Sandie and I couldn’t resist taking multiple pictures of it.

Évora is overall a far more cheerful place than you would guess if all you ever saw of it was the Capela dos Ossos. From there we walked toward the center of town, our path leading down a street lined with cafés and boutiques which proved to be Évora’s equivalent of a shopping mall – I have to say it was a welcome relief from actual shopping malls. The shops featured local wares such as ceramics and cork purses. Évora is in the cork-oak country of southern Portugal, which produces 50% of the world’s supply of cork. Unfortunately for the cork producers, winemakers in recent years have taken to plugging their bottles with stoppers made out of material other than actual cork, which has forced the cork makers to find other markets for their wares. Cork, it turns out, is very durable and versatile and can be made into attractive and sturdy shoes, wallets, purses and other useful items. I purchased a cork purse for Sandie and several other items to take home as gifts for friends and relatives. 

But it wasn’t necessary to spend money to enjoy strolling through the tourist-oriented district of Evora. The streets were paved with locally quarried stones laid out attractively in stripes of alternating colors – granite for black, limestone for white – and sometimes in intricate mosaic patterns as well. One boutique had a sign in the window that said “Don’t grow up – it’s a trap!” I found myself in full agreement with that statement. One of the cafés along the street had set out a menu advertising “Spiritual Codfish” for lunch. I couldn’t imagine what could be spiritual about codfish, and I didn’t have an opportunity to sample it to find out.

We emerged from the semi-pedestrian shopping street onto Praça do Geraldo, the main square of Évora. It is named for Geraldo Sem Pavor, Geraldo the Fearless, who retook Évora from the Moors in 1165.  It is surrounded by several churches, palaces and various public buildings. The square was used, and is still used, as a venue for festivals, fairs, and other public celebrations. In days of yore it was also used for public executions and autos-da-fé.

Upon reaching the square, we gathered in front of the local branch of the Bank of Portugal, where our local guide related information about the history and layout of the square. Then we were free to wander around and savor the myriad attractions of the town center.

I noticed a sign prominently placed in the middle of the square featuring the hammer and sickle of the PCP – the Communist Party of Portugal. It seemed to indicate that the Party was in favor of Salaries, Employment, Production, and Sovereignty, and called for a Minimum National Salary of 600 Euros. This didn’t seem to be a very radical agenda in the tradition of Lenin and Stalin. Nevertheless, recalling that during medieval and early modern times Geraldo Square had been a place where public executions of criminals and heretics had been held, I proposed to our local guide that an auto-da-fé be staged to have all the Commies burned at the stake. However, it turned out that the Inquisition had been disbanded in 1821, and no Inquisitors were available nowadays to round up the usual suspects.

In any case we were too busy savoring the many attractions of Geraldo Square and its environs. We checked out Évora Cathedral, one of the Gothic masterpieces of Portugal, built between 1280 and 1340. We found an ice-cream shop which appeared to practice a novel way of snaring customers: the management had barricaded the narrow street with tables and chairs, blocking it so that pedestrians had to pass through an obstacle course calculated to exhaust them and make them stop for refreshment. And we found the ruins of the city’s ancient Roman temple, sometimes mistakenly called the Temple of Diana. Built in the first century CE, it was actually probably dedicated to Augustus, the first Roman Emperor. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to see much of it because it was covered with scaffolding while repairs were in progress. But you can see nice pictures of it here.

Next to the temple is another landmark of Évora, Lóios Convent and Church. That is, it was built in the 15th century to be a convent and church. The church is Gothic, but in the 18th century the interior was covered with azulejos – ceramic tiles. In 1965 it was converted into a pousada (luxury hotel).

Alas, we had too little time to explore Évora as fully as it deserved, and soon the call came to reboard our tour bus and embark on the next leg of the journey, which would take us to the Spanish border. On the way back to the bus, we took final snapshots of the medieval walls of Évora, which still partially encircle the city. Sandie also captured a shot of the Prata Aqueduct, an imposing structure built in the 16th century. It was designed by military architect Francisco de Arruda, who also designed the Tower of Belem in Lisbon. We didn’t find out why it bears the name Prata, which means “silver” in Portuguese (cf. Spanish plata – Portuguese tends to use “r” sounds where Spanish uses “l”). I have a theory that it was named after a friend of mine who teaches engineering at USC and maybe traveled to Portugal at one time to make some crucial repairs to the aqueduct. I’ll have to ask him about that.

There was still enough daylight left in the short November day to enjoy the ride through the cork-oak country of southeastern Portugal. I’ve already touched on the fact that cork is one of Portugal’s most important products, and nowadays its uses extend far beyond plugging wine bottles (although the cork producers still make extravagant profits from selling corks at exorbitant prices to the French champagne vintners). In addition to fashion accessories such as handbags and shoes, it is made into mats of all kinds, cell phone and tablet covers, musical instruments and baseball cores, and many other unlikely-seeming products such as furniture. It’s an excellent material for insulation and sound-proofing, and so is finding increasing application in such industries as construction and aerospace. It’s also a sustainable, earth-friendly substance: cork is made by stripping the bark from the trunk of a certain type of oak tree, which is then wrapped with cloth to protect it from insects and weather while the bark grows back. This is done only every nine years during the lifetime of the tree, typically 270-300 years. The cork production industry is tightly regulated by Portuguese law, and it is illegal to cut down a cork oak without a special permit, not easy to obtain. You can find out more about cork production here.

By the time we crossed the Spanish border, night had fallen, and we stopped for a bite to eat at a tapas restaurant near the crossing before resuming our journey into Spain. Our objective was the fabled city of Seville, once mistress of a commercial and financial network spanning the world, from the Americas to the Philippines, and now again a vibrant and thriving metropolis.

Having created a fairy-tale palace, King Ferdinand II needed surroundings to match. He envisioned (and realized) a forest-park fulfilling with the most expansive fantasies of 19th-century German Romanticism – 85 hectares (210 acres) filled with exotic plants from all over the world, cunningly set amongst and around lakes, ponds, streams, waterfalls, fountains, gardens, pavilions and hideaways. The park is crisscrossed by myriad winding pathways, and we took advantage of some of them to walk down from the palace to Sintra village and see some of the park before darkness fell.

Set back from the path in a small clearing we spotted a tumbledown hut half-hidden in the greenery. I half-expected to see a wicked witch or furtive gnome skulking around the place. But instead of a witch or gnome, there were only two scruffy escapees from a penal colony who were using the park as a refuge. Their pictures are displayed below.

The early November twilight was starting to creep over Sintra Praca by the time we reached the village. We enjoyed a relaxing stroll around the square, window-shopping at the the boutiques, which offered exquisite wares at prices geared for tourists far more affluent than us. We observed that local transportation was provided by a cute little tram, disguised as a train, which one might have expected to find in places like Disneyland, and indeed the village had a Disneyland-like atmosphere, though with a more old-world flair. We eventually found a pleasant bistro, the Ale-Hop Shop, where we were able to enjoy an espresso and a pastry before it was time to head back to the bus for the return to Lisbon. It was a restful, low-key end to a thoroughly high-pitched and very full day.

In concluding this segment of my account of this extraordinary tour, I feel obliged to extend some recognition, and much gratitude, to the staff of EF/Go-Ahead Tours and especially to our tour leader, Manuel Sueiras, for their skill in planning and orchestrating the arrangements involved. It was no mean feat to make a selection of enthralling attractions that fit into an extremely tight schedule, and to ensure that the schedule was adhered to punctually and without mishap. In retrospect this appears all the more impressive because I’ve read a profusion of complaints, in the years since then, by people who have visited the same attractions – and especially Pena Palace in Sintra – to the effect that the crowds were stifling, there was no elbow room inside the palace, they had to rush through without really having any time to savor the delights of the place, and so forth. I didn’t find any of that that to be the case on our visit. Maybe part of the reason for our good fortune was the time of year we visited, or the day we were there, or some other reason beyond my ken, but I prefer to believe that most of the credit goes to expert planning and the peerless personal skills of a well-chosen tour guide. And, I should add, this continued throughout the entire tour.

Once we managed to get past the uncongenial guardian of the Triton Gate, Pena Palace revealed a myriad of new wonders. We were able to get close-up to the towers, turrets and terraces we had glimpsed from the park, and to view from above some of the marvels we had seen on the way up.

Pena Palace has a lot of towers, the tallest and most imposing of which is the Clock Tower, dating from 1843. It rises above the Queen’s Terrace, which can be reached by a steep climb up a flight of stairs, and provides some of the best views of the surrounding area. Among the other towers, my favorite was one which I don’t know the name of, but which I call “Rapunzel’s Tower” because it reminded me of the Brothers Grimm fairy tale about the girl who is imprisoned by a witch in a tall tower and rescued by a handsome prince for whom she lets down her long hair so he can climb up to her window. The girl atop this tower didn’t have long hair, and the prince had to climb the stairs to rescue her, and she was a brunette whereas Rapunzel was a blonde, but I had fun with it anyway.

And here are some of the expansive views of the Lisbon area and the palace park that I captured with my 70-200mm telephoto lens from the ramparts of the castle.

The Queen’s Terrace also provided an excellent vantage point for viewing and photographing parts of the New Palace. One of its features is a large turret tower where Ferdinand II planned to construct bedrooms for himself and Queen Maria. However, the New Palace was not completed before Maria died in 1853 after giving birth to her eleventh child, a stillborn son, and Ferdinand remained in his old quarters in the former cloister.

A modern addition to the New Palace is a cafe occupying a section of the roof, with a superb view of the park and the countryside.

The cloister was the heart of the old monastery and is relatively small compared to, for example, that of the Jeronimos Monastery in Belem, since it was intended for occupation by only 18 monks. The monks’ cells became the quarters of the royal family after the conversion of the monastery into a palace.

The galleries of the two-story cloister open up onto a central square patio through arches on both floors. The patio has an oyster shell like the one where the Triton is seated outside, but the Triton is missing here. The walls of the cloister are finished in gorgeous Hispano-Mudéjar tiles with geometric designs. Yes, I’m a sucker for ceramic tiles but these are incredible.

Ferdinand II was no longer King after the death of Queen Maria, but he was regent to his young son, the 16-year-old King Pedro V, until 1855. Pedro himself died of typhoid fever in 1861 and was succeeded by his brother Luis, who then ruled as Luis I until 1889. As King-Father, Ferdinand continued to carry some clout, and he occupied Pena Palace until his own death. In his later years, in defiance of the conventions of the Victorian era, he shared his chambers with his mistress, the Swiss-American actress Elisa Hensler, whom he eventually married (1869). To make the union seem more respectable, Ferdinand’s cousin, the Duke of Saxe-Coburg, bestowed upon Elisa the title of Countess of Edla. When Ferdinand died in 1885, he left Pena Palace and its grounds to her. She sold it to King Luis, and the royal family made extensive use of it, especially after Luis’ son Carlos became King on his father’s death in 1889.

Whereas Ferdinand II had occupied the upper floor of the cloister, Carlos I moved into the relatively modest quarters on the ground floor and left his wife Amelia, a French princess, to occupy the more regal apartments above. But he made one significant innovation: in accordance with the improving standards of hygiene in the late 19th century, he turned one of the rooms adjoining his bedroom into a bathroom. He also decorated his office with racy paintings of nymphs and fauns. There is a painting of an ethereally beautiful nude woman in the royal quarters, but I was unable to obtain any information on its provenance, who painted it and for whom, or whom it was supposed to represent; I doubt whether it was a painting of the Countess of Edla.

Queen Amelia’s quarters included, in addition to the bedroom, an office and a tea room, where she would sip her tea in the morning and receive her personal visitors. The furniture in these rooms, some of it remaining from the days of the Countess of Edla, is quite opulent.

What had been the monks’ refectory was converted into the royal dining room. It retains the elegant 16th century Manueline-style vaulted ceiling with ribbing, but the tiles on the walls and the elegant oak furniture are 19th-century in origin. The table was set for twelve and a sumptuous meal was in prospect; unfortunately we couldn’t stay for dinner since we had other plans.

The kitchen, surprisingly, is huge, the largest room in the palace except for the Noble Hall. It was evidently intended to provide sumptuous meals not only for the royal dining room but also for formal banquets in the reception rooms. All the pots and pans are imprinted with the monogram of Ferdinand II, a tactic for deterring theft.

The Palace Chapel, next to the Dining Room, had been the Monastery Church of Our Lady of Pena prior to 1834, and Ferdinand II wisely left it mostly unchanged. It has the same type of ribbed vaulted ceiling as the Dining Room. It dates from the reign of King João (John) III (successor of Manuel I), who in 1528 commissioned Nicolas de Chanterenne, or Chantereine, a French sculptor and architect, to create the main altar retable. A retable (I had to look this up, since I’m not familiar with the terminology of ecclesiastical architecture) is a structure placed on or immediately behind and above the altar or communion table of a church – another word for it is “altarpiece.” Retables can be simple or complex. The one in the Pena Palace Chapel is an elaborate, exquisitely carved work in alabaster and limestone quarried from Sintra. By 1528 Chanterenne had already done extensive and masterful work in Spain and Portugal, including some of the finest sculpture of the Jerónimos Monastery in Belém; in 1519 King Manuel I had appointed him as his personal sculptor, and King João III continued to heap honors upon him. De Chanterenne worked on the monastery altarpiece from 1829 to 1832, and it is widely considered his greatest masterpiece. After completing it, he migrated with the King’s court to Évora, where he continued to live and work until his death in 1551.

As far as I can tell, the only significant change made Ferdinand II made to the chapel was to add a new stained glass window in 1841. Commissioned from a German firm, Kellner of Nuremberg, it depicts Vasco da Gama kneeling before King Manuel I after returning from the Indies. Manuel is said to have spotted da Gama’s ship sailing back into Lisbon Harbor from the monastery mountaintop in Sintra.

In the New Palace, Ferdinand II planned to inaugurate a great reception hall for ambassadors and other dignitaries, but the end of his kingship in 1853 put paid to that idea, and the chamber was set up as a billiard room instead. However, it is now known as the Noble Hall, or Great Hall, and has an appearance more in keeping with its original purpose. An elaborate 72-candle neo-rococo chandelier hangs from the ceiling, sumptuous sofas and tables line the walls, vases and china from Ferdinand’s porcelain collection are found throughout, and light enters the room through his more of his prized German stained-glass windows. The overall design is meant to be Arabesque, and four statues of Turkish janissaries stand in the room, one in each corner.

Adjacent to the Noble Hall in the New Palace is the Stag Room. This, of course, is where Ferdinand intended to screen his stag films. Again, though, things did not turn out as planned. For one thing, film had not been invented yet. So, being a devotee of King Arthur romances, he planned to have a Round Table placed around a central pillar, with suits of medieval knightly armor against the walls; swords and spears, crossbows, stuffed heads of stags and boars would be hung on the walls, in which his favorite heraldic stained glass windows would be installed; and sumptuous banquets for the King and his associates, supplied from the palace’s great kitchen, would be held there. But even this didn’t work out. According to some sources, the Round Table was duly provided, but when we were there, we saw only the central pillar and a few stag heads, but no table, round or otherwise. (You can see what it was supposed to look like here.)