See ALL the Things! Part 2

The tourist takes his culture with him. The traveler leaves his behind.

J.R. Rim

I didn’t see as much of Europe, or even Portugal, as I’d hoped to, but I did get out of Lisbon occasionally. Here’s proof:

Sintra

So crowded. In Sintra’s defense, due to recent wildfires we weren’t able to travel into the surrounding forested area and neither was anybody else. So the crowds that I experienced might have been more manageable if we’d had more of Sintra to scatter ourselves throughout. Formerly, a royal retreat, for cooler summer weather, for hunting expeditions, for avoiding the plague, the town is now a well-known tourist attraction.

This means there are countless opportunities to be parted from your money, but also, it’s absolutely gorgeous. The Sintra National Palace is in town, and was not effected by the road closures that kept us away from the other attractions. The crowds made it hard to photograph adequately. There were so many areas we had to keep moving through to make room for the people behind us. We crept slowly enough to appreciate it, but I rarely got to stop and frame a shot as I would have wished. The kitchen was particularly striking to me. It’s rare to see domestic spaces given such care in preservation. I complain about the annoyances of crowds, but these tourist destinations are popular for good reason.

Ericeira

This seaside town felt less touristy than probably any other mainland excursion we made as a group. Portuguese hospitality was certainly not in short supply, though. Ericeira hosts multiple surfing championships and is not unaccustomed to having visitors. The town leans hard into a seaside theme, without putting form over function. It has an active fishing industry and that shows in the food choices available. Yum.

I loved living in the thick of the city in Lisbon. It seemed like there was always something to do. I enjoyed the local field trips, even when they were crowded with tourists. Still, our quiet afternoon in Ericeira will always stand out as one of my favorite things in Portugal. The whole town was just so peaceful.

Mafra National Palace

But wait there’s more… There is a palace wing to this… building? complex? compound? I can’t even. It’s a royal palace/convent/basilica/library, oh and for a while an infirmary. And probably a few other things besides. Its proximity to popular royal hunting grounds led to some, let’s say interesting, interior design choices. Everything about this place is chanting, “too much is never enough.” I’m not mad though. The library may be what heaven looks like in my readerly mind. Also, they have bats working in the library. The bats eat the bugs that want to eat the books. How could I not love that? Now I want to write a whole series of children’s books about a bat librarian. Thanks, Mafra.

Aldeia Museu José Franco

This was an unexpected gem. We were brought here for a group meal on one of our field trip days. With so much serious, historical monument visiting I was not prepared for a place with a literal playground. It gave old school Knott’s Berry Farm with a dash of miniature golf vibes and a whole lotta heart. It grew on me pretty quickly.

Batalha Monastery

The building itself is remarkable, centuries of master craftsmanship went into its construction. There are details on details on details, every choice leaning into the ornate. I think my favorite thing though was something I couldn’t see. I mean, I was able to stand there in the tomb of João I of Portugal and his queen, Philippa of Lancaster, but I think I would have needed to be at least ten feet tall, maybe taller to see the effigies of the king and queen.

That adds to the sweetness of it somehow, like a private moment just between the two of them. Their effigies are holding hands through eternity, and that’s hidden in plain sight, well above the . Relationship goals. I would not have expected a marriage arranged to keep a bastard on the throne to have developed into something romantic, but history indicates that it did. I mean João I was the bastard son of the famed Pedro of the Pedro and Inês love story. Maybe romance just runs in his blood.

Also…

My day at the Medieval Market of Óbidos is going to be a whole post of its own.

Travel Restrictions

Then there are the places I couldn’t go. The program itself kept our schedules pretty packed so there wasn’t a lot of free time for travel. Additionally, the summer of 2022 was right after a long period of the world closing because of high Covid numbers, then opening, then closing, then opening… This was the first post-pandemic summer study abroad, but it had new restrictions.

I had made plans to meet with a friend in Madrid, and had been talking to another friend in Paris when I found out we would not be allowed to leave Portugal. The people in charge of my program were afraid of borders closing again and having students stuck on the wrong side, which sounds ridiculous under most circumstances, but it was a strange time. So no side trip to Madrid, or Paris.

Wildfires

Where I am from fire season has always been integral to the rhythms of our lives. It is currently preceded by weed abatement season, and hopefully followed by the rainy season. Portugal has a fire season too. And it begins almost exactly when we were studying in Lisbon apparently.

With working remotely, on top of the packed program schedule I didn’t have as much free time to explore as I’d hoped. There was really just the one weekend that I was looking to get out of town and had my heart set on taking the high speed train to Porto. That was the weekend that it seemed like most of Portugal was closed due to wildfires. So I never went to Porto, despite my hopeful planning.

Bullfight

The other thing I couldn’t go to was the bullfight. I lived really close to Campo Pequeno and my friends went to see a bullfight while we were there. I know I am too sensitive. Even if I had decided that I wanted to support the practice, I would have wept through the whole thing. A student at my work once shared photos he’d taken of a bullfight. As someone who was raised by a photographer, I really appreciated his skill. I couldn’t stomach the subject, though. I cried. At work. I mean, with the slideshow it was at least a quiet, damp cheeked, stoic kinda crying. In person, I would have been bawling.

This is where being a guest gets weird. There were people protesting outside the bullring. A younger version of me would have joined them. I just didn’t feel like it was my place. I didn’t want to go to visit a new country, learn about a new culture, and take a stand telling them that they are doing it wrong.

I can’t imagine anything good coming out of bullfighting that is worth the fear and pain caused to the bull, but I don’t go into other people’s homes to tell them to live according to my values. That’s not the kind of traveler I aspire to be. Still, I enjoyed hearing the protestors from my apartment that night, far more than I would have enjoyed the bullfight.

I could not root for the matador, but to root for the bull would have been a violent, ugly, wish. To root for the protesters though, even if only to myself, especially if only to myself, that I could allow. The bullfight was not for me, and neither was the protest. And that’s okay. I’ve lived a long life adjacent to a lot of things that aren’t for me.

What I did get to see and do though, that was wonderful.

Things get better every day you stay alive
Then I’m amazed
Every day
That the sun decides to rise
Every minute, every hour, is another
Chance to change
Life is beautiful and terrible and strange

Concrete Blonde
Take Me Home