A little tenuous, this one, but it’s a view I love. Church ‘on top’ of a hill. The Ponte Romana, ‘atop’ the River Giláo.
It’s a good follow up to yesterday, and I’m hoping Becky will like it. It’s all getting a little crazy over at her #SquareTops.
Portugal
Jo’s Monday walk : Beja Blues
Last week was such a dreamy post, wasn’t it? I’m moving a little nearer home, and reality, this week, to the main town of the Baixa Alentejo. It was a long haul, going north to Marváo, and we decided to break the journey at Beja, where we had a little unfinished business. Namely, the Convent of Our Lady of Conception, part of the Regional Museum of Beja since 1927. Foolishly we had tried to visit once before, on a Monday but, like most other churches and museums in Portugal, it was closed on that day.
I’ve never really hit it off with Beja. Some places speak volumes to me, others simply mutter. Beja comes in that last category. Still, everywhere deserves a second chance, and I knew that the museum was worth visiting. The day had turned sullen as we left the Algarve, and the skies hung heavy over the castle. Not an auspicious start, and the square in front of the castle was being dug up and re-tiled. Skirting around a digger, I looked in through the Cathedral doors, not feeling inclined to linger. I knew that the museum would be closing soon for lunch.
It’s a short distance through the narrow streets to the Convent square. The former Convento da Conceição was founded in 1459 by Dom Fernando, brother of Afonso V of Portugal, and his wife Dona Beatriz. Part of the Franciscan order, it was one of the richest and most important in the country.
Now part of the Rainha Dona Leonor Regional Museum, a hush descended as we entered through the Manueline portico, beneath beautifully curved arches. Immediately in front of us, the church. The lights were low and my eyes took a moment or two to adjust.
The first thing to hold my gaze was the tiled azulejo panel, dated 1741 and depicting the life, birth and death of St. John the Baptist. The church is covered in carved wood and gold leaf, dating back to the 17th century. Excessive to modern eyes, as was the array of highly polished silverware from the 18th century. I felt truly grateful not to be the lady with the polish, but I did admire the altar of inlaid marble.
Leaving the subdued atmosphere of the church, I found myself in fabulously, fully tiled cloisters. This was what I had come to see. There is always an atmosphere of soothing calm to cloisters, and the soft glow of sunlight enhanced their beauty.
Beautiful, isn’t it? Even in its unrestored state, it’s one of my favourite pieces. But there’s no doubt there is money to be spent here… one day!
Some of the detail was extraordinary, but don’t take my word for it. Becky does it so much better in Convento de Nossa Senhora da Conceicáo’s Extraordinary Azulejos Speaking of the lovely lady, are you taking part in #SquareTops today? It’s a blockbuster! Here are my two.
The colours and mix of styles is captivating. I’ve seen many cloisters here in Portugal, but none quite like these.
I ventured up the stairs, hoping to be able to get out onto the roof space, but it was closed to the public. I learned instead of Mariana Alcorforado, a nun at the Convento, who fell in love with a French officer. Noel Bouton, Count de Chamilly, was in Beja with his troops in 1666. The evidence of her unrequited love lives on in five love letters. The fabric below, I included for my daughter. She loves antique embroidery!
Back in the open, we found a café in the square overlooking the museum. It was unbelievably quiet, though the virus had barely been heard of. I wasn’t really hungry but wanted to sit peacefully with a glass of wine, before continuing our journey. We ordered a toastie, but the waitress explained that they didn’t sell wine. We could, though, buy it at the store next door! Seeing our baffled faces, she must have taken pity on us. Five minutes later she reappeared from next door, bearing two very delicious glasses of wine. I think perhaps Beja looked better for it.
A wander through the streets revealed a strange mish-mash of old and new. I didn’t really warm to Beja, but it doesn’t lack for character and humour. And there’s a chance I’ll return, for I’ve realised that a substantial part of the museum is sited within the Church of Santo Amaro, beyond the castle walls. Oh, dear! But I did enjoy the street art.
They say a cat can look at a king! Or a queen, in Becky’s case. Do join her!
Let’s share some walks now, shall we? I’ve a humdinger to start with! In Portugal too, with Debbie :
While Drake takes us to that tiny island he knows so well :
And Terri shares some truly spectacular scenery :
Everybody round to Margaret’s for Drenched Lemon Cake! Well, virtually, anyway 🙂
Round the Edge of the Village: It’s All About the Texture
We can no longer walk on our beaches in the Algarve, so this is very poignant from Miriam :
Virtual walking on Phillip Island
In the early morning mists, we find Irene :
With first hand knowledge of China, share this epic journey with Indra :
Always with a gentle, distinctive touch, there’s no mistaking Lynn’s love for nature :
While Rupali looks at her world through eyes filled with beauty :
And Cathy experiences the excesses of tourism in Italy. Certainly not any longer!
The Cinque Terre: A crowded hike to Vernazza
I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for another cuppa. Did somebody mention cake? Please, stay safe out there!
Jo’s Monday walk : Castelo de Vide
A hazy beauty, not quite real? Looking back to just over two weeks ago, I have to wonder if I dreamt it. But no- as so often, my photographs tell the story. Castelo de Vide, in Portugal’s Alto Alentjo, a world away from our current woes.
I had come in search of a mighty fortress, at hilltop Marvão, and all I knew of Castelo de Vide was its spa waters, bottled on shelves as far away as the Algarve. But where there are castles, there is often a sad interlude in history, and so it is, here. During the Spanish Inquisition, many Jews fled across the border to make their home within these castle walls. And the resulting Jewish quarter is like nowhere I’ve ever seen. Complete with Synagogue, though the international crisis was catching up with even this remote place, and I was unable to look inside.
The castle itself was closed for renovation, but I had climbed the hill anyway. How glad I was, for it was not the castle itself that was the prize. The medieval streets within the walls were astounding, with solid stone doorways, preserved in all their beauty, though some needed a little help.
Within the castle walls, the 17th century church of Nossa Senhora da Alegria, resplendent with Moorish-styled tiles, and surrounded by the tumbling, spellbinding streets of the Juderia. In the sleepy warmth below, the town was awakening to market day, the calls of the vendors noisily jostling for trade. I slipped inside the main church, Santa Maria da Devasa, to pay my respects. A lady, rummaging in her handbag, pulled out spectacles and a sheaf of music, and into the hush began to practise on the organ. As I listened, smiling, another bustled in with two bags full of white lilies, which she placed beside the altar. The life of the church, unchanging.
Outside the church, a modern sculpture, mother tenderly regarding small child. And a fountain, one of 300 in the area, I’d been led to believe. I came across several more. In a quiet square, the Fonte da Vila, with four marble spouts, a coat of arms, and a tribute to Jewish victims.
I was beginning to need a coffee, and hoped to sample boleima, a type of Jewish unleavened bread with apple and cinnamon. Or something sweet.
The clock on the town hall chimed and it was time to move on. Sadly my visit was coming to an end. King Dom Pedro V described this town as the “Sintra of the Alentejo”, and I had felt something of the same magic.
As if sorry to see me go, the clouds began to swoop in across the hills. I crossed the gardens, turning for one last look.
It’s a tenuous link, but here I am, back in the Algarve, looking at the lovely Serra de Sáo Mamede and its towns and villages, from a Distance. Easter and Holy Week are very special and traditional in this part of the world. I can’t conceive of it this year, but I hope that one day, in the future, I might cross that distance again. Meantime, many thanks to Tina and the lovely Lens-Artists ladies for keeping us strong.
Still sharing! It’s what we do best here in blogland. Stay safe out there!
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As heart warming a walk as I’ve ever taken. Thank you so much, Drake!
It’s therapeutic getting out there in nature, as Alice will tell you :
And Eunice is still determined to enjoy beach and countryside :
Lytham/ St. Annes -a walk in two parts
Margaret sums it all up succinctly :
The Last Walk Before Lock Down
And Rupali smiles at us, from a distance :
I think we’re all agreed that Becky is a ‘Top Notch’ blogger. It’s 1st April soon (no fooling!) :
Happy to share a poetic stroll beneath the birch trees, with Jude :
And I found a fascinating walking tour of Porto, for the future :
‘Other cities in the city’: a social history walking tour of Porto
While Cathy shares a good slice of the exotic :
Morocco: Aroumd to Imlil to Essaouira
Saving this treat for last. Don’t miss Pauline’s lovely photography and wonderful artwork!
Day 2 of the birthday get away
It’s an amazing world out there, isn’t it? I’m so glad we can share it together.
Fun with textures
I’m not sure that this qualifies in any way, shape or form for your challenge, Jude, but I like it. It was taken through a shop window in Loulé some time ago, and was just lurking, waiting for an outing. I’ve not really hit the brief with any of these, but it was fun trying.
Thanks for helping to keep us entertained. Do you have a favourite? 2020 Photo Challenge #12
Jo’s Monday walk : Portagem to Ammaia
It’s always good to start a post with a flamboyant flower, don’t you think? Though in this case it has only a little relevance. How many circular walks do you know that start and end by a river, exploring Roman ruins along the way? I can actually think of one other, in the Algarve, but I was quite unprepared for the scale of these ruins, at Ammaia, in the Alto Alentejo region of Portugal. Ruins I’d never even heard of!
I have to say that the last walk was a very hard act to follow. Having seen the valley from the lofty heights of Marvão, I was curious as to how the village would look when viewed from below. Driving back down didn’t seem half so difficult as the haul up to it had been. As usual, I wasn’t doing the driving, but gazing out at the scenery. Sleepy Portagem was a lazy dream of a day in early March. Come back in July and it might be a different story, with screams and splashes echoing up the valley from the river beach.
Yes, that’s Marvão, right up on the top. No wonder it’s serene and peaceful! I read that the village hosts a Medieval Fair in October. What a sight that must be! And yet, for once, I’d opted for serenity and loved every moment.
It was, pretty much, also what we found on our descent from Marvão. A river beach has been constructed on the River Sever and, alongside it, a smart pool complex. Totally deserted, of course, in March. Used, as I now am, to an early Spring in the Algarve, I was astonished to find bare trees, just awakening to the gentle warmth of the sun’s rays.
Looking at the sign boards there seemed to be a choice of two walks, PR1 and PR5. So long as we didn’t have to climb all the way back up to Marvão on foot, it didn’t much matter which. The river curved away into the distance, beneath a beautiful old bridge.
Crossing the bridge, a decision of sorts was made. Inaccessible castle ruins and a more modern calamity, ripe for renewal, directed our steps.
Poppies danced overhead as we followed a grassy trail around the back of the village. I stopped to admire a haphazard clump of irises, triggering a frenzy of barking from behind the fence. Buried among bright green foliage, could that be a wild orchid?
Moths and butterflies fluttered by, intent on the beautiful day, and a patch of tiny, jewel bright violas. A narrow road led between fields full of olive trees, where a farmer and his wife were clearing and burning tired, old tree branches. They surveyed us with curiosity, nodding at our greeting. I doubt if too many strangers pass their way. Set back against the hillside, we became aware of some ruined structures, and speculated on what their purpose might have been. The sign Fornos do Cal da Escusa suggested a connection with ovens. We later found that these had been lime quarries, quite possibly dating back to Roman times and the nearby city of Ammaia.
In the distance, across the fields of olives, vines and sheep, Marvão kept watch from on high.
We had circled back towards Portagem but, just before the village, a right turn took us through the tiny hamlet, São Salvador da Aramenha, home to some beautiful camelias. Past the church and a diminutive café, a left brought us to the Roman ruins, unimposing behind a locked gate.
Thankfully they were simply closed for lunch. Just beyond the gates, a small museum, with a film show relating the history of the site. Then we were free to wander, full of expectation. The website Ammaia can provide details.
The site is surprisingly large, and actually spans a country lane, but much of it has yet to be excavated. Remnants of the South Gate, the Forum and a bathing area are clearly visible. Ongoing since 1994, progress is slow and reliant on students and volunteers.
There is enormous potential here, and in the stillness of the surrounds you can let your imagination roam. Romans, gossiping in the Forum, languid in the baths, or patrolling the walls with Marvão on the horizon. Meanwhile the grass grows long, sprinkled with wild flowers of lemon and blue. Leaving the site, it was about another half hour, through the dappled shade of fragrant pines and yet more olives, back to the village of Portagem. I think we mostly followed PR5.
But where’s the cake, I hear you say? Well, there’s plenty at Su’s place, and Jude has some luscious meringues to share. Perhaps you’d like to join them. In this sleepy corner of the Alentejo, I was hard pressed to find a cake shop.
A few more walks for you this week. Please, keep sending them. I don’t mind if they’re just of your back garden- it’s all fresh air, and a pleasant distraction for each other.
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Alice has a beautiful walk for us in these troubled times :
But nobody says it better than Drake :
Fancy a little climb with Irene?
Meanwhile Natalie is staying positive :
And playing in the waves. Wish I could!
Nobody captures beauty better than Lynn. Treat yourself to a walk with her :
LOCAL WALKS: Signs of Spring in the Pacific Northwest
Wonderful Italy! Cathy shares a journey I always wanted to make :
The Cinque Terre: Monterosso al Mare
Still in Italy, Sheetal takes me across the lagoon, to one of my most beautiful memories ever :
Stay safe out there! We’re all traveling by armchair now. Might as well get comfy. I’d better go and find some cake!
Jo’s Monday walk : Magnificent Marvão
Dawn breaks over the castle at Marvão, serene and beautiful. I had been niggling for a little while. ‘Can we have a few days away?’ before company arrives and the summer hots up. How lucky was I? A virus was nibbling away at all our lives. The situation was to take a turn for the worse in my absence. But I was granted a reprieve. Pure escapism! To the border country, on the heights of the Alentejo, here in Portugal.
It was a little drab on our arrival, cloud pressing down on our heads, but undeterred we took to the walls. Finding them full of rich promise.
As evening settled around us, slowly, a break in the clouds, and the last of the sun’s warmth painted the sky. Coral tones, delighting my heart.
I could hardly wait to see what the next day would bring! The world floated beneath me, the natural park of the Serra de Sáo Mamede. Ahead the proud and mighty castle, never yet conquered, with its petticoat of gardens, and a fountain playing gently in the dusk. Nearby the Igreja Santiago seemed still to be open. Timidly I poked my head inside, to be greeted with a welcoming smile.
Gratefully we returned to the hotel for supper. Although the forecast for the next day was good, I wasn’t overly confident, but it dawned with clouds high and puffy in a beautiful blue sky. I would be able to see Marvão at its glorious best.
Much of the village is in pristine condition, but here and there a door or window caught my eye. A candidate for a little affection.
Personality and gentle humour seem to characterise Marvão, but nothing overshadows the castle, looking down on the village from its granite crag.
The cisterna is remarkable for its size, 10 metres by 46. It was built to gather sufficient rainwater to last 6 months, in case of siege. There is no other natural source on the peak of the mountain, almost 900 metres above sea level.
Just beyond the castle, the former Igreja da Santa Maria is now a very beautiful museum.
We had much to see in the valley below, but later that evening we returned to Marvão for supper, to find the castle floodlit.
The photo quality is poor, but I know you always appreciate cake. You may have realised that I was completely smitten with Marvão. We were leaving the next day and, desperate for one last look, I crept out of the hotel at dawn, entranced by the mists floating in the valley.
I had not intended to return to blogging so soon, but much is happening in our world, and for me you are all a part of that. On our return, Portugal had closed schools and suspended all public and social events. Group activities are at an end, restaurants are reducing numbers if not closing, and now the border with Spain is closed. It is all precautionary and time will tell how effective it will be, but meantime I shall try to brighten your lives, as I always have. And, of course, there are walks to share.
Rupali, reminding me what snow looks like (and it does snow in Marvão, but not on my visit)
Liesbet has a little fun, and gets licked!
Happy Cows – A Walk in the Field
Drake knows Paris better than most of us :
Miriam brings us beautiful vistas, in her own special way :
While Cathy continues to be beautifully disgruntled in Rome!
Promises, promises in the Vatican Museums
And Margaret? Well, it seems she likes wallowing in mud 🙂
Roughly the Same Walk as Last Week
That’s it for now. Take good care of yourselves, and don’t loose heart. We’re all in this together!
Jo’s Monday walk : Vaqueiros in Spring
Last week’s walk may have been a little long-winded, and I was chided over the lack of cake, so this one needs to be both short and sweet. The blossom is appearing everywhere and it’s a crime to be indoors. Come with me to Vaqueiros, in my Eastern Algarve.
Vaqueiros is another hill village situated on the 300km Via Algarviana, and a good starting point for two circular walks. I took you along on one of them a couple of years ago, so let’s go and see the other.
An information board indicates the way out of the village, on a gentle ascent. A tinkling of bells alerts me to the presence of goats, an elderly goatherd leaning, unconcerned, on a wall in the shade. And then, in a valley, a wonderful surprise. Clear, sparkling water, flowing freely. It’s been a long dry spell and recent, welcome rains have done their work.
The patterns in the rock crisscross like a giant game board, and I linger, thinking what a great place for a picnic and a paddle.
Our walk leader tells us we have a steady uphill climb for half an hour, and to keep our voices down when we pass the beehives. It’s probably too early in the year, but the last thing you need is a swarm of angry bees. Fortunately, nothing stirs as we tiptoe past.
Next we find ourselves the object of much curiosity. Sheep certainly seem to abide by the maxim ‘safety in numbers’. I couldn’t spot the shepherd but I’m sure there’s a stray goat or two in the pack.
The trail wends its way around and beneath a canopy of trees, mostly pine. We pass by a nicely shaded picnic table, knowing we are not too far from our café stop at journey’s end. And you know what that means!
In the small reservoir a bird flaps down to perch on the stump of a tree, and I try to zoom for a clearer photo. Not my forté.
Now I’m not really sure that you’ve earned cake, though we’ve certainly burned a few calories. Sorry! Somebody just couldn’t wait 😦
But at least one of them makes a delightful square for January Light. Just 5 days of Becky’s challenge to go!
So nice to have water in the rivers again, though I may not be saying that tomorrow when I have to cross one! Thank you all for your company, and please find a little time to visit each other. Join me any time, here on Jo’s Monday walk.
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Just a warm-up from Natalie, but so pretty you might want to linger :
Amanda has found a happy new home by the sea to put a big smile on her face :
Contrary to popular belief, I don’t mind the odd invigorating walk, and I’m happy to join Jonno and Jo :
Wild and Windy Walk at Heddon Valley
Speaking of windy, what better than the one and only Chicago? Thanks, Janet!
Jo’s Monday Walk… the Windy City
Slade, and a pink house that I remember, in Montmartre with Drake :
I’m not great at whistling, but I’d give this a go, Alice :
Denzil takes us gently wandering again in Belgium :
Sclaigneaux 2k(for kids) and 10k walks
And how beautiful are these, from Irene?
Margaret takes me very close to ‘home’ with this one :
Highlights of a Bird-free Bird Reserve
In fact, this was my very first Monday walk, and I can’t resist re-sharing 🙂 Almost 6 years ago!
Jo’s Monday walk : Greatham Creek
I’m sure you’ll have heard of this place (the English version follows the Italian). Please stop by and say hello!
Alberobello:tutto il fascino dell’orientalismo pugliese
Cathy does a fabulous job here! Don’t miss her truly gorgeous photography :
Morocco: the blue-washed Chefchaouen
It’s going to be a great year here for blossom. I hope you can enjoy it with me. Take care till next time!
Jo’s Monday walk : Cultured in Coimbra
Central to the University of Coimbra lies a vast square, looking down from which you have the city at your feet. To reach it you have a steady climb, up through winding streets. On a fine day, a magnificent view will be your reward. Sadly, our skies were grey and misted with a fine drizzle, but we were celebrating a birthday and determined to enjoy it. A 45 minute train ride had brought us here, from Aveiro, out on the coast.
In Roman times Coimbra was known as Aeminium. An aqueduct and traces of mosaic discovered in this area date back 2,000 years. The first Muslim occupation of the Iberian peninsula took place between 711 and 715, and Coimbra surrendered in 714. Many of the street names survive from that period, and the alcáçova, or fortified palace, where the governor of the city lived, formed the basis of the Royal Palace of the first kings of Portugal. During this time the high part of town was walled and fortified. Coimbra was reconquered by the Christians permanently in 1064, becoming the capital of the first Portuguese dynasty, in the ever complicated history of this country, in 1131. It remained so until 1255, when the seat of power was transferred to Lisbon.
It was almost by chance that we came upon the Sé, or Old Cathedral, in Largo da Sé Velha. Built in the Romanesque style, on the site of a temple dedicated to Santa Maria, from the outside the cathedral resembles a small fortress. Steep steps lead to the main portal, beyond which a hush descends. My eyes alighted on huge seashells, the like of which I had never seen. Labels proclaim them Tridacma shells, from the Indian Ocean. The alcoves on either side of the nave feature compelling spotlit portraits, while the walls gleam with 16th century edged Múdejar tiles from Seville.
The Gothic cloister, begun around 1218, is the oldest in Portugal. Unintentionally it’s a green space for small children at play. Leaving the cathedral, it’s an upwards slog to the University complex. Robed nuns paid us scant attention, going about their business within the solid walls.
If I knew anything at all about Coimbra it was that the University was beautiful, and had been designated a UNESCO World Heritage site in 2013. Founded in Lisbon by King Dinis, in 1290, it alternated between the two cities till it was definitively established in Coimbra in 1537. It is one of the oldest in Europe, and was the only one in the Portuguese-speaking world until 1911. The life of the city revolves around the state-run university.
We purchased a composite ticket for the Palace and the Joanine Library. The latter had to be viewed on a specific time slot so we headed first to St. Michael’s Chapel, where we gaped upwards at the painted, arched ceiling and astounding baroque organ. Just time for a coffee before descending the Minerva stairs to patiently await our turn.
Finally we were shepherded into cool chambers with dense walls and arched ceilings, not quite sure at what tomes we were looking. This was just a preliminary. The gasps came later. With over 200,000 books, mostly in Latin and pre-18th century, the Joanine Library (named for King Joáo V) is recognised as the most sumptuous university library ever made. The 72 shelves, arranged over 2 floors in 3 rooms, are minutely decorated with Chinese motives. I had thought the library in Trinity College, Dublin amazing, but this one defied description. Nor were we allowed to take photos, conservation being necessarily important. The books have an unusual ally- a colony of bats who entertain themselves at night by feasting on wayward insects. This was one of those occasions when I was glad I’d purchased a full colour souvenir brochure. As I explained last week, I’ve lost all except one of my photos from this visit to Coimbra. I’ve used my husband’s photos throughout this post, but I managed to find a video to give you a brief glimpse inside the library. It barely does it justice.
Still awed at what we’d seen, we continued around the Palace and out onto the balcony for misty views down to the river. During the Middle Ages Coimbra was divided into an upper city, where the clergy and aristocracy lived, and a lower city for merchants, artisans and labourers, down beside the River Mondego. Since 1772, the Botanical Garden has wrapped a green cloak around the skirts of the city, combining the beauty of nature with education and research.
A cobbled path leads from the rear of the gardens down to the riverside, where fountains play majestically across the water, reminding me of Geneva. A footbridge spans the river, and playing fields line its banks. We crossed to the far shore to look back at the city, before returning to the station. Take a more comprehensive look at Coimbra, with Julie Dawn Fox. She lives not far away, and has many suggestions for walking throughout Portugal, too. And incidentally, if you can’t face the climb, there is a bus that will take you up to the University grounds.
Not so many walks this week. People are busy with Christmas preparations. I hope to have another Jo’s Monday walk next week but I’ll understand if you can’t join me. Even though I promise to bring cake!
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Janet made me smile with this title and I’ve been singing it ever since!
Drake always makes me smile! You will love this burst of heat and colour :
Much more subtle colour from Georgina, tempting me across the border into Spain :
Autumn Walks in the Sierra Aracena
A nice bit of variety, and some daily exercise, with Yvette :
Photos from Daily Walks (2020 Countdown 13 of 31)
And a truly beautiful bit of night photography from Becky :
While Cathy finally completes her journey :
(Camino day 47) Pedrouzo to Santiago
Wishing you all a great week! We have a rainy forecast here so there will be some delighted skipping in puddles.
Jo’s Monday walk : Aveiro & surrounds
Art Deco Museum- copyright Mike Bradley
You can look forward to something too much, can’t you? You could definitely say that about our couple of days in Aveiro, back in July. The city almost made the itinerary on our Porto trip, a few years ago, but we opted for a day in Guimaraes instead. Aveiro seemed to warrant more time than that. I’d seen photos of the wonderfully painted barcos moliceiros that ride the canals, not to mention the candy striped houses at neighbouring Costa Nova. Both irresistible, in prospect.
A birthday is always a good excuse for a jaunt. It wasn’t mine, but that seldom stops me. I was surprised that he chose to drive us there, but it did add flexibility to the plans. And so we left the Algarve for the ‘cooler’ north. Except that the dial on the car read 36C when we arrived. Several degrees warmer than our sultry south. More of a surprise was the motorway, that ran parallel with the canal, right into the city and onward in a rush to the coast. Aveiro was much bigger than I had anticipated. Time to stow the car in the hotel garage and take to the streets. A canal boat with my name on it must be waiting out there.
No, not this one, but there actually was a lovely green boat, named Santa Joana. A sign, if ever there was, though the only certainty was that a boat ride would be taken, on the morrow. Wikipedia reveals that Santa Joana was, in fact, the daughter of King Afonso V, and spent her life in the convent in Aveiro. Meanwhile, a walk around the canal network seemed highly desirable.
The city rose to prominence on the strength of its salt production, stemming back to Roman times, and seaweed harvest. The moliço, or seaweed, was used as fertiliser before chemicals were developed for the purpose. The flat-bottomed gondolas were used to transport it across the lagoon. The silting up of the river in the 16th and 17th centuries hindered the trading of the seaport and led to the closure of the canals, and stagnation of the waters of the lagoon. The network of canals we see today were artificially constructed and opened in 1808, bringing prosperity back with them.
Canal Central is a grand sight! The graceful boats, with their highly accomplished crew of two- one steering and the other providing commentary and skipping nimbly onto the stern to signal manoeuvres- glide across the water in a serenade of colour and ceremony. Out past the Rossio park towards Canal das Piramides, and the salt pans, then under the bridge onto Canal de Sáo Roque. Old warehouses rub shoulders with modern developments here. A sleek bit of turning, and some hand signals guide the vessels through the narrowest of openings. Fascinating to watch how well they coordinate their efforts. In high season 25/28 boats ply their carefully orchestrated trade. Part way along Sáo Roque a new bridge was under construction. A gravity- defying curve of metal suspended over the water, I lingered over the reflections.
Copyright- Mike Bradley
Much of the architecture is very beautiful. A combination of art deco and those so Portuguese azulejo tiles. An atmospheric fish market and a plethora of restaurants, huddled in back streets. A cathedral of contrasts- wonderful old chorister seats, in dark wood carved with African masks; an antique pipe organ and its shiny new counterpart. Churches, of course. Huge Dom Pedro park, with its golden yellow villas and Monet bridges. Two things not to miss : The Art Deco Museum, beside Canal Central, and a confectionery called Ovos Moles. Gooey marzipan in a soft, seashell sculpted case. We sampled ours at a tiny café by the canal, A Barrista.
Copyright- Mike Bradley
Copyright Mike Bradley
Copyright Mike Bradley
Copyright Mike Bradley, featuring yours truly
Copyright Mike Bradley
Back through the city to Canal do Cojo and a sleek extravaganza of shopping mall, topped with a garden roof terrace. Time to sit in the sun and watch and wave, as the boats sweep beneath a bridge decked in ribbons. Sadly I can’t show you. Soon after our return from Aveiro I was having laptop difficulties. In trying to assist, my husband accidentally deleted the vast majority of my photos from the trip. To this day I have been unable to recover most of them. I was devastated at the time, but I’ve used what I have, including some from my phone and a handful borrowed, and credited, from him.
Costa Nova -copyright Mike Bradley
Costa Nova -copyright- Mike Bradley
I loved the canals, the camaraderie of the crews, and the old part of Aveiro, but it’s fair to say, nothing was quite as I expected. If I hadn’t lost the photos I’d have regaled you with more posts. I’ll simply say that the weather changed, and the plan to spend the birthday by the beach at Costa Nova wasn’t feasible. A short visit on our homeward journey left us both underwhelmed. The stripey houses facing the lagoon had sacrificed much of their charm to commercialism, and the beach was no match for the ones here, at home.
Time to smile, and share. Many thanks to you all for reading, and for your welcome contributions. Join me any time, here on Jo’s Monday walk.
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Let’s start out with Jude. This is such a beautiful post. Life is good, indeed :
I suspect the Christmas market will be brightening this place now, Drake :
Iceland doesn’t have the most reliable weather, but it is undeniably beautiful :
Nor would Switzerland be a place to seek winter warmth, but Mercedes loves it :
Someone else with a love for mountains is Nicole :
A Panoramic Hike along the Grand Balcon Nord to the Mer de Glace in Chamonix
160 slices of cake! Even by my standards, that’s a lot, Jackie!
Alice likes cake too, but let’s start with a main course :
How well do you know South London? Anne is a good tour guide :
A walking tour of historic Southwark
While Anabel is ‘away with the fairies’ this week :
Mel has big plans for 2020! How about you?
The Camino Less Travelled in Spain – Camino San Salvador
But Cathy is just one stop from her goal on this epic journey :
(Camino day 46) Arzúa to Pedrouzo
Taking us back though a shared European history, in his own inimitable style, it’s Andrew!
Denzil too enjoys sharing stories. Perhaps you saw the prequel to this :
Australia and Corfu couldn’t be more different, but they’re both islands, with lizards! Agree Carol?
I’m always on the lookout for something different, and this is fabulous!
Sunday Walk Through Paltan Bazaar Dehradun
Next week I’ll take you to the university city of Coimbra. It was a grey day, and I have just one single surviving photograph, plus a few of my husband’s, but it’s too interesting a place to ignore. Hope to see you then. Take care!
Jo’s Monday walk : Back to Serenity (Monte Velho)
I thought long and hard over whether I ought to include this walk, but I loved it. Full of warmth and companionship, it was in celebration of a very special lady. Roberta Smith was always Bobbie to me, and she was there right from the very beginning of my Algarve walking days. A very determined lady, she had overcome a near fatal aneurism to get back to walking in the hills she loved. Always she was spurred on by the promise of the one gin and tonic she allowed herself each week. Simple pleasures for a lady who needed to be frugal.
Always kind to others, in the end life wasn’t kind to her. Months short of her 65th birthday, and of drawing the pension she had so looked forward to, cancer abruptly claimed Bobbie. We, her walking friends, were in shock. It has taken close to a year for us to make this walk, in celebration of our time with her. On a day of blue skies and softly drifting clouds, many of us said our goodbyes.
I’ve never struggled to know what Bobbie saw in these hills. From the first time I ventured up here, I was under their spell. The patterns that trail from valley to summit and down again, as the clouds gently jostle for position. The trees, in silhouette on the horizon, gnarled and torn, up close. The isolation of distant dwellings, and the ruins, sorrowful remnants of life. The blues and violet shades that come with evening. I love them all.
The start of our trail
No neighbours?
Just a ruin…
Trees and shadows
Scorched, but surviving
It is the time of year for medronho, the berries ripening with gold and scarlet temptation. Recently I was offered them with a dessert, but more often they are distilled to a fiery beverage. To keep out those winter chills. The wind can be cold up here.
Finally, at the summit, a ceremony was performed. One of our group had carried her ashes. Another filled a glass with the G & T she loved. Another had photos of when we were last all together. We had no idea, then…
We continued through desperately arid land, streams dry as dust, but life clinging on determinedly, as it must. Afterwards we convened at a restaurant in the hills that we often use. Those who had been unable to walk joined us there, to celebrate Bobbie’s life, and to raise a toast.
Life is short. Some are luckier than others. But all of us must find a path. I hope that Bobbie and her many friends will not mind me sharing hers.
There are many walks and lives to share here this week. Please find a little time to visit each other. See you next time, on Jo’s Monday walk.
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Patience is rewarded, oh, so beautifully, for Jude :
While Alice finds beauty of a very different kind :
Feast your eyes on this lot! Sandy plays gourmet in Lisbon :
Food and Restaurants -# Portugal
Someone else who doesn’t have an aversion to food- you can always eat well with Jackie :
Some beautiful finds in the woods, with Janet :
While Natalie shows us Autumn in all its splendour :
Agawa Canyon: From Rail to Trail
A follow-up to Denzil’s recent Foresters’ Memorial post :
The 2-Memorial Sonian Forest Walk
And to Ann Christine’s walk through stunning Old Tbilisi :
Thursday Thoughts – A Last Walk – Until next time, Aleksandr!
Have you been walking with that lovely man Ernst lately? And Gisella, too :
A mountain hike in the Appenzeller Alps (Switzerland)
Or that other lovely man, who sometimes likes life a…
And talking of gentlemen, have you seen this post from Debbie?
A very short walk with a Superstar
It’s a little cool for me in Irene’s part of the world. Or do I mean, ‘a lot’?
And Karen can hardly see her hand in front of her face!
A soggy walk in the Blue Mountains
I don’t know much about this part of the world, but I wouldn’t mind keeping Athena company :
And I had hoped to join Cathy on her journey, but it wasn’t to be :
(Camino day 44) Lestedo to Melide
I did, however, make it to the Azores, and I will return. If these photos don’t entice you…
Hiking the Azores: The Mystery behind the Mistérios Negros
That’s all for another week. I’m feeling quite emotional. It must be the time of year. Thank you so much, all of you who’ve followed the Living the dream journey with me. Stay well, be kind to each other, and enjoy your week!
restlessjo 
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