Tag Archives: Church

Travel Guide: Porto to Lisbon

I think it was over a year ago that a girlfriend first mentioned the possibility of a trip to Portugal together. Our partners had been each other’s travel buddies before we came into the picture, and they were more than happy to let us take the lead on planning. Their plan was to see pretty sights and enjoy one another’s company. In the end, that’s what we all did. Knowing more or less where we wanted to be, the four of us spent a week strolling through narrow alleys, taking endless pictures of tiles, and eating excellently, which is saying something when one member of the group is not only a vegetarian but also gluten free.

Because of the way the week flowed, one day of wandering into the next, I’m breaking with established patterns and writing about the whole trip in one post. We rented a car for the days in the middle but were otherwise on foot, averaging 10 kilometers per day in spite of some good rain. The experience of being in Portugal was one of getting turned around in twisting streets, marvelling at the hills and stairs, and alternately admiring and lamenting the old buildings in various states of restoration. It was an experience in being rather than one of expectations, and we let ourselves be surprised.

Porto

We arrived in Porto late in the afternoon and hungry, but eating needed to wait because most restaurants in Portugal, as we learned, open first at 7:00 or 7:30 for dinner. So, as would become routine, we walked. That evening and the following day we exclaimed at the tiles covering the buildings . . .

. . . the prevalence of street art in the Ribeira neighbourhood and elsewhere . . .

. . . and the surprises hidden in little alleys, which always seemed to be built following the curves of hillsides.

We saw some important sights, as well, such as the Torre dos Clérigos . . .

. . . the train station . . .

. . . and the Igreja do Carmo, which caught our attention because of, again, the tiles.

We paid for relatively few “attractions” on this trip, but were more than happy to buy timed tickets and wait in line for Livraria Lello, a bookstore described to me “like walking into Harry Potter“. And it was.

As we found out at the end upon paying for our books, the ticket price was discounted from our purchases, which struck me as a rather clever business model.

In the afternoon, we climbed all the stairs to the Sé do Porto, the cathedral, and found ourselves far more interested in the view than the building itself.

From there, we headed down to the water for a snack before crossing the river to taste some port. We’d had a glass at dinner the previous night, and that was fine, but I found three tastes to be rather a lot. Port tastes like it smells, thick and syrupy, and I think it was the amount of sugar that left me with a headache the following morning. National beverage aside, that was the end of drinking port.

For the sake of the view, we took the Gaia cable car back to the bridge after a stroll along the Duoro River. Crowds of people had gathered to wait for sunset, which we took in while walking across the bridge in the direction of downtown.

I found this a fitting end to our time in Porto. We had the feeling that we had at once seen the whole city and nothing at all. We had wandered and tasted and gotten lost and taken detours, and we picked up our rental car the following morning thoroughly charmed by the experience. There’s not much more one can ask of a city.

Aveiro

Our first stop on the road was Aveiro, a little town built along a system of canals stemming from a nearby lagoon. For reasons that we couldn’t discern, the bridges were festooned with ribbons on which messages, names, and dates were written, giving everything a rather festive atmosphere.

After getting our bearings, we headed into a plaza for ice cream and made good use of the handicrafts souvenir shop nearby. It always makes me smile to see perspectives of the world from elsewhere.

As always, we appreciated the architecture and the tiles; many of the buildings here had an Art Deco flair, lending Aveiro the feeling of walking through an old film set.

As in most towns in Europe, there was naturally a church to see . . .

. . . and the mosaics covering the ground nodded at the importance of fishing to the area.

After a brief stroll to stretch our legs, it was back to the car to make it to our next destination before sunset.

Coimbra

The first thing that strikes about Coimbra, as everyone had told us, is that it’s old. It has a history dating back to Roman times, many medieval buildings, and a university also from the Middle Ages. The construction and stone work differed from what we had seen before, and the layout of the town curved upwards, staircases and streets spiralling, winding, and becoming narrower the higher we went.

At the university, the most famous building is the library, which we admired but did not pay to visit.

Coimbra is a student town and the atmosphere of such a place was present in street art, installations, and many buildings.

It was dusk when we left Coimbra and dark when we arrived at the beach town where we’d spend two nights. As we found out in the morning, we were a world away from touristy hot spots.

Figueira da Foz

Due to globalization, it’s sometimes easy for the English-speaking traveller to forget that there are places in the world that still exist unto themselves. Figueira da Foz was just such a place. Located on the beach, there is some tourism when the weather is right, but not enough that people working in bakeries or grocery stores, with one single exception, spoke English. And I am again reminded what a privilege it is to be able to travel through the world speaking my own language.

After an unsuccessful attempt in pouring rain to find gluten free breakfast, we headed to the local market. Figueira da Foz has multiple supermarkets (we visited out of curiosity to buy snacks that we don’t have in Germany) but the market was visited by elderly people doing their shopping and simply meeting one another. I would be very glad to have daily access to something similar. We bought fresh and dried fruit and loose tea, and I wished that we had proper kitchen utensils in our accommodation to make ourselves a real meal.

When the rain stopped in the afternoon, we walked for a long time along the beach, testing the cold Atlantic with our feet, laughing and running away from the waves that came up sharply and suddenly, far higher than we expected. This is not a surf beach; the wind and waves were far too dangerous for that.

We were pleasantly surprised by the excellent meal of traditional tapas (heavy emphasis on seafood but plenty for the vegetarians) accompanied by local red wine. And we had the distinction of being the first people in the restaurant, again driven by rain, and the last ones out. We talked and laughed and it was a pleasure to sit cozily inside, the lighting dim, enjoying the time. Considering we would be on the road again the next day, it ended up being a rather late night.

Sintra

In the rain again, we stopped in Sintra, parking as required in the city before making our way on foot past the train station and into the old town where parking is prohibited. Like everything so far, we had no real plan for Sintra, other than to see castles and gardens. As we found out, however, Sintra requires tickets, some timed, for everything. The rain let up and we began to walk in the direction of the next set of hills, following signs pointing to castles built, as always, as high up as possible. Already, the town had a mysterious air to it.

It soon became clear, however, that rain was coming in again and that it was much too far to walk in our jeans and street shoes. We found a bus stop, did some quick inquiries with the aid of technology, talked to the next bus driver, and bought round-trip tickets that took us back down to where we started before heading up the impossibly narrow roads through the old town and up the hill. I quickly understood why cars weren’t allowed.

The drive up to the castles overlooking Sintra was like entering a portal to another world. It began to rain in earnest, giving what was already a unique place a mystical, ancient feeling. There were secrets here, there had been lives lived, there were stories told and to tell.

As every castle charges an entry fee, we made our choice based on where we got off the bus and bought tickets for Moorish Castle, a fortification dating back to the tenth century. We saw ancient cisterns, walked along the fortress walls, and looked at evidence of the confluence of Islamic and Christian history in the area.

The air temperature was different up here, the greenery so lush as to create a microclimate completely juxtaposed with the palm trees below. This was a magical sort of world, a different place, an ancient time. The rain didn’t invite us to linger, but being there was a far more immersive experience due to the rain than it would have been without it.

Lisbon

A broken entry gate in the parking garage greeted us in Lisbon and we were instructed to simply drive around the block and try again at the other entrance. In other parts of the world, there might have been a sign, but I have to admit that I do like the casual, relaxed lifestyle of southern Europe.

Lisbon was instantly all-consuming in the ways that big cities often are. Loud, busy, fast, a buzzing that excites the senses. I enjoy feeling the thrum of a city and I enjoy the exploring that comes with it, but I feel myself having slowed down a lot since moving to a small town. As we had throughout Portugal, we spent our time in Lisbon just walking and looking, and therefore doing everything at our own pace.

As usual, we were enamoured with tiles . . .

. . . the street art and symbols of human creativity . . .

. . . and the twisting, winding streets built into the hills that make up the city and the Alfama, the old town.

Streetcars and old trams are a particularly charming feature of Lisbon and we went for a ride on Line 28E, taking it from its starting point to its terminus. I hung on in the back, trying to take photos out the windows, and found the speed rather alarming.

We had not expected so great a presence of tuk tuks in Lisbon, but they were everywhere. A glimpse at the prices convinced us that we were better off walking, but they probably are a great option for some, particularly those who would have a harder time with the stairs and hills.

We walked up to the lookout point Miradouro da Senhora do Monte, from which we could also see São Jorge Castle, and gazed down at Lisbon, listenting intently as the tour guide next to us described the stages of building in different neighbourhoods.

While we didn’t go inside the castle, we were tickled by the peacocks that came out to say hello.

Another aspect of Lisbon that we really enjoyed was the nature that popped up everywhere, despite the tiled walkways and streets that seemed to be giving their best efforts to prevent just that.

It is worth remembering that Lisbon is old, actually ancient and prehistoric, and cities that old have walls. It was really nice to see shadows of Lisbon’s history in the ground that we walked on.

On our last full day in Lisbon, we walked to the Torre de Belém, a tower fortification built to control the shipping and commerce that made Lisbon famous and Portugal, the first of the European explorers, rich.

Along the way we passed a fountain that seems to commemorate the aqueducts built to provide water to the city (I could not find any data to verify this, so please jump in if you have details) . . .

. . . and Jerónimos Monastery, which was stunning enough from the outside. Judging by the lines of people, there’s also a lot to see on the inside.

The clouds began to shift as we arrived at Belém Tower, where I once again have to give credit to indefatigable lines of people. The waiting time was listed as two hours because only 150 people are allowed in at once, and we opted not to wait.

On the walk to the bus stop (public transit in Lisbon is incredibly easy), we passed the Monument to the Discoveries, which included a tiled map on the ground of places the Portuguese had developed colonies. As I took the photo, I couldn’t help but think that the monument didn’t quite fit with a time period when so much of the world is reckoning with colonial history. The Padrão dos Descobrimentos was built in 1940 and that was a rather different time.

We ended our time in Lisbon with a cocktail in the rain at a rooftop bar, a bar fittingly located on top of the parking garage with the broken entry gate. The people of Lisbon know how to have a good time and that was also apparent in the flavour and feel of the city. I don’t know if we’ll make it back to Lisbon, but it was definitely not the last visit to Portugal. “Adeus” until next time!

Travel Guide: Venice and Burano

My family travelled to Italy when I was 16, and it was there that I fully formed the fantasy that drove my search for a university, a fantasy that never quite materialized. We spent several days in Venice on that trip and, nearly twenty years later, I was excited to return with my partner for his first visit.

We were rather more strategic with our planning of Venice than with the rest of our summer travels, which was to our benefit. We made as much use of the Venezia Unica city tourist website as possible, thus saving time and money, as well as guaranteeing a parking spot in a very convenient garage. We had a few changes of clothes in backpacks and easily managed to pick up gelato for the walk from the car to our blissfully air-conditioned hotel.

After a shower and changing into appropriate clothing, we walked the four minutes through twisting alleyways to reach Basilica San Marco, where we had timed tickets and could skip the line. I was pleased to see that everyone had followed the dress code, which isn’t always the case in places with posted dress codes. I hadn’t been inside on my first trip to Venice; according to a story my dad tells, the family voted in favour of gelato instead. I don’t remember that, but it sounds right.

This time, my partner and I made multiple rounds of the Basilica interior, stunned by the plethora of gold, the intricate mosaic covering every surface of the floor, the saints celebrated on the walls. We tried to match the Latin names to what we knew in German and English, often coming up rather short. I have always been fascinated with the lengths to which people go to honour that which they wish to honour.

After changing clothes again (Venice, much like living in Singapore, required breaks in air conditioning and yet another shower before pursuing the next activity), we headed to the meeting point for our walking tour, always my favourite way to see a city. The tour took us through all six of Venice’s districts with a focus on the northern part where the locals live. As the tour guide explained, her job was to take us to places we wouldn’t find on our own. She told us about the history of Venice and about Venetian culture today, which we really enjoyed. I had taken a course on the history of Venice in university and I was surprised at both what I remembered and what I had forgotten.

We walked over to the Rialto Bridge that evening and took in the view of the Grand Canal . . .

. . . and returned in the morning to visit the Rialto Market, a favourite activity whenever possible. Tourist kitsch aside, the primary ware was seafood, which should come as no surprise.

From there, we made our way leisurely through little alleys and side streets until we reached Piazza San Marco.

We walked along the water to confirm vaporetto (water bus) times for the transport passes we had purchased in advance . . .

. . . before returning to Piazza San Marco for our timed entry to the Doge’s Palace, again avoiding the long line.

Much like Basilica San Marco, the Doge’s Palace is grand. The wealth that the former Republic of Venice had enjoyed, and the power that came with it, was awesome in the original sense of the word. The gold, the art, and the sheer size spoke volumes.

Afterwards, ready to escape the crowds for a while, we took a vaporetto for the 45-minute trip over to Burano, one of the neighbouring islands. Being on the water gave us some relief from the heat, but I would not recommend July as the time to visit Venice.

Burano is tiny, whimsical, and famous for lace-making, evidence of which could be seen in nearly all shops. What we were there to see, however, were the brightly-coloured houses that practically glowed against the blue of the sea and sky. We walked around, patronized a local café, and took photo after photo of this storybook come to life.

Upon returning to Venice and after some much-needed time to cool off, we braved the heat and humidity one last time to enjoy our final evening. Since Venice was designed to be seen from the water, our tour guide had said, many of the oldest building façades seen from the street side were actually the back. A gondola ride gave us a perspective of the city as it was meant to be seen. The sun was beginning to set and the city glowed.

As we rode, we asked the gondolier questions about how one gets into the business (sons are taught by fathers), how a route is chosen (the routes are what they are and do not change), and who owns the gondola (the family). The gondoliers called to each other in Venetian, the language of Venice that our Italian tour guide told us she had learned to understand since moving to Venice years ago but could not speak. Venice is Italy, but mostly, Venice is Venice.

A friend wrote to us that we were in the city of love, though we were pretty sure that designation belonged to Paris. At any rate, we held hands as we watched the sun set over the bridges.

Since we had day passes for the vaporetto, we hopped on board once again to ride nearly the whole length of the Grand Canal, a cruise for the price of a bus ride. It was dark when we disembarked this time.

There is definitely something magical about Venice, something that lends itself well to the mysteries in novels and stories I loved as a kid. The cemetery is an island of its own; the city glows when it grows dark with the lights reflecting on the water; the language is half a secret; mailing addresses function differently here in order to function at all; there are so many twists and turns that we followed a map every time we tried to get anywhere, consistently unable to orient ourselves.

The following morning, we made our way slowly back to the car, managing to cross yet another piazza where we hadn’t been before. We loved our time in Venice but were ready to get away from throngs of people and back into nature. Next stop: Slovenia.

Travel Guide: Bamberg

Bamberg is located in a region of Bayern (Bavaria) called Franken (Franconia), and the regional slang and cuisine are Fränkisch rather than Bayrisch. I was pleasantly surprised to find that Fränkisch slang really is slang – the people generally spoke Hoch Deutsch (High German) and I could understand the accent. (This was hardly the case when I visited Munich, for example, where Bayrisch is really the local language. And rest assured, I have equal problems when people speak Thüringisch from here in Thuringia. An ongoing pattern when I learn a new German slang word is to clarify whether the word is Hoch Deutsch or Thüringisch; the distinction is important for my sometime-in-the-future German language test.)

These stark regional differences make travelling even a couple hours away feel much farther, and it’s a lot of fun to hear difference forms of language, taste local beers, and experience local culture. We spent two nights in Bamberg and were delighted by what we found. The population is just a little larger than that of Weimar, but the town sprawls across seven hills. We spent our time in the old town and new old town on the opposite side of the river, going everywhere by foot, and we were pleased to see really excellent bicycle infrastructure everywhere. There were bike lanes and bike parking areas on every road, as well as pay parking in areas that would be free by us. And it definitely seemed like the population got the message! The number of people on bikes was correspondingly greater than I have seen in other German cities.

One element that makes Bamberg really special is its location where the Regnitz and Main rivers meet. There are canals that have been built to link the rivers and bridges to carry pedestrian, bicycle, and car traffic, so you’re never far from the water.

It didn’t take long to assess the wealth of this city, extending back hundreds of years. Each of Bamberg’s seven hills has a church, and Bamberg is host to a cathedral and monastery.

The old Rathaus, or town hall, is the highly decorated signal that one has entered the old town, and we photographed it at various times of day from different angles to play with the light.

We essentially stumbled into the courtyard of the old palace . . .

. . . just after a look at the city from the garden of the new.

As always, we climbed to the highest point, this time at the monastery that towered above everything, and looked down. The red rooftops all over Germany never fail to put me right back into a child’s storybook.

Another aspect of Bamberg that I really liked were the tiny alleyways that twisted into each other, occasionally broken up by the large squares that characterize many European cities. The buildings were ornate and detailed, another sign that this was a city that controlled trade and therefore amassed wealth.

Bamberg is known for its beer and Frankisch beer is distinct in multiple ways. Rauchbier, or smoked beer, is really only found there (it can stay, as far as I’m concerned) and the beer styles are somehow crisper in both colour and taste. Each pub is a brewer of its own beer and some have been operating since the 1400s. We visited the beer museum up at the monastery to learn more, and this is clearly a history that runs deep.

Additionally, a local tradition is the Stehbier, or standing beer. You walk into a brewery/pub/bar/restaurant and order a beer (or wine) to go. You pay the deposit on your glass and walk out into the street. The atmosphere was festive, though the environment was clearly entirely normal for the locals. By us, people bring bottles of beer and wine to the park. In Bamberg, you stand in the streets closed to cars. After all, taking part in the local culture is an essental part of travelling.

After two nights in a medieval town full of breweries, bookshops (I really couldn’t help myself), good food, and cheerful people, we drove about 20 minutes outside of town to climb in the famed Frankenjura. There are many reasons why this is one of the most popular climbing areas in the world, and climbing on the limestone there was a new experience. We’ll be back – after all, there’s climbing and beer.