I'm another world away but I always feel at home

 As you are driving along the highways and byways of Portugal, you see trees with numbers painted on them. Some of the numbers are more vibrant, some are more faded. Trees with more faded numbers have nearly black bark. Trees with much lighter bark have much more vibrant are more of a reddish pink to grey colour. Some trees have no numbers at all. It is a curious thing but our guide chooses not to explain it, telling us we will all understand in a few days. Frustrating, but okay.

On my actual birthday, we are on a cork farm just outside of Évora. This has been referred to as a "cork farm" in all the literature and each time it is referenced by our guide. I don't know anything about cork other than its use in wine bottles, shoe, and trivets. Maybe it floats? I think it floats but it is not tenable to build a boat out of it. But we are going to a cork farm to find out how cork is grown and made and manufactured.

First thing we learn is that cork comes from trees. It is tree bark. Specifically it comes from cork oaks that are very finicky and don't grow just because you plant them. In fact, if you plant a line of cork trees in order to make a cork farm in some kind of orderly fashion, the trees will die off before they can be harvested just to spite you. You have to just let the trees propagate where they propagate and hope you get a good harvest eventually.

Second thing we learn is that it takes 25 years for a cork tree to grow enough bark to harvest. The first harvest is almost always the lowest grade of cork possible and goes into the making of thin cork products like wallets and purses and other trinkets. It is pressed together with the bark from other sub-par cork trees and maybe can be used for cheap cork things. This usually lasts two harvests. There are typically between 9 and 12 years between harvests.

The trees are then painted with the last digit of the year they were harvested. Older trees have darker bark. 

Trees harvested more recently have newer bark. Fresh harvested trees area reddish pink.

We were introduced to Big Mama, a 100+ year old tree that was the reason the founders decided to farm cork.

All of the bark is never stripped away. Doing so would harm the tree and as these are spiteful trees, no one wants to harm them.

                                                                          More cork trees.

As cork is a once a decade harvest, most cork farms are also vineyards. The owner of this vineyard is about my age. They also went to my high school at the same time I did. As soon as we met him I knew who he was. Do you think I can remember his name or did anything like take a picture of him? No. I did not. But it was neat to see someone I went to high school with in Portugal.

We went for a bit of a four by four tour of the vineyard and cork farm. We learned that Iberian ham is reared on cork acorns; the Spanish farmers will send in wee pigs at the beginning of the season, the pigs will eat tons and tons (literally) of acorns, and the cork farmers will be paid based on how much weight the pigs gained. This is very lucrative. The pigs were gone by the time we got there.

This particular farm had a cork and wine interpretive centre (for lack of a better word). It is very clear when walking through the main building that it is an active, working winery. This is on a catwalk to a loft. Despite my connection with the owner of the farm and the fact it was my birthday, I wasn't allowed into the room armed with a barrel drill and a straw.

The rest of the day was spent walking around Évora.

 

 

Next: I think the word "most" is doing a lot of heavy lifting.

Through my trials and tribulations, and my travels through the nations

Évora is a city that has been constantly occupied since the 6th century BCE. As a result, it has seen many occupiers who have left their mark. As it is in most cases, the mark that lasted was the Romans.

Not a folly. This what remains of the Roman Temple of Évora. It is falsely called the Temple of Diana after the goddess of the moon, chastity, and the hunt. It was originally built to honour and worship Agustus in the first century BCE. It has since been destroyed and rebuilt countless times and it is unlikely that any part of the original is in this structure. It has been used by Greeks to honour Zeus, as a centre for politics, and now stands in the middle of the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Évora.

Of course, there are many cathedrals within the city. At some point they all begin to bled together so I will focus on Cathedral Évora because the stories are more interesting. 

Most cathedrals are Roman Catholic and this one is no exception. The main way to tell is that everything in it is elaborate and covered in gold - Protestants were much uncomplicated. Less concerned with spending money to prove their faith. The upside is that Catholic churches are usually more beautiful to look at in terms of art and statuary and so forth. 

A lot of Catholic art is the same. There isn't a lot of variation because deviation from the norm is heresy and there aren't enough hail Marys in the world to come back from that. Most heretic art is destroyed or hidden away. We never learn of it because victors write history. This church is not a place for victors.

 As with any Catholic church, there is a depiction of the Virgin Mary. What makes Évora's Mary stand out is....well....

She's pregnant! There are incredibly few pregnant Madonnas in the world and I count myself lucky to have seen one. There was also another pregnant Madonna whose stomach opens to show a triptych of her life, but it was in a museum you had to pay to enter and Matthew 21:12-13 shows us that Jesus isn't so kind to people who change money inside a church. So I'm not about to take my chances.

What follows is one of my favourite travel stories. It might anger some people so if you're religious and easily offended maybe skip it. Or read it and have your delicate sensibilities challenged. Your call.

Some time between the 15th and 18th centuries, an artist was commissioned to paint a fresco for the church. Their name and the date are lost to time because people are uptight. The fresco they painted depicted Jesus baptizing Mary Magdalene. A woman. Pearls were clutched and gasps abounded and people probably died from shock. The elders of the church - who commissioned the painting in the first place - saw that the congregation lost their ever loving minds, decided that this must be destroyed immediately and the artist must give them back their money. The artist instead offered to "fix" the work to be a much more traditional John the Baptist baptizing Jesus. The church agreed and the artist came up with this:

Trans Jesus. The artist covered up Mary Magdalene's womanly bits with a cloth over her womanly hips and thighs, kept her crossed arms over her womanly boobs, and added a beard. Thus creating Trans Jesus. Slight alterations were made to Jesus to turn him in to John the Baptist as well. I guess Trans Jesus was okay bu the church because Trans Jesus is till around today. 

There are many other beautiful parts of this church including cloisters. These are typical of most cathedrals that have cloisters and are not all that worthy of being in a subversive art post. Quite frankly, the star of this show is Trans Jesus.

I'll close out on something I found interesting. I've been in countless churches of various religions around the world. Most religions have an aspect to them where you can light a candle for some reason. These are typically physical candles with wicks and wax and flames. The effect is very beautiful, very spiritual and peaceful. it's also kind of expensive and wasteful; people typically pay about 50 cents to $1 per candle and that doesn't cover the cost of the candles. When the candles are burnt out, they're not reused in any way (that I know of). Plus the soot from the smoke when extinguished isn't much from just one candle, but over time with thousands of candles it builds up. Also fire is a real thing that is really bad.

Instead, Cathedral Évora offers LED candles. For €1, you can buy a candle under many of the statues and in the shrines or at the nave. I don't know how long they're illuminated for. I thought this was pretty innovative and noteworthy. I don't know if it is commonplace but I haven't seen it before or since.

Next: actual birthday.

Wind Up on the Very Same Pile

 Nos ossos qve aqvi estamos pelos vossos esparamos

We move on to Évora. Évora is an ancient, walled city that in many ways reminds me of Calgary. 

See, for many years - decades - Calgary tried to build a ring road. Construction and funding and being a resource-based economy all being what they are, the ring roads would be built, then massive neighbourhoods would spring up on the other side, causing the need for another ring road to be built around the new area a few years later. Calgary was eventually successful in building a ring road around the city, though time will tell how long it lasts.

Évora is similar in that the city was initially founded as a Roman settlement, so the Romans built a wall. The wall is high and slanted, which gave the hot oil the poured down it to fight off invaders a better chance.

Most of the city is encased in either the Roman wall or the "new wall" which was built in medieval times after the city grew around the perimeter of the Roman wall. The more modern version of the walls came much, much more recently in the form of highways.

Inside the walls lies a robust city with tiled streets. It is all on a hill so you really get a work out in! 

 

Something that is important to know about me is that I cannot count. I'm very bad at it and I am okay with this fact about me. This is worth mentioning because I thought Évora would be on my birthday and I could accomplish a travel goal: visit an ossuary. 

An ossuary is a temple made of bones. They can be built for many different reasons from the pragmatic to the religious to the morbid. Évora's ossuary falls into the pragmatic category. How could it be pragmatic, you ask? Well, there was a plague and a lot of people died, and they were running out of space so they relocated the bones of the dead to this chapel, thus creating an ossuary.

And I thought, what a profound way to spend my birthday: reflecting on life and the remnants thereof.

Except we were in Évora the day before my birthday. 

Still profound.

                                                        We bones that are here, for yours we wait

The monks who created the ossuary did so to create a final resting place of respect and dignity for the over 5,000 people here. Otherwise their remains would have been dug up and discarded or buried over. 

The space isn't large at all and as soon as you are in it, you are struck silent. First as your brain reconciles what it is seeing, then by the awe of the room. It isn't a place you want to go touching things or going off the marked path. You also don't spend a long time in this room because it's all a bit much.

Next: subversive art and 2023 collide in one church.

And now, Bad Joke Friday

 Bad Joke Friday started a few years ago as a thing a friend and I did within our group at work. The concept isn't that hard to grasp - tell a bad joke on Friday. Not exactly a difficult concept to grasp. People would still be upset when the jokes were bad, but it's in the name. They were warned.

We've both moved on from that job but Bad Joke Friday continues. Each Friday I work, I share a bad joke with my group. Rarely have I ever had the chance for a Bad Joke Friday in real life - that's not to say I don't tell bad jokes on Fridays, but the opportunity to live in the moment with one rarely presents itself.

On Friday, we are in Sintra at the National Palace. As we discussed previously, it is all very into romanticism. This includes many gargoyles.

 This particular gargoyle is on the way out of the palace. 

"Why is there an alligator on the arch?" Someone in my group asked.

"Because it will see you later," I replied.

Bad Joke Friday. It does what it says on the tin.

I could show you secrets behind every closed door

 Sintra is a short drive from Lisbon. Sintra also introduces a theme that will run throughout the trip: romanticism. 

Romanticism was a movement in Europe that emphasized an idealistic version of the past, the individual, and nature. It used emotions to create nature - in that there were places specifically designed for you to be awed, to be terrified, to be spontaneous. Think along the lines of stumbling upon a mysterious bridge in the middle of the forest.

Couldn't you just imagine spotting a troll under this bridge? Or a mysterious knight walking across? Or a forlorn woman wandering and lost, needing your help? What Big Emotions on this Ancient Bridge! How authentic and natural!

Except it is not. This is called a folly. This is a bridge with no actual, practical purpose other than it looks good. There's no creek or river or gap it crosses. It's just a bridge on a path. 

A sun dappled bend in the path where you can hear nothing and everything? The silence of the absence of people for miles around but the cacophony of the forest teeming with life? The groan of the trees bending and swaying in the wind, the leaves rustling from the breeze, the birdsong echoing through the ills and into infinity? Nope. A folly. 

Our guide welcomes us to romanticism as a kind way of saying "walking through the forest and up hill at the same time." She says, "we are going to experience a bit of romanticism," before we climb up again. It's all good fun and experience a bit of romanticism becomes a running joke for the rest of the tour.

 

A palm tree?! In Portugal?! Yes! Also a folly. James is not a folly.

Sintra was initially created as a royal getaway. It hosted generations of the Portuguese Royal Family - right up to and including when it became a Republic. The Royal Family stayed here until the last of them died out. One of the many royals it hosted was King Consort Ferdinand, of the House of Saxe-Cobourg-Gotha. This was a European royal dynasty from 1826 to present to 1917. If you're asking yourself why Saxe-Cobourg-Gotha sounds familiar, I will take this moment to remind you that we pronounce it "Windsor" in English.

Ahem. As I was saying, Sintra. 

The Pena National Palace was the summer residence for countless Portuguese royals and their families over centuries. It is has many architectural styles, based on who the biggest trading partners/builders/most influential people were at the time. Primarily, the influences are neo-Gothic (romanticism again), neo-Manualine (romantic, no?), neo-Renessance (do I have to say it?), and neo-Islamic (or Moorish). 

There are so many styles because each generation that lived here had a different opinion on what it should look like.

The palace was built on a monestary and few original parts remain. The influence of the monastery remain strong, with many chapels and prayer rooms, each with beautiful stained glass.

Virgin Mary, St. Michael, King Ferdinant II holding Pena Palace in his hand, Prince Henry the Navigator

Pena Palace (and the Romanticism Theme Park surrounding it) was also very advanced for its time. The engineers were very smart and figured out pretty quickly that the people living there would need water. Fortunately, this place isn't all that far from the Atlantic Ocean! But you can't drink ocean water. So they figured out a way to collect rain water and other run off.

Fortunately for you, you can sit by the fountains and basins and sigh wistfully as you long and hope for the love you may have lost or are yet to find. This isn't a folly because it has an actual functional purpose. 

 

The tiles on this fountain were done in the Moorish style. That is to say, they were made of individual pieces of coloured tile, as opposed to one tile painted many colours. 

Next: I'm surrounded by these walls.

The countless eyes dotted in the night sky

 One of the driving factors of me visiting Portugal was the fact I'd been to a couple of places deeply influenced by it. Another driving factor is that I wanted to do a National Geographic tour with G Adventures and this was the one running during my birthday.

After a trying couple of days travelling and not a bad sleep, I was off to Lisbon at ass o clock in the morning. I knew that UK passports would have a lot more difficulty getting in to EU than a Canadian passport, so I entered on my Canadian passport. Pretty cool how that works.

I got into a Portuguese Uber and arrived at my hotel. The lobby of the hotel was very modern and spiffy. My room wasn't going to be available for a few hours but Lisbon is very walkable. The wonderful front desk person gave me a map and pointed out some really cool things and off I went. Portugal has a lot of really great food to offer but the first thing I wanted to do was have a McPlant. McDonalds here does not have McPlant so I made it a goal while in Europe to have one. They're really good! We should get them!

Walking around downtown Lisbon is a treat. It's a city on a hill. All of the sidewalks are made of limestone tiles. This isn't something limited to the tourist districts either - it is all over the country.

Sometimes the squares have building of historical importance (but no signage). In this case, the front of the building was mirrored in the tiles.

The tiles can also be entirely plain, but most times they will have a design in them.

                                                        If there's a compass, there's a tattoo.

Most of the buildings in the city are covered in beautiful tiles. The tiles are primarily blue and white, with occasional other colours.

Motifs on the tiles are generally floral or botanical and there will be more on them later. 

When I get back to the hotel, I notice I'm in a single room. This strikes me as a bit odd but not unusual; there are many reasons why I could be in a single room. It could be that's just how it worked out with the room block, or I'm the only single female on the trip, or maybe I got an upgrade because I was nice to the front desk. At any rate, it's the fanciest hotel room I've ever been in. It's all glass and mirrors and marble. All the lights are controlled both at the door and beside the bed. The window opens! It's a juliet sized balcony window and it's wonderful. The blackout shade and the curtain operate by push button! The blackout shade is also the tits. Probably the best blackout shade I've ever seen, given that it went from the ceiling to the floor.

Next: Sintra? I hardly knew ha!

You took the words right out of my mouth

This one is word heavy. More pictures in future entries.

Travel can be stressful. There are many things you can do to mitigate this. One of those things is planning in advance, and having a back up plan or three. Be adaptable. Breathe. Go with your gut. 

My plan was to fly to London, spend a day in London, then fly to Lisbon. If this didn't work, I would buy a drastically reduced, confirmed seat. If that didn't work, I would fly out to London the next day and have a stressful day in Heathrow getting to Lisbon.

Working for an airline, we have travel privileges. I won't get into the details of them but it's nice that we can get on a standby flight for a very, very low cost. The key word here is standby - as in, you may not get on the flight you want. As the day I was travelling approached, the likelihood of me boarding the first flight I wanted at a low low price was slipping away. I bought a ticket at a drastically reduced price and guaranteed myself a seat on the plane. This gave me a bit of sleep when I needed it and far less stress than the other plans. I did learn that the daytime people (like me) are way nicer than night time people at my work place. I can see why people don't like my airline.

When you're flying on travel privileges, there are certain expectations. There is a dress code (they can and have denied boarding for not meeting the standard) and behaviour rules. Don't dress like a slob and don't be an asshole. The biggest rule of travel privileges is Don't Talk About Travel Privileges. If you break any of these rules, you run the very real risk of losing your privileges or your job. When I fly on privileges, I have a nice shirt I always wear and if it's not summer I will wear Grown Up Jeans. This time I even threw in a blazer because I didn't think a multi-purpose scarf would pass muster and I get cold on planes.

There were people flying standby who were not going to get on the plane. They were well aware before arriving at the airport that this was a full flight (some jerk bought a ticket at the last minute, eliminating the possibility of anyone getting on standby). They were told again at the airport that it was a full flight. Most of the people waiting to fly accepted this. But there's always one. There was a couple who was so low on the priority list that even if there were seats available, they wouldn't have got on who chose this moment to blow the ever loving hell up. They have an infant. The infant needs to meet their great-grandmother before the great-grandmother dies. The airline should pull someone off the flight so they can get on with their infant. This went on for about five minutes before they looked to the other standby folks in the gate area for back up. These folks all ignored them. None of them were going to go out on a limb for these jerks. Me? I've got my phone filming them. Yes, I'm a narc and sent it in to the people in charge. If I'm going to wear less than comfortable jeans and look like a grown up and follow all the rules, you should too. You absolutely had he chance to buy a deeply discounted ticket like some blazer wearing jerk did at the last minute and you chose not to. Don't make that my problem or the problem of anyone else around you. This is a You Problem and you are breaking the rules. Enjoy not flying for cheap for the next year, I'm getting on this plane.

After arriving in London I faced another choice. I have a UK Passport by Double Descent. It's neat and really only useful for visiting the UK or visiting two countries that would raise flags to Canada Border Services Agency if you went in a short time span. In London, I saw the line for Canada/EU/other countries passports and it was damn long. The UK passport line? Almost empty. So I entered the UK on my UK passport. The plan from here was to take the hotel bus to my hotel, drop my stuff off, then take the express train to London and spend a day walking around. This did not happen. The hotel bus took about 45 minutes to find, another two hours to arrive, and half an hour to get to my hotel. The bus company was unbothered by the loads of people waiting for the bus - it was the driver's first day and he was lost. So....send another bus? Nope, not a possibility, you'll just have to wait. By the time I got to the hotel I was exhausted and just went to sleep.

Probably for the best as I had an early start to Lisbon. The airport bus to go back was on time thankfully (but I had a plan if it wasn't). I got to Heathrow and remembered why I love airports. They teem with life, with energy, with possibility. And in London at least, there's Pret A Manger. Pret isn't specific to London airports but this is where I find myself visiting them more often than not. Pret is a coffee shop/bakery/deli and it's really wonderful. Reasonably priced (even in an airport) and a great selection of food. 

I had a delicious airport breakfast of porridge and an oat milk latte. Both were very beige and felt appropriately British.

Next: Obrigada, obrigado, brah!