Iberia and Beyond 2--Alcobaca, Bathala, Nazare, Tomar and Evora

Faro, Portugal
October 8, 2014
Latitude 37.0333° N

Once out of Lisbon, life quieted down.  And so did the number of tourists.

I'd settled into the small medieval town of Alcobaça and into a hostel where I'd be the only guest for the three nights I was there.  All of which was fine by me.  As much as I'd enjoyed the company of Ana and her family, solitude was just fine, too.

For three days I ambled around the Estremadura countryside in quest of two 13th century High Gothic churches/monasteries, well-preserved Medieval towns and wide Atlantic beaches.

I would not be disappointed.

Once settled in, I explored Alcobaça's magnificent 12the Century Monastery of Saint Mary of Ãlcobaça--a massive edifice that dominated the town.

Inside, the nave was more than 300 feet long but only 70 feet wide.  Somewhere, I'd read that it had been modeled after an abbey in France.

But, at least for me, the best part of the church were the two intricately carved 14th Century tombs--the church's greatest possessions.

Despite extensive damage by Napoleon's troops in 1811, the tombs still showed the finely detailed story of Christ's passion--all carved out of marble.

That evening I strolled the lantern-lit tangle of the city's windy and ancient back streets.  It was the last day in September, but still felt like a comfortable summer's night.

The next day I used the region's extensive network of of bus lines to bring me to Bathala--a town that still conjures up fierce national pride among the Portuguese people because of the a critical battle for autonomy which occurred there years ago.

My goal was the Monastery of Santa Maria of Victory--an extraordinary abbey built to commemorate the 1385 Battle of Aljubarrota--a battle that shared striking similarities to our own Battle of Plattsburgh.

The battle was a decisive victory over the Spanish.  Like the Americans 530 years later, the Portuguese were heavily outnumbered and yet, through a stroke of military good luck, the local army won, thus establishing, for the first time, Portuguese independence.

Construction of the church began three years later and was completed by 1434.

It was all High Gothic and embellished with gargoyles in the shape of fantastical beasties.  A fabulously designed 15th Century stained-glass window cast the interior in a magical light on this hot and sunny first day of October.

What a phenomenal achievement of architecture.  Solid rock had been carved into forms as delicate as snowflakes and pliable as twisted rope.

I stopped in my tracks when I first approached the abbey.  Hot sunlight flooded the ochre-limestone blocks.  The church bristled with flying buttresses, Late Gothic stained glass windows, octagonal chapels and doorways layered with angels, saints, apostles and prophets.  It took my breath away, much like the Taj Majal did the first time I saw it many years ago.

Inside, warm light poured into the church from deep-hued stained glass windows.  A later addition also include an octagonal chapel--lofty and star-vaulted--housing the tombs of Portugal's first king, his sons and Prince Henry the Navigator.

Inside, the Royal Cloisters were breathtaking--tangles of  detailed stone carvings, entwined with vegetation, exotic flowers, ropes, pearls and shells--again all carved out of stone.

The abbey was truly a monument to faith and national pride and a testament to man's great creative genius.

Bathala was a lovely town, made more so the dearth of tourists and the magnificence of what I'd seen. It was an easy to town to linger in for a bit, especially on this hot, cloudless blue day.

In the middle of the week I needed a break.  From Alcobaça I cruised the back roads of the area on my way to Nazare, one of Portugal's prime beach towns.

On my way there, we tooled through rolling hillside villages that offered fine views of well kept homes with picturesque tiled roofs and gardens of bright flowers.

Once in Nazare, I spent a wasteful, yet very necessary, day doing as little as possible in this pretty cliff-backed town along a lovely white beach  One thing I did not do was plunge into the chilly Atlantic.  This part of Portugal is much like coastal California in the summer--hot air temperatures, but frigid waters for swimming.

By Day 4 I packed up and travelled east to the Medieval time-capsule town of Tomar with its rambling 12th Century Convent of Christ safely tucked behind the crenelated walls of the Crusader fortress.

It was my good fortune, once again, to stay with another Ana, this time in her 17th Century home just below the crenelated walls of the fortress above.  With its thick walls, huge bedroom and spacious garden with orange, lime and persimmon trees, I felt right at home.

That afternoon I  headed up the hill to the convent where the Knights Templar held court from the 12th to the 16th Century.  Room after room was a surprise----other-worldly chapels, sinuous and spiralling staircases and splendid cloisters.

Clearly the most famous feature of of the monastery/convent was the chapel's western window--a celebration of Portugal's role in the Age of Discovery.  Snaking ropes, seaweed and cork boat s atop of which floated the Cross of the Order of Christ, all of this carved in detail out of local marble.

I spent another day in  the region doing very non-Medieval things: a tour to Fatima including the  homes of the children and apparition sites.  Two hours were spent  circling a quarry where 170,000,000 million year old  dinosaur tracks had been found a number of year ago.  The trip was made especially nice because of a young couple from BC and their two children who'd come up from Lisbon for the day.

But Tomar had come to an end.  This was the only place that  I'd been to in Portugal where  I'd like to have put down roots-  Perhaps it was Ana's hospitality or her great digs, but Tomar reached out and took hold  of me.

But leave I did and my journey to Evora brought me through Lisbon once again.

I loved lounging on the train, watching the Portuguese countryside roll by.  We passed tall stands of of dusty-Green eucalyptus and grove after grove of olives. Tiny, old villages with homes landscaped with hydrangea and orange trees and white pines buzzed by.

My first image of the this delightful Medieval town  began almost an hour before I'd arrived.  It was late afternoon and a warmth glowed off the fabulously quiet landscape of cork trees that stretched on for miles.  I was crossing the sun drenched and golden plains of the Alentejo--Portugal's almost southernmost province.

At sunset I arrived in Evora and watched the sun, yellow and warm, crawl behind 700 year old buildings.  It was a fine way to wait for a cab that would bring me to the hotel

The next day, Sunday and my only full day in the city, I wandered the cobbled streets--too clean and tidy, I thought. It almost had a Disney feel about the place.  I was reminded of a visit to Quebec City several years when the same thing happened.  The city had cleaned itself up so well that it almost looked artificial.

The day would be sufficient to take in the sites--the cathedral and the finest still-standing Roman ruin in all of Iberia--a 2nd Century temple to Diana.

But I'd seen heaps of old buildings in the previous weeks and what I really had my heart set on was a visit  to 7,000 year old megaliths that dotted the countryside around Evora.  Indeed, these were some of  the oldest remains of civilization in the world.  The Evora Complex are some of the oldest and largest stone circles in all of Europe--older even than Stonehenge--and one of the oldest records of mankind.

I hired a taxi and shrugged off the expense.  How often do you get a chance to see something like this? Our first site was The Cromlech of the Almendres.  More than 90 large rounded stones were placed in a deliberate pattern that probably built for ceremonial purpose or as a primitive astronomical observatory.

Not important.  What was important was how delightful it was to wander around this rather ethereal place. I just wish I'd had my own car which would have allowed me to linger longer in these astounding sites.

By now my time in Portugal was coming to an end.  I'd spent ten days living in the Middle Ages and in magical places--Bathala, Alcobaça, Tomar and Evora with their extraordinary monasteries with a whole booty of  13th and 14th Century treasures.  I'd drifted in and out of hidden courtyards and curvy, shadow-filled lanes.  Buses transported me up and over rolling hillsides and through quaint villages sprinkled with  with white-washed houses and Stone-walled taverns.

And while I missed, a lot of other marvelous places, I still left Portugal with a pleasant taste in my mouth.  There was still a great left more to see and that is always a sign that a country's visit was a good one.