Knights Templar in Tomar

In cycling to Tomar I had crossed the 40th parallel north. This means I am now  well south of Istanbul and at about the same latitiude as Beijing.

Tomar has a fortified castle built in 1160 by Gualdim Pais, Grand Master of the Order of the Knights Templar. Presumably he had some help of other people as well. The Templars were fighting alongside secular forces against the Moors during the Reconquista.

In 1312 the order was dissolved on demand of Pope Clement V, but, at the request of King Dinis, a new order was reinstated some seven years later. It was called the Order of Christ. Same meat, different gravy. In the 15th century, Henry the Navigator became the Grand Master of the Order of Christ, and it is suggested that he used the Templars knowledge for his naval discoveries.

In the church of Santa Maria Olival, the Grand Masters of the Knights Templar were buried. In a niche in the wall a skull was displayed. I made a photograph of the skull as you can see below:

Skull in church

I do not know who the owner was.

Another interesting building was the synagogue, built somewhere between 1430 and 1460, but it was only in use until 1496 when Jews were told to either leave Portugal or convert to Christianity. The synagogue was turned into a prison. Interestingly, the Jews who had chosen to convert to Christianity, the so called ‘New Christians’, could not by law be imprisoned in the former synagogue…
Later the synagogue was used as a hay-loft.

In the afternoon I visited the  Convent of Christ.
I have taken to photographing gargoyles, who have the benefit of sitting perfectly still:

Gargoyle

Miscellaneous

Travelling for a while on the Iberian peninsula, it is inescapable to wonder about the linguistic variety of the area.

Similarities between Spanish and Portuguese are obvious when reading a text in those languages. Things get different when you hear Portuguese, which to me has a peculiar slavic intonation and I find it hard to understand. Spanish and Portuguese have about 89 % lexical similarity. The rest must be Russian.

Street sign in Portuguese

One of the remarkable differences is the most ubiquitously used expression thank you: obrigado in Portuguese and gracias in Spanish. At first, entering Portugal, one is still saying gracias, but that is to be swiftly replaced by obrigado. It makes people smile.

In my guidebook I read a topic covering the New Cathedral of Coimbra which mentioned The Jesuit college of the Eleven Thousand Virgins. That seemed like a lot of Virgins to me. I did some research and found out that is was connected to an interesting myth of St. Ursula who was martyred in the German city of Cologne. According to legend a twelfth century stone was found with the inscription: S. Ursula et XI M. V. This was enthusiastically interpreted as St. Ursula and her XI Thousand Virgens, mistaking the XIM for Romain numerals. instead of St. Ursula and her eleven martyred Virgins. Eleven thousand Virgins! What were they thinking!

In Coimbra I strolled through the Jardim Botânico which was filled with amateur photographers, taking pictures with lenses of outlandish size. The weather was gray but that didn’t seem to hinder the ardent photographers. I was surprised at the height of Brasilian Palm trees that seemed to flourish in this Southern European climate.

My cursed knee and that damned rain. Looking outside only to see wet cobblestones in the dark and dancing umbrellas. I drink my wine in sober contemplation.

I leave for Tomar. When I wheel my bike outside it rains. I hesitate, I hate to leave in the rain. But I’m all set and packed, so I go. The rain is very light, it’s somewhere between drizzle and fog, but I get wet nevertheless. Just outside Coimbra, I’m in the hills and follow little  roads winding up and down, it’s dificult to find the right way. I despair when at first I make little progress every time I check my  map. Then I get on a main road, the rain stops and the landscape flattens out.

Half past three I arrive in Tomar.

Of Romans and Ruffians

The next photograph was taken from the window of my dormitory in Coimbra. It’s a detail of the Old Cathedral depicting what looks like some poor gargoyle suffocating in weeds. The building itself is a formidable example of Romanesque architecture built in the twelfth century. It looks like an impenetrable fort and that’s because that is exactly what it was: an impenetrable fort, built to keep the Moors out. It was the period just after the Reconquista and the Moors couldn’t be far away.

Detail Old Cathedral

For once, the weather looked promising, so I cycled to the Roman ruins of Conimbriga, some 15 kilometres south of Coimbra. To get there, I followed the IC2, a road that seemed to be solely used by truck drivers having their minds set on scaring the living daylights out of day-tripping cyclists.

The museum was small but pleasant, with some lovely artifacts. Among them a collection of oil lamps which were first imported from Italy, but later from North Africa, where they were then mass produced. An early example of moving production to countries with cheap labour.

In the museum I made a photograph of a bust of the deified Emperor August.

August

In the 5th century the city was besieged by the Suevi who came from the North. They had moved south, I assumed, because of the incessant rain pouring down on their native Galicia. Besides, the Suevi were always in for some killing, raping and pillaging which made a welcome change from plodding behind their oxen in the rain. As is still clearly visible today, the inhabitants of the city built an enormous wall to defend themselves, but to no avail. The city fell in 465 AD.

Mosaic Conimbriga

The photo above shows a mosaic of the Minotaur lurking in the heart of a labyrinth. Interestingly, if one follows the path, it inevitably leads to the Minotaur. In the classical sense, labyrinths were not designed to get lost in… Another example of things learnt while travelling.

Oranges

To keep in the tradition of 19th century travellers, I try to develop an interest in the flora and fauna of the lands I travel through. Hence this photograph. I have also successfully identified olive trees at the excavation site.

Central Portugal

On my last day in Porto I met some friends and we took part in some Port wine tasting. A woman explained about the origins of Port wine and showed us the oak barrels which were used to store the port. The big ones for the Ruby and the small ones for the Tawny which explains why Ruby tastes of fruits (it’s made of fruits) and Tawny  tastes of wood (it’s stored in comparably more wood). I asked about the White Port, but nobody knew where that was stored. We also tasted a few glasses of Port which was nice.

The weather forecast for the day after looked good and so I left for Aveiro. It was a pleasant ride along the coast. and then inland. Aveiro is nicknamed the ‘Venice of Portugal’ because it has a canal. The next day I cycled from Aveiro to Coimbra through more rain. I detest rain. And so I arrived drenched once more at the door of a hostel, After a long hot shower I went to the supermarket and it started to rain again. This time I was out on my sandals, because my shoes were soaked, and without my rainjacket. Getting wet for the second time that day left me miserable beyond description

On the road

On the road

According to the internet the hostel in Coimbra would provde me with a ‘traditional’ breakfast, and so I had braced my self for chicken feet and fish head soup. But apparently the people of Coimbra traditionally eat cornflakes and breadrolls with ham and cheese, so that was alright.

The hostel is bang in the middle of the old town ,on the top of a hill. You notice this when you are cycling. Getting around involved a lot of stairs, some of which have nice names like Escadas do Quebra-Costas, meaning Broken Ribs Steps.

I decided to see more of this city.

Porto II

Some things I’ve learnt:

Vinho Verde is not, as the name suggests, about the colour of the wine. In fact it comes in different variations, red and white. It is young wine as opposed to Vinho Maduro, it is fresh and sparkling with a lower alcohol percentage.

There are more than two hemispheres. There’s a Northern and a Southern hemisphere, but also an Eastern and a Western hemispere. In fact, one can divide our planet in any two hemispheres depending on which prime meridian one chooses.

By taking Greenwhich as the prime meridian (as is most commonly done these days), I have cycled already in two hemisperes!

I’ve also learned how to write my name in Korean.

Looking smug in Porto

My days in Porto are not very demanding: I wake up, take a shower, get down for a lazy breakfast, watching CNN, BBC or SkyNews, and drinking lots of coffee. Some days I stroll around town for a prato do dia or a beer.

I visit the Wine Museum which is just fine for killing time on a Saturday afternoon when it’s free.

I have prolonged my stay in Porto, because my right knee still feels a bit wobbly and the weather hasn’t much improved since I arrived. Besides, living here in Portugal is very affordable.

In the hostel I practise both my Spanish and my French with other guests. Sometimes with a few words Portuguese thrown in. Actually, I throw in a lot of words that I doubt exist in any language…

Dolce far niente.

And reading. Haven’t done much reading on this trip so far. Bicycle touring leaves surprising little time for leisure.

When going steeply uphill in low gear my bike made a creaking noise so I visit a bike-shop and we have a look at the bike. I decide to get a new chain (a cheap Shimano), though the old one is still good enough. For peace of mind I keep the old one as a spare. Overall, the bike looks good and after loosening the hind wheel and cleaning it, the creaking sound is almost gone. I just love this bike: it’s unbelievable how little mantenance it needs!

Porto

I was invited to lunch with the staff of the hostel, but lunch didn’t start until 3 in the afternoon, so I had time to look up some interesting facts about Portugal.

In Portuguese the common interjection oxalá is used, derived from the Arabic Inshallah. It means ‘let’s hope’.  As in ‘let’s hope lunch will be ready soon’.

About half of the world’s cork is produced in Portugal.
Not sure if this counts as an interesting fact. It sounds quite dull to me.

In Portugal, it’s against the law to pee in the ocean.
This is definitely interesting. I took a picture of the ocean to show how futile this law is.

I photoshopped it. There was a bird in it I didn’t like.
It had to go.

Lighthouse at Porto

It’s the Farol, Foz de Douro, or the lighthouse at the mouth of the Douro. This is the river that is used to transport the famous Port wine around the world. It was a nice bicycle ride from the hostel. A little further upriver, the famous Dom Luis bridge spans the Douro. It was designed by Gustave Eiffel and it has two decks.

 

To Porto

I read the weather forecast for Porto: In the morning showers, then rain.

Unfortunately the forecast proves to be correct: the day I cycle to Porto the weather is miserable. First I ride on the main road, but after that I decide to follow the blue arrows which lead me over cobble stones. Portugal is full of cobble stones. They must have a gigantic cobble stone mine somewhere.

The rain never stops. It ranges from a continuous drizzle to downright  torrential rain. Closer to the sea, the wind picks up and the rain finally eases. I stop at the side of the road to wring out my socks, but it doesn’t take long before it starts raining again. Nothing special, just a steady downpour and water is sloshing in my shoes once more.

Porto is a big city and I cycle through quite some more rain until I arrive at the hostel.

When I wake up the next morning I get to the bathroom and make some wild moves in the dark before I realise there’s no motion sensor and I start looking for the light switch.

Hostel life

Balconies in Porto

Downtown Porto

This photo sums it up: churches, cobble stones and washing.

Going south again

When I left Santiago, the sun was shining and it felt good to be going south again. Around noon I parked my bicycle next to a little stone wall where I ate my lunch. A woman, who had been working in her garden, startled me. She suddenly began talking to me in an agitated way, but I could not understand her. At first I thought she was angry, but later I still had no clue what she was going on about. She told me something that apparently happened 27 years ago, because she repeated that several times. I could not find out what it was. In the end she smiled as if she had made her point and we said goodbye with me non the wiser. I packed the leftovers of my lunch and got cycling again.

I have no photo of the woman. I didn’t want to antagonise her.

In Pontevedra I found an albergue and upon showing my credencial I was accepted. Going south on the Camino Portugués one can follow the blue arrows, rather than the yellow arrows, which are reserved for Santiago the Compostela. For staying in the albergues it seems not to be a problem if one’s going the other way and only later did I understand that by going south along the Camino Portugués, one is actually following the pilgrim’s route to Fatima in Portugal. So now I am a pilgrim to Fatima.

Pilgrims travel to Fatima because this is the place where the Virgin Mary revealed herself to three children, herding sheep in 1917, rather than to the worldleaders, commanding their armies. She urged them to pray for the end of the First World War (only it wasn’t the First World War, because the Second World War hadn’t begun yet, of course). The Second World War, by the way, was also prophesied by the Virgin, so what all the praying was for, is unclear. All this I had been reading in a booklet I found at one of the albergues and which was a great help to prepare me for this new pilgrimage.

When I came back from a short walk into the town to buy some groceries, I found the kitchen full of middle aged women. They were roasting sausages and chestnuts (Sp. castañas) for the party of San Martino or some other saint. While I was cooking my macaroni, I was offered some of both. The sausage was very greasy, but the chestnuts tasted great. Later, after I had dined, me and the only other pilgrim, an elderly Italian, were given some more chestnuts and some of the regional wine.

The albergue had floor heating which meant that some of my groceries were almost smouldering by the time I found out.

The next day it was raining. The Goretex socks that I use inside my non-waterproof shoes are not very successful. They keep my feet dry for some time, but then they get soaked nevertheless. Not sure if they are worth keeping….

Before Tui, the N-550 and the A-55 merge and I am not allowed to cycle on the autovia, so I retreat to the camino, the pilgrims path. Going south, it’s not always easy to find the route backwards, following the yellow arrows in the opposite direction. Alternatively, there are the blue arrows  to Fatima, but they are far less frequent. At some point I have gone around in a circle and it takes questioning some natives to get back on the right track. Because of the rain, I ride through ankle-deep water, trying hard to evade rocks and big stones. I cross a very picturesque Roman bridge, it’s small and constructed of large stone slabs, with a clear trail worn out through centuries of use.

At Tui I get back on the tarmac and I cross the border into Portugal. The weather improves and I cycle uphill where I stop at the albergue of Rubiães. I also find out that I’ve cycled into a different time-zone and so I have an extra hour to drink a glass of wine. Hurrah!

The Compostela

Upon arrival at the Cathedral I received my Compostela, the certificate that testifies that I’ve completed my pilgrimage.

Because it’s written in Latin, I fed the text to Google Translate to see what it meant:

….. of the church of Compostella, the keeper of the seal of the altar of St. James the apostle (…) at the shrine of St James, the apostles of our nostrils, (….) Lord Peter van der Veen (…) completing the journey on foot or horseback, or after the last one hundred meters, two hundred years after his bicycle (…). In faith whereof, this present letter, sealed with the seal of the same Holy Church of the fenced cities (….)

Either the whiz kids at Google had goofed up the Latin translation engine or the deans at the cathedral had a laugh with the pilgrims…

The photo above was taken during a so called botafumeiro (fumigation with incense), which was originally performed to remove the stench of throngs of pilgrims that hadn’t seen water or soap for  months. These days, with the albergues all equiped with running water and washing machines, it’s only to be witnessed on rare occasions. Eight men pulled the ropes and swung the giant incense burner (80 kg) through the cathedral until it nearly hit the ceiling.

After that the cathedral smelled better than before.

Reaching Santiago

After Astorga it got a bit hilly and I made a lot of use of my first gear. While making the photograph shown below, I accidentally dropped my camera and it bounced several meters down the steep slope. After that the camera said it had found an error with the zoom function. I kicked the zoom lens and than the camera said it was okay.
I am sorry if this is all a bit technical.

Hills on the Camino

A short while later I reached the highest point of the camino, at around 1500 meters. For some reason the engineers had decided to build the road over a steep summit instead of leading it in a more gentle slope around it. While I was gasping for air, I cursed the engineers, their children and all other possible relations they might have. Going down was an enervating thrill though, as I careened past the pilgrims, taking full advantage of my wheels by releasing all the gravitational energy  of my uphill struggle upon them.

Some old buildings

In Ponferrada nobody had found it necessary to put up any signs, reasoning there were enough people around to give directions. I asked a woman. It’s very difficult, she said. At the next roundabout you have to go left and straight on from there. I wondered what was so difficult about that.

The following day I had to tackle the O’Cebreiro pass, which was lower than the high pass of the day before, but very steep. It was gruelling hard work going uphill. At times I had to push my bike, sweat dripping from my face. In Sarria I stopped for the night. I was now in Galicia and the camino has become the ‘Ruta de Xacobea’.

The following morning I met two South Koreans whom I had briefly spoken before in Burgos. One had a normal bicycle, but the other rode a single-speed bicycle with only brakes on the front wheel. It must have been a knee crushing experience, even if his friend carried all their luggage.  We cycled together to Arzúa through the pounding rain.

When it as not raining we took pictures, me, Charlie and J.

The last 40 kilometers to Santiago were exhausting with uphill slogs through the never ending rain, and downhill races with my brakes slipping. After finding an albergue, I took a short rest and then I walked into the city where I found the cathedral. Unfortunately, it was being renovated, meaning there was no use of making any photos. I conveniently had forgotten to bring my camera..

The next day I walked into the city and bought an empanada de pulpo (octopus pie). It tasted like a vegetarian spring-roll with some chopped up rubber duck in it. I liked it.