Earthquake Museum

 And how did I never post anything about the Earthquake Museum? I've talked about the famous Lisbon earthquake of 1755 many times in various classes over the years, most recently in my Nature of Evil class in the fall. It inspired a poem from Voltaire., and, for that matter, Candide and his crew witness the earthquake in the novel Candide. Some philosophers propose that it was to philosophers of the 18th century what the Holocaust was to philosophers of the 20th century. That is, they are not claiming that the two events are close in regards to loss of life, obviously, but rather that they provided an existential threat to a worldview. That is, they were both events that thinkers had to address, in that you simply couldn't ignore them. The 18th century was dominated by the Enlightenment and the emphasis on reason, and the random nature of the earthquake, killing tens of thousands who were all in Church on All Saints Day, certainly spoke to the absence of God in daily life. I had wanted to visit it for a while, but in this particular case I was hoping, unrealistically, of leading one last student trip before my legs gave out entirely. Sadly, I had a heart scare (which turned out to be overrated), and I had to cancel the trip before it ever got off the ground. When you visit Lisbon a trip to the Earthquake Museum is definitely worth your time.

The museum does a pretty good job building the anticipation. Plus, well, it's a popular tourist stop, and they move you along pretty quickly.

It's pretty high tech jazzy, although this reminded me of the movie Tron.

There's a fair bit of scientific learning and quizzes. 

You get a sense of what Lisbon looked like pre-quake. The woman in the background is part of a sophisticated video of people walking in and out of the scene.

The high point of the experience is sitting in pews in a church as the earthquake hits, the jarring ride begins, which is synced up with the video.

And a Different Afternoon in Portugal

 This was just popped up on my phone as a memory the other day, and I captured it. It's from the Spain/Portugal student trip that I led with my great friend Mike and Kelly. We were just walking up the hill in Sintra, and we seemed awfully happy. Maybe it just jumped out at me because I was doing something as radical as walking without pain. Also, the weather looks awfully nice for late November.

Sadly, Janet and I couldn't retrace these steps on our trip to Sintra because of all the wildfires in the area.

Afternoons in Coimbra

 Maybe this is just because it's another Vermont day where the temperature isn't interested in climbing out of the 20s, but I was just sitting here thinking about Portugal. This is the first year in several that I won't be making a trip to my beloved Portugal. I was tempted to make one last dive into my PD funds and present a paper in Lisbon, but in the end it seemed much better to keep up the momentum of my Epics book (my goal is to get it finished - granted, books are not finished until they're published - by my last day at Champlain, so that I can go into the summer with a freedom I haven't had in a while). Plus, well, I figured that Champlain needs the money. Anyway, I found myself scrolling through some pictures, and it's amazing to me that I still have stories from last summer's trip that I haven't told (although this is a pretty common occurrence for me, as I have dozens if not hundreds of posts queued up to be written). I was thinking that I liked my time in Coimbra quite a bit, and would definitely like to go back. Here are a couple pictures that I snapped at a little restaurant when I was killing time waiting to get into the famous library. It's just a sandwich on a side street, but I wish I were there right now.

I'm always taking pictures of menus and coasters, although not as much as I should, just as reference points.

It was just a simple lunch, but it just screams Portugal.

Aveiro

 I was culling out material from my phone and came across a bunch of pictures from last June's trip to Portugal that I never did anything with (for who knows what reason - probably the demands of blogging about all of last year's reading). Anyway, I came across some nice shots of a lovely day that I spent, taking the long way from Coimbra back to Lisbon. Clearly, that's not a straight shot, but on each trip to Portugal I want to cover different corners of that marvelous country. It's kind of painful to think of it now, mainly because Sicily has taken center-stage in our plans, at least for the next few years. Still, even if we end of settling in Sicily forever, I'm sure we'll make it back to Portugal. Aveiro is often portrayed as Portugal's Venice because of its canals, although they are more artificial and much newer than their much more famous cousins in northern Italy. Still, it's a beautiful place and I could definitely see it as a possible relocation alternative, although I suspect it must get awfully crowded during the high tourist season.

The canal boats are called barcos moliceiros, which are modelled on the traditional boats used to harvest seaweed.

The canals come together as part of a larger, Venice-like (or Venice-light) lagoon.

It's a very charming town, and I'm definitely hoping to return.

Oceanario de Lisboa

 On June's trip to Portugal I went out of my way to visit a couple places that I had considered visiting before - and should have visited before. One of them was the Oceanario de Lisboa, Lisbon's wonderful and world-class aquarium. I have no idea why I had never gone there before, and please, if you go to Lisbon, don't follow my foolish example and avoid it. It was especially appreciated on a brutally hot day. If I were actually fit enough to lead a student trip to Portugal I'd certainly include it.

Maybe later I'll actually get into my camera and download some other pictures and include them. Not surprisingly, none of the shots I snapped can begin to do justice to the aquarium. I'm sure this attempt was another of my never-ending - and never-successful - efforts to produce a truly aesthetic shot.

 

Lisbon Pride Parade

 One of the unexpected joys of my recent trip to Portugal was being in town during the Pride Parade. I'm stumbled across it, which is a surprising thing to say about a massive parade. Nevertheless, I wasn't planning on going downtown - my legs were very unhappy with me after a long day of walking - but it was a beautiful evening and I hadn't made it into the city center yet. I ended up hanging out on the side of the road waiting for the parade to pass by, and it had already been going for a while when I got there. I leaned against a building and wept. It was impossible to not think about what was happening at that moment back in the US, and members of the LGBTQ+ community were suffering because of the actions of Trump and the radical right. For not the first time, I was deeply ashamed of my country.

This was one little glimpse of a massive parade that snaked throughout downtown.

The vibe was extraordinary, so positive and loving and accepting. I say this way too often, but I love Portugal so much. They are such welcoming folks.

Republica dos Fantasmas

 Here are a couple pictures that I snapped in Coimbra of the Republica dos Fantasmas, which was part of a series of Republicas that are associated with the University. Truthfully, I don't know if I completely understand the concept yet, but I'm going to research it. From their website: "The Store - Royal Association of Ghosts Republic"

"History of the Store. Rooted in the experiential culture of the University of Coimbra, and consequently in the history of the city of Coimbra itself, the Republica dos Fantasmas (Republic of Ghosts) is a group of academic residences designed to house the student community, institutionally linked to the University of Coimbra. Founded in 1969, it has been located in its current building since 1971, with recognition granted by the Rector4ate of the University of Coimbra on February 17, 1982."

"Products and Services. True replacement communities, alternative homes for those left behind in their homeland, the Republicas go beyond other student houses or university residences, representing the traditional form of academic life in Coimbra, with all that this entails from bohemianism to ideological issues."

Gabinete das Curiosidades

 I mentioned previously how visiting the famous library at the University of Coimbra was a bit of a letdown (five hour + wait, only twenty minutes total in the entire museum, ten minutes in the historic library itself, no pictures; if I could have had fifteen minutes in the actual library to take pictures I'd have a very different opinion on the experience). That said, the ticket did allow you to stroll around several different cool places at the University, including the Gabinete das Curiosidades (the Cabinet of Curiosities), which is a collection of truly odd artifacts that University of Coimbra professors had brought back from around the world. It helped that it was an appropriately dark and creepy room. If I lived in Coimbra (and Coimbra would make our shortlist) I'd drop into the Gabinete several times a year.

Highly recommended.

 

I loved this guy, and he sort of reminds me of the Banff Merman.

This is the first picture that I sent to my friends Mike and Cyndi, which inspired MK to respond that he wasn't really expecting my first picture of the day to be of a Siamese calf (it's like he doesn't even know me).

I needed to have brought my friend Steve on the trip to the Gabinete das Curiosidades. As a folklorist, he would have seriously nerded out.

I remember years ago visiting a display on Pre-Columbian civilizations in Memphis, and my friend Dave opined that the room with the mummies was where all nightmares were born - I may have an alternate theory.

Hopefully they dispatched this monster before he gobbled down too many members of the expedition.

OK, some are just naughty, and speak to the generally perverse nature of college professors.

Fascismo Nunca Mais

 Here's a picture I snapped in Coimbra on the Portugal trip last month. It seemed particularly meaningful as my own country is sliding into an authoritarian regime (which apparently makes around a hundred million people really happy). All of this is convincing me that my idea to teach a class on Fascism next spring is a great idea.

One of the few things that gives me hope in these dark days is that Portugal went through it's own authoritarian days, and somehow came out the other end as a healthy state.

Shadows

 Over the years I've stumbled across some odd art exhibits (I always default to permanent catacombs above Budapest), and I did it again on last month's trip to Portugal. One my last full day in Coimbra I checked out a couple monasteries on the other side of the river, both of which I'll get around to discussing down the road. The second one I visited, which is the "new" monastery, was the Monastery of Santa Clara-a-Nova. The Portuguese are not strong on signage under the best of circumstances, and so, typically, I wandered into the wrong door when I visited the new monastery. The door was shielded with some black cloth, which left the inside very dark, which seemed like a very unusual - or maybe not so unusual - monastery. As it turns out it was an extra space which was occasionally given over to exhibits, and in this case it was a series of artists which dealt with shadows. Once I figured out what the hell was going on, I decided to stay and enjoyed myself quite a bit. 

This particular one was very disturbing and oddly beautiful. At the end of the hallway a screen was set up, and on a loop there a video of a housing burning down. That was the entire performance.

I sat and watched this one for quite a bit. On the mismatched screens there were two hands flapping, and hanging down was a lightbulb that swung back and forth.  I felt the artist was channeling David Lynch.

Praia de Mira

 I'm way too busy to give my recent trips to Portugal and Canada the attention they deserve, so I'm just popping in now and then so that I don't completely lose the thread. When I left Coimbra I took a circuitous route back to Lisbon, wanting to see a little bit of the coast. Along the way I stopped at Praia de Mira, which felt like any pretty but slightly seedy beach town anywhere (which made it all the better). I stopped at the Restaurante Mar Azul for lunch, which proved to be a very good choice.

This supercharged me for the drive back to Lisbon.

2025 Readings 62

 Rose Macauley's They Went to Portugal is exactly what the title would imply, a collection of stories about people who went to Portugal, although the "They" is restricted to English/British visitors. Macauley moved to Portugal early during World War II, and quickly became fascinated by earlier English folks who had made a similar journey. I picked it up at the Livraria Bertrand de Chiado (as is well documented by now, the world's oldest bookstore) on my trip to Portugal last month. Generally, I guess, I picked it up because of my love of Portugal, but, specifically, I bought it because I was thinking of my visit to Henry Fielding's grave at the English Cemetery the year before. I was pleasantly surprised by chapters on Thomas Stuckley and James Fitzmaurice, two adventurers who pop up in my dissertation. Some of the most arresting narratives relate, nor surprisingly, to English visitors to Lisbon during the 1755 earthquake. It won't change your life, but it's interesting, and it's definitely one of the books that will eventually make its way to Europe with us.

Honestly Average

 On last month's trip to Portugal I wandered down to the busy city center, partly to catch the sites and partially to track down some paella. I stopped at one place and asked the young waiter, "How's your paella?" He paused, then replied, smiling, "Honestly, pretty average." That was a good enough answer to inspire me to sit down and order, if for no other reason than his honesty made me laugh. If nothing else, it's, as you might expect, more than a bit of a challenge to track down squid ink paella in Vermont.

Actually, I think he was downplaying the paella, because I think it was at least 5% or 10% percent above average (actually, it was fine). I tipped him as if it were better, which clearly made him happy.

My Old Friend

 This guy is always sitting across the street from the Café Brasileiria and the Pastelaria Benard, and he's the one street performer who is a constant in that area of Lisbon. The performer, well, at least his upper half, is hidden in the box, allowing him to operate the puppetry. It's pretty beautifully done. Truthfully, he doesn't actually look that different than his puppet.

He doesn't like to take pictures of him unless someone leaves a tip, and who can blame him. I always leave him something, even if I've just been watching him from across the street at the Pastelaria Benard writing, so I feel empowered to post this picture. Come on, people, if you stop by to enjoy the show, leave the guy something!

Broken Eggs

 Here are a couple pictures that I snapped on last month's trip to Portugal. When I was in Coimbra there was a little café where I would hang out in the afternoon after my day's adventures. Normally I just nursed a liter of sangria while I read, but one day the timing was right for a meal.

I can heartily recommend the Broken Eggs w/ Alheira.

This is about the most classically Scudder picture you could imagine.

Bunking in Coimbra

 I'll get caught up on the Portugal trip - both this one and the previous one, for that matter - down the road, although it might not happen until fall. I don't know why I'm posting this picture, but for some reason I found it interesting. This was the bed of  the Airbnb where I stayed in Coimbra. The woman I rented it from was, I think, the kindest person I've ever dealt with in my Airbnb experience. Of course, she was actually the only one that I've ever met in person. She went out of her way to meet me, get me settled, and spent a goodly amount of time waling me through the town on a map, including pointing out restaurants and shops. It was greatly appreciated. The space was very tiny, even by European standards. And at a certain point it reminded me of one of a pied-a-terre that you'd see referenced in a Milan Kundera novel, one of those little apartments whose soul purpose is to service affairs. Mainly, the space is a bed, with enough of a kitchen to make a post-coital cup of tea. Obviously, it made me feel quite sophisticated. Of course, it also gets out the question of how much space we actually need. Americans, as part of our slavish devotion to our own mythology, own way too much, which, obviously, comes to own you. I think if I were younger, and thus out and about more, that would just be about enough space for me.

G as Pessoa

 I snapped this picture on my recent Portugal trip (was that only three weeks ago?). It's a picture that I snapped at the Café Brasileiria in Lisbon. As I've noted way too many times, it was one of Fernando Pessoa's favorite places, and whenever I visit I happily sit there, eating his favorite meal. It's also next to the famous statue of Pessoa, where people (although clearly not literate people) stop to pose for pictures. This always leads me to say to Janet, "I bet never of them have even read The Book of Disquiet. Wankers!" This picture was on one of those table clothes that cartoonishly celebrate the neighborhood. To the right of the Pessoa statue is Pessoa himself, glancing back, clearly in disgust, at people mugging next to his statue (or maybe he's just amazed that he even has a statue).

Pessoa's look is not quite a disdainful as mine typically is.

Pastelaria Bénard

 If I ever finish this wretched Epics book - and if by some miracle it's published - I really should thank the good folks who run the Pastelaria Benard in Lisbon. I think if I could write there everyday I would have finished this book years ago.

I can knock off three hours writing at an outdoor table there like nobody's business.

A Desaparecida

 I made it back Monday night from my latest trip to Portugal, my eighth. Every time it's harder to come, leaving behind a place I dearly love for a country that I'm growing to hate. It was a wonderful week, and, in addition to everything else, I got so much great writing done. It's amazing how much writing I do when I'm overseas in Portugal, but more on that later. Last Sunday, my last night in Lisbon, I was flipping around the TV looking for the Portugal vs. Spain championship match (I wish I had remembered it was being played that night, I would have watched it in a bar) and stumbled across John Ford's The Searchers, in English with Portuguese subtitles. It has long been, and remains, my favorite Western, and a film that I believe is one of the five greatest American films of all time. I snapped this picture of John Wayne and Ward Bond. As discussed below, The Searchers was turned into A Desaparecida, meaning something like "the missing" or "the disappeared." Janet and I were texting while I was gone (she stayed home to try and sort out the madness of her job, and, of course, regretted the decision) and she pointed out that if we had not gotten together I'd already be living in Portugal. One of these trips I'll probably go missing, referred to, from then on, simply as "o desaparecido."

I think it's interesting that in Portugal The Searchers was rendered as A Desaparecida. In doing so, the emphasis almost passes from the men searching (mainly John Wayne as Ethan Edwards and Jeffrey Hunter as Martin Pawley) to the missing girl (Natalie Wood as Debbie Edwards - played by Natalie's younger sister Lana as Debbie at the moment of the kidnapping). It made me wonder if that might have been closer to the original intent, but the film is based on a novel of the same name, The Searchers, by Alan Le May (born in Indianapolis, of all places) so I guess not. I might have to track down a copy of the original novel. 

Casual History

 On our second (or third, depending how you count it) visit to Evora I spent part of a lovely day roaming around town. One of the many strengths of our relationship is that Janet and I are very comfortable with the other one carving off time for their own interests or internal schedules, which works on the macro-level (she's heading off to Iowa this summer for a writer's conference whereas I'm heading off to Portugal to present at a conference, while also skiving off to Alberta for a CFL doubleheader; obviously, she's the more serious scholar/person) and the micro-level (as is well-documented, I'm the early revolutionary riser and she takes a more evolutionary approach to starting the day). When we're overseas, this usually takes the form of me getting up early for breakfast and then going for an exploratory walk. On that particular day in Evora, while Janet gave into the overwhelming peace and serenity of the Convent, I ubered into town and went for a walkabout, or at least as much of a walkabout as I could pull off (I remember it being one of those days when my legs were very unhappy with me). I've travelled enough in Italy or, for that matter, Jordan, so I'm used to seeing Roman ruins, so I guess it didn't surprise me to find a temple in the heart of Evora. Still, it was beautiful, and so much a natural part of the city. I was just elected to the Calais Historical Preservation Commission, which I'm enjoying and am looking forward to serving on, but it definitely brings you back to history and real history. I think what struck me about the ruins in Evora was how they were just integrated into the city itself as a very casual and natural part of the city life (in this way I guess it's sort of a microcosm of the entire Portuguese experience).

The ruins, now around two thousand years old, are a temple dedicated to the Emperor Augustus.