A Herculean Effort

Worries from home made it doubtful whether we were up to a big excursion today. We decided to give it a go and to stay flexible. Bus H took us to Roma Termini and we caught the Frecciarossa to Naples. Lyn bought us breakfast on the train. Naples Centrale was bedlam. The transport hub for several tourist hotspots, the wonder is not that it doesn't function well, rather, the wonder is that it works at all.

The most notable improvements since 2013 are automatic gates which validate your tickets and the disappearance of graffiti from the Circumvesuviana trains. 

Our train was mostly populated by tourists hoping to go to Pompeii or Herculaneum. The lack of signage meant there was an audible collective sigh of relief when our train headed in the right direction.

Herculaneum manages to be more impactful than Pompeii because your first sight of the ruins is to look down on them. We took it slow but the heat was enervating. I didn't need to see everything as I no longer have students.

By lunchtime we were back on the train for Naples where we grabbed a Margherita pizza in a station cafe. We gave up on the idea of the Metro and grabbed a taxi to the National Archaeological Museum. Our first view of Naples confirmed the stereotype: grimy, run down, crowded and crazy drivers. It made Rome look like Switzerland! It was fun.

The museum was full of inadequately explained masterpieces. Basically there are two knockout sections. The Farnese sculptures are too numerous to appreciate. What is Joe Public meant to make of an exhausted looking Hercules or Septimius Severus' perfect buttocks? The stuff from the cities of Vesuvius is amazing but not adequately explained. Mosaics go on floors, not walls. Frescoes are not meant to be in frames.

The taxi ride back to the station was grand entertainment. A traffic accident led to a Neapolitan traffic snarl and a symphony of horns. We wouldn't have missed it for the world.

At the station hundreds of waiting passengers competed for a handful of seats. Beggars asked for "1 Euro". We tried a suppli. 

The train took us back to Rome at 280 kmh. At Roma Termini, nobody seems to have told the crowds that Bus H to Trastavere wasn't running. We took bus 65 instead. Packed like anchovies, every time a passenger tried to validate a ticket the machine exploded into frenzied beeping. Ultimately Lyn and I burst out laughing and another gentleman conducted the "music".  It took longer to get from Roma Termini to Trastavere than it took to travel from Naples to Rome!

Finally, we walked the last kilometre and then stopped to eat pasta and drink a spritz. 

Like Hercules, we were exhausted from our labours but feeling a little heroic.

Spouses

On the flights to Italy we both watched the full second season of White Lotus. Every marriage was completely dysfunctional!

Today, the marriage theme continued. At the Villa Farnesina we admired the home of the Renaissance banker, Agostino Chigi. The walls and ceilings were decorated by no less a figure than Raphael. Lyn said that she didn't get the whole ceiling thing. What's wrong with white? In honour of Chigi's marriage the bedchamber was decorated with a painting of Alexander the Great marrying Roxanne. 

Lyn decided that Roman cobbles necessitated a shoe change, so on the way back we dropped in to Santa Maria in Trastavere. Still wow! 

Next, we walked and bussed it to the Villa Giulia, the home of Rome's little known, but magnificent, Etruscan Museum. The Etruscans seem to have partied hard. The masterpiece there is the funeral piece of a banquetting husband and wife. Stunning really.

We had the intention of a bus home but Lyn was wrecked, so, like a good spouse, I flagged down a taxi. Our late lunch was bruschetta, pasta and spritz. Then sleep, dinner and sleep again.

Upgrade

Finally, after all these years, an upgrade! It seems that Emirates managed to lose our booked seats in Cattle Class. Their solution was to upgrade us to Business Class on the Bangkok to Dubai leg. Luxury is a personal thing. Lyn slept and I drank wine I can't afford.

Then we were back with the unwashed multitudes for the Dubai to Rome leg. We arrived in Trastavere at 9.30 pm feeling very tired.

Respecting Your Elders

 The disadvantages of breaking our journeys in Thailand have increased as security technology has developed. Gone are the days of looking at your passport, then at you and then stamping the passport. Now they scan the passport, then fingerprint the fingers of each hand separately, then your thumbs. If Thailand ever want to develop an industry in identity theft then the database is ready to go.

The nice young woman took one look at my white hair and pulled us out of the line of hundreds of passengers enduring this process. We were sent straight to the line for the disabled and elderly. We were out so quickly, we beat our bags by a long way.

As we climbed the stairs to our room in the airport Novotel, Lyn asked how many times we had been here. Quick count, “9”. 

We were greeted by a towel-art elephant, had a swim and luxuriated. The flight here was as tedious as ever. Lyn made “business class next time” noises. I am writing the next morning, ready to get in another aeroplane.

Last day in Lisbon

We had a full day in Lisbon before our transfer to the airport. We left our packing to this morning and didn’t check out till 11.30. We left our luggage at the hotel and set out for an afternoon of sightseeing. 

First stop was Carmo Convent and archaeological museum. This place seemed to prove my theory that monasteries look best when ruinous. There were exhibits related to the site, but also various other artefacts from elsewhere in Portugal. 

We then went in search of lunch. The big tourist restaurants on Commerce Square were convenient but their service was abysmally slow so we found a hamburger joint with awesome food. We had hamburgers without the bread and with plenty of salad.

Next door was the church with a half hour organ recital. We enjoyed this. I was struck by some questions. How many churches and cathedrals have I been in? All have organs. Why do you never hear them?

After the concert we walked in search of an ATM. I found some sculpture.

We took a taxi to Jerónimos Monastery and the archaeological museum. Lyn decided it was time to demonstrate how much archaeology she had learned. She took me on a tour, pointing out numerous artefacts and identifying them with considerable accuracy. I was impressed.

The monastery disproved my theory that monasteries are at their best ruined. This place is spectacular.

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Another taxi ride took us to the Belém Tower. As he drove, our driver pointed out the memorial to the fallen in the “colonial wars”. These conflicts, along with with the dictatorship, obviously still weigh heavily on Portugal. As with Spain, this country has a recent history that is still raw.

There is a monument to a tranatlantic flight and the Belém tower itself which has guarded the mouth of the Tagus for over 600 years. A cruise liner was passing by. We admired the enormous explorers monument from afar. I had a Cher moment and Lyn had the camera.

It only remained to get to our airport transfer and board the first of our 3 flights home.

May Day

For a city which is supposedly one of the new ‘it’ places to be, Lisbon sure shuts down a lot. National Day was the 25th April. On Monday national monuments were closed because it was - Monday. Today, May 1st, was a national holiday, and the same places closed again!

It didn’t worry us though. Yesterday was a gentle reminder to me that if you travel to see a list of places and do a list of things, then that way disillusion lies. The trick is openness. To travel is to be privileged and with that, hopefully, comes good grace and some manners. So what did we do?

I thought the ruined Carmo Monastery and museum might be open so we headed that way. It wasn’t, but before I could stop her, Lyn had wandered through a door labelled ‘Museum, Free Entry’. We found ourselves in the Museum of the National Republican Guard. It turned out to be fascinating for all sorts of reasons. It holds the usual collection of gorgeous uniforms, military hardware and other knickknacks. This being Portugal, there were galleries of beautiful tiles, including depictions of the military throughout history. It has a rear balcony with one of the most stunning views in Lisbon. Every room is guarded by a friendly young soldier. The upper floors are preserved as they were on 25th April, 1975 in memory of the Carnation Revolution. Portugal’s last dictator took refuge here in what was then a barracks. After one hothead sprayed the place with machine gun bullets everybody seems to have taken a deep thoughtful breath. Nobody needed to die. People stuck carnations in the gun-barrels and the dictator and his friends handed over power. 

All of this is interesting enough but the real attraction for many visitors are the motorcycles. The place is full of them, starting with WWII vintage Nortons and continuing into various 1950s models.

Then we heard music and hurried downstairs to discover that there was a changing of the guard happening outside. We couldn’t see much but when we got outside a fine-looking fellow was now protecting this peculiar mix of militaria, tiles, motorcycles and 1970s furniture.

We walked downhill to investigate river cruises. Lyn decided that we should cross the Tagus in the ferry and then come back again. She made this decision, not because it was the cheapest option (it was), but because it was the biggest and safest vessel she could find. Along the way we found sand sculptures.

Before departure time we explored the cruise terminal and then the Alfama area. We found ourselves back at the cathedral. The inevitable happened. Lyn prayed and lit candles and I took pictures of sarcophagi. I was interested in two rather different depictions of how to spend time in the Afterlife.

Then we bought a cheap lunch and ate it while crossing and recrossing the Tagus.

Walking back towards the hotel we found a fascinating church facade. It turns out the entrance portal was the only bit that survived the great earthquake. We raced inside because there was an organ recital happening but only caught the last few bars. We might try to catch it tomorrow.

Lyn and I parted company shortly after. Lyn wanted shopping time. I wanted to buy a razor and have a rest. I returned to the hotel with a razor and Panadol. Lyn returned with ice cream and The Times.

Rest time followed. Lyn sat at the window and watched the biggest cruise ship leaving and then had a siesta.

We decided our last night in Lisbon should begin on the waterfront watching the sunset. A busker added to the ambience with some Eric Clapton and Dire Straits. Then we went to an Italian restaurant. We have had enough of Portugal’s endless pastries and fish. At dinner we discussed our next trip. Sicily perhaps.

We have a full day in Lisbon tomorrow before we need to be at the airport.

Sintra

This place is on every “must do” list - a day trip from Lisbon to Sintra is recommended by everybody. Our advice - probably don’t bother. It is on the list of just too many people.

The day trip began simply enough. A suburban train ticket from Lisbon’s Rossio station is cheap and the trains run every 30 minutes. However, the long lines waiting for tickets were a sign of things to come.

At Sintra station you need to catch the bus. The bus ticket for the day is triple the cost of the train. The buses are frequent but packed. The journey up the long one-way road starts as a roller coaster and then zigzags vertiginously. We got off at Pena Palace, lined up for tickets, walked up the steep hill to the palace, lined up again to get into the palace for about 45 minutes, shuffled through the palace, ate dismal cafeteria food and finally staggered out into the park below.

Pena Palace was firstly a monastery which was turned into romantic ruins by the great Lisbon earthquake and then the passing of time. By the 19th century Romanticism was rampant and so the king bought up the place and hired a Romantic German to construct a Summer Palace. The resulting mess is very Disney. Photos of the place look great but it just doesn’t feel right. (Have you noticed that postcards never show the crowds? In many of my photos I try to find people-free angles too. So I have deliberately included a warts-and-all photo below.) It is fair to point out that Sintra was probably much more fun before every tourist in Portugal put it on their list.

For the record, the Portuguese royals ended badly. The second-last king was assassinated along with his heir. History records that the assassins were republicans, not architecture critics.

The walk downhill through the park was blissful after the crowds.

From the bottom exit we crossed the road and walked to the Castle of the Moors. This was a real ruined castle. Lyn stayed in the lower sections while I climbed the heights. I found myself looking down over the rest of the castle, looking further down to the city below and across to Pena Palace.

This was all very spectacular but by this time we were wrecked. We crowded back onto the bus and caught the train back to Lisbon. We have enjoyed buying The Times (of London) on this trip when we have a train journey. We read the news and do the word puzzles.

In Lisbon we ate some real food and drank Aperol spritz to finish the day well. Back in our hotel room we looked out the window.