The Minho - Day 6: Coimbra

A lunch stop in Coimbra (pop 143,396 in 2011) offers precious little time to see the city, so we are not going to try. The plan is to stop, get lunch near the Museu de Machado de Castro, have a look around, then go. Scanning the maps, it looks like parking near the Universidade de Coimbra is tough, so we pin a garage near the Mercado, which has an elevador to take us to the top.

The morning is clear and warm, we make great time down the A1. Even Siri plugs in and fires right up. Part of our thinking: it's the Sunday after Easter, schools are on holiday, and the city won't be too crazy.

Unfortunately, when we get to the Mercado, everything is dug up. The road in front of the Mercado is down to a single-lane, so temporary lights send one-way traffic around the plastic Jersey barriers – what a mess. As we wait, we can see the ramp to the garage, but we can also see that the lot in front of the Mercado is empty, so we just pull in and park. It's nice and shady, and we are back on track.

It's a short walk to the Elevador do Mercado, which is a much more elaborate system than can be seen in maps. A tower-style lift connects to a bridge walkway and a funicular. At the bottom is a bunker where the tickets machines live. We cannot make sense of the machines and cannot tell if the system is even running today. We press the call button while we try to decipher the instructions, and the cab arrives. A young man steps out of the cab and welcomes us aboard. He tells us not to deal with the machine, we can simply give him the fare.

It's one of those days. Even when we're sure things are going to blow-up, they just work out. We learn to chill – as the Portuguese say, 'calma'.

 

 

The views from the top are astounding. Layers of colorful blocks rise on the opposite hill. Narrow roads slice into steep views of the Rio Mondego. As we approach campus, the architectural details slowly appear: the back of the Igreja de São Salvador (twelfth to eighteenth centuries), the Sé Nova (sixteenth to seventeenth centuries)), and the Museu (the former Igreja de São João de Almedina, seventeenth century).

 

 

We have plenty of time to search for lunch, and decide to walk to the famous Paço das Escolas. We enter the Porta Férrea (seventeenth century), just past the Faculdade de Letras (Humanities). The Paço is the former Paço Real da Alcáçova, as the large building to the north is the antigo Palácio Real (tenth to eighteenth centuries).

Next to the Capela de São Miguel (sixteenth century) is a service desk, and we inquire about tickets to the Biblioteca Joanina (eighteenth century). The young lady there, in broken English, tells us the bilheteria is 'around the corner'.

It is not 'around the corner'; it's about three blocks away, past the Sé Nova. Entries to the Biblioteca are timed, and the only tickets are combo-style (Biblioteca, Capela, and Paço for 13.50€). We decide to go ahead and get tickets to the two-thirty opening. We set a timer with Siri.

 

 

 

There is a wedding at the Sé Nova, and as we walk by, the crowd is just thinning. We wonder if our luck has run out; the guests have a head start and are filling all the good lunch spots. And now, we are literally on the clock. We head across the street to the restaurant at the Museu to check the line.

We get a table right away and enjoy our almoço and views of the Museu and the Paço from the sun-drenched deck. Sitting, chatting, sipping cool drinks, we have all the time in the world.

 

The Biblioteca is covered in scaffolding; luckily, the best part is on the inside. The tour starts on the lower level, with the Prisão Académica. As we wait, a fellow tourist is complaining to the staff that he would like to enter, even though his timed ticket is for a later opening. He wants to enter with his wife (partner? girlfriend?), but their ticket times don't match. The attendant asks him to wait, but he continues to argue. 

We cringe. Calma.

 

 

We may explore the Prisão for ten minutes, then the stairway door will open. It's interesting, the idea that there is a prison at all. We assume it's more a part of the old Palácio than the Universidade, though we can imagine uses during the Estado Novo – so, it's a convenience from many eras.

Arising from the University's privileged status as a guild private in nature, the prison was installed in 1593 underneath the Sala dos Capelos. In 1773 it was transferred to the underground floor of the Library, where the ruins belonging to the old Medieval prison are believed to have been found, of which two cells (the Secrets) and a spiral staircase are the only remains. The prison was used until 1832, where students served time for having committed disciplinary offences.

But it's not what we came to see. After ten minutes, the attendant re-appears, and we ascend to the mid-level. Here, she tells us that we have ten minutes in the Biblioteca, and that photography is not permitted. There is grumbling from the crowd, and we can hear someone complain that they paid a lot of money for ten minutes.

We have the same thought but know that is is unfair to complain to the attendant. There are, of course, operational, insurance, and security issues, but no one wants to hear all that. And as someone who used to work in museums, the reply should be: "You ought to be grateful. This is an historical treasure – there are lots of people who don't get any minutes."

 

 

As we enter, the fellow in front of us takes out his phone to snap a picture. She just said; ten seconds ago, the young lady told us only two things, and "no photos" was one of them. We remind our tour-mate, and he looks shocked. But he does stop.

Calma!

Our ten minutes are devoured slowly, like a lucious dessert. The Biblioteca is as amazing as promised. There are three reading rooms joined by faux-marble archways. Our gazes are drawn upward by the books, the balconies, the ladders, and the incredible gilt cornice. And then the eye-watering ceilings continue the cascade. The pamphlet reads:

On the ceiling of the third room the University is depicted as the synthesis of universal knowledge ("Encyclopaedia"). In the crown molding, the large areas of knowledge are identified by the following legends: "Sacra Pagina" for Theology and Canons; "Astraea" for Law; "Natura" for Natural Sciences, Medicine in particular; and "Ars"for Arts.

Since photos are not permitted, images of the tourist pamphlet are below. There is a Street View tour here, as well as a few images from Wikimedia.

 

 

interior of the Biblioteca Joanina (images from Wikimedia Commons)

We try to recuperate in the Capela, which is packed tight (imagine if tourists had free access to the Biblioteca). The Capela is full of color and ornament, but our brains cannot absorb any more.

Back in the Paço das Escolas, the afternoon sun is radiant, and the cloaked estudantes assemble. It feels like the last day of school, and summer is near.

 

 

 

 

On our return to the Elevador, we pass several repúblicas – communal student dorms. Famously political, they are covered in stenciled lettering and cartoons:

Não houve propriamente queima do "grelo". Mas apareceram alguns "rabos"…

(There was not exactly burning of the "sprout". But some "asses" appeared…)

Even the cartoon sign says "Calma"; those onion-heads know everything (or maybe it says "Carmo"?).

 

 

The journey home is uneventful as we unwind and process the streetscapes and histories of Guimarães, Braga, and Coimbra. Dom Afonso's statue may be in from of the Paços dos Duques, but the King's home is here, and now it's the Faculdade de Direito (law school). And we may not yet be able to sit through a lecture about São Frutuoso and a Visigoth-era chapel, but we are tempted.

We know the dots, and we can connect them. The bigger picture is unclear, but we have a sense of the culture. We watch demanding tourists with familiarity and detachment, and ask, 'are we like that? are we the onion-heads?'

What is the right way to think about 'tourist etiquette'? Generally and obviously, it's being open, listening, speaking the language, meeting locals (yes, including museum staff), and planning. Being a 'good tourist' can be sloppy and inconvenient, and it takes effort. The results are tangible, and the experiences are a proper reward.

Our trip to the Minho is proof: there is joy in the viagem.