No driving today, we're exploring Tavira (pop 26,167 in 2011). The Castelo de Tavira (eleventh and thirteenth centuries) is right around the corner from the Pousada and opens early (8am) so we can drop-in when we finish breakfast.
There are only a few walls still standing, but there is a well-kept jardim, and the flowers look glorious in the morning sun. It's late December, but he blossoms are vibrant and plentiful. Climbing the stairs just inside the gate and reaching the north-east-facing parapet, we find views of the neighboring churches over the gardens to the west, and of the river(s) and the marshy coast between the battlements to the south and east.
Those are our destinations; we plan to make a circuit through the churches in the morning, and then spend the afternoon on the Ilha de Tavira. The barrier island is accessible via the Silnido ferry that runs about every hour, with a brief suspension of service for lunch (as per Portuguese custom). Given that Tavira is such a small town, we have plenty of time to make this simple schedule work.
On the opposite side of the jardim, another parapet faces south, and offers views of the town. At the vertex of the two walls is a small round torre, a lower level with a poinsettia tree, and stairs leading down to the houses on the Rua da Liberdade.
Having passed the gate at the other end of these stairs (Escadinhas do Castelo) several times at night, we suspect it might be locked, and don't try them. In any case, the churches are in the other direction.
From there he went to Tavira, where he promised himself to return one day to see all he wanted to: the Carmo, Santa María do Castelo, the Misericórdia, St Paul. Impossible to detail all the doors he knocked at, all the people he stopped in the street. There was no shortage of information offered, but when he acted on it, either the person who should have been there wasn’t, or whoever was there did not have the authority to show him round. The traveller made his way down to the quayside to soothe his troubled brow with the sea breeze, because even three paces inland he was in a baking oven. (José Saramago, “Journey to Portugal,” 1990; trans Hopkinson-Caistor, 2000)
Though Saramago's 'traveller' is unable to enter, he provides a list of churches. The Igreja de Santa María do Castelo opens at ten, and the bells ring the time as we walk to the front door. There are faux windows with crosses. The one nearest the door includes a frieze with several object that represent the Passion: a rope, a spear, three nails, a crown of thorns, a whip, and a ladder. Interesting to see the story told in glyphs, like emojis on an iPhone.
The facade is an unusual combination of Gothic and classical. The pointed arch and the archivolts obviously pre-date the pilasters and temple-front – how unnatural to see a Gothic portal topped with a Baroque pediment.
But the door is shut, and we fear we may suffer the same fate as the 'traveller.'
Trying to get a better look at the facade, we back down the jardim that fronts the Santa Maria, and end up near the entrance to the Igreja Paroquial de Santiago. The church is open. The docent there, a young fellow named Diogo, explains that the visitor entrance to the Santa Maria is around to the north (we have just walked from the south).
Diogo adds that he can sell us passes to enter all the churches. We see that the pass cards have four boxes, and he only mentions three churches. He tells us São Paulo is closed, and we express our regret – that's the church with the dark-wood capelas. Recognizing our interest in the church, he says he might be able to get us inside, in the afternoon. We buy our passes and exchange information.
The Igreja Paroquial de Santiago (thirteenth and eighteenth centuries) is an unexpected venue. It looks like nothing from the outside, the facade is plain white, with some quoining in the corners and a medallion (seventeenth century) with a mounted reconquista knight (Santiago Mata-Mouros; the knights who re-took Tavira from the Moors in 1242 were of the Order of Saint James). This church is the starting point of one of the routers of the Caminho Portugûes (a blue and yellow scallop-shell marker is near the door).
Inside, the austerity continues, and the capelas are beautifully simple. On the right (Espistle side) there is a small niche with figures scavenged from damaged churches after the 1755 earthquake. Next is a gorgeously gated Capela do Santíssimo, marked above by the monstrance. Again, the ornamental screen combines touches of Gothic (tall thin points), Manueline (the spiraled serpents/lantern-hangers), and classical (round arches and fanlight, pilasters).
The tall portraits on each side of the portal (Painéis de Santa Maria, fifteenth and sixteenth centuries) are: São Vicente (holding a caravel with two corvos), São Brás, São João Batista, and Sao Pedro. Within the capela, the sunlight filters through colored glass covered patterned surfaces of the dome and the pendentives to create an astonishing light effect.
In the capela-mor, the altarpiece features a well-lit Santiago in an archway, with his walking staff and sword. On either side are large paintings by local artist Joaquim José Rasquinho (1736-1822) depicting scenes from the life of the Virgin.
Lastly, there are the Capela da Sagrada Família (notice Sant'Ana on the left with the book) and the batistério (half-domed). Very little of this church's Gothic origins remain.
As we leave, Diogo says he has permission to take us to São Paulo at two in the afternoon. Without really trying, we defy the 'traveller' and church doors open. A quick re-calculation tells us we can visit the other two churches, take the ferry to the Ilha, and get back for the appointment; we'll just grab a late lunch.
Now we know the drill, the visitors' entrance to the Igreja de Santa Maria do Castelo (thirteenth and eighteenth centuries) is easily found. At first closed, the attendant opens the door after a knock. She stamps our card and warns us of the restoration work, though presently the conservationists are away. And indeed, pieces from various chapels are gathered in the nave in various states of dis-assembly.
We enter the church from one of the capelas laterais. According to the pamphlet, this is the Capela do Senhor dos Passos, but the figures are removed. The Gothic side panels are infilled with polychrome azulejos. However, the Manueline vault ribs above remain, while much of the painted infill is spalling away.
Scaffolding obscures the capela-mor (eighteenth or nineteenth century). Two lapidary reliefs are still visible on the side walls. These correspond to the tombs of Dom Paio Peres Correia (Grão-Mestre, Ordem Militar de Sant'Iago da Espada, hero of the battle of Tavira, Evangelist side), and the Mártires de Tavira (seven knights martyred during the conquest, Epistle side). Between the struts of the scaffold, we can just see the tromp-l'œil painted triumphal arch.
Just in front of us is the Capela das Almas (eighteenth century), a wonderfully ornate altar in a shallow, arched recess. In the center of the composition, in a cloud of smoke, is São Miguel with his scales of justice. To one side, he helps a fellow up, on the other side, he sends a fellow down. Below are the flames, and the cursed who burn. Above 'Heaven', a threatening finger points ("O.S.D." might indicate the religious order that placed the altar).
Next is the Capela do Santíssimo (eighteenth century), which is under the large dome and lantern visible on the exterior. Another excellent example of well-combined crafts: faux-marble woodwork, azulejos side panels, 'extra-leafy' Corinthian capitals, and a sculpted angel who is about to drop anchor.
The batistério (nineteenth century) is under a closed half-dome, and includes a neoclassical retable topped with tall, flaming lamps. On one side is a painting of Nossa Senhora do Leite (Joseph Deslobes, 1753). Most of the other paintings are off the walls and out of their frames for conservation.
Coming around to the front vestibule, we can see the worship space is a three-bay arcade with a barrel-vaulted nave. As we saw from the Castelo, the lunettes in the clerestory brighten the cross-vaults and the pilasters of the arcade. The floor is strewn with plastic sheets, empty frames, figures, and furniture.
Access to the torre sineira is past the Capela de São Bartolomeu (João Tomás o Moço, 'the younger', 1721), which faces the Capela das Almas. We recall that São Bartolomeu was the one skinned alive and is represented here holding a carving knife; another knife and martyr's palm are in the medallion. The flanking figures are São Gonçalo de Lagos (left) and Santo Expedito (right, with "HODIE", 'today', on the cross).
The climb to the bell tower landing is not long, but we can see over the Castelo. On the top step is an engraved stone with the words, "ESTA SEPULTURA É DE…" (this sepulcher is from…), and then the letters turn 'Greek' and are indecipherable. It may be an explanation or a warning.
The Igreja da Misericórdia (sixteenth century) is on the other side of the hill from Santiago, down a narrow, ramping lane. We enter the side, our passes are stamped, and we twist our way through a small loja to the side of the capela-mor. At most churches, the velvet ropes keeps visitors from the main altar area, but here, we walk right in. It is another wonderfully elegant church with a wainscot of azulejos panels.
We are on a raised stage, with stairs down to the aisles and to the nave, and a thin, baby-blue railing (which may be of a more recent vintage). In front of us is an unusually low balcony for the coro and the pipe orgam. To our right, the capela-mor depicts the Visitação (Manuel Martins, c1722), the Virgem Maria visiting Her cousin Santa Isabel. Above the arch is the brasão real of Portugal, and above that a gorgeously carved curtain with angels (is the backing curtain cloth?).
Two smaller altars face into the aisles, both carved by Manuel Abreu do Ó (1722), who also carved the enclosure for the capela-mor.
The tile panels illustrate the fourteen obras de misericórdia. A cartouche at the base identifies each scene, such as "Consolar os tristes" (console the sad) or "Rogar adeos pelos vivos e defuntos" (pray for the living and the deceased). The scenes are separated by slightly twisted pilasters, brackets, and triglyphs. At the top is an area for an iconic marker, though their meanings are hard to decipher (an anchor to console the sad?). The tiles date from the 1760s and are by master craftsmen from Lisboa.
The colonnades offer another visual treat; their capitals seem to be Corinthian but include all manner of angels, chimeras, and demons. As we leave, we notice two more items. Next to the steps is a terrific azulejo Last Supper (an attempt at perspectival drawing, Judas with his back to us, the coins on the table, but a very sad-looking entree). And opposite the side entrance door is an azulejo faux-door, that maintains the symmetry.
As we continue to the river, we see the front facade, which is a kind of 'stripe-down-the-middle' design – full of playful sculptures and featuring a wonderfully three-dimensional tabernacle for Nossa Senhora. This is from the pamphlet:
The Renaissance features are similarly present in the design of the main portico, in classical style, decorated with grotesque figures (motifs inspired by ancient Roman archaeological remains). They include seahorses, griffons, mermaids, twin figures, cups, swans, human figures (one with a violin), eagles, demons, vases, angels, medallions and tables bearing the inscription "MIA" (Misericórdia), among others. Under a second contract, from 1551, the sisterhood commissioned master André Pilarte to complete the façade, including a set of sculptures comprising an image of Our Lady of Mercy, bounded by the coats-of-arms of the city and the kingdom, and the figures of Saint Peter and Saint Paul.
We see figures with guitars, but cannot find any with a violin.
Walking away, we understand the 'striped' approach. As the Largo da Misericórdia narrows toward the Porta de Dom Manuel, the wings of the facade are no longer visible.
We make the 11:40 transportes fluviais to the Ilha de Tavira. The igrejas are absorbing, but an outdoor break is welcome.
We join a thin crowd of walkers, readers, and beachcombers. From the docks, we stroll between empty restaurants, waiting for the summer crowds, to the broad dunes. The sun is strong and pleasant after a few misty days.
We watch the action near the inlet between the farols, which are dressed for the holidays: one green and one red. The gulls ride the tide toward town, and as they get close to the Canal, take flight and land out near the farols. The 'conveyor-belt' cycle is broken by the passing fishing boats. The gulls scatter, re-align, and restart the conveyor.
The Igreja de São Paulo (Nossa Senhora da Ajuda, seventeenth century) is truly small and plain. It has depressingly low travel-guide ratings: 'three stars' on Tripadvisor, just over 'three stars' on Google. But our research sparks a curiosity about the 'dark chapels' and about São Paulo. This is not the Apostle, but the the Hermit (think, the naked, bearded man from Life of Brian). The church is on Saramago's list, and must have a few stories to tell.
Diogo fusses with the gate, then the door. The locks are old and perhaps unused. The inscription above the door reads: Paulus Eremitarum Auctor et Magister (Paul the Hermit, author and teacher). Above the lintel is an image of São Paulo and Santo Antão. And in the medallion in the center of the vault, an image of the Hermit with his palm tree and the Portuguese crest.
The entry porch contains several pieces of carved stone, possibly parts of the church recovered from the 1755 earthquake. Upon entering, we realize why the church is closed. The recent heavy rains have damaged the ceiling plaster near the altar. It looks awful. Then Diogo turns on the lights, and the dark chapels come to life. Somehow 'dark chapels' sound like they should be simple and plain, like the exterior. But they are highly ornate Baroque carvings, just without the gold. The the first capela on the left (Evangelist side) shows a saint (São Paulo?) with a bird on his book (the raven?), and carved images of salvation and damnation. The Capelas das Almas is opposite, with a figure of São Miguel before a painted scene of salvation and damnation. Not 'dark', São Miguel is in full color, with his sword and the scales coming right at us.
Along the same wall, in an arched recess, is the Capela de Nossa Senhora da Ajuda, from the Convento dos Frades de Nossa Senhora da Ajuda.
Opposite Her, is the impressive Capela de Nossa Senhora do Carmo (Gaspar Martins, 1730), which is framed outward in the nave. One of the figures there is missing, likely to avoid damage. Similarly, the figures in the capela-mor are gone, leaving only shadows in the panels; but the gilt work here is complete.
In the capelas-laterais, however, the figures are intact as well as the gilt. The capela on the left (Evangelist side) includes a very good Last Supper (Judas, lower right). On the Epistle side is the Capela de Santo Agostinho, the saint holding the Sagrado Coração.
São Paulo is standing, temporarily, just to one side of the capela-mor on a wood block. The beautifully tiled floor of the altar area is speckled with fallen plaster. The small square tiles have intriguing designs, creatures, and faces.
As and an extra bonus, Diogo offers a look from the coro alto. There is also a small photo exhibit, but our attention is on this humble, unique church; we wish it a speedy and full recovery.
Parting, we thank our guide profusely for the privilege of seeing São Paulo, and for his company and knowledge.
A walk along the river at sunset follows pie and coffee. We pass upstream from the Gilão to the Séqua and verify they are the same river. Just past five, the low tide must be turning; the rivers regain that glassy look. Yesterday was closed churches, meager ruins, and mist; today is VIP access, castle gardens, and sunshine. One day we cover distance and keep a schedule, the next we stay in town and improvise. And yet, both days are excellent – 'five stars'.
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