Saturday, November 28, 2020

Weird as Sh*t



We are passing through a strange electoral purgatory, between this 'lame duck' administration's rejection and the next's inauguration, with only some vague assurance that we aren't going back to hell. And that's okay; it's better than where we were. There is some consolation in watching the demons eat their own while Trump is holed up in the White House, emerging only occasionally to play a round of golf. Trump's legal team is still recovering from a lost appeal in Pennsylvania on Friday, with Judge Stephanos Bibas writing: 
Free, fair elections are the lifeblood of our democracy. Charges of unfairness are serious. But calling an election unfair does not make it so. Charges require specific allegations and then proof. We have neither here.
Judge Bibas is a Trump appointee. It is a time of thanksgiving, then.

On Thursday, we were able to sit down to an intimate, pandemic-appropriate Thanksgiving almoço with friends here in the Lisbon area. Couples sat in pairs at tables set two meters apart, but it was a true gift to share turkey, stuffing, and Donna's apple pie. The conversation did inevitably turn to the election, and I found myself alone, arguing that the system functioned pretty much as designed. Specifically, the group expressed horror and incredulity at the narrow victory, a sign of new and shocking problems in the system. Like Judge Bibas in Pennsylvania, there was only 'that one guy' in Michigan, marshaling his integrity, standing between us and electoral damnation. I felt like the Dave Chapelle character on SNL's 2016 'Election Night' skit, wondering at the confusion and anxiety. The system has always been extremely fragile, but maybe you need the right perspective or life experience to achieve clarity.
We must not attempt to exercise power we simply don’t have. As John Adams once said, 'We are a government of laws, not men.' This board needs to adhere to that principle here today. This board must do its part to uphold the rule of law and comply with our legal duty to certify this election. (Aaron Van Langevelde, Republican member of Michigan’s board of state canvassers, calls for the certification of Michigan's election on Monday, Nov. 23rd; soon after the certification, the GSA issued a letter to ascertain the winner, and start the formal transition process)
The system is unfair, it's racist, it's easily manipulated, it's super-rickety and often barely hangs together. The system has always relied on 'that one guy', and we each get our turn. I think it's always been that way. We may work as hard as we can to fix it, but in the end, we have to trust and let it play out.

I will admit, for argument sake, that the system has never been attacked by a president intent on destroying it rather than admitting defeat – but it seems to be holding up to that as well. On the other hand, none of these situations help instill confidence either. The system may have let us down in the past, but it's hard to say that it's ever broken down.


On Tuesday, following the GSA's ascertainment, the Dow Jones Index closed over thirty-thousand points, an historic high. Trump popped into a press briefing to wildly claim credit. His appearance lasted all of a minute, and as he shuffled from the podium without taking questions, a reporter could be heard to say, "Well, that was weird as shit."

My internal VCR fast-rewinds to Trump's inauguration: in defeat, Hillary Clinton is compelled to attend, sits in the VIP section next to President George W. Bush, and listens to Trump's divisive 'America First' speech. Clinton tells the story of Bush's reaction to the speech, "Well, that was some weird shit."

We end where we started, perfect bookends to Trump's presidency.

The next circle in our departure from the Inferno is Georgia's senate runoff elections. Republicans Loeffler and Perdue are easily two of the worst, self-serving senators in Washington. Trump is headed to Georgia next week to hold rallies. At this point who knows what he's going to say – if Georgia's elections are 'rigged' what's the point of holding another? Many of his supporters are attacking Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger, a Republican who now plays the part of  'that one guy'. Loeffler and Perdue have called for Raffensperger's resignation. Other Trump supporters are self-destructively demanding an election boycott. Raffensperger pens a heartfelt op-ed in USA Today:
By all accounts, Georgia had a wildly successful and smooth election. We finally defeated voting lines and put behind us Fulton County’s now notorious reputation for disastrous elections. This should be something for Georgians to celebrate, whether their favored presidential candidate won or lost. For those wondering, mine lost — my family voted for him, donated to him and are now being thrown under the bus by him.
In Dante's Purgatorio, we meet a cast of characters as we climb to Paradiso. It is a catalog of sin: Pride, Envy, Wrath, Sloth, Avarice, Gluttony, Lust. How else to consider Trump and his minions as we leave him and them in the lower circles? Responding to this general question on Quora, Nate White, a copy-writer from the UK, sums him up:
He turns being artless into an art form; he is a Picasso of pettiness; a Shakespeare of shit. His faults are fractal: even his flaws have flaws, and so on ad infinitum. God knows there have always been stupid people in the world, and plenty of nasty people too. But rarely has stupidity been so nasty, or nastiness so stupid. He makes Nixon look trustworthy and George W look smart. In fact, if Frankenstein decided to make a monster assembled entirely from human flaws – he would make a Trump.
Amen.


Meanwhile, the pandemic rages on. The global cases total passed sixty million on Tuesday. The US passed thirteen million on Wednesday. Portugal is racing towards three hundred thousand cases, but the rate is, at least for now, slowing. The 'second wave' has been very difficult everywhere. Though Georgia has managed better during this recent surge, Trump's tightly-packed, mask-free, shout-fest rallies have consistently turned into super-spreader events. Trump is headed there next week.

cases: 62,408,411 global • 13,558,726 USA • 290,706 Portugal
deaths: 1,455,807 global • 271,942 USA • 4,363 Portugal

UPDATE (December 1): I've found a prescient and concise history of 'weird sh*t in America' written by Richard Hofstadter, recently re-posted on the Harper's Magazine web site – from November 1964 (replace Roosevelt’s New Deal with Obamacare, etc):
The basic elements of contemporary right-wing thought can be reduced to three: First, there has been the now-familiar sustained conspiracy, running over more than a generation, and reaching its climax in Roosevelt’s New Deal, to undermine free capitalism, to bring the economy under the direction of the federal government, and to pave the way for socialism or communism.

The second contention is that top government officialdom has been so infiltrated by Communists that American policy, at least since the days leading up to Pearl Harbor, has been dominated by men who were shrewdly and consistently selling out American national interests.

Finally, the country is infused with a network of Communist agents, just as in the old days it was infiltrated by Jesuit agents, so that the whole apparatus of education, religion, the press, and the mass media is engaged in a common effort to paralyze the resistance of loyal Americans.
Today is Restauração da Independência in Portugal, celebrating the acclamation of the Duke of Bragança as Dom João IV in 1640, and the end of the Iberian Union.

Also today, the US records over fourteen million (14,039,630) cases of COVID-19; the world records over sixty-four million (64,026,023). Portugal records over three hundred thousand cases (2,401 new, 300,462 total cases). Since October 9th, Portugal has consistently posted higher case numbers than Georgia – except today, Georgia posts nearly five thousand (4,842 new, 476,405 total cases).

Tuesday, November 17, 2020

Data Reset

 
corrected graphs, COVID-19 case totals in Georgia (left) and Portugal (right)

I've been diligently entering data from Worldometers' COVID-19 database into my own graphs. Over the last few days things have gotten wonky with the data. Actually, I should explain that that the data from Georgia's DPH web site has always been a little wonky – the DPH would often increment the running total for cases, and also provide a different number of 'new daily cases' than mathematics would allow.
The cases reported today may not equal the difference in total cases between yesterday and today because previously reported cases may be removed as duplicate reports are corrected or may be reclassified as additional information is collected during case investigation.
For quite a while, Worldometer's data values tracked with the DPH's data, but a week or two ago there was some kind of correction. I assume that Worldometer applied corrected values for the 'confirmed cases' (Georgia's 'official' case number), by adding the 'antigen positive' cases to the running total – all the way back to March 12th, when the variance was just one. I'm not sure I've seen any other data source distiguish the 'antigen positive' cases without including them to their running total.

At first, the discrepancy was not too troubling, the graphs were vey similar. But recently, the two datasets grew very far apart, and I felt I had to update my own dataset. For example, for November 16th, Worldometer has a running total for cases of 426,236, versus the Georgia DPH total of 387,930, and death totals are 8,967 vs 8,471 (seven-day averages are 2,700.4 versus 1,964.1).

I've made the animated GIFs above to illustrate the change in the Georgia data (on the left). The light blue is the 'new daily cases' value, the red is the seven-day average, the yellow is the fourteen-day average. Note that the graphs are very similar, but that the 'corrected' graph is just slightly 'taller'. But for the more recent values, the trend lines show a much steeper rise, which is why I felt it was necessary to make the update. This also means I can continue to use the same data source (Worldometer) for the two locations.

Then, yesterday, Portugal also reported a running total that was much higher than 'new daily cases' number would mathematically allow. Evidently, there was some kind of "a change in the data analysis system". This required small adjustments all the way back to March 6th. In this case the two graphs are nearly identical except for a very slight vertical shift, especially pronounced during the early weeks – adjustments were spread over the entire time line, so the GIF (on the right) animation is hardly noticeable. Portugal's 'autumn spike' seems to have reached it's zenith (I truly hope), and I've adjusted the Y-axis accordingly in all the graphs.


cases: 55,356,898 global • 11,538,280 USA • 225,672 Portugal
deaths: 1,331,858 global • 252,652 USA • 3,472 Portugal

Tuesday, November 10, 2020

Fair Fight

It's Tuesday, one week after Election Day. This is what has happened since the election was called on Saturday:

There's more to do. No reason we can't celebrate and make good trouble at the same time. Stacey Abram's Fair Fight initiative has setup a donation page to help get out the vote for Rev Raphael Warnock and John Ossoff: gasenate.com.

Henry Winkler wins the quarantine with his Fauci pillow – it's time for aviators and ice cream.

cases: 51,406,046 global • 10,428,517 USA • 187,237 Portugal
deaths: 1,271,833 global • 244,519 USA • 3,021 Portugal

Tuesday, November 03, 2020

Election Day


Election Day has arrived. To help us get though it, here are Stephen Colbert and John Oliver being smart, thoughtful, and funny. It's just what we needed – and there's a part two.

Here are some of the other things I'm watching and reading:

UPDATE: It's late now, and the votes are still being counted. Of course, our clocks are way ahead, so it'll still be 'today' on the west coast when I wake up tomorrow. I have the same anxious feeling I had in 2016.

Portugal's COVID-19 cases seven-day average's sharp rise seems to have hit a short-term peak, yesterday, at just over thirty-six hundred (3,673.4). This nearly matches the peak hit by Georgia in mid-July (3,745.4). The Portuguese government has imposed new 'second lockdown' restrictions to try to get the numbers down. Today, Portugal's current COVID-19 totals are 149,443 cases and 2,635 deaths; Georgia's totals are 364,589 cases and 8,029 deaths.

GA vs PT COVID-19 cases 7-day ave, Nov 3 GA vs PT COVID-19 cases 7-day ave, Nov 4
GA vs PT COVID-19 cases 7-day ave, Nov 3 – GA vs PT COVID-19 cases 7-day ave, Nov 4

cases: 47,807,587 global • 9,684,894 USA • 149,443 Portugal
deaths: 1,218,982 global • 238,542 USA • 2,635 Portugal

UPDATE 2 (November 4): One day later, and we still don't have a definitive answer. Biden holds a 248 to 214 electoral vote lead. He also hold leads in Nevada (6 votes) and Michigan (16 votes) – if those leads hold, he will reach the 270 vote threshold and win the presidency by the slimmest of margins, just two votes. It looks like the Senate will remain majority Republican, so there will likely be 'divided government'.

Due to some kind of lab backlog in the north today, Portugal reports an astonishing 7,497 new COVID-19 cases – by far the highest number reported during the pandemic. The seven-day average for Portugal is up to 4,078.3; Georgia's is up to 1,632.4. I've added today's graph next to yesterday's, above.

UPDATE 3 (November 5): Wake up, shower, have a coffee – peek at the iPad. Dammit! still no certainty. It's 10AM in Lisbon, 5AM on the US east coast (Lisbon is on GMT). Most news channels now show Michigan as solid blue, and seem to have it down to Nevada, where Biden leads by seventy-six hundred votes. Other outlets still have not called Arizona for Biden, where his lead is sixty-eight thousand votes.

Trump's lead in Pennsylvania has been shrinking all night because they are now counting the mail-in ballots. Only eighty-nine percent of the estimated total has been counted, and "the pollsters" are saying things look good for the Biden. Similarly in Georgia, Trump's lead is down to twenty-three thousand votes, about a half percent of the total. But the Secretary of State went home to sleep and we won't get another update until he returns to the ballot-counting facility.


UPDATE 4 (November 5): It's now about 7PM here; 2PM in the US east coast. Clark County, Nevada (Las Vegas), won't finish counting the ballots they have until Saturday or Sunday (the deadline for mail-in ballots in Nevada is Nov 12). Because of legal disputes and delays in starting the process, Pennsylvania will not have all their ballots counted until Friday, though the Secretary of State says the great majority may be counted later today – hopefully it's enough to call the election.

So much has happened, but nothing has changed.

UPDATE 5 (November 6): Wake Watch, Repeat. We are stuck in a shampoo-instruction-loop on Groundhog Day. It's just after 7AM (not yet midnight on the US west coast). We stayed up to see if Pennsylvania would report significant numbers (it didn't). Then we caught Trump's unhinged press briefing, making public accusations of "fraud, illegal votes, shenanigans". Here's where the vote difference stands in the four key states:
  • Pennsylvania: Trump's lead is 18,229 votes
  • Georgia: Trump's lead is 665 votes
  • Nevada: Biden's lead is 11,438 votes
  • Arizona: Biden's lead is 47,052 votes

UPDATE 6 (Nov 6, 9:30AM): CNN reports that Biden has taken the lead in Georgia by 917 votes. There are on the order of ten thousand more votes to count. As more Democratic 'mail-in' votes have been added in Georgia, it appears that both of the state's senate races will go to run-off elections in January.

UPDATE 7 (Nov 6, 2:00PM): CNN reports that Biden has taken the lead in Pennsylvania by 5,587 votes.

UPDATE 8 (Nov 6, 11:00PM): Here's where the vote difference stands in the four key states:
  • Pennsylvania: Biden's lead is 14,923 votes
  • Georgia: Biden's lead is 4,175 votes
  • Nevada: Biden's lead is 22,657 votes
  • Arizona: Biden's lead is 39,070 votes

UPDATE 9 (Nov 7, 10:00AM): Here's where the vote difference stands in the four key states:
  • Pennsylvania: Biden's lead is 28,833 votes
  • Georgia: Biden's lead is 7,248 votes
  • Nevada: Biden's lead is 22,657 votes
  • Arizona: Biden's lead is 29,861 votes

UPDATE 10 (Nov 7, 4:23PM): CNN calls Pennsylvania and the election for Biden, and now I can exhale. I'm watching Van Jones' emotional response. Here's where the vote difference stands in the four key states:
  • Pennsylvania: Biden's lead is 34,414 votes
  • Georgia: Biden's lead is 7,248 votes
  • Nevada: Biden's lead is 22,657 votes
  • Arizona: Biden's lead is 20,573 votes

Also today, the US passes ten million cases of COVID-19; the world will soon pass fifty million cases. Portugal's seven-day average for new cases is over forty-six hundred.

cases: 49,940,508 global • 10,078,235 USA • 173,540 Portugal
deaths: 1,252,843 global • 242,414 USA • 2,848 Portugal

Thursday, October 22, 2020

Fair Play

I am reflecting on the concept of 'fair play' as I follow both the 2020 World Series and US Elections. Perhaps as consolation for a Red Sox fan, as we watch every highlight play from Mookie Betts, is our knowing the Yankees and the Astros are out. I still love Mookie, Dave Roberts, and Joe 'Fight Club' Kelly who are all on the Dodgers, but it feels weird to root for the Dodgers (coming from the San Francisco Bay Area). Though I respect the Rays and their approach to the game, if a 'moneyball' team had to be in the Series, I wish it was the A's. 'Fair play' doesn't care what we want as fans, only that the players act in accordance with agreed-upon rules – whether the realm of competition is in baseball, politics, ideas, or the selection of Supreme Court Justices. Anyway, it seems the Series is off to a good start.

Another consolation is more difficult to explain – but exists in the realm of appreciating what it means to win and lose. I'm subscribed to a baseball podcast created by Ben Reiter, a writer for Sport Illustrated. His podcast, The Edge, focuses on the Houston Astros, a team that has been the subject of much of his writing. But this is a personal, soul-searching trip through their sign-stealing scandal. So it's not a podcast for Astros fans, but for baseball nerds who are (maybe) rooting against the Astros – or who are at least rooting against cheating.

 

When someone (a team) we care about suffers tragedy (a devastating loss), we hope some good comes from it. In this case, the tragedy involves not losing, but winning the World Series. So the winning cannot be the good, even though the win is not forfeit.

To determine the good, we separate winning from good and ask: why does the best team in baseball feel the need to cheat? And what becomes of the sports maxim, 'may the best team win'? Reiter's deconstruction includes a deep-dive into the American competitive psyche, and sounds an echo of the words that ring in my ears this election year: we’re going to win so much, you’re going to be so sick and tired of winning. Though we may not achieve a 'proper' or 'just' resolution, in the asking there is catharsis.

Such winning, both callous and hollow, devalues everything we love about the game or the process – in a way that losing never could. From such a violation, though we may not attain it, it's our right to seek justice.

For example, the first episode introduces us to Mike Bolsinger, a journeyman pitcher with the Toronto Blue Jays. He pitched against the Astros on the night of August 4, 2017, and got rocked: 0.1IP, 4H, 4R, 4ER, 3BB, 0K, 1HR, 8BF, 29-13Pc/St. However, programmer and Astros fan, Tony Adams, analyzed all the audible banging in all the home games in 2017, and found that the Astros used their sign-stealing-camera-to-trash-can system more times than any other – on the night of August 4th. Bolsinger never pitched again in the major leagues.

The Astros' cheating isn't just an abstract injustice against 'baseball' or 'sportsmanship' – it's a personal injustice. In February, Bolsinger sued the Astros, seeking damages and the donation to charity of all $31 million in World Series bonuses. He wants answers:

"How you think it's okay?" would be probably the number one question that I'd ask. Why did you think that this was right? How can you not think that this was wrong, what you did?

Those are excellent questions, important questions. Justifiably, Bolsinger is sick and tired of the Astros' winning. However, the podcast is a mea culpa for Reiter, who adds some questions of his own:

After the scandal broke, I spent a lot of time agonizing over my reporting, searching my memory and my notes for any thread I might have been able to pull that would have unraveled the whole thing. I couldn't find one. 

So I decided to go back to the story that has defined my career and dig deeper, to understand the specifics of how the Astros cheated: who benefitted from it? who's to blame? and what about it made everyone so angry?

I aslo want to ask bigger questions about how corruption takes root, and how an institution's culture informs the decision-making of those who are a part of it. If you're skeptical, I get it. I am, or at least I was, 'Astrodamus' – the guy who supposedly knew everything about the Astros, except for the enormous secret that disgraced them. But that's exactly why I've spent the better part of the past year working to get the story right, and to try to answer the biggest question of all: what drove one of the most forward-thinking organizations in the history of sports not just to the edge … but over it?

The story of the Astros scandal is a very American story: a bunch of high-paid, super-talented over-achievers who resort to illegal acts in order to win. The highly-paid and super-talented don't need illegal acts to win on most days, but regardless, real over-achievers employ them. "If you're not cheating, you're not trying." Which means they are happy to crush the fair-minded and the merely talented along the way. Reiter reminds us that the Astros play in a park that used to be called Enron Field.

I have questions, too. Why can't we accept losing, i.e., not winning? What or how are we willing to corrupt in order to win? What if the achievement of our ultimate goal becomes a shameful embarrassment? What are the real-world consequences if we don't play fair? Are there any, in a culture where the only thing that matters is winning?

We are just a dozen days now from the US Election. There is a 'mute-button' debate tonight; I hope it goes well.

Portugal is in the midst of a serious and sharp increase in the case count for Covid-19, and reports a record 3,270 new cases today. A few days ago, Portugal blew past the one hundred thousand mark, and has risen from fifty-first to forty-third place on the table of nations.


cases: 41,861,291 global • 8,634,927 USA • 109,941 Portugal
deaths: 1,140,555 global • 228,013 USA • 2,245 Portugal

UPDATE: Following this blog post, I came upon a TED video from Prof Michael Sandel, who asks his own questions on the topic of 'the divide between winners and losers':


If you want to do more deep thinking on 'fair play', you can binge-watch Prof Sandel's course "Justice: What's The Right Thing To Do?":
UPDATE 2: Chris Thompson at the sports blog The Defector has a strong reaction to Reiter's podcast (the comments are also quite a lot of fun). And I'll admit that there is some pleasure in listening to him squirm via podcast, but as a Red Sox and Patriots fan, it's hard to say much more.

Tuesday, October 13, 2020

Second Wave

In Europe, COVID-19's second wave is on. Folks in Lisbon are acting like it's no big deal: rush hour traffic is jammed, parks and cafes are crowded, construction sites are active. But there are many signs that things are not 'normal': museums and tourists spots are still unattended, people are maintaining social distance and wearing masks, restaurant dining rooms are empty. CNN (Tara John) provides this perspective:

Europe is now reporting more daily infections than the United States, Brazil, or India – the countries that have been driving the global case count for months – as public apathy grows towards coronavirus guidelines. Several countries are seeing infection rates spiral again after a summer lull that saw measures to contain the virus and travel restrictions relaxed. 
In the United Kingdom, for example, questions are being asked about whether Prime Minister Boris Johnson's decision to lift the country's lockdown in June was premature. Northern England's current high rates of Covid-19 are down to the fact that infections "never dropped as far in the summer as they did in the south," Jonathan Van-Tam, Britain's deputy chief medical officer, told a press conference on Monday. 

Europe's seven-day moving average for new cases is marching toward six-figures, as cases surge in the UK, Spain, France, and Russia (graph appears to track all of continental Europe, not the EU). The US appears to be ready to follow, as its the seven-day average has been on a steady rise since hitting a low of around thirty-five thousand a month ago, and is back up over fifty-thousand.


Clearly, many countries partially re-opened during the summer in order to ease the economic impact, and they are paying for it now. Portugal, definitely felt an economic 'recovery', but case numbers are now rising. And this does seem to have created an atmosphere of "giving up" on restrictions, and "libertarian thinking" in terms of the virus. I worry very much that if the US election does not remove Trump, this thinking will continue to spread, and the pandemic will deepen. Here is more analysis from CNN (Tara John):

But instead of taking stock of their failures and looking at a sustainable way forward, an Anglo-American narrative has grown, suggesting it is too late to try to emulate Asia-Pacific nations, said Dr. Tim Colbourn, a global health epidemiology and evaluation lecturer at University College London. Libertarian think-pieces, open letters and politicians across the Atlantic have advocated – with little scientific merit – for governments to "give up restrictions and let it [Covid-19] spread" for the sake of the economy, Colbourn said.

I'm also glad to be reminded of Taiwan's success – five hundred and thirty cases and seven deaths total. Places like Taiwan and New Zealand, which locked down hard and early, are basically back to business as usual:

In the United States, there were more new positive cases in the White House on October 2 than in the whole of Taiwan, after President Donald Trump became the second G7 leader (after Johnson) to test positive for Covid-19.

Seven months after the World Health Organization (WHO) declared a global pandemic, life is closer to normal in the Asia-Pacific region thanks to the basic lessons of epidemiology: clear communication, quarantines, border controls, aggressive testing and contact tracing, Kenji Shibuya, the Director of the Institute for Population Health at King's College London, told CNN.

Nightclubs remain open in Taiwan, which also held its first full capacity arena show in August. Thousands were pictured visiting the Great Wall of China last week, months after an estimated 20,000 people packed into a New Zealand stadium for a rugby match.

Meanwhile, Portugal is reporting record seven-day case averages, passing the peaks of early April. Portugal (1,258.4) has also caught up to its US comparison-counterpart, Georgia (1,236.3). Portugal dropped out of the top-fifty a week ago, but has risen to forty-eighth, passing China. However, China still has more than twice as many deaths, and Georgia has more than triple.

"Anglo-American" businesses drive their governments, so these governments seem intent on keeping things 'open' in order to preserve economic gains. They have all missed their chances to prevent wide-spread infection. The key for governments over the next few months will be managing their economies while keeping hospitals from being overwhelmed. Just as they were in April, they are facing an abhorrent balancing act; suffering and death are reduced to variables in the economic calculus.


cases: 38,280,739 global • 8,071,006 USA • 89,121 Portugal • 530 Taiwan
deaths: 1,088,654 global • 220,534 USA • 2,110 Portugal • 7 Taiwan

(UPDATE: Oct 14) Portugal reports 2,072 cases today; easily a single-day record. The seven-day average is up to 1,419.6. The government has returned the entire country to a state of "calamity" and may vote later today on mandatory mask-wearing on public streets.

Wednesday, October 07, 2020

Cabo da Roca e Convento dos Capuchos


We return to Sintra today to check a couple more places off our list. We are slowly visiting palácios further and further west of the train station and have reached the practical limit of things trains, feet, and tuk-tuks can reach. Our friends take us by car today, so we can go as far west as we like (or as our good friends are graciously willing to take us). In this case, it's as far west as possible while staying on continental Europe: Cabo da Roca. This translates roughly to "the sea cliffs", and my mind stretches back to a neighborhood in San Francisco, where the city breaks down to sandy paths, on a sliver of very expensive real estate just west of the Golden Gate. It's the edge of the world.

Today's intended destination is the Convento dos Capuchos de Santa Cruz, which was founded in 1560 by Dom Álvaro de Castro. José Saramago wrote wistfully of it in his Journey to Portugal – a volume that forms the core of the list on my iPhone's Maps app. According to Saramago, the immense riches contained in Pena, Regaleira, and Monserrate are only possible because of the offsetting poverty and penance in the Convento:
As for putting words together, remember how Philip II did so when he boasted that the sun never set on the lands he governed, and then went on to say that his kingdoms contained the richest and poorest convents in the world: the Escorial and the Capuchin one at Sintra? But Philip II had everything: the greatest wealth and the worst poverty, which naturally enough meant he could choose. Kings have the strange privilege of being praiseworthy either way: when they enjoy the wealth that goes with their station, or when they are poor, like all those they never bothered to help. What they sought for the peace of their souls was to be able to go and drop in on poverty whenever they wanted to, by coming to visit the friars.
We wind our way out of Cascais, and the fine homes and seaside restaurants scattered there on the shore. Again, I feel like I'm riding out to Point Reyes Light, where the forest dissolves into rough beaches, dunes, and farmland. And as expected, there is a lighthouse here, too: the Farol de Cabo da Roca and a stone pillar with a cross, within a promontory atop a wide cliff. The heavens above us are clear, but the sky and sea are a blue-hued gradient with just a wash of clouds. Beyond the hazy horizon, here be dragons – and Boston.

 

 

We turn east and drive to the forest. Our arrival at the Convento is met with construction noise. There is a significant restoration project underway, with sleeved saplings, earthworks, and a sheer, steel-colored construction fence splitting the wooded site. I pick up our tickets, and looking to my left, I see the walkway is roped-off, with the construction fence just on the other side. So we take the road on the right and begin our walk.

A stone wall directs us deeper in the trees, but the GPS on my phone want us to stay left, where there is a gated road. We follow the wall and reach a water treatment plant, which seems 'wrong', and return to the gated road. This road takes us by a staging area for the restoration project, with a large shed, tools, and supplies. There are distant views out to the shore, but no way in to the Convento.

So we double-back to the ticket office, where the wise-cracking ranger asks us if we know where we are going – muito obrigado. Peering past the roped-off walkway, we realize there is a temporary path, marked with short posts and more rope, in the shade along the construction fence. With apologies to our friends, and we soon discover the entrance, which during COVID, includes a QR code to download a map (download doesn't work; a partial image here).

The approach involves a terraced ramp with a cross on a marker, in the shape of 'home plate', among the mossy pavers. When we reach the marker, we see that there is a very narrow set of steps behind it and an awkward slot through the wall – as if you must make a conscious, uncomfortable decision to enter. We reach a small courtyard, the Terreiro das Cruzes. There is another cross-topped marker on the periphery, and an angry-looking cork is thrusting about in the center. Just behind a colossal boulder, we find the Pórtico das Fragas (top image). There's a wooden gate and another set of mossy steps; a small arch with a bell is fixed precariously on the tip of the boulder.

Up the stairs to a second marker and cross, and we arrive at a landing called the Terreiro do Campanário, just behind the bell arch. We are greeted by another shadowy, twisty tree, which guides us up to a patio known as the Terreiro do Fonte. To our left are stone tables and benches, and a wonderfully aged, tile-trimmed fountain. The Terreiro forms a perspectival approach to the Entrada, a broad and open porch.


 

 

 

The Entrada is focused around a low, arched apse, again decorated with decaying azujelos and colored stones. Under the porch, there are five doorways: two on-level left and right, and three behind the low apse, up a few steps – the two directly behind the apse forming the lower part of a cross made of cortiça (cork bark). Looking up, I see that the entire ceiling is covered in patterned cortiça.

Other visitors are in the other doorways, so I take the door on my immediate left. There is a cross above the door frame made from small white pebbles with the inscription: Louvado seja santíssimo sacramento ("praise be most holy sacrament'). Through the door, and there is substantial boulder floating above a wooden gate, and an elaborate tile altar with a small marble altarpiece. The downloaded literature tells me this is the Igreja, given by the the Castro family; their family coat of arms in stone is on the left.

I am ready to try one of the other five doorways, but there is a portal next to the coat of arms, with a tight stairway up to a small-ish dark room. This is the Coro Alto, but it's not that high and the choir would need to be quite small; it's a deep, cork-lined room with facing built-in benches.

 

 

 

Before I head out again, I notice a another small portal on the other end of the bench, with a steep stairway up. There is a a small, almost 'modern' stone basin in the wall on the left. I decide to just take a peek before I return to the Entrada. Not quite a spiral, at the top of the tight winders, I can see down a extremely narrow, dimly lit hallway. The quarto on my immediate right seems larger than the others. There are a further seven tiny-tiny door openings framed in cortiça. The monks' Dormitórios are not big enough to have a lay down; I'm not sure I could squeeze through the opening. The white-washed stone cells are absolutely minimalist, each with a little shelf and window seat carved in the exterior wall.

The COVID rules demand that we not touch anything but it would be impossible to get up the stairs and down the passage without touching some things, even harder trying to take pictures – it's barely wide enough to turn around.

 

 


At the end of the corridor, down a step or two, the hallway pours into an intersection. Strait ahead is a larger room with an open window. Once inside I understand this must be the Cozinha, the kitchen. On my right, there is a kind of crenellated structure where charcoal may burn beneath a kettle. To the right of that is a small pass-through, the colorful glazed surface worn down to fired clay. The pass-through allows access to the Refeitório, a small dining room with a low stone table. Near the pass-through is a cortiça cross; visitors have scrawled their names in the surrounding wall face. To the left are a number of shelves that form the pantry, along with low, shallow countertops for food prep.

I continue to think that there are four more doorways back at the Entrada to explore, but there is another egress that brings me to a verdant outdoor walkway, just behind the monks' cells. I make a quick trip down, and find a large communal Casa das Águas, with latrines and an unshielded wash area. The plumbing infrastructure throughout is thoughtfully executed: the basins, fountains, and this wash area.

Returning to the intersection, I see another stairway to the left of the outdoor walkway. I decide on one more quick look.

 

 

 

 

Up the steps, by another wash basin on the left, I enter a larger stair hall that connects some 'normal-sized' rooms with taller cork door frames. The windowless room on the left is marked with another cross; the dim and silent Cela da Penitência is used for meditation. In the far corner of the stair hall is what might be a heater of fireplace – I am not certain. On the right are the Enfermarias, nurseries for young plants. Next to these and a few more steps up, there are the Alojamentos, brighter, more comfortable guest rooms which look out to the Claustro. Continuing up, I reach the Quarto Superior, which seems to be a bedroom or workspace, but might be the local 'presidential suite' – I've lost all sense of scale.

Returning down to the stair hall, I notice that next to the basin the stair splits and continues to the right. I go up to the Biblioteca, another office-like workspace. Finishing at the bottom of the stairs, near the back entry, is the Sala do Capítulo (chapter house), a circular meeting room with cork-cushioned seating and a tile altar. The votive figure indicated on the map is missing, Nossa Senhora das Dores (our lady of pains). The door to the Claustro brings me outside again (this blog contains a useful set of floor plans).

Saramago, as 'the traveller', describes life in the Convento:
It must have been a sign of true humility to choose to live and die here. These tiny doors, obliging even a child to bend down to pass through, demanded the radical submission of body and soul, and the cells they gave on to must have caused their limbs to shrink. How many men could have put themselves through this, or rather, come in search of this self-denial? In the chapterhouse there is only room for half a dozen people, the refectory is like a toy one, with a stone table taking up nearly all the room, and the constant mortification of benches made from wood with rough bark still on it. The traveller thinks for a moment what it must mean to be a friar. To him, so much a man of this world, there is something mysterious and intriguing about someone who leaves his home and work, goes to knock on the convent door, asks: “Let me in,” and from then on is oblivious to everything; even when the king was no longer Dom Sebastian but another one, it was all the same to the Capuchin friars.
 

 

 


Walking to the sunlight, onto a paved landing, I arrive at the Claustro, a generous courtyard shaded by another monstrous sobreiro (cork oak). Toward the octagonal pool, I observe the elevated entrance to the church, the Capela de Santo António. The sainted man himself is in fresco to the right of the door. On the left, is an image of São Franscico – the Friars Minor Capuchin are a part of the Franciscan Order.

In the Capela, the walls are covered in lively but faded pastels and linear stencils. A ripple of stones spill into the arched apse space above an azulejos panel with an inscription that refers to 1 Peter 2:24 and translates as:
PECCATA NOST/RA IPSE PERTUL/LIT SUPER LI/GNUM
[our sins He endured on a wood (cross)]

 

 

 

 

Looking at the Claustro from the Capela, I notice two stone piers among the flower beds. These plantings are called out on the map as the Herbolário, a lab for medicinal plants. I take the opening there and re-enter the building near a primitive stone formation – it might be a fountain or another wash basin. At the other end of this 'chute', I find myself back at the Entrada.

Checking over my shoulder, I realize I'm in front of one of the five doorways, one marked with a skull and cross-bones and with a mosaic of seashells forming a cross. On the map, it is called the Porta de Morte, a transit between the material and the spiritual. I recall that the Capela dos Ossos in Évora was also built by the Franciscans.

The two large rooms behind the Entrada apse seem be related to gardening or are part of the Herbolário – I cannot be sure. Partially excavated, one floor slab appears to be rammed earth, the other (surprisingly), old brick pavers. Down the steps, I land at the last of the five doorways.

 

 


 

The last doorway is the most grand: two large leaves framed in stone and cortiça, as well as strap-iron 'screen doors', with a white pebble cross and azujelos tiles over the threshold. This small chapel is the Capela da Paixão de Christo. On the right is a small window that looks out to the Terreiro do Fonte. On the left is an azulejos scene of Christ being bound and flogged.

I quickly recount from the nearby Capela de Santo António: "our sins He endured". Looking up to the tile in the barrel vault, there are images of other instruments of torture: a pair of pliers, a crown of thorns, a hammer, a length of chain, a set of horse whips.

This is an architecture of self-inflicted suffering, an architecture that amplifies self-denial in order to remove sin. Appropriately, I conclude my tour in this Capela, surrounded by stunning, eighteenth-century Portuguese azul e branco, in the most highly-decorated room in the compound, thinking not of heavenly reward but of the other-worldly effort required to achieve it. Saramago summarizes:
Even being as egotistic as they were, the Capuchins of the convent of Santa Cruz paid a high price. This heretical thought will probably mean the traveller is thrown out of paradise. He could take other roads, or try to hide in the vegetation, but then night would fall and he is not brave enough to confront darkness among these crags of the sierra. So instead he descends to the town, which means leaving paradise for the world, leaving behind too the shadows of the friars, whose only sin was the pride of thinking themselves saved.
 

 

 

In the Terreiros and the Entrada, my friends are no where to be found. Sign-posts suggest other points of interest, and I think I might be able to add to my experience while avoiding their inconvenience. I rush up the hill and into the forest. There are some old ruins, an abandoned fireplace, a collapsed roof. Up the hill there is a delightful stone gate set ajar, and the path rambles past; I press on.

Now, the boulders grow larger and I must climb. Up, over, and around a group of enormous stone forms, the path spills between the gnarled oaks. I see the moss on the face of the rocks is worn, and a man-made masonry gate appears within a break in the boulders. Inside, there are some old porcelain fragments on a stone bench or shelf. Above me, unnatural seams of light break the shadows – smaller rocks and pebbles are wedged-in to close the creases.

The Capela do Senhor Crucificado may be an extreme in the cross between the natural and the man-made. With the most minimal architectural interventions, a profound place of prayer and contemplation is created.

 

 

 

 

I text my friends as I scramble downhill, trying to observe what I can: amazing old corks, the Ermida do Ecce Homo, clay roof tiles, the dappled canopy, the Forno. Finally, the path drops me at the edge of a wide, level garden, now overgrown with grass but still bordered by rocks. My patient friends are chatting and waiting at the 'relief station' by the exit. We gather ourselves and decide to grab a late lunch at a crêperie in Cascais. I apologize again, catch my breath, and we march out – "leaving paradise for the world".

 

 

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