Paddy’s journey: Gifts, woods and broken roads

Paddy’s journey: Gifts, woods and broken roads – a review of Patrick Leigh Fermor’s trilogy about walking across Europe in 1933, and of the allure his story still holds

Gifts: Patrick Leigh Fermor passport photo
Patrick Leigh Fermor aged 18 – his passport photo

In December 1933 a young Englishman, just 18 years old, stepped off the ferry from London in Rotterdam. He shouldered a rucksack and set out on a walk across the continent that would take him, eventually, to Istanbul. His name was Patrick Leigh Fermor – Paddy. Forty-four years later he published an account of his journey. Or, rather, the first part of his journey – the book was conceived as a trilogy.

Although Paddy was known as a travel writer in 1977, it was this book – A Time of Gifts – that introduced him to a wider audience. Between the Woods and the Water, the second part of the trilogy came out in 1986 and suddenly he was famous. One reviewer described him as “perhaps the most captivating travel writer of the century”. But it was not until 2013 that the story was concluded in The Broken Road. And now you understand the title of this article.

Paddy’s spell

Paddy was not a prolific writer. In the end he wrote little more than a handful of books. But his style, observation, fascination with the most obscure and esoteric subjects, charm, daring and above all his command of English make each one of his books a fascinating read. His readers fall under a spell. There are societies dedicated to his memory, websites where his books are debated and many travellers have set out to follow in his footsteps.
I’m going to guess many, many more have thought about doing so. I’m one!

Gifts and Woods

A Time of Gifts coverA Time of Gifts tells the story of his journey through Germany, Austria and into Czechoslovakia during the earliest period of Nazi control. Paddy was aiming to live off £1 a week. (His family sent him his money by post a week or a month at a time, so he wouldn’t overspend. In the book he describes how sometimes, when his plans didn’t work out, he would be in fairly desperate economic straits. How he struggles to get to the next post office where his cash is waiting for him post restant.) He travelled on foot, sleeping out under the stars, or he stayed in the cheapest of hostels, or with people he met on the way.

The journey had a hard beginning. After a time, though, good fortune (and Paddy’s charm) led him into more aristocratic circles. A few introductions he’d brought with him from friends in London helped too. By the time he reached southern Germany and Austria he was being passed from one Schloss to another.

Between the Woods and the Water coverBetween the Woods and the Water sees him across Hungary and Yugoslavia to the Iron Gates, a gorge of the River Danube on the border with Romania. Continuing on from A Time of Gifts, Paddy keeps moving in aristocratic circles. At the same time he insists on walking and spends long periods alone on the road or travelling with gypsies.

The two books taken together, although written so long after, are still a fantastic record. They paint a picture of a post-First World War world that still remembers the pre-war empires of central Europe. A world soon almost completely erased by the horrors of the Second World War and the long period of Communist dictatorship that followed.

Broken roads

The Broken Road coverPaddy’s fans looked forward to the final volume. The book that would take him across the Balkans and bring him finally to Istanbul. It never came and Paddy died in 2011.

However, in 2013, his biographer Artemis Cooper and fellow travel writer Colin Thubron published The Broken Road. This is the conclusion to the story, edited from Paddy’s notes and diaries. It goes some way to satisfy those of us who were captivated by the first two volumes and looked for closure.

Paddy’s journey, which started in December 1933, came to an end in January 1935 just a month before his 20th birthday. He had a life of action and adventure ahead of him. He became a war hero and, after the Second World War, dedicated himself to Greece and all things Panhellenic. Travelling in the footsteps of the poet Byron, he was himself a Byronic character. One of his obituaries described him as “one of the few genuine Renaissance figures produced by Britain in the 20th century”. Another said he was a cross between “Indiana Jones, James Bond and Graham Greene”.

Ill met by Moonlight

Ill Met by Moonlight film posterAll his obituaries seem to mention the trilogy Gifts, Woods and Broken Roads as the second thing of importance about Paddy. They all start by describing his most daring exploit of the war. In 1944 on the island of Crete under German occupation, he led a group of Greek partisans to kidnap the German commander of the island. The partisans took the commander across the island, hiding him from search parties, and then smuggled him away to British-held Cairo. Later – in 1957 – this dramatic story was filmed as Ill Met by Moonlight. (Night Ambush in the USA, Generalen kidnappad in Swedish.)

There is an incident in the film that is very revealing of Paddy’s character. (It is described in the memoir Ill Met by Moonlight. If memory serves, I think it also made it into the film.)

The partisan Kreipe Abduction Team - Paddy is in the middle
The partisan Kreipe Abduction Team – Paddy is in the middle

As they were moving their German prisoner, General Karl Kreipe, across the island they came to Mount Ida. This, the highest point of Crete, was capped with snow. Looking up at the peak of the mountain, Kreipe recited the beginning of a Latin poem about another snow-capped mountain. Paddy recognised the poem and immediately recited the rest of it. Captor and captive realised they had something in common – a love of classical literature.

Common ground

Time and again in the trilogy Paddy demonstrates a similar ability to find common ground with people he meets – whether through literature, experience or empathy. It seems to me this is one of the secrets of his success, both as a traveller and a travel writer. His ability to open himself and build bridges with everyone he meets, whomever they may be. Early in the first book he stays overnight with a young man, a labourer he meets on the road. The young man turns out to be a Sturmabteilung member – one of the Brownshirts. Paddy gets him to confess that up until quite recently he was a Communist. They explore the reasons the young man switched sides.

Inspiration

Gifts: Paddy photographed by Dimitri Papadimos
Paddy photographed by Dimitri Papadimos

Paddy’s account of his adventure continues to inspire people. The idea that you  can just pick up your pack and step out onto the open road to meet adventure one day after another – it’s very alluring. One man who succumbed, journalist and travel writer Nick Hunt, set out in December 2011 to follow in Paddy’s footsteps.

Beyond buying roadmaps and putting out calls for accommodation, I deliberately did no research into where I was going. Paddy’s books, eight decades out of date, would be my only travel guide. With his experience underlying my own, I would see what remained of hospitality, kindness to strangers, freedom, wildness, adventure, the mysterious, the unknown, the deeper currents of mists and story I believed – or longed to believe – still flowed beneath Europe’s surface.

Nick Hunt completed the journey in 221 days – less time than it took Paddy. He also produced a book of his whole journey in far less time than it took Paddy! The book – Walking the Woods and the Water – is a very worthwhile read as a pendant to Paddy’s trilogy. I recommend it.

And my own walking adventure ambition? It is to cross Sweden in the footsteps of a gentleman with the mouth-filling name Bulstrode Whitelock. Whitelock was the ambassador of the Republic of England to the court of Queen Christina between 1653 and 1654. But more of that another time.


Picture acknowledgements: The passport photograph of the 18 year-old Paddy comes from the website of the Patrick Leigh Fermor Society. The book covers all came from websites selling second hand copies of the books, except for The Broken Road, which is on my shelves here. The film poster of Ill Met by Moonlight I found on Pinterest and unfortunately can’t be more precise than that. The picture of the Kreipe Abduction Team and portrait of Paddy in middle-age are both from Wikipedia.

I wrote this entry for the #Blogg52 challenge.

People watching in the Louisiana cafeteria

Standing in line at the Louisiana cafeteria two children provide a distraction for the author waiting in the queue

I was standing in line, queuing up for lunch in the Louisiana cafeteria. It’s not self-service but you queue up to a counter with glass display cabinets. When you reach the head of the queue you get a tray and the cashier serves you with your choice from the cabinet. Your choice of sandwich, pie, biscuit, desert. You can also pay for the lunch buffet, in which case you get a plate for the food and a bowl for the soup. Anyway I was in line and the queue was moving very slowly.

Louisiana Cafeteria buffet
The Louisiana Cafeteria Buffet. The staff is clearing up. You can just see the queue in the background top left.

Ahead of me was an older woman – in her late fifties I suppose – and two kids. I took them to be her grandchildren. They were about 10 years old. Physically they looked about the same age to me, though it was obvious from his behaviour that the boy was the younger. He was sticking close to grandma and pressing up against her, and pointing and asking for things.

Meanwhile the little girl stood on the other side of him. She also pointed and asked, but her body language told me she was more independent. Still, she did try sometimes to get closer to her grandmother, but then her brother got in the way. This was clearly deliberate. The little girl didn’t seem to be upset though. A tolerant young woman.

The noise level in the cafeteria was quite high so I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I couldn’t even be sure what language they were using, though I suppose they were Danes. After a little while the grandmother received a tray with four plates of the Louisiana cafeteria’s delicious strawberry tart. She added spoons and cake-forks and paper napkins. Then she handed the loaded tray to the little girl, trusting her to carry it safely to the family’s table. The girl took the tray and carried it slowly and with great care, walking past me and heading for the doorway to the next room. There was a look of intense concentration on her face.

Louisiana Cafeteria
One of the dining rooms of the Louisiana Cafeteria. Very crowded today with all the rain outside.

I’ve said the cafeteria was noisy – it was also crowded and busy with people. Just before the girl got to the door a woman stepped in front of her. The woman stood, blocking the doorway, looking out into the other room. This wasn’t deliberate. I’m sure she just didn’t see the little girl. But she never looked around to see if she was in anyone’s way. She was looking for someone she’d lost, out there in the other room and she had no eyes for anyone else.

Even if she had looked around though, she was a good bit taller than the girl. I am not sure she’d have seen her. Her gaze would have slipped over the top of the little girl’s head.

The little girl didn’t really know what to do. There was a way around, but it was perilously close to the woman. What if she turned as abruptly as she had stepped in the way. If she caught the girl’s tray with her shoulder bag or banged the girl with her hip, the tray and all the desserts would go flying. The girl stepped back, stepped forward, stood still and looked up at the woman’s tall back in front of her. I saw the tray tilt alarmingly down towards one corner, but the little girl noticed in time and changed her hold to keep it level.

The tension was palpable (to me anyway) and I felt I ought to come to the little girl’s aid. Call out to the woman perhaps and ask her to move. But then I had a mental image of her turning in alarm and cannoning into the girl and her tray. Fortunately the woman suddenly caught sight of the person she was looking for, raised a hand and stepped through the doorway. The little girl looked very relieved and carried on her careful way through the door herself.

Louisiana shop
Part of the Louisiana museum shop – Danish design and handicrafts, and also pretty crowded.

Back at the head of the queue grandmother and grandson were still in debate. It seemed that the little boy also wanted to carry something, but grandma wasn’t keen to let him. He begged and eventually she gave him an opened bottle of pop and a glass to carry. He did this, but it looked as though he was struggling all the time with a temptation to do something with the bottle. I don’t know what – drink out of it perhaps, pour it into the glass, hold it up to the light and look through it. He actually did that last.

Then the little girl reappeared, sans tray, and the boy suddenly found it necessary to defend his position at grandma’s side. The little girl pretended to be a savage dinosaur – claws and snarling jaws – and the boy pushed back at her with his bottle and glass. One step forward against her, then one step back to grandma’s skirts.

This was awkward because the grandmother was now turning away from the counter carrying her own tray on which were four full cups of coffee. I think she told the little girl to take her brother’s bottle and glass, but he kicked up a fuss. Instead she told the children to go ahead of her, to lead her to their table. The girl pulled her brother along, pinching the arm of his shirt. He didn’t like that, and tried to twist out of her grasp, though he followed her anyway, still clutching his bottle and glass.

Grandma followed on behind, also carefully carrying her tray. She had an expression on her face not so very different from the little girl’s with the strawberry tarts.

I was watching them leave through the doorway when the man in the queue behind me asked something sharply in Danish. I realised everyone was now waiting for me.

Louisiana Cafeteria panorama


With this article I introduce a new Stops and Stories Category that I call People Watching.

I wrote this entry for the #Blogg52 challenge.

Pop art illuminations in Louisiana

Pop art illuminations in the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art in Denmark, that is – the 85th most visited art museum in the world (says Wikipedia at the time I write this)

I’ve been trying to remember how many times I’ve been to Louisiana before the present visit. Definitely twice, possibly three times. Perhaps more? Once was in high summer because the sun was shining and there were crowds of people sitting on the grass banks outside the restaurant. They were sunning themselves among the mobiles and sculptures and enjoying the view over the Öresund to Sweden. Another time I was there in the late autumn or early spring. The weather was grey and misty and there were few visitors. It felt like Mrs SC and I had the museum almost to ourselves.

Henry Moore sculpture and a white sailThis time around, on Saturday 30th July, the weather was changeable. Rain, sun, clouds, mist, clear, and all fading in and out of one another. But that doesn’t matter so much when what you’re interested in, by and large, is indoors.

Previously at Louisiana

Previous visits have all been day-trips north from Copenhagen as far as I remember. This time we came travelling south from Helsingør, from Elsinore. (Hence my last week’s photos.) In fact, we stayed overnight in Helsingborg on the Swedish side and took the ferry across. It takes just 20 minutes. Then the train to Humlebæk, and a short walk. We arrived at the museum just as they were opening at 11 o’clock. As we’d bought a combined entrance and round trip ticket in Helsingborg, we were able to jump the Louisiana queue. We were among the first visitors into the museum so I recommend that solution.

Louisiana- Alberto Giacometti - Bust of Elie LotarThe reason I’m confused about how often I’ve visited Louisiana, probably, is because I’ve quite detailed memories of several different exhibitions. Definitely more than two. Louisiana was where I saw Jana Sterbek’s meat dress (way before Lady Gaga riffed – or ripped off – the same idea). Was that sometime in the 1990s? Louisiana was certainly where I first saw Cindy Sherman’s photography. And I think it was also where I first saw Ai Weiwei’s art. I’ve got a memory also of seeing late work by Picasso there. And then there’s the permanent collection of Giacometti statues which I go back to every time. Then there are the sculptures in the gardens. And the mezzo-American collection in one of the glass corridors.

One reason for my confusion may be that, with so much space at its disposal, Louisiana always seems to be staging two or three really big exhibitions at the same time. And these are usually radically different from one another – though there may be points of contact. This summer they’re exhibiting a retrospective of the work of a Danish pop artist, a small collection of early Picasso drawings and a selection of the gallery’s new purchases made over the last three years. All alongside the regularly rotated permanent collection.

Poul Gernes

Pop art at Louisiana - Poul Gernes retrospective Gallery 2The pop artist is Poul Gernes, who I confess I’d never heard of before. I had never consciously seen his work either, though I did recognise some of it. “Recognise” in the sense that it was generic pop art. Pop art must have figured large in the training of some of the art teachers I had in my schooldays.

Blocks of colour, geometric shapes, linocut prints, found objects, sculptures and surfaces created from scrap, found prints (tire tracks and shoes for example). All these feature in the exhibition (though most of them rather better executed than my primary school self ever managed). It was quite nostalgic really.

Pop art - Poul Gernes retrospective Gallery 1 panoramaPoul Gernes clearly subscribed to the philosophy that anyone can make art (which I certainly don’t dispute). The exhibition is subtitled with the following quote.

Jeg kan ikke alene, vill du vaermed?
I cannot do it alone – want to join in?

Pop art - Poul Gernes retrospective Black and white patternsUnfortunately – and it may be another side of pop art period ideology – he also seems to have believed that art needs to be dumbed down to a lowest common denominator of ambition.

He had some ideas about the importance of colour and health too, which he got the chance to explore when he decorated an entire hospital. One of his hospital rooms was recreated for this exhibition. Three walls of the room were decorated in “healthy” colours, and the windows hung with colourful curtains. One wall – the one behind the patient’s bed – was left white. Apparently this was in order for the medical staff to better judge the colour of the patient’s face and see how healthy they were.

Pop art - Poul Gernes retrospective Gallery 3 - Herlev HospitalThe exhibition did not go any further into Poul Gernes’ philosophy of colour and health, which I thought a pity. I would like to have known whether he thought a red face indicative of choler or a yellow face of bile. I also wonder how far the Danish medical establishment went along with him.

Illuminations

Apart from the Gernes retrospective Louisiana was also exhibiting Illuminations, a large selection of their new purchases made over the last three years.

This was an eclectic exhibition, but there were points of contact with Poul Gernes’ pop art. For example, Gerhard Richter’s Strip from 2013 (below). The strips are made of “colours that originally formed part of an abstract painting, but are systematized here according to an empty principle.” (I’m assuming “empty principle” has a technical sense for colour theory – as it does in linguistics – and isn’t just a mistranslation from psycho-babble in the original language.)

Illuminations . Gerhard Richter - StripNext to this, on an adjacent wall, was a monumental golden photograph – Katar from 2012 – by Andreas Gursky. This turned out to be the interior of the cargo hold of a ship that transports liquid gas.

Louisiana - Illuminations gallery 2The Illuminations exhibition included sculpture. (That’s a sculpture to the right in the above photo.) But also…

Installations

Installations such as the all-but-pitch-black room in which the sounds of arctic icebergs grinding, melting, freezing and calving, are played from surround-sound speakers. This work is Isfald (2013), by Jacob Kirkegaard. It is an almost overpowering experience to stand in the installation and listen to the soundscape created. You can experience a small fraction of this work on Louisiana’s video website. Here is an interview with Kirkegaard (along with another artist, Daren Almond).

Louisiana 10 Illuminations gallery 3

Louisiana 2 Illuminations gallery 1It’s impossible to mention all the works of art that Illuminations displayed. Some I liked, some I thought were interesting – even funny. And as always with modern art, there were some pieces that left me cold. Still, I think it’s good to know that all these works are now in the Museum’s collection and join the rotating permanent exhibition. Louisiana also has an active policy of loaning out pieces to other museums for special occasions – in exchange for other pieces brought to Humlebæk for future exhibitions – so they are not hidden away by any means.

Yayoi Kusama

Louisiana - Yayoi Kusama - Gleaming Lights of the Souls 1Just before we left we got to experience another of Louisiana’s installations. This is one from the permanent collection – Yayoi Kusama‘s Gleaming Lights of the Souls from 2008. The installation is a single space. A closed room. The walls and ceilings are mirrors and the floor is a reflecting pool of water. Hanging from the ceiling are hundreds of lamps that slowly change colour. You stand in the middle on a narrow platform and it’s like you are flying among the lights. It’s a surreal but serene experience. Each group – of only four people – get to stand for one minute in the room with the door shut. It’s funny, but waiting outside to get in the minute passes so slowly, inside absorbed by the experience the minute is far too short. As soon as you come out you want to get back in line and experience it all over again. And again.
Louisiana - Yayoi Kusama - Gleaming Lights of the Souls 2 Panorama

Tired

Unless of course your feet are so tired after seven hours of wandering the halls and galleries that all you really want to do is sit down.

It’s a 10 minute walk back to the station, but you can sit on the train to Helsingør. Then you can sit on the ferry to Helsingborg. And then you are in better shape to argue your way back into Sweden through the new immigration control… but that’s another story.

Alexander Calder's mobile at Louisiana in the rain
Above: Alexander Calder’s mobile at Louisiana in the rain


I wrote this entry for the #Blogg52 challenge.

Alas, poor Yorick

Alas, poor YorickAlas, poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio. A fellow of infinite jest whose response to life I fain would emulate…

I am not posting a blog entry this week as I am on holiday. In Denmark, in the tourist information centre at Helsingør, as far as the photo above reveals.

Below, in unnatural pose, I am supposed to be looking at Helsingør’s Kronborg – Shakespeare’s Elsinore – there in silhouette on the horizon. There’s a Shakespeare festival taking place there all of August.

John and ElsinoreNot that I actually visited Elsinore on this trip. But more of that when normal service is resumed – next week if all goes according to plan. And the weather gods permit.

Louisiana view through a rainy windowHave a great summer!


I wrote this entry for the #Blogg52 challenge.

Life in Mini-Europe

Life in Mini-Europe: it’s a life in plastic, but I’m not sure Barbie would feel at home here – there’s more going on than you might imagine

Mini-EuropeSome towns and even villages exhibit models of themselves. Tourists can walk about like Gulliver in Lilliput, exploring and taking photos. Brussels has Mini-Europe.

According to Mini-Europe’s English language website, this is where you can “visit Europe’s nices [sic] places” and see “the Best of the Best”.

Mini-Europe from AtomiumMini-Europe exists in the shadow of the Atomium. I had the opportunity for an overview – so to speak – during my time-travel experience there earlier this year. (See here.) Still, I wasn’t prepared to be quite as charmed as I was when Mrs SC and I paid it a visit recently.

Mini-Europe - Stockholm city hall representing SwedenI’m not sure whether it really has Europe’s nicest places, or whether they are indeed the best of the best. (As a Gothenburger, Mrs SC was a little peeved. The fine model of Stockholm’s city hall is the only building representing Sweden. This despite the half a dozen or so buildings for each of Belgium and The Netherlands.) Still, somebody has clearly had a lot of fun creating Mini-Europe. I was surprised and impressed at the attention to detail, also because they keep the park so up-to-date. (You’ll see what I mean in a bit.)

Sunbathing in BudapestMini-Europe is inhabited by mini-Europeans: mostly young, healthy tourists with a fetish about sunbathing. (For example, here they are, stretched out on sunbeds in Budapest’s Széchenyi Gyógyfürdö thermal spa.)

Tourists in mud - or worseThey also have a slightly plastic look about them, and often stand with their feet in something that might be mud. (Or worse. I am speaking from personal experience of the leavings of Brussels’ dogs.)

Happy ever afterStill, there is an attempt to present the whole breadth of life here, from the couple who joyfully rush from a German church to begin their happy ever after…

In the cemetary… to the little family visiting the grave of a loved one somewhere in the fields of Flanders.

The entrance ticket comes with a 64 page brochure which does not just present the buildings and scenes modeled. It also has something educative to say about the European Union, as well as about each of the countries represented. The park sports at least one building from each of the 28 EU member states.

Montmartre news kioskIn front of Montmartre a queue has formed of citizens seeking News. (You may just be able to make that out from the headlines on the papers for sale.)

Facing the terrorist threatIn the streets of Copenhagen (for some reason) a Belgian army truck – fully equipped with an anti-aircraft gun – stands ready to confront the terrorist threat. (I’m not sure how practical that is, but it’s certainly in keeping with the political reality in Brussels at present.)

Anti-Brexiteers rally outside Parliament in LondonMeanwhile, outside the Houses of Parliament in London a crowd has gathered. They are protesting Britain’s impending exit from the EU. “We heart EU.” “Me and EU 4 ever.” And my favourite: “I am not for or against anything I just like to walk around with a sign.” Slogans reproduced from a real protest that actually took place only days after the Brexit vote.

Mini-Europe - notice of demolitionNearby, an official sign announces the demolition of the British buildings awaits the outcome of Brexit negotiations.

It will be a shame if Mini-Europe has to remove the British buildings. Apart from other considerations, think of all the work someone’s put into making them.

Mini-Europe - Sunbathing on a raft in IrelandAnd what will happen to Ireland? Isolated beyond the empty spaces where Stratford and Longleat, Dover Castle and the crescents of Bath once stood? Will the little people still feel free to sunbath on their raft in the Shannon?

Coast guardOf course you could complain that Mini-Europe doesn’t cover all the bases. Where is a Pride Parade, for example?

Sinking gondola in VeniceAnd what about the refugee crisis? There’s a fine model of a Coast Guard boat, but where are the overloaded rubber dinghys? Mmm, perhaps I’m asking for too much. There is a sinking gondola in Venice.

A fire at the refinaryThere are a few dramatic moments. A bicycle race in Paris (where visitors can try to help their favourites on to victory by peddling for them). Vesuvius, that erupts (or at least rumbles and shakes) when you press the right button. And in the harbour of Barcelona an oil refinery catches fire on a regular basis. Firefighters on land and sea rush to prevent disaster – by looking at the flames apparently.

Singed firefighterMeanwhile the poor firefighter closest to the action, up on a ladder, is looking increasingly singed.

On a ferris wheelBut generally speaking life in Mini-Europe is pretty calm. The plastic people enjoy the mixed melodies – and blessings – of 28 national anthems (plus the “Ode to Joy”) whenever visitors press the right buttons. They sit around casually outside cafés and in ferris wheel gondolas, watching the world – and the giants – go by. And in Finland blonde women emerge from a little sauna to go skinny-dipping in the lake before nipping back inside (for some birch-twig flagelation no doubt).

It’s all so very EU.

Finnish sauna and naked bather
At the Finnish sauna…

I wrote this article for the #Blogg52 challenge.

Lisbon photo essay

A Lisbon photo essay to round off my series of entries from Lisbon.

The last week in June, Mrs SC and I visited Lisbon – my first visit, her second. In my two most recent blog entries here I focused on a couple of of Lisbon’s “sights” and their history. First off was the Alfama, the oldest part of the city dominated by the Castelo de Sao Jorge. That article retold the story of the 1147 Siege of Lisbon. Here’s a photo of the castle that I didn’t fit into that article.

Lisbon photo essay: Baixa - Looking up to the CastleIn my second article I wrote about our visit to the Museu de Marinha in Belém and how the museum presents the story of the Portuguese Age of Discovery… and what it leaves out. We didn’t spend the whole day in the Maritime Museum, though, and here’s a picture of an ancient fig tree in the Jardim Botânico Tropical, which turned out to be another good place to rest in the shade.

Lisbon photo essay: Belem - fig tree in the tropical botanical gardens
My final article was going to be about the great Lisbon earthquake of 1755, but I’ve had second thoughts. I love history, but I know I can run on a bit. The last couple of entries have been rather wordy, so today’s will be mostly photos. I’ll hold the earthquake over to a later date – or perhaps till after I revisit Lisbon, which I’m tempted to do. We did have a very good time.

But first, allow me just a little more history. I took the next photo on the morning of our first day. We were out scouting for breakfast, walking down the tree-shaded Avenida da Liberdade  when I saw this. As you probably remember from school, Christopher Columbus “discovered America” in 1492.
The Discovery of America 1472 - Avenida da Liberdade
OK:

  • The aboriginal peoples of America actually discovered it tens of thousands of years earlier,
  • Leif Eriksson was the first certain European visitor and he was there around the year 1000,
  • Columbus probably went to his grave believing he’d actually found India,
  • The Waldseemüller map – the first to actually name the continent America – didn’t appear till 1507.

Still… 1472?

I really thought it was a mistake. The sort of thing that happens sometimes when street painters doze on the job and paint SLOM on a road where they ought to have painted SLOW. But, no. It seems there’s this theory in Portugal that a Portuguese explorer called João Vaz Corte-Real discovered the New Land of the Codfish (Terra Nova do Bacalhau) in 1472. So put that in your pipe and smoke it, you Spanish and American Columbus lovers!

And while you’re doing that, enjoy these photos from a tram ride we took through Lisbon’s Bairro Alto district.

Lisbon photo essay: Tram 28 at Martin Montiz
Above is tram number 28 at the Martin Moniz stop.

Below is from the interior of a number 25 tram heading up to Bairro Alto.

Lisbon photo essay: Inside tram 25

Lisbon photo essay: Bairro Alto - street scene - reading the news
Above: Two gentlemen in the shade by a news kiosk – taken from the tram window.

Below: On the phone with the washing – also taken from the tram window.

Lisbon photo essay: Bairro Alto - street scene - on the phone

Lisbon photo essay: Bairro Alto - trams 28 and 25 passing
Above: A number 25 and number 28 tram passing on a corner in Barrio Alto. In places the tram lines are so steep I wonder how the trams manage to climb and not slide back.

Below: A Lisbon street seen through a tram window.

Lisbon photo essay: Bairro Alto - Through the tram windowThat was how we spent the morning of our final day in Lisbon. For a complete change, we took the metro to the ultra-modern district Parque das Nações and spent the afternoon at Lisbon’s Aquarium. The Oceanário de Lisboa is probably the most child-friendly place we visited on our trip. It was pretty entertaining for two older people without kids too. Here’s one of the sharks.

Lisbon photo essay: In the aquarium - shark
And here is a panorama of silhouettes transfixed by the main ocean tank.

Lisbon photo esay: In the aquarium - silhouettes 2
A final couple of pictures to round this off.

Lisbon photo essay: Fado performance 2
Above: The first evening we went to a Fado bar…

Below: …and I had a sangria. Cheers!

John, sangria and Fado
So that was our visit to Lisbon. A very packed schedule, but we had a great time and certainly hope to return one of these days. On the way to the airport the taxi driver asked where we’d been and what we’d seen and then said: “Oh, but you haven’t see Sintra. Sintra is the best.” (It turned out Sintra was where he lived.) So we promised to put Sintra on our list for the next time.


This article was written for the #Blogg52 challenge.

The Age of Discovery at Museu de Marinha

I like history museums. It’s always interesting to see what history the museums choose to present, and the way they present it. It’s also telling to see what history they avoid presenting. Lisbon’s Museu de Marinha – the Maritime Museum – is a case in point.

Lisbon street with seaOn our way to the airport, the day we left Lisbon, the taxi driver asked how we’d enjoyed our visit. We made the usual noises about the fantastic weather, the food, the architecture. We said how much we liked that the city was built by the water. How much we missed that, living in Brussels which doesn’t even have a decent river, just a canal.

“And the history,” I said. “I like the history. I thought it was interesting to visit the Maritime Museum.”

“Ah, yes,” said the taxi driver. “If we have history, it’s all about the sea.” He was right about that.

Optical waves in tiles on Rossio squareLisbon is built on a tidal estuary – the mouth of the Tagus River where it opens into the Atlantic. You can see the water from many points in the city. Even when you can’t see it, it’s often present – in the architecture, in decorations, in monuments. And in the smell of the sea when the warm wind blows.

The second day of our holiday we took a train westward along by the side of the Tagus, four stops to Belém. In Belém, history and the sea are married even more closely. The train was crowded, every seat taken. Many teenagers in shorts and singlets and tennis shoes, suntanned limbs and cheerful faces, rolled towels and bottles of water. This was obviously the train to the beach. But the beach was not at Belém and only a few other tourists got out with us.

Tourist tram and Tuktuk at Praca de ComercioNot to say that Belém wasn’t busy. Tourist coaches, tourist trams, tourist tuk-tuks and private cars had all brought their share. The queue to get into the Mosteiro dos Jerónimos (the Monastery of Jerome) snaked across a wide square and stood still under a blazing sun. We decided not to join it. What does it have to show anyway? We consulted our guidebook. “A monument to the wealth of the Age of Discovery… financed by ‘pepper money’, a tax levied on spices…” And it houses the tomb of Vasco de Gama.

Belem the queue at Mosterio de JeronimosOK. Let’s visit the Museu de Marinha instead, housed in one (more modern) wing of the Monastery. Cool, out of the sun, un-crowded, with maps and instruments of navigation, models of ships and… interesting lacunae.

Portugal’s maritime history begins with fishermen and traders long before the Reconquista and the siege of Lisbon. (See last week’s entry.) Right up until the early 1400s Portugal was little more than an outpost of Europe. A largely insignificant country – like England or Norway – on the edge of Europe, just scratching by. Because of a long coastline, many people fished for a living in the coastal waters. Because there were fisher folk, there were also sailors and shipbuilders. Inevitably there were merchants too, people who helped build trade routes up and down the Atlantic coast.

Henry the Navigator tileThen in the early 1400s, along came Infante Henrique – Prince Henry the Navigator. Henry was the third son of King João I and his English Queen, Philippa of Lancaster. (Incidentally, Philippa was the sister of England’s Henry IV. Henry’s daughter, also Philippa of Lancaster, later married Eric of Pomerania – Erik av Pommern – and became Queen of Denmark, Norway and Sweden.)

Prince Henry (1394-1460) took what Portugal had in the way of seafaring expertise and made something more of it. His motivation – he claimed – was wholly holy. He wanted to carry the Reconquista onward into Africa, to take the crusade to the Moors. And he wanted to get back at the Arab pirates who regularly raided Portugal to carry villagers off into slavery.

Lateen sailTo this end he encouraged the development of faster, more nimble sailing vessels – the Portuguese caravel with its lateen sail. He financed exploration further and further out into the Atlantic and south along the western coast of North Africa. He may have set up a school of navigation, although this seems to be more of a legend than a fact.

It was on Henry’s efforts that future Portuguese exploration built – and a century of effort finally paid off in 1499. That was when da Gama returned to Lisbon after the first European voyage to India round the south of Africa. The cargo of spices da Gama’s ships brought back was worth many times more than the cost of the expedition.

Vasco da GamaThat’s the story the Maritime Museum tells, and it tells it well. A good story, with lots of detail and many objects displayed to bolster its veracity.

But it’s not the full story. Not by a long chalk.

So what’s missing?

Well, slavery for one thing.

It’s true that Henry the Navigator wanted to spread Christianity. It’s true he wanted to put an end to slaver raids on Portuguese territory. It’s also a fact he wanted to make money from the expeditions – but more often than not lost money instead.

Museu de Marinha - Portuguese discoveries camelsWestern Africa was a land of gold – certainly gold came out of western Africa. The Portuguese reasoned it must come from somewhere, and Henry’s explorers were trying to find where. They were not very successful. However, they could see that slaves were a valuable commodity in Morocco.

Rescuing kidnapped Portuguese from the pirate slave markets of Morocco, the Portuguese saw that black Africans were also being traded as slaves. Though they couldn’t find gold, they could certainly find people. From a very early stage, Prince Henry and his explorers started financing their exploration by raiding African villages for slaves. To begin with they sold the Africans to Moroccan slavers – the same people they wanted to stop trading in captured Europeans. Very soon, though, the Portuguese started using African slaves themselves.

Museu de Marinha - Portuguese discoveries map detail 5 - AtlanticAs the explorations continued, more Atlantic islands were discovered, claimed for Portugal and colonised. The Portuguese started to colonise Madeira from 1425 and the Azores from 1433. In both places, from 1450 Prince Henry was encouraging the colonists to cultivate sugar cane and sugar beet. Refined sugar was in great demand in Europe and so a valuable cash crop – but cultivating it was labour intensive. Slavery was the answer.

The transatlantic slave trade was born in the Portuguese island colonies. Throughout the 1400s it was the principle source of finance for the Portuguese Age of Discovery.

Hunted by fishAfterwards, of course, the Portuguese slave trade was eclipsed by the Spanish, the British, the French, the Dutch…  (Even Sweden had a small corner of it.) However, the former Portuguese colony of Brazil became the last country in the Americas to end slavery. It hung on till 1888.

Nowhere in the Maritime Museum is there a breath about any of this.

Quite a serious oversight I feel.

Parque metro station - Ship with negroesInterestingly, we did find one place where there’s at least a hint that some Portuguese have not completely forgotten this dark side of the Age of Discovery. Each of Lisbon’s underground stations has it’s own unique decorative theme. The nearest station to our hotel, Parque, was themed around the Age of Discovery. All the illustrations for this post that have dark blue backgrounds come from the tiles of the Parque station. And, as you see, here at least the slave ships figure.

There were other interesting absences in the Museu de Marinha. Nothing, for example, about the Portuguese Empire between 1600 and the French Revolution. (It was a period of decline when Portugal lost out to the Dutch and the British.) It was also curious to see how the museum chose to describe the loss of Portugal’s colony Goa to independent India in 1961. (Complete with a recording of funereal music.) Not to mention the veil drawn over the independence struggles of the African colonies 1961-1974.

Still, we enjoyed our visit. I’d go back again!

Museu de Marinha, Belem - Portuguese discoveries map detail 1 - navigator


This article was written for the #Blogg52 challenge.