Tomar, O!

I wish I could say that I slept well. Seems to be the recurring theme. Casa de Janelis for the win!

I got up early and walked to the Lisbon Cathedral. It’s called the Sé de Lisboa and I confused multiple people when I pronounced Sé, they shook their head and looked blankly at me. It reminded me of asking Parisians for water. (I spent a good 5 minutes mispronouncing eau only to finally settle on toilet? so I could fill a water bottle in the 80’s.)

The real start of the Camino Português is actually the Ingreja de Santiago de Lisboa. It’s a small little church only open on Wednesday from 5-7 PM, so it, too, was closed. I was hoping to get a stamp for my Camino passport there, but instead only got a photo.

But you know, after snapping that photo, it felt like the Camino was about to begin, even though it was going to be two more days before I pedaled off from Porto.

I wanted to get my first Camino stamp from Lisbon, and so when the Cathedral finally opened, I went inside and got it. I ended up wandering around the cathedral, looking at the tremendous wealth they accumulated from their conquests. It didn’t feel good, I have to say, even though the workmanship was incredible.

I strolled back to my flat and set up the bike for travel. I had a lot of time, so I rode down to the waterfront and along the river for a while. Then back. Then forth. Finally, I ended up at a riverfront bar and had a lemonade.

I found the train and hopped on board, setting my bike in their upright racks. It is a bit of a struggle sometimes. The doors are very narrow and I have more weight on the front tires with the small panniers. But eventually I get it and sit down to rest. I’m early, almost a half hour before the train departs.

After a while, something doesn’t feel exactly right, so I check everything where the bike is living. All good. I double check my ticket. All good. I verify the car number. I’m one off. I’m in car 22 instead of car 21. Ack!

I gather the valuables I took off the bike, put them back on, and then move to the other car. Phew. Big exhale.

The stop where I’m transferring is Encantomento, so I disembark and wait for the local train to Tomar. What a difference in the transport experience on the local train. Sure, it stops more often and takes time, but the doors are wide and the bike straps up against some folding seats, so it was easy-breezy on and off once I arrived in Tomar.

Tomar is the former center of power (in the Portuguese region) of the Knights Templar. They built their castle and cathedral and monastery at the top of the hill and wow did they amass wealth and power as they safeguarded the pilgrims to Jerusalem and other destinations.

I’ve always been drawn to them because they were not fanatical interpretists (I made up that word… people who interpret something with their own personal agenda and then impose it on others) of the inquisition—who would be their undoing—but instead absorbed the spiritual mysticism of Judaism and Islam in their travels, so that their faith was rounded and multidimensional. Of course that meant a challenge to the church who saw their power and influence threatened.

What they built (and what remains that wasn’t destroyed) was breathtaking. Their chapel was modeled after the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. It’s eight-sided shape (I’m told by a guide) represents a rebirth to life in an eternal cycle.

I checked into my Albergue and offloaded the bags and took off. It was already 3:30 in the afternoon and I wasn’t sure how late the castle would be open.

After spending quite some time at their castle, I wandered around the old part of the city. It was typical and beautiful.

After wandering, I returned, showered, and prepped for dinner. This time I walked into town. Lots of folks were out for their evening stroll or going to a restaurant. I stopped at Canoa (a Brazilian canoe) and had a tasty, entertaining, and occasionally embarrassing dinner.

Evidently Barbara, our proprietor, took an interest in me. She couldn’t speak English, so she spoke to me in French. So one of the Portuguese guests took it upon himself to tell me of her affections. “She wants you.” He said this out loud, and the German mother and her daughter sitting next to me laughed. I must have turned bright red.

Dinner in Portugal is a languorous and extended affair. It could be 30 minutes from the time you request your check until you receive it. So it took a while scoot out of there. I had an early departure to Porto, so I wanted to get a full night’s rest.

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