Death by a thousand paper cuts

“The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.” Mark Twain, 1897

Notes from my Journal June 5, 2021

So my growing irritation with the day to day frustration of being an American fish trying to evolve after crawling up on the Portuguese beach of the (new-to-me) old world is not likely to be fatal, at least not in a dramatic way, but it feels like an awful lot of sand in my bathing suit right now.

Yesterday was supposed to fun. We have been here a month and made amazingly little progress in feathering our nest here in Coimbra so taking a day off to be explore should have been a, comparatively, rocking good time. Parts of it were, especially if you consider the bus rides. Evidently, they have not discovered shock absorbers for large vehicles here in Portugal.

We rode up to the top of the city, in the heart of the nearly 1000 year old University area, to visit the National Museum to see what delights we could discover. The views were stunning and we again discovered that my cell phone won’t bring up any maps or directions unless connected to WiFi. I’m sure the problem is self-inflicted by by my technological ignorance and there is some setting that is the culprit, but functionally my IPhone 12 isn’t much good beyond taking pictures.

The Museu de Machado Castro is billed in some guides as “a remarkable building worth a visit even if all the contents were removed”. And it is certainly remarkable in many ways. Being literally on top of ancient Roman ruins two thousand years old, it is a structural marvel overlooking a grand view of the City , the Royal Botanical Gardens (installed about the time the U.S. A. signed the Declaration of Independence) and the Mondego River. All of which can be seen from the scenic roof-top cafe after your tour, a great place to sit and have a glass of wine. If they had any…they didn’t. In this country that boasts extensive regional wine vinyards and thousands of wineries, they were out of white wine. At their national museum, in the most scenic cafe in the city…no Portuguese wine. Thanks, can I just have a Sprite, please?

Sitting there drinking in the splendor of the view, I did wonder about the beginning of the museum tour. One descends steeply on poorly lit stairs into a “Cryptoportici”, an academic word that evidently means dungeon, where you wander through catacombs of ancient construction that are a true wonder, especially since you are given next to no explanation of what you are looking at and when there is something etched on an artfully detailed plaque, you wish you had a flashlight. In fairness, it is a once in a lifetime chance to see and feel something truly unique and exquisitely presented. It just strikes me as a dark way to enter the world of ancient Portuguese art and history. I guess I was spoiled by Disneyland.

Finally, you ascend the stairs and climb into a world of sculpture, painting, and precious metals that span the medieval and Renaissance ages as manifested by the splendor of the Catholic Church during these times. And you do ascend some stairs which becomes the main theme of the day as you explore the “Upper Alto” of Coimbra, an ancient city.

And so it was with tired feet that I trudged home that last mile yesterday, wondering why the bus driver choose to ignore my frantic pushing of the exit button by the back exit of the transit bus., delivering us another half mile away from our apartment. But that gave me time to ponder another of Mark Twains famous quotes.

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.”