Our last day of touring arrived today, and I woke up feeling pretty good, just in time for long travel days and work! Yay?

We have a very early flight tomorrow (Sunday), so I knew we needed to be in Lisbon by 6:00 or so to give us a chance at getting some rest before a long day. With the drive to Lisbon factored in, that gave us about five hours for sights and lunch. We started with the short and familiar drive back to the Lagos harbor area, to explore the old town using the Rick Steves guidebook walk as a guide.

We crossed the river/canal over to the far side, and walked to the main square of the old town to start the walk. The old town is a happy maze of black-and-white-tiled streets, and we enjoyed strolling down them. Mer even managed to get sucked into a demonstration of a small plate that has a rough surface used to grind things (like garlic). When she saw they had one that matched some plates we have, she actually bought something. Now we have something to declare to customs.

Our boat guide yesterday, George, had strongly recommended seeing St. Antony’s church in town, saying the gilded altar is a must-see. The only way to see the small church was to get a ticket to the town museum, which was an eclectic collection of weapons, portraits, landscapes, religious items, and more. We went in, and while we didn’t linger because of time constraints, we did enjoy seeing everything (and we made sure we saw it all).

The chapel was the highlight. It wasn’t very large, but that didn’t stop the decorators from covering every surface with decorations, and then covering all the decorations with gold color. I’m not sure if it was all gold leaf, but the altar was, and it was really impressive. It shone with a warm glow. It wasn’t subtle at all, but it did get the idea of “glory” across pretty well.

Back out on the street, we headed toward the bay. We wanted to see the inside of the newer church, St. Mary’s, but it was closed until noon for a private ceremony (we hoped it was a wedding). So we passed through the square that was being set up with Christmas decorations and fair booths, took a quick peek at the portico area that was where slaves were sold starting in the 1400s (and that was more recently turned into a museum dealing with slavery), and popped out of the old town to go see the old fort (from the 900s in part) and the new fort (1700s). The old fort was the city walls and the old Moorish gate, but you can’t climb up on them now. They were still striking. The new fort, which you can climb up on, was closed, sadly. So we walked down on to the beach.

The Lagos beach was as striking as many Algarve beaches – tons of sand, and even some pretty fun rock formations to see. We had to go through a couple of tunnels to get to sections of the beach, until we were blocked at a tunnel by the tide being too high. We turned around and plunged back into the old town and found St. Mary’s open.

In contrast to St. Antony’s altar, St. Mary’s is modern, colorful, and (if I’m allowed to say it) tasteful. There is a sculpture of a crucified Jesus, including blood running down the cross from his feet, and that wasn’t unusual in a Catholic church. The thing that caught my eye and made me sit down to contemplate it was that there were angels and the Holy Spirit painted behind Jesus in a subtle, modern, almost cartoonish way, and it really worked. There was nothing childish about it (maybe childlike), and I very much liked it.

After St. Mary’s, we got lunch outside at a cafe on a side street that looked down on the church. It was a great lunch, both for location and for the food – we were there on a Saturday, so we could get weekend-only cinnamon rolls. After lunch, we made the walk back to the car and bid a fond farewell to Lagos. It was a fun little town to be based out of.

The day was still too nice and too early just to head to Lisbon, so I decided to try to check out the Algar Seco rock formations in Carvoeiro, a smaller village right on the beach between two extended cliffs. We had seen some great rocks from the ocean yesterday, and I wanted to see if we could clamber about them.

Carvoeiro is sort of on the way back out of the Algarve if you are headed to Lisbon, so that worked well. I figured we would have an hour or more to explore. Of course, it ended up being closer to two.

We parked the car at the top of the cliff and saw the boardwalk running along it, so we headed that way. We found an entry, but it had a sign showing that it was only about four tenths of a mile long, so I thought we should go to the west end and walk east. Once we got to the west end, Mer said she thought the town below us was the cute town of Carvoeiro we’d seen from the boat, so I added that to the impromptu itinerary.

We walked down (and down) to the beach area, and walked out on the sand to admire the cliffs. We used the ever-convenient public restrooms Portugal has so thoughtfully provided, and then we went back up (and up) to the start of the boardwalk. We wanted to see what a little park-looking area in front of a chapel was (a closed children’s park, it turned out), but that helped us to find the beautiful paneled doors of the chapel – many colorful, somewhat-abstract sketches of scenes from the life of Jesus and Mary. It was a good sacred art day today.

The boardwalk started well, with wide walking platforms and grand views out to sea. There were side platforms where you could sit and contemplate the ocean. The walking wasn’t difficult, and I was pleased with the choice to come here.

And then the first major rock formation hove into view. With stairs leading down to it. And stairs and paths carved into the rock. I was giddy. Mer and I climbed down, having to go through a tunnel to get to the rocks, and then we scrambled all around, poking about in caves and on top of hollows that sometime will become chimney holes to the caverns below. We perched on top of high rock formations, and kept finding more stairs and more paths, and every new place had new views and fun places to explore. It was wonderful.

After we looked all about there for a long time, we finished off the boardwalk, which finished with another rock formation. We debated a bit on the time, and decided to check it out anyway. I’m glad we did. The stairs led to a tunnel that led to a small cave that had two small “windows” that looked out on the ocean. We got to wave to a tourist boat. It was like a small rock living room.

The other side of the rock formation didn’t have a cave, but it did have a collapsed chimney/canyon that let us see down to the low-tide ocean. It looked as if at high tide that the water might make the cave area look like a long and narrow pool.

And that finally wrapped up our tour. We headed north toward Lisbon, on an efficient but dull highway, getting to our hotel at 6:00 pm. We had a light supper here at the restaurant just for ease, and now we just need to get up in time to get to the airport by 5:30 am or so.

Other than my being sick for several days, this has been a great trip. We had great weather on six of seven days, and the one rainy day came in a town (Evora) where there were some good indoor options available. We were both very impressed by town walls and wide beaches and towering cliffs and friendly people and lots of kitties. Here’s to hoping we can come back to Portugal to finish off the country’s regions by seeing the north.

The amazing gem of southern Portugal is the coastline itself. Perfect sand beaches share the waterline with towering cliffs of sandstone. The natural beauty is breathtaking, especially when combined with all of the sunshine we’ve had the last few days since getting to the Algarve region.

Today was all about that scenery, but from the water. Enter butt-sitting tourism, floating division.

I woke up finally feeling much better than I had the last few days, but at the cost of some sleep, since I woke up drenched in sweat. I knew that that was a good thing for my health, but it wasn’t great for my immediate sleep needs, as I had no good way to do much about the now-wet sheets and pillow. Happily, Meredith had her own bed and blissfully slept on.

After breakfast, we drove the mile or so into town to the train station, where we met up with the first of our boat captains. George is a married man in his mid-forties, and he has been leading tours for fourteen years, and is the grandson of a fisherman. He was very friendly and chatty. He took us to a decent-sized inflatable speedboat (it could hold six passengers or so), and we set off down the canal from the harbor to the ocean.

We learned that Lagos has been important since at least Roman times. The city is on a natural harbor that is shielded from Atlantic storms, and so boats have always been safe in the harbor (except for when the tsunami hit – the one from the 1755 earthquake that devastated Lisbon).  We learned how to cook octopus: freeze it to break up muscle fibers, then pressure cook it for fifteen minutes to make it tender. Eat everything except the beak. Pardon my prejudice, but ewww.

Mostly we talked about what we were seeing – the cliffs, arches, and caves of the coast itself. We were able to get up close to many of the sea stacks, and even got to go under one arch. The sea was calm, and our pace was leisurely (often just five or six mph). We had the early-morning sea mostly to ourselves.

It was all beautiful, but then George took us into a huge open-air cave called “the cathedral.” There, along one wall, was an underwater hole that let light through and made the sea glow turquoise blue. There were even small fish outlined in the light. It was my favorite part of the trip.

After about two total hours, we got back to the harbor in Lagos. We thanked George, who wrote down the name of a restaurant for us to try later. We then went to drop some layers of clothes in the car, and we went for lunch. After eating, we still had about forty minutes to stroll, so I decided to go around the north end of the harbor and come back along the pedestrian bridge. Except you can’t do that. After our getting ninety percent of the way around the harbor, the harbor walk just stopped. Back we went. We crossed the bridge and kept going along the canal for a few minutes before going back to the train station for Butt-sitting Tourism II, the Other Cheek.

It seems as if everywhere you go along the central Algarve region, you see ads for tours to the Benagil Cave. The travel blog I consulted said it was a “must see.” Who was I to argue? We had a two-hour group tour out to the cave (going very quickly) and back (going much more slowly, visiting several other sea caves as well).

It was a mostly fun tour. The sights were grand, and the Benagil Cave is a special place to see – it’s a sea cave worn into a light brown dome with a hole open to the blue sky above. However, to maximize passengers on board, the boat seats were just sideways benches that we sat astride, crammed in so close to our fellow passengers that I kept getting bumped by the one on my right every time she went to take a picture. Think “economy class” on an airline, minus most of the comfort. By then end of the tour, my back was in a ton of pain, and my legs kept trying to cramp once I got back on land.

But I did love the tour itself. We went inside three different sea caves and near a couple of others. A tour of the caves may need to include research into the type of boat you’re taking.

Back in Lagos, Mer and I drove west of the town to the top of the cliffs, to the lighthouse there. Portugal has been amazing in providing free parking and easy access to natural sites, and this was no different. There were boardwalks and viewing platforms all along the tops of the cliffs, and from there we watched the sunset. Mer actually managed to catch the sunrise by looking out our window at the right moment this morning, so she framed the day nicely with the sun.

As soon as the sun went below the horizon, it got cold, so we walked back to the car and drove to the restaurant that George had recommended – Campimar. It was right on the beach and had a kitty welcome us just outside the door. George had said the sea bass was “made with love.” My dinner was “made with beef.” Mer enjoyed her love very much.

And so hotelward. I’m strangely tired for having sat on boats or in a car or at a table for most of the day, but there it is. I’m hoping we can both sleep well and long tonight so we can still squeeze in a few more hours of touring here before we need to head back to Lisbon.

Ah! Young love! A chance to spend a blissful day together with the beloved! Perfect weather – abundant sun, blue skies, and a pristine beach sandwiched between towering sandy cliffs. A perfect Portugal day! And then the middle-aged American couple huffs onto one end of the beach.

I woke up today with my throat finally starting to feel somewhat better, but now my back and neck muscles were very sore. Coughing had become happily rare, but when it did happen, it hurt and was usually accompanied by hawking up something rather less than lovely. And my body was still tired, especially since I didn’t sleep well as I went through hot/cold cycles again. Not a great start to a touring day when I was in charge.

I ate a little breakfast and then went back to the room to rest. Mer got done with her much-better-deal breakfast and came back to the room, where she generously offered to let me rest some more since checkout wasn’t until noon. But it was a perfect-weather day, and the light only lasts until 5:30 this time of year, so I decided to gut things out and see how things fared.

The first stop of the day was at Castelo Beach, right outside of Albufeira to the west. The beach is actually a couple of beaches – a large one that is easily accessible, and a small one that requires some effort to get to due to having to scramble down rocks and sand and such. Of course I wanted to see the smaller beach, and we headed down that way after checking out the recently completed viewing platform at the top of the cliff separating the large beach from the smaller one. It took a couple of tries to find a path that led all the way down to the beach, but we made it. And that’s where we stumbled upon our young love birds who I’m sure were thrilled to see us coming. We sat in the shade of a cliff and watched the sea for a few minutes, and then we made our way back off the beach. Happily, we were replaced by a woman in her thirties who was by herself.

It took some small effort to get back up, including a couple of tricky patches, but we made it, and then we went down to the bigger beach, which was deserted. That may have had something to do with the smell – not overpowering, but a distinct rotting-plant smell, probably from the tons of organic plant material on the beach. Of the half-dozen Portuguese beaches we have been on, this was the only one with that issue. We didn’t linger.

We drove on west some more, to the Chapel of Nossa Senhora da Rocha (Our Lady of the Rock), a dramatically placed small chapel that sits on a narrow cliff between two beaches. I’ve come to the conclusion that all of southern Portugal is either cliff or beach. We sat at the end of the chapel enclosure, enjoying the view. As we were leaving the cliff, I saw a bar that had a kitty sitting in the doorway, so that seemed a sign. We went in, and they indeed had simple bar food, so we got lunch, and got to pet a friendly kitty.

From lunch, we walked down to the beach on the left, and found it was busy with about a dozen children playing. My main goal was the other beach, so that was fine, especially since to get to the other beach, you used a tunnel. That was fun. It turns out there was a stairway to the other beach too, but the tunnel was more satisfying.

The other beach was quieter, with about ten people spread out across the whole of it. Mer and I pulled up a slip of sand; I was tired and a little cold, so I figured sitting in the sun would help. After a bit, that seemed like work, so I lay down and pulled together a sand pillow for my head. I put my hat over my eyes, and the seagull cries got really distant for awhile. We did use the stairs to leave the beach.

The last stop of the touring day was to drive over to Marinha Beach, to the start of the Seven Hanging Valleys trail. It’s a trail that winds along the clifftops of the area, with wonderful views of sea stacks, sea arches, caves, cliffs, beaches, and the ocean. The trail wasn’t crowded, but we never had it to ourselves either, so it must be packed in the summer. We walked about one third of the way out before I decided with time’s and my water supply’s running out, we should head back. It was a beautiful hike. And, in keeping with our observation that this country is kitty-nuts, a program to help town cats had put up a little six-cat-bed kitty shelter with some food around. The kitties sunning themselves on the nearby picnic tables were appreciative.

We drove forty-five minutes to Lagos, where our hotel is located for tonight and tomorrow night. The hotel faces the ocean, but isn’t right on it. In this case, that’s good overall for the town since the beach is public and open for miles in either direction. It does mean no waves to sleep to tonight.

I was pretty tired at this point, so I took a thirty-minute nap while Mer walked down to the beach. We then headed the mile into town, walking along the remarkably good boardwalk that runs the entire length of the beach. We got to see the light changing as the sun went down, and then Mer realized we’d be walking back in the very un-lit dark of the boardwalk, so expressed a desire to go back for the car so we could drive home after dark. We did that, and parked near the marina and train station. We grabbed supper at an Italian restaurant, and then walked along the harbor/river area to the old town to go get some ice cream. Hey, it’s Thanksgiving back home, so we had to do some splurge eating.

I’m thankful that the joy of middle-age love keeps on going for us, and that even when I’m not at my loveliest (sick, sweating from the sun, and wearing a very unsexy sun hat), Meredith still prefers to travel with me over all others.

Two and a half weeks ago, I ran my twentieth marathon. It was a solid race, but even after all of these years of my running the marathon, it’s still a physically difficult thing to do. At some point late in the race, you just have to force yourself to put one foot in front of the other.

I bring this up for two reasons. One, I should be in beastly shape; I just ran a marathon. And two, sometimes even when touring, you just have to force yourself to put one foot in front of the other.

I woke up after a good nine hours of sleep, but still felt pretty lousy. I took a really long and hot shower to try to loosen my back and lungs, and then I stuck to yogurt and cereal for breakfast. It seemed easiest to swallow.

After breakfast, we headed back into town in Tavira. I wanted to go see the garden that now forms a park in the ruins of the old castle. It had been closed last night by the time we got there, but it looked really cool from what I could see through the bars. Since I had no time constraints for today, I decided to make room for the castle.

It was well worth it. The garden is cute and had many things still blooming, and the castle still had two walls and three towers you could climb on and in. The views were good, although you couldn’t really see the sea because it was too far away from the old town. We explored the garden, and went back to the hotel to check out; the entire outing took about an hour.

On to the next set of fun things to do! We headed west toward the town of Albufeira. Along the way, our GPS took us down eighteen thousand little roads, but eventually got us to the Pine Cliffs section of the miles-long Falésia Beach. I’m not much of a sit-on-the-beach kind of guy, but if you add in large sand cliffs topped by pines, miles of uncrowded beach to walk, and a perfect weather day, then I’m in. It was even warm enough for Mer to take off her shoes and walk in the edge of the surf. Great day.

Pine Cliffs didn’t disappoint. The cliffs were made up of red and white sand and had been weathered into all kinds of interesting shapes and canyons. We checked out the view from the top (after I warned Meredith that she probably shouldn’t go right up to the edge of the sand cliff). From there, we made our way down to the beach, where we walked east for almost an hour. And here was the first one-foot-in-front-of-the-other moment of the day. I was fine walking, but it was a very slow and deliberate pace. And if there was elevation, like when we went back to the car, it was all I could do to put my head down and just trudge up the slope. I told Meredith it was a bit of my “old man” preview, like the day after I had food poisoning last summer in Riga. Slow and steady don’t win you the tourism race, but they do keep you in the game.

We headed back to the car after a detour up and through a sand canyon that led to a private hotel entrance, so we went back down to the beach and back up to the car. That was a bit tough. We found a little Italian cafe where we got lunch nearby, and then went into Albufeira to check in to our hotel.

Meredith loves a good bargain. In our hotel last night, she saved several euros by getting a room with a window that had no view – it just looked out on a five-by-five mini courtyard that let light into the building interior.

I am not that way. While I do not check us into extravagant hotels, if I can find, say, a beachfront resort hotel for ninety-six dollars, I’m going to do that, and pony up the extra to get a room facing the ocean.

That turned out to be a good thing. By the time we got checked in, I was at the end of my tourism rope. I told Meredith I needed a nap, and we left the balcony door open to the ocean. I fell asleep almost immediately to the sounds of the waves. Mer took advantage of the time by strolling along the beach twenty minutes into town, and then coming back and doing some more beach strolling.

The rest helped, although I still was lacking any real vigor. When we set out again around 5:00, we went along the beach into town at a thoughtful shuffle. I kept us on the beach until we got to the far end of the town beach so we could climb some pretty white stairs to the top of the cliffs that part of the town is built on. I also wanted to check out the elevator/viewing platform next to the stairs. The platform wasn’t graceful, coming from the “Ooooo, concrete!” age of architecture, but the views were satisfying.

We then plunged into the back alleys of the town, trying to find the old town. After thirty or forty minutes of semi-directed phone map wandering, we thought we found the edge of the old town, where we had supper on the patio of an Italian restaurant that had heaters and blankets to keep us warm.

After supper, we walked along the now-deserted beach to the hotel. We still have the doors to the room open to the ocean, and that is a little energizing, at any rate. Here’s to the possibility of a long sleep tonight and to feeling better as a result. One step at a time, I guess.

This trip has been unusual for the difficulties we have faced on it. These haven’t been anything serious, but these trips typically go pretty smoothly. Meredith was sick for about twelve days leading up to our leaving. Happily, she got well right before we left. Unhappily, I caught her bug on Thursday, and we left Saturday.

I’ve been able to hang in there and keep touring. I cough some and get tired, but we’ve still kept the tourism plans running on track. Last night was rough, though. My ears hurt, I had trouble regulating my temperature, and someone outside our window kept recycling buckets of glass bottles on and off through the night. As such, I didn’t sleep well, and that may have caught up with me today, as I felt as bad as I have all vacation. Mer assures me she went through the same thing just before feeling better, so I’m hoping to have improvement in health tomorrow or Thursday.

The other odd occurrence was with our rental car showing low oil levels. There was a rental office only a mile from where we parked, which was great, but it took forever to find it because it turns out the rental office is attached to the back of a car dealership and their sign advertising the rental office was slightly bigger than a standard postcard. The helpful agent told me that for some reason, the make of my car (something I’ve never heard of) slowly burns oil even when it’s working correctly. He topped it off, and away we went in the hope that the car will behave itself until the weekend. The oil pitstop cost us an hour to finish, so that was sadly lost touring time for today.

We headed off for the south, to the town of Tavira, on the eastern portion of the south coast. It took us about three and a half hours to get here, with our arriving at our hotel a little after 1:00. The room wouldn’t be ready until 3:00, so we dropped our luggage and walked along the river to the main square, where the TI was located. Mer wanted to ask the TI agent some questions, but he was behind Covid-era glass, and so with the language barrier combined with the sound issues of an actual barrier, Mer gave up on asking him about things.

We went back toward the hotel to buy tickets for a ferry to go to Tavira Island, a giant 6.5-mile-long sandbar at the mouth of the river. It’s a giant beach, and in the summer is probably swarming with sun seekers. Not so much today. We rode a lightly populated ferry twenty minutes to the island, where we disembarked. We had about an hour and twenty minutes to explore before the last ferry of the day left. We struck off on a path that led away from the main paved path of the small village, and we walked along the river to the beach facing the Atlantic.

The beach was sunny, and the winds were light enough not to be cold in the sun. There were almost no people around, although judging by the number of permanent sun umbrella frames on the beach, we were guessing that this place could be swamped with people. We walked along the ocean for a little over thirty minutes, enjoying the sun and quiet. We then retraced our steps back to the landing, where we had enough time left to walk into the village to the edge of the beach again.

The ferry ride back home was chilly – the sun was going down, and the wind picked up. We got back to town and checked in to the hotel, where I promptly dove under the bed covers for fifteen minutes to get warm again. That worked. I then put on a flannel shirt over my tee shirt, a jacket over my flannel, and a windbreaker over my jacket. That proved enough to fend off the evening cold as we went back out.

Mer took us on a Rick Steves guidebook walk of the town, which was a great way to see the town, but all of the things Rick pointed out were closed. We did see the outside of three churches, castle ruins, and the main shopping street getting decorated for Christmas (although the lights weren’t on yet). We also saw about fifteen cats in the streets. The city center is a great place to be a cat since there is low (and slow) traffic, and multiple people seem to leave food out. A couple of kitties even let us pet them, though most were wary.

After the walk, we crossed the “Roman bridge,” which isn’t really Roman and now isn’t even old, since the original mostly washed away in a flood in the late 1980s. The far side of the river is quieter than the tourist town, and Mer took us to an Irish pub to get supper. That hit the spot and helped revive my lagging spirits somewhat, and then we called it a night in the hopes that we can get a good sleep tonight and I can feel better.

I hope I do – I’m in charge for the rest of the vacation, so I can’t phone this in. We head west along the coast tomorrow.

Evora is another walled city, about an hour and forty-five minutes away from Obidos. Evora is less dramatically walled, as the walled area is huge; the fourteenth-century walls enclose an area big enough that you can’t see the walls from inside the walls themselves. Inside the walls and up the hill are some still-visible sections of a Roman wall, including a still-used Roman gate.

We parked outside the walls so that I didn’t have to drive in the warren of streets, and we walked to our nearby hotel. Our room was ready, so we dropped off our luggage and headed out. The forecast was for rain, a rarity in these parts, so we wanted to take advantage of the rain-free morning and afternoon.

Mer took us up the hill to the main square of the walled city to where the market used to be. It’s a surprisingly large square to be inside walls, and it’s quite pretty. One side is mostly shops with a covered portico to keep winter rain and summer heat off of shoppers.

From the main square, we walked up to the smaller town-hall square, where we went into the town hall. Inside the back of the lobby area is a Roman bath that workers uncovered during renovations, as one commonly does.

More up-the-hill, to the top of the hill. An old Roman temple wrongly attributed to Diana still partly stands (the temple is now believed to have been dedicated to the cult of the emperors). Next to the old temple is a park with a good viewpoint, a church (closed on Mondays), a museum on the Inquisition (also closed on Mondays), and the town library (you really have to want those books). Just beyond the square is the town’s cathedral, which we walked around to locate the front entrance, which turned out to be ninety percent of the way around the building; we had gone the very long way around.

We saved touring the cathedral for later, and we headed back down to the market square to grab a light lunch at a cafe. From there, we went down the hill some more to the Franciscan church, which was founded within Francis’ lifetime. Not a bad ideas-spread for a guy living in 1200s Italy.

The church was simple, as many Franciscans churches are, but it became “the thing” to have wealthy people build side chapels onto existing churches in the eighteenth century, so there are many elaborate side chapels in the church now. To make sure people don’t get caught up in all the pomp and showiness of worldly displays of wealth, three Franciscan brothers built a bone chapel, which we visited.

We’ve seen multiple bone chapels in Europe over the years, and we always find them fascinating. The point is always to highlight how brief life is and how long eternity is. I’ve seen the motto “We were once like you. You will be like us” on such chapels before, but this one had the new-to-me inscription of “We bones in here wait for yours to join us.” Point taken. There were hundreds of skulls and thousands of bones decorating the chapel. An inscription pleaded with people to stop being busy and to contemplate the chapel. Life is short, and you need to know that and think on the next life.

Attached to the church is a museum of ecclesiastical art which included a special exhibit of paintings of the cathedral done by teenagers from around the world. They were all good, but several were excellent and fairly moving. It’s quite a feat for someone who has only been around thirteen to seventeen years.

Upstairs from the art gallery was another gallery, showcasing some of the 2600 nativity scenes that a collector donated to the church. About half of them are Portuguese, but the rest come from over eighty countries around the world. There were nativity scenes made of clay and cork and colored tin foil and carved rock and even pencil leads. Some were very simple (just Mary, Joseph, and Jesus), and others had hundreds of figures crowded around a strangely Portuguese-looking Bethlehem. There were holy families of many different races and many different customs. It was a great display. And as a bonus, the museum led out onto a viewing terrace, which was wet and windy today. It still gave good views of the town.

From the Franciscan church, we went back up the hill to the cathedral, where we had less than two hours to climb to the roof, tour the cloister walk, check out the cloister roof, tour the cathedral, and see the two-floor museum attached to the church. No problem.

The roof was a good climb up both standard and spiral stairs, and even with the steady drizzle, it was still fun to be on the roof. A young couple asked us to take their picture, and so we got to talking. He’s a software engineer from Latvia, and she’s a vet from Australia, and they now live in rural England. They were fun to chat with, even in the rain.

Mer and I went down the stairs and on to the cloister, which encloses a small lemon orchard. I saw a sign for stairs in one corner, and that took us up to the roof of the cloister, where we could look down into the orchard. We walked around the cloister on the roof and then again on the normal floor when we got back down there. The walking area is intact and still a great place to quietly walk about.

On to the main cathedral, with time running short. We took a quick look around and headed over to to the museum. There we saw lots of paintings and vestments and metalwork used in the mass. Of special note was a serene-looking dead Mary whom people pray to when they want a good death. There was also a Mary figure whose front could be opened up to reveal carvings telling the story of her life. I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite like that before.

And so, after a warning by the museum staff person that “You control the temp! We close all doors at 5:00!” we walked back through the darkening cathedral, getting out the door at about 4:59. We ran into our English couple there, and they said they hadn’t made it to the museum in time, but the ticket people promised they could come back tomorrow to see the museum on the same ticket, which was kind.

Mer and I then began what turned out to be a two-hour mini-Odyssey to find supper. First, we located a gelato store for future use. Then we walked a fairly long ways to a restaurant that didn’t open until 7:00. We walked back to our hotel to regroup, and I took us to a pizza place that Google said was open, just a block away. It was closed until 7:00.  We headed back to the ice cream place for a pre-supper dessert. We went back to the pizza place a little after 7:00. It was still closed, and no lights were on. We gave up on that and went to the nearest restaurant that was open – an Indian place just a few doors down from the hotel. Although I usually am suspicious of Indian food because it’s usually quite spicy, I managed to find a couple of things that I could eat, and so we ended the evening dry and well fed.

Tomorrow, I need to start the day off by going to the local branch of my rental car company. The “check oil” light came on in the car today when we were about seven or eight miles from town, so I drove here keeping an eye on the engine temperature. I verified that the car is low on oil, and when I called the company, they told me to drive it the two miles to the office. It’s their engine. I’m hoping they will give me a different car, but it’s annoying that we have to delay touring by probably thirty minutes to take care of it.

Today was a solidly good day in that most of our outdoor touring was dry, and the indoor touring worked well. Tomorrow we head south, and it’s supposed to be sunny the rest of our time here in Portugal.

With my being employed again after my year in school last year, we decided we could afford to travel for Thanksgiving break again. Portugal turned out to have cheap tickets for a direct flight out of Toronto, so here we are.

Getting here was fairly smooth, with the only hitch being a one-hour delay for the plane to  take off. Since we had a direct flight that was scheduled to get in at 6:45 am, a delay didn’t matter all that much.

We got to Lisbon and picked up our car after dealing with some very friendly rental agents. Mer directed me to put the town of Obidos into out GPS, and off we went.

Meredith picked Obidos as a day-one excursion based on the facts that the town sounded cute to explore on foot and that it was only forty-five minutes north of Lisbon. Although we’re focusing on the south of the country on the trip, Obidos won a spot based on those recommendations.

And it was a great pick. I got off the highway, turned a corner, and boom, there was castle. And a good what-the-movies-teach-you-to-expect kind of castle with crenellated walls sitting atop a hill. The walls were forty feet tall or more in places and enclosed a small town inside the still-existent walls.

But cute always comes with a cost. In trying to find our just-outside-the-walls hotel, I had to drive up narrow one-way cobblestone streets that somehow the medieval designers didn’t make for automobiles. Short-sighted urban planners. I finally found my way out of the maze and parked at the base of the castle hill to walk up, but there were some jet-lag-accentuated stressful moments.

We dropped our bags at the hotel around 10:00 am and were told our room would be ready around 1:00. That gave us three hours to explore Obidos properly, which is just about the right amount of time to see the inside-the-walls part of the town.

We made our way up to the main gate in time to see the storming of the gates by at least three bus tours. The town never stood a chance. Back when the Moors had the castle complex, the Portuguese king took the castle by assaulting the front gate while a group of his men sneaked up the back of the castle while using the obvious tactic of dressing as cherry trees. If you can’t trust the Ents, who can you trust?

The touristic hordes didn’t have tree disguises, but they did have pocketbooks and wallets, and the town was running a full-fledged counter-attack assault on savings accounts. This took the form of the always-required children’s plastic armor and swords that are found in castle towns all across Europe, but the main street was pitching the local Portuguese liquor, Ginja, a cherry-flavored drink served in little chocolate cups for 1.50 euros. Mer even tried some at a bakery we stopped at for lunch. She proclaimed the liqueur to suggest she was drinking cough syrup until she could actually eat the chocolate cup, at which point the cherry flavor complemented the chocolate nicely.

We did a Rick-Steves-guidebook walking tour of the town, which took us up to the main gate tower and then back down to the ground and down a quieter restaurant street before plunging us into the merchant melee of the shopping gauntlet. But it was a cute gauntlet, I have to say, and we did grab lunch on it (as well as Mer’s aperitif). There were a couple of church squares, one of which was the sunning spot of a cute tiger kitty, and we made our way up to the old church in front of the old keep of the castle, which is now a luxury hotel. The church is now a bookstore, which is appropriate since Obidos has a literary festival every year.

We went up to the hotel/keep to observe the town from a vantage point, and then we went back down before scaling the western wall. The sort-of stairs were posted with a sign telling you this could be a dumb decision, and they weren’t kidding. There were the battlements on top of the wall to keep you safe from the enemy below, but that gravity thing was clearly someone else’s problem. On the town side, the wall had no rails, and the top of the wall was just uneven enough to keep you guessing. The wall was about four feet wide, which was good, but if you were to fall, the consequences would be grim in many places as you dropped thirty feet onto cobblestone. I can only imagine how fun all of that would be if you were wearing armor or carrying pots of oil to pour on hostile people below.

We made it back to the main gate and went back down to the streets to take a quiet residential street near the western wall. That got us back to the north side of town, and we went back down the hill to our hotel, where we finally got to get into our room for a three-hour nap and a wonderful-feeling shower.

Thus refreshed, we went back out into the Obidos evening. The tour buses had all gone, and so when we went up the gate tower and walked the eastern wall, we had the walk all to ourselves. We did use my cellphone flashlight to keep an eye out for trip hazards, but we were fine. The town was all lit up, including all of the battlements along the wall. It was a pretty place to walk.

After the wall got us to the northern end of town, we strolled back along the closing-up shopping street to the main gate and got supper at a pizza restaurant outside the wall, where Mer got rice and bass, as one does at a pizza place.

After supper, we took the quieter restaurant street inside the walls to the north end of town, and back out and down to the hotel. We sat on a swinging chair on the patio for a few minutes, glad that the porch had a roof since it was raining lightly. Then, we finally called it a day.

And a great first day it was. We got some sleep and some food, and thoroughly did a major tourist site. That makes for a grand opening to our Portuguese adventure.

When I add a travel entry to Ye Olde Blogge, I usually do so every night for international trips and every other night for domestic trips. This last week, we had a great time vacationing and visiting family in Maine, but a combination of my being tired from long touring days combined with Mer’s need to use the laptop to do school prep work meant I only now am getting around to jotting down what we did, in one contains-everything entry.

We had the good fortune to travel to Maine with our friend Brianna, who went with us on our last trip two years ago. She’s a fun and enthusiastic traveler, so we were very pleased she could join us. Plus, on our last trip, several things we showed her were marred by weather (fog) or circumstances (local flooding of water features). As such, we had a chance to show her some of those sights again under normal circumstances.

We take two days to go from Ohio to Maine, and so Saturday we got as far as New Hampshire. It was a long day, but set us up nicely to do some Maine touring and still get home to Livermore Falls in time for supper on Sunday. And so, here’s a summary of our days in Maine:

Sunday – We decided to explore Kennebunkport, which is a cute coastal town where the Bush family (of president fame) has a vacation home. It turns out Kennebunkport is a bit more sprawling than we had imagined, so after an hour of wandering the main street area, we took an hour-long trolley tour of the highlights of the area. It took us out to the ocean and to an old and elegant hotel where we stopped for a photo opportunity off their large patio overlooking the ocean. We drove along the scenic road that overlooks the Bush vacation home (and other beautiful homes, of course). We saw and heard about the large home successful sea captains built, and finished the tour going out along the large public beaches (and seeing more oceanfront homes). It was a good way to see the town.

We did get home to Livermore Falls in time for supper, for which my stepmom had made homemade lasagna and whoopie pies. After eating too much, I suggested we take a walk on the trail to the top of nearby Mt. Pisgah, and so the four of us did that. It was a bit of a race against sunset, and the woods got dim enough that we walked back down a fire-access road instead of down the trail. The views from the top were still very fine.

Monday – Mer took charge of the day and took us to Fort Williams Park in Cape Elizabeth near Portland. The park is home to Portland Head lighthouse, which none of us had ever seen in person (there are tons of photos on postcards in Maine). The park is home to an old fort that was in use until World War II, as well as park lands, two small museums (on the fort and on the lighthouse), the shell of an old mansion, and the lighthouse itself. We joined a free forty-five-minute guided tour that walked us around much of the park, and then we explored the park on our own, including wading in the fairly cold Atlantic Ocean.

Tuesday – Kellee joined the three of us as we explored the Maine Botanical Gardens. It was a very hot day, so we took it easy, but the gardens offered lots of shade. Mer and Brianna joined a tour of the gardens, but it was large enough that Kellee and I dropped out after we discovered we couldn’t hear the guide. We sat in the shade in various pleasant places as we kept in the vicinity of the tour so as to not lose Mer and Brianna.

The garden has five large wooden troll sculptures around the grounds, and we managed to find four of them. We missed one, and by the time we discovered we had missed it, we were sufficiently far away from it as to decide not to go back for it. Many of the garden trails are in the woods and along the Back River, so that was a beautiful and pleasant way to manage the heat. We were all rather taken with the “fairy garden” where people could build little fairy homes out of sticks and rocks and moss. Many were very creative, and the garden had installed some stone structures around with Celtic-style carvings and a small Stonehenge-type circle to add some magical feel to the area. It was well done.

Wednesday – We headed to the coast to the Rockland area. Mer still has some family in that area, and we had arranged to meet Mer’s cousin and her family at the Samoset Resort for lunch. The Samoset is one of my favorite places to eat because the deck looks out over the golf course and ocean. It’s a lovely spot.

But we got to Rockland early enough that we drove out to Owls Head, which is home to a lighthouse on the far side of the harbor from the Rockland Breakwater light. The Owls Head light is in a park on the ocean, and you can climb right up to the lighthouse. The views were very pretty, and we even had the lighthouse to ourselves for several minutes.

Lunch was excellent and it was good to catch up with Mer’s cousin and family. They are lively people, and we chatted for about an hour and a half.

After lunch, we hiked the Rockland Breakwater, which is seven eighths of a mile long. The day was brilliantly sunny, and so we got to show Brianna a fog-free breakwater walk (although the last foggy visit had its own beauty).

We then drove up to Mount Battie in Camden, which two years ago was so fog-bound we didn’t even bother to drive up. We got to the top and were surprised to see some very cool but odd fog. The day had been hot and humid, and so now in the late afternoon the warm air over the ocean was condensing to low-lying fog. It was sunny over land, but the ocean had fog over it, and only to a very low height. It was quite lovely, and I had never seen anything like that.

We finished Wednesday by briefly going to Rockport Harbor, which was foggy. It’s still a pretty place, even in the fog.

Thursday – On Thursday, I was planning things, so I took us back to the coast, to the Brunswick area. Brianna’s Instagram algorithm alerted her that there’s a Hobbit-themed cafe in Brunswick, so we stopped there first for second breakfast. I’m a bit fussy with food, so while I loved the decor of the cafe, I popped over two doors down to get some food from Frosty’s Donuts. After some time, Mer and Brianna joined me, and I encouraged them to get third breakfast – the donuts at Frosty’s are in the argument for best donuts anywhere. So good.

From Brunswick, we drove south to Orr’s Island and then on to Bailey Island (they both have bridge access). We stopped at Land’s End gift shop to sit on the rocks and look at the ocean, as well as to take a quick look around the store. From there we went over to the amazing Giant’s Steps public park, which is a half-mile path along some of the best of Maine’s rocky coast. We sat in various spots for a long time.

We drove back off the islands to Harpswell to do a hike called the Cliff Walk. It’s a bit of a seductive pull-you-in trail. It starts out as a wide crushed-gravel trail for four tenths of a mile, but then becomes a more traditional root-intensive path through the woods. It then adds in two or three very good elevation gains, and we added in two long peals of thunder for bonus material. But the woods were pretty (and not too buggy), and the path ran along an inlet called Long Reach for a long ways. The literal and figurative high point is a 150-foot cliff overlooking Long Reach and a small island. It was a tough hike, but we were pleased with the payoff.

Friday – I was tired on Friday and so tried to arrange a boat tour on Sebago Lake, but the lake had two- to three-foot waves on it, so the boat couldn’t go out. So I punted back to the original more-active plan of going to Coos Canyon and Step Falls, which are in western Maine. The day was finally much cooler, and so was a good day to go inland.

We had visited both of these places two years ago with Brianna, but Maine had just had an unusually rainy season, and both places were a torrent of rushing water that effectively covered the canyon and step features. This time, Coos was its usual tame self, and we could get down on the rocks next to the stream.

Step Falls was much the same way – last time the best we could do was sit on rocks on the high areas and marvel at the rushing water. This time Step Falls was back to being a moderate flow, and this allowed us to climb around on multiple levels of the falls and wade in the pools at a couple of different levels. We sat on the edge of a pool with our legs in the water and relaxed. Step Falls is back in the woods a bit, and the hike in and out was pretty as well.

Saturday – We left on Saturday, but we wanted to do some light touring on the way to Syracuse, New York, where we would be spending the night. I took us thought New Hampshire and Vermont, which are pretty places to drive, and we visited Middlebury College’s mountain campus, Bread Loaf, which we hadn’t taken Brianna to two years ago when we drove through Vermont. We also walked the Robert Frost Trail, a short hike with Frost poems posted along the side of the trail.

And so today we head home to Ohio. It was great to see Kellee and Jeremy and Mer’s cousin Tracy and her family. It will be good to get home, but we had a fun time in the Northeast.

There are many ways in which I know Meredith loves me. Yet one more obvious (yet judgmentally questionable) instance is that she decided to plan all around me and my post-food-poisoning-illness needs instead of going off on her own and seeing potentially more exciting stuff. She decided she would rather spend slower touring time with me in the immediate environs of Riga than be by herself doing/seeing other things. I married up.

I managed to eat a fairly decent amount of breakfast, but then had to come upstairs and lie down for ten or fifteen minutes before Meredith finished her breakfast and joined me. Even though it was “her day” today, she said she wanted to collaborate based on what I felt I could do. I told her I really wanted to see the Art Nouveau buildings she had seen yesterday, so we set off toward the most concentrated blocks of them in the city at a pace that would challenge the heartiest ninety-year-old. Happily, it was a perfect weather day with tons of sun and cool temperatures.

It’s not a short walk. From out hotel, it’s over a mile, but we took several scenic detours that got us closer to as much as three miles away, all at a shuffle. En route, Mer showed me several of the places she had seen on her tour yesterday, including pointing out a square that had “wavy” themes because a river used to flow there, a secluded alley area that a hotel bought up and made into one hotel made of several buildings, the “powder tower” that was renovated by people collecting and selling pigeon poop as fertilizer, and more.

All along the way, we were seeing Art Nouveau buildings, of course. Riga hit a major building boom around 1900 just as Art Nouveau came into fashion, so now some forty percent of Riga’s buildings have some Art Nouveau influence on them. Art Nouveau, so Mer tells me, involves decorative elements using curves and nature motifs and faces and figures (often elongated with fantastic expressions). I love these details on and in buildings, so I was excited and impressed when we got to the best section of town to see Art Nouveau buildings. There are three or four blocks where buildings on both sides of the street are layered with ornamentation. Areas around windows, ironwork railings, figures on corners of buildings, faces looking down from the rooflines or from between stories, animals on or around doorways, and on and on. I was delighted.

We walked around the entire area marveling at the buildings. Not surprisingly, many embassies are in this part of town; ambassadors seem to like nice living. Mer pointed out what she learned from her tour – the Russian embassy is in this part of town, so Latvia officially changed the name of that street to something like “Ukrainian Freedom” so that all official correspondence to the Russian embassy has to go to “Ukrainian Freedom Street.” I’m not surprised that the Latvians are strongly in favor of Ukraine.

I have no idea why, but the Irish embassy had a statue of a cat proposing to another cat up on their second floor balcony. Leave it to the Irish to be whimsical.

Across the street from the Irish embassy was a building with a magnificent five-story spiral Art Nouveau staircase that Mer took me inside to see. The building also happened to house a museum with an apartment decked out as it would have been in the 1920s. The basement of the museum gave an overview of Riga and Art Nouveau as well as having some artifacts from the time, and an exhibit on Art Nouveau buildings in Holland. But the gem was the first-floor apartment. The decorations and furniture and even the woodwork were all in the Art Nouveau style. I loved loved loved it. So much class and style, in my book.

The building also had a museum of the apartment of a famous Latvian painter, Janis Rozentāls. His apartment was designed by the architect specifically to have a living space for Janis’ family on one floor and his studio on the top floor (although it also had one room for a close friend who was a writer who lived there). It was also a great chance to see another apartment in the building. Janis’ art was modern and impressionistic, and I liked it quite a bit. He seems to have done mostly portrait work.

After the museum, we finished off our tour of the Art-Nouveau-intensive neighborhoods and made our way back home. I was tired and needed a rest. Once we got back to the hotel, Mer and I both took short naps. That recharged me enough that we set out again around 3:00 to go find Jana Seta, a map store that also has a large collection of original Soviet maps. The clerk, who was really helpful, told me that it was the only remaining map store in the Baltics. He helped me find a Soviet tactical map of the southeast of England and the Calais area of France that I bought to give to a teacher at CVCA who teaches about the Cold War. Meredith amused herself by reading European tour books about the USA.

From the map store, we walked to a park to take a canal/river cruise. We had already been on the river on Tuesday, but I was getting tired again, so sitting-down tourism was an attraction. Plus, it was a pretty day, while Tuesday had been cold and cloudy, and we asked specifically if the boat would have commentary. The boat did end up having recorded commentary, but at a low enough volume that it was hard to catch everything. We chatted with the other people on the boat – a couple from Germany, two women from Finland, and two women from England. We were a little United Nations on the boat. We did learn from the commentary that the town’s market (before the blimp hangars) had been by the river and difficult to keep sanitary because of bugs and rats. We also learned that when Latvia’s president is at home, the presidential castle flies his flag, and when he’s gone, it’s lowered. That’s helpful for door-to-door salesmen to know. The commentary also mentioned that the river/Baltic Sea harbor area is about eleven miles long, which helped explain to us why we couldn’t see the sea from the city.

After the cruise, we had pizza for supper (it seemed safe). We then walked over to St. John’s Lutheran Church (of the pretty vaulted ceiling fame) to hear the Royal Holloway Founder’s Choir from London; it’s a university choir that is currently touring Latvia. The singers did five numbers with an organ, then an organ solo, then a long piece with the organ, and then an organ solo, and they finally finished the evening with four a cappella songs, which were my favorites (the notes just hung in the air of the church).

And so that finished up the day and our time in Latvia. We have a relaxed morning tomorrow with having to catch the airport bus around 10:00, and then we’re underway. Lord willing, we’ll be back in Toronto around 9:00 p.m. EST (4:00 a.m. Latvia time), where we’ll spend the night before heading home to kitties, family, and friends on Saturday. And maybe some safely prepared food, too.

So it appears that my late lunch/early supper yesterday caused me a moderate case of food poisoning. My Wednesday involved an exciting private tour of my GI tract. By 4:00 in the afternoon, I was feeling moderately better, so I did go over to join Meredith at the Museum of the Latvian Occupation, which tells the story of Latvia under German and Soviet rule. I managed to walk the two blocks, stay for half an hour, and walk the two blocks back to the hotel, where I promptly fell asleep from the exertion. Not the best touring day ever.

And so, for the first time in thirteen years of travel blogging, Mu-sings is proud to present a guest author, Meredith.

Sometimes the travel challenges that worry you aren’t the ones that should, apparently.  Matthew and I take turns being in charge of our touring, and while Matthew’s first three days went swimmingly, he spent the last two days wondering how he would find sufficient touring activities when the weather forecast looked grim and the majority of Latvia seemed to be closed for a national holiday … yet we ended up having a great time.  Yesterday evening, however, he anticipated a fine final day of his being in charge, since although the weather was still seeming iffy, the morning was supposed to be dry, and even if the rest of the day proved rainy, the indoor options would be open again.  It was a fine day of touring indeed – but unfortunately, I was the only one able to enjoy it (and my enjoyment was tempered by not being able to share it with my beloved).

Still, one doesn’t get to go to Riga every day, so once I was convinced that his condition wasn’t going to be helped by my presence or harmed by my absence, I decided to start the day on my own, beginning with breakfast.  Oh, Matthew – I’m so sorry that of all the Latvian hotel breakfasts we’ve had (or haven’t had, in the case of our Sigulda hotel), you had to miss this one.  The buffet was vast:  I spent at least a few minutes just trying to get oriented to its layout and offerings.  Matthew, I really hope you can take advantage of it for our final couple days here – I especially recommend the potato casserole, of which I had three helpings.

But I couldn’t keep eating indefinitely, because I had a 9:30 rendezvous with Ieva (“EE-eh-vuh,” Latvian for “Eve”), the guide Matthew had booked for a private four-hour tour of Riga.  She was terrific.  In addition to learning more about Riga, I also learned more about Latvian life in general.  Being in her early forties, Ieva doesn’t have a lot of memories of Latvia’s Soviet years, but she shared a few, such as being excited when her father somehow got access to a large number of bananas, or being proud to help her mom and other women serve soup to those manning anti-Soviet barricades in January of 1991.  Ieva told me about some Latvian customs, too, like the celebrating of name days (May 22nd is the date set aside as a “name day” for those with nontraditional names) and Midsummer (Latvians like to stay up to see the sun set and then rise, but since it was so cloudy the other night, Ieva and her family ended their celebration earlier than usual).

With regard to our tour of Riga, Ieva started in the Old Town, some of which Matthew and I had seen in our wanderings yesterday afternoon, but much of which was new to me.  The Old Town has a plethora of beautiful buildings and a handful of lovely squares, so we spent most of our time outside (despite the forecast’s prediction of cloudy yet dry skies all morning, there was a little rain off and on, but nothing particularly problematic).  We did briefly pop into a couple places where we could see interiors for free – one of the churches and a small architecture museum housed in one of Riga’s oldest stone buildings.

After spending a couple hours in the Old Town, we went to Ieva’s favorite bakery, where she bought us several typical Latvian treats:  bacon buns and two sweet pastries, one of which was a sort of Latvian spin on a cheesecake square, and the other of which was a Latvian version of a cream puff.  She also kindly bought a bacon bun and pastries for Matthew (but he’s not up to that level of rich foodstuffs yet, so these ended up being my dinner).

The next portion of our tour was visiting Riga’s Central Market, a place that’s distinctive both inside and out.  It’s housed in several German Zeppelin hangars left over from World War I, with different types of products in each of the different hangars:  meats in one, fruits and veggies in another, souvenirs in another, dairy products and some other miscellaneous edibles in another, and seafood in the final one. Multiple stalls outside the hangars sold more stuff, from clothing to flowers.  It was a fascinating place, but I resisted buying anything (though if you need to know where to get pig snouts or smoked eel the next time you’re in Riga, I now know where to send you).

For the final portion of our tour, Ieva took me to a neighborhood that has helped to make Riga “recognized by UNESCO as unparalleled anywhere in the world,” according to our guidebook, in the realm of Art Nouveau architecture.  I’d seen some snazzy Art Nouveau architecture before, including impressive examples in Prague, as well as noteworthy examples in Riga’s own aforementioned Old Town.  But the elegant architectural confections in the city’s so-called Quiet Centre were jaw-dropping, especially where there were several in a row.  So from a visual perspective, that was the tour’s climax, but we also had a lovely denouement, as Ieva walked me back to our starting point through a couple different parks and down streets I hadn’t yet seen.

Returning to the hotel room, I was hoping to find Matthew vimful, vigorous, and ready to join me in the rest of the day’s touring … but fearing I’d find him curled up and whimpering instead.  The actuality was somewhere between those two extremes:  he clearly wasn’t feeling great, but was trying to muster the energy to take a shower.  I was trying to decide if I should go see a sight that would require me to figure out how to use Riga’s public transportation system or if I should just go to the sight that was a mere five-minute walk away.  Figuring that Matthew might want to join me tomorrow at the latter sight, I was leaning toward the former, but he convinced me that, since the further sight closed at 5:00 and it was already almost 3:00, that would be a poor use of my touristic time.  So I headed instead to the nearby Museum of the Occupation of Latvia.

The museum has been around since the early nineties, but underwent extensive renovations just a few years ago; the result is an effective and thought-provoking treatment of Latvia’s twentieth-century experience.  Part of the building that contains the museum is a dark, windowless, architectural eyesore from Soviet times, yet as Ieva earlier explained, Latvians see the building as part of their history, and a reminder of the dark times that they survived and overcame.  The museum’s Latvian-American architect expanded the building with a white section that represents the present in contrast to the dark past, and capped that section with a glass one that represents the future.

Because I almost always feel as if I get more out of museums if I have a guided tour, I arranged to join the 3:30 English one … and our group of seven included a family of three who lived in Cleveland Heights.  Our guide took us to each different area of the museum, addressing that area’s overall emphasis and drawing our attention to some of the specifics.  The areas’ emphases were varied, including deportation transport conditions, gulag prison experiences, types of resistance, and more, ending with eventual liberation.  Among the items we saw were a machine the Soviets had used for eavesdropping on foreigners in a hotel restaurant, “postcards” written on birchbark, an actual piece of Latvian rye bread a deportee had saved, and a set of metal dentures a prisoner had made for himself.

Once the guided tour was over, I went back through the museum a second time on my own (Matthew had come and gone, by this point).  I’m always a fan of museums with one-way layouts, as they reassure me I’m not missing anything – and, in the case of historical museums, they often help me feel more aware of chronological developments.  Not only did this museum have the one-way layout, but it also had some effectively immersive touches.  For example, a number of the displays were behind bars that didn’t obscure the objects or information, but did keep reinforcing underlying themes.  Similarly, most of the museum was fairly dark, though again, not generally in a way that obscured objects or information.  When you entered the section about deportations, you walked through a somewhat stylized yet accurately sized model of one of the train cars, so you got a better sense of how claustrophobic it would’ve been to have to share that car with forty other people for days on end.  In one of the Soviet sections, the lighting was red.  And the liberation section was on an upstairs level that allowed you to look down on the rest of the museum and feel a sense of rising above the darkness and struggle.

I finished my visit just a few minutes before the museum closed, and left with increased gratitude for the freedoms I’ve enjoyed thus far in my life – and an increased sense that what we tend to see as hardships are usually pretty trivial compared to what many have endured.  Nonetheless, while food poisoning is more of a minor inconvenience than a true hardship, I do hope Matthew and I are both feeling in tip-top touring shape tomorrow, especially since it’s our final full day in Latvia.  However, whether we are or not, we’ve been richly blessed.